All That's Left

Better to sweat than to blister and burn.

That was the first lesson of the new world for anyone who wanted to survive it. Thomas Whittemore removed his goggles just long enough to clear the condensation from them and wipe the sweat from his eyes, but no longer. The vibrant greens of grass and trees were now only memories replaced by choked, sparse weeds. Most of the trees were now twisted and charred from the fallout, reaching up with blackened fingers to the unforgiving skies. Where the old world was one driven by a thirst for material wealth, the new world was one of survival. Long gone were the conveniences of fast food and microwaves.

Mr. Whittemore finally found some shade beneath a high rocky outcrop and stopped to rest and wash down a radiation pill with a sip from his water skin.

"Part of a well-balanced breakfast." Thomas muttered to himself.

As he sat there looking through the brown haze, his hand moved as a manner of habit to the wallet in his pocket. Both the action and the wallet served not much more purpose in the new world than to help him hold onto a small piece of his old life. Thomas opened his wallet and pulled out a picture of a tall, brown-haired handsome man standing in a park with a beautiful raven-haired woman and what could easily be her adorable, much younger clone. He ran his pointer and middle finger across the picture, particularly across the faces of the mother and her daughter.

"Oh, how I miss you both." Thomas said with a bittersweet smile behind the dirty scarf he had on to keep his neck and face covered. He thought back on that day, his daughter Ashleigh's twelfth birthday. The day he gave her the heart-shaped locket. Then he turned his eyes away from the picture and looked in the direction he was traveling, his smile turning to a frown and a fire burning in his eyes. "I'll be joining you soon, but first I'll find the one who took you from me."

He stood with renewed vigor and resolve, pushing aside the painful memories of the day his family was attacked. Like so many of the survivors after the bombs dropped, he and his family tried to work with others and pool their resources to make it through. And like so many other survivors, those attacking their group saw fit to use force to take those resources for themselves. Thomas still wasn't sure how he managed to survive as he felt the itch of the scars under his clothes.

As he left the shade of the outcrop and trudged onward, he pulled a crudely-drawn map and a compass from his pocket and did his best to find the direction of the sun through the thick fog. Thomas had travelled a long way from his home in Oregon, down to Arizona bay then further East in search of his quarry. After months of no information at all he finally had some luck with an associate of the attacker at a bar who responded very well to the threat of harm from a piece of sharpened steel. It turned out more fell from the sky than bombs that fateful day in the dawn of this new, forsaken world. The remains of an immense ship known as The Ark that was meant to take a handful of billionaires safely into space now rested in the wastelands of New Mexico.

A few more days passed in this manner with Thomas making his way toward The Ark. The brown haze lifted for a time, leaving him at the mercy of the sun beating down on him through the nearly obliterated ozone. He sought out shelter and fortunately found a small cave with a stagnant water source. Thomas pulled a filtration straw from his pack and took a drink of the water then filtered more into his water skin. He would need to be hydrated and rested if he wished to see his plans come to fruition, so he looked at the picture in his wallet again and gave in to sleep.

The next morning the thick fog returned and he continued his way East. Only a few hours later he made out a very slight glint not far in the distance and picked up his pace. If the map he had successfully coerced from it's previous owner was correct then it could only be The Ark.

"Soon. Very soon." Thomas said to himself as he ran his thumb along the edge of the piece of steel in his pocket.

Arriving at a hatch on the massive structure that seemed to be an entrance, he knocked. A rugged man in a leather jack and a gas mask answered.

"Whaddaya want? Get out of here if you ain't got nothin' for us!" the rugged man said.

"Got some rad pills and an iPod. Cool?"

"I s'pose that's enough." the rugged man scratched his head. "But you still dinnit answer my question - whaddaya want?"

"I'm looking for a man with a chimera tattoo. Goes by the name Cutter."

"Kai-mare-uh? Whatsit?"

"In this case it has the head of a lion and snakes for tails."

"Ah, yes. Cutter be here. What ye want wit'im?"

"Just want to talk. Maybe trade."

"Aye, I s'pose that be okay. Gimme that iPod first, though." the rugged man held out his hand as he opened the hatch more for Thomas to pass through.

"Fair enough." Thomas handed the iPod to the rugged fellow and stepped inside. "Which way to Cutter?"

"Throw in a charger and I'll lead ye right to 'im."

Thomas pulled a charger from a pouch on his pack and tossed it over to the grinning rugged man.

"Right, then. Follow me, an' stay close 'cause I ain't helpin' if ye get lost."

The rugged man led him down halls and corridors, but for all the twists and turns Thomas couldn't help but be awed by the structure beneath the dirt as he imagined what it must have looked like before it came crashing down from orbit. He remained so distracted by his surroundings that he hardly realized when the rugged man stopped and directed him into a side room.

Fully expecting the man from his nightmares, a strong, fit and fearsome figure who reveled in the pain of others, Thomas stopped in his tracks.

"Him? That can't be Cutter! He was -"

"That be him, aye. I dunno what ye was expectin', not if ye seen anythin' after the bombs. I did me part. Best o' luck to ye." the rugged man said as he departed.

The man before him sat in what appeared to be some kind of flight seat. He was emaciated almost beyond recognition with stains on his shirt and a reek that could only be explained by end-stage radiation poisoning. Once bright and glaring eyes now sat sunken and empty - but there on this poor creature's arm was the chimera tattoo, and the locket around his neck was just as unmistakable. The rage inside Thomas drained from him only to be replaced by the emptiness of all he was missing and a sour resentment now that his quest for vengeance, the thing that had driven him for so long, no longer held any prospect of satisfaction.

"Why? Why did you kill my family?" Thomas asked.

"Who? Your face is covered. I dunno who ye are, an' I did in plenty families." coughed Cutter, weakly.

Thomas uncovered his face and took the picture from his wallet. He didn't miss the slight flash of recognition that went across the murderer's ailing face.

"Aye, I 'member now. Yer family had food. I didn't."

"That's it? You didn't think that maybe asking might have worked?!"

"That be the long an' short of it. If ye came here wantin' me to 'pologize or say I didn't like doin' what I was doin', you came t' the wrong place." Cutter wheezed. "An' if you came fer revenge, well," he grinned weakly, "I s'pose that'd only be a mercy fer me." He attempted to cackle but his skeletal form was racked with a fierce coughing fit instead.

Thomas said nothing for a moment, knowing his revenge had been taken from him, then walked in and leaned close.

"Do it." Cutter said. "Free me from this. Take what little revenge ye may."

Thomas studied Cutter's eyes, seeing the pain and understanding the sincere plea.

"Please." Cutter began to beg. "Every breath is agony. My very bones ache."

Thomas yanked the chain and locket from the sick murderer's neck then started walking away.

"Please!" Cutter coughed and sobbed. "Do it!"

Thomas walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, shutting out the sobs, then stopped and held up the locket.

"For so long I told myself all that's left is revenge. Thank you." Thomas said with a bittersweet grin.