Amber in My Veins

Mama. Mama It’s happening. It’s really happening. Father Justin approved my paperwork. After 10 long years of training I’m finally cleared for Pilgrimage! Oh how wonderful it is. Truly. Of all the others in the program, God chose me - me - to climb the hallowed rungs, unlatch the Gate of Saint Peter, and gaze upon our Lord’s most wonderful of creations.

I’m finally coming up, Mama.

Baba isn’t so happy. He thinks his grandchild needs more time. That I haven’t received enough communion for my immune system to handle what awaits on the surface. But I know better. I’ve eaten the doctors’ oatmeal. They’ve looked at my insides. My marrow. I’ve endured every needle. They’ve tapped my spine for sap and what did they find? Amber. Yet Baba still tightens his grasp. He still sees me as that babe you left bouncing on his knee. But I’ve grown, Mama.

I’m no longer a child.

Brother Callahan’s lessons taught me well. I know what happened. What really happened. It wasn’t the smoke, or glaciers, or holes in air. It was greed - and pride - and envy - and sloth - and wrathful lust. Deception was sewn in all things and prayer had become outlawed. The speakers who knew - who heard the word of God - tried to warn us. But their tongues were clipped, and their presence banished in all things.

It was worse than the time of Noah.

But then our Lord brought forth an epiphany. The Miracle on the Hill. He emboldened our warriors. Good men - Baba, his father, and others - who had seen the evil in the world and refused to be a part of it. And so - they took up His banners and they marched chanting of refusal. Refusal to bend. Refusal to be tread upon. Refusal to be replaced. It wasn’t long before they had reclaimed the land. But the filth had been sewn. The lies had corrupted too many. We had become prisoners in a world of demons. And the demons tried to take it back through slander. But we knew what we had to do. The earth must be salted and held to the purging flame of Christ’s love.

As Baba put it - we were so few. But you should see us now, Mama. There are so many now. So many who are eager to come up and see the new Eden you and Aunt Paulie have been preparing.

Yes. I know about the gardens.

The glass houses of green and purification rituals to create holy water from sludge. I know you tried to hide them; from Father Justin and the others. You thought I didn’t know where you put them, but I found them; your diaries. They are difficult to read and filled with numbers I can’t understand. Baba said you were a curious one, even as a child. I worry I will be in trouble if I am found with them. But they are the only thing I have of you. Them and the photo pinned in my bunk. A photo from long after you and Baba took shelter in the Ark. A photo of Baba, and Father Justin and you… and me, barely conscious as I teethed on your jewelry. Though I don’t remember you I still remember the way that locket tasted. Metallic - like Iron - and cold and surprisingly sharp for something shaped like a heart. As I think about it now it sounds the opposite of fond, but that memory has brought so much comfort when I’ve needed it most.

I wonder if you still have it...

The time has come Mama. My pack is ready. I am suited up. My mask is sealed. Father Justin personally gave me a final farewell and blessing during morning mass. It was bittersweet. My fellow recruits cheered during my goodbye speech, but I could see Baba. He tried his best to hide it, but he had tears in his eyes. All of the elders did. So sweet. How wonderful and caring the older generation is. How much they’ve sacrificed to give me the opportunity of Pilgrimage. I will not let their service go to waste!

I exit the airlock into the shaft of ascension. The gate of St. Peter looms above me. An amber glow seeping through the small windows of the hatch filling the otherwise dark room with a subtle golden aura. Before me, as if marked by the hands of God, the blessed bars of steel were highlighted - forming a ladder up the shaft.

I begin to climb.

I grasp the first bar. My hands tremble but I continue to take my first step up. Then another. My heart races with each rung I pass. I remind myself to breathe. I didn’t train this hard only to hyperventilate. So I breathe deep the stale air and continue. One by one. Again and again. I think of the green grass. The tall trees. The vast farms of food. The promised land of milk and honey. I think of you, Mama.

I grasp the wheel of the hatch as I reach the top. I take one last deep breath, thinking of Baba and Father Justin and all of those I am leaving behind. I steel my nerves. I am ready to see you Mama. I spin the wheel and slam my shoulder into the hatch. The seal hisses and yellow dust clouds my vision. I push harder and harder until finally, the hinges squeal, and I feel momentum carry the hatch and slam open. I scramble out of the hole, trying to raise myself above the swirling dust. I want to gaze upon creation. I want to see His lega-

Dust.

Everywhere. I see nothing else. Just a vast sweltering emptiness - save for a few buildings weathered by time. My suit is becoming squishy, I’ve begun to sweat. I am nauseous and my head is beginning to throb. I stumble forward and trip over something heavy. I gasp for air. I can feel the fear rising, but I remember my training. I am just acclimating. It may take a moment. I close my eyes and think of you Mama. I think of the photo. I think of the diaries. Memories flood my mouth with the comforting sharp, cold taste of iron.

I cough, red spews out. My lungs feel inside out. My breaths become shallow. I turn to see what tripped me. Two corpses embraced in eachothers arms. Their skin pulled tight over atrophied muscles and sinnew and dyed the sickly orange of the sand spreading in all directions. Thin hairs spooled from their scalps, bleached white by the infinite brightness of the unending desert. Around one corpse’s neck was something small and shiny. I see what it is in one last glimpse before my eyes rupture from poaching. A heart shaped gold locket.

I finally came up, Mama...