A Letter to None

The Fall

Everyone knew after Donald Trump was elected for a second term, things would fall apart. COVID-19 continued to spread even more rapidly, causing the death of many influential figures in society. Health care personnel were affected first, followed by our scientists & leaders, resulting in wide-scale panic. Funding for the vaccine was cut almost immediately following the election. Justifications for doing so were claims for mass immunity extinguishing the virus naturally. New strains that were more potent developed and spread throughout the Americas. For the rest of the world, it's unknown what happened. Perhaps they suffered the same fate. 

All he can hope is that this letter will be found in the future as a testament to humankind's errors. By the end, there will be an understanding of why more didn't need to be said. Still, I’m certain our species will continue to make the same mistakes. Is it then possible that these events are supposed to transpire as part of a cleansing process? Are individuals like Vincent considered vital during the end to carry the tale regardless of whether future civilizations will learn or not? With all that being said, perhaps this letter to none can serve as an entertaining rambling for future generations nonetheless. If it's lost in the ruins after the fall of modern civilization, then so be it. 

A Testament

Vincent Wright

January 19, 2037

To whom it may concern,

Sixteen years after the election, this letter is written at my last stop during my daunting journey west. While many events transpired, the final event of vital importance is documented here in detail:

For the past several weeks, my dog Apollo and I were moved from house to house in Western Colorado, hoping for the weather to calm down enough to continue forward. Supplies stayed plentiful, being that most people packed up and left with only what they needed. I'm not sure what they thought they would find by leaving—Maybe the same reason I left. Amongst those supplies were some writing materials. Out of this innate feeling, I found it necessary to write this letter. I had always been a bit of a writer anyway. With that, this letter is addressed to whoever finds it a valuable asset in the future.

There have been survivors besides ourselves we've encountered along our way to California. For the most part, there was distance kept between them and us. Some moved in packs while others went solo like us. Questions remained; why did we survive? Perhaps we all had those antibodies scientists were talking about before this whole thing went down—Maybe we’re just lucky. We'd hoped that the family we had in California would still be there. While it may seem like a child's dream with what went down, there is nothing to lose at this point. Keeping mobile was our safest option since no law & order was being maintained.


Gangs formed most likely for survival. Like most animals, humans work better in larger numbers. I've always had trust issues. Riding solo is dangerous, but fortunately, I met my buddy Apollo—A dog's ears have been very useful. Folks without a posse are usually stripped of what they got, if they are caught up, then left for dead, if not killed on the spot. Unfortunately, it seems that people have used this situation as an opportunity to indulge in their deep-seated desires. For the most part, we kept our distance from others, but there have been times we've seen robberies and other atrocities being committed from a distance. All we could do is watch, hoping it doesn't happen to us. 


Those who didn't die from the virus looted & rioted while others got caught in the crossfire. Our leaders were evacuated to various locations outside of our knowledge. We’re not sure if they are still alive since most media outlets stopped operating. For a while, our cell phones worked, but all forms of communication were finally cut. There is no way to contact our families. All channels gave off static, but we kept close to this radio we salvaged a while back, hoping some news came. Like our trip to California, it's a fool's dream to assume something good to come out of this. For all, we knew this was just the beginning of the end with no chance of revival in sight. 

We kept the roads in our visual vicinity while staying off them for the most part. Abandoned buildings and cars have been a godsend on the way west. We were fortunate to find guns & ammunition on the journey. Luckily we traveled through the Midwest, where those supplies were available. I’m pretty well equipped at this point, trying not to get cocky—Complacency kills more than bullets. 

As the temperature began to drop drastically, we were in desperate need of some temporary shelter. We needed to continue moving west toward California, but our days became much shorter as our distance traveled too. The wood outside was too wet to build a fire. We hoped that if we followed the signs toward the town of Fairplay, we could find shelter until it warmed up again. There was no choice in the matter. Elements much more powerful than us dictate our destiny—I suppose the same principle applies to this virus. The closer we got to the town, the hastier we began to move. Thoughts of having a warm place to stay, even if only for a night, filled us with a speck of hope; I suppose that’s all we needed.

Approaching Fairplay, it looked deceivingly abandoned. No smoke rose from any of the chimneys as we could see, but the fog & snow could have covered it. I readied my pistol, and Apollo kept a keen watch of our surroundings. We patrolled a neighborhood, keeping as close to the walls as possible. There have been several close calls thus far, but close means to remain more cautious in the future. Past encounters back east required us to shoot our way out of several situations and make a run for it. 

Peeking around the last house on the block, we spotted a tall red brick building. Parked in front were police vehicles. A wooden sign on the front of the building had "Police Department" painted in red letters on the front. I knew this was an opportunity to gather supplies as well as a potential for getting a vehicle. The problem was that others who may have come across this building first thought the same thing.

Before entering, we patrolled the perimeter of the building, looking for any signs of potential occupants. Windows seemed to be intact, and the doors had no signs of forced entry. Police stations were sure to have rations and other supplies such as guns & ammo. Around the back of the building was a generator that appeared not to have been operating at the time. Several possibilities came to mind as I contemplated the next move to make. Either the generator ran out of fuel, or occupants shut it off to save energy. It was approaching dusk, meaning that would have been the ideal time to use it if there were occupants. All signs pointed to no occupancy, but we couldn’t be too sure.

As temperatures continued to drop, we were out of options. A decision was made to enter the facility. Doors were locked, so entering in by window was our safest and quietest option. There was much relief when one of the windows budged. I opened the window and lifted Apollo into the building first. Climbing through as quietly as possible, I readied my pistol & flashlight. Each room had to be thoroughly cleared before my guard could be let down. One by one, we searched each room as thoroughly as possible.

Coming across the armory, I gathered some 9mm ammunition and extra firearms—Extras never hurt. While loading up and holstering one of the pistols, Apollo seemed to have been startled by something behind us.


Before I could turn around, a man crept from behind the door, weapon drawn. He fired at me and missed sending a wave of shock & adrenaline through my body. In an instant, Apollo sprung into action lunging at the attacker. Still dazed from the first gunshot, I simultaneously dived to the ground to find cover. As I moved toward cover, two more shots were fired—I heard a yelp. I peeked up from behind cover and fired rapidly toward the assailant, hitting him twice. He bled out almost instantly. 

Unaware if there were more people or not, I rushed to Apollo's aid regardless. Apollo’s blood-soaked fur and limited movement caused me to become frozen with emotion. The amount of blood suggested he was hit in the heart. I fell to my knees, now alone, holding my friend who has been with me through this journey, a journey toward nothing it seemed like now. There was nothing I could do fast enough as he bled out in my arms. I had no choice but to leave immediately. Searching around for vehicle keys, I forced open a lockbox that had multiple keys inside. With Apollo's body slung over my shoulder, I rushed toward the parking lot to find which vehicle had the most gas. Fortunately, a large K-9 SUV had a full tank. I put the keys in the ignition and floored it out town toward the interstate. 

Driving west, the snow began to cease as I crossed over the Utah border. Why am I even still going, I asked myself? Continuously passing abandoned cars on the highway, there was now a less sense of urgency to get to San Diego. A deep sense of guilt filled me. " I should have checked the building better—Complacency kills more than bullets." While I still didn't want to let my friend go, he deserved a proper burial. I stopped off the highway in the Nevada desert and retrieved the entrenching tool from my bag. I carried Apollo's corpse over my shoulder toward the desert. After digging for about half an hour, I laid his bloodstained corpse in the hole & filled it in slowly. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I said a prayer for him—I've never prayed before. A proper send-off was necessary for such a brave soul. Finally, the sun began to lower. I knew it was time to continue west.

After another half day’s drive, I arrived over the border and continued toward San Diego. At this point, my heart was emptied of all hope for my family's survival. Regardless, this journey was close to its end. As I drove down my old street, I saw the small red brick house I lived in during my early childhood. Sadness overcame me as I thought about why I had moved east to begin with. I should have never left, but we can't change the past.

I approached my old house. The door was unlocked, and I proceeded to enter. Perhaps they just left with no intention to return. Everything was virtually the same since I last saw it, giving me a unique sense of nostalgia. There was nobody at the house like I thought, but I proceeded upstairs to my mother's room. On the bed laid a heart-shaped locket I had given to her several years ago for her birthday. Inside was a picture of her and me smiling. Next to the locket was a note, "In loving memory of my son Vincent." I suppose she had not much more to say. 

While sadness had overcome me, a weight had lifted from my shoulders. However, there was no point in writing more, so I end my testament with this: 

"This letter is addressed to no one but humankind itself. Nature has again triumphed, leaving us to learn from our blunders. I ask, was this all necessary? I will say I believe that this was all part of a design engineered by Mother Nature." 

With love,

Vince

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