Forgotten Memories

The winds whipped and pelted Dean as he walked from that deep blue cave.

Ed, who was lost to the cavern, was still in Dean’s mind as he walked in the scorching heat, protected by his mask, goggles, and jacket that was made for the conditions.

Holding the trinket and box he found, Dean thought about the world and what brought him to this point in time.

Dean then recalled his father, a man he barely knew, gifting him a letter and some of the gear he had on. The wasteland of forgotten memories, at least that is what Dean wanted.

His father, Jebidiah, also known as Jeb, taught him how to survive, how to deal with the harsh weather and the intense heat; however, he only remembered him from his youth, after the world changed forever.

Dean ran into Jeb one day long ago while scavenging in the outskirts of Central Tower. He was part of a group of scavengers called the “Blue Crew,” who focused on former corporate buildings that circled Central Tower, the stronghold of the area. It was by chance he saw him in the outskirts among the rubble and former glory of mankind’s infrastructure.

“Dean? Is that you?” asked Jeb with a husky voice.

Dean, still in shock, rubbed his eyes. The figure before him was a phantom he would see in his dreams from time to time.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were dead.” Dean stood with his eyes furrowed, his shock lessening.

“It’ll take more than a climate crisis to kill me,” he said, belting a laugh. “How are you son?”

Jeb stood with his hands on his overall straps that were covered by a large brown overcoat, one weathered and frayed. His balding head sat atop a large and heavyset frame, with a red nose and rosy face, and a chin strap that still held black hair among all the greys and whites.

“I’ve been better,” said Dean, his anger barely contained.

“Dean, I know you must be upset, but I’m happy to see you looking strong and surviving.”

His father stepped closer, but Dean took a short hop back and lowered his body, as if ready to pounce him. Jeb held his head down a moment, pondering, as if wondering how to approach this wild animal.

He brought his hands up, as if in defeat. “I get it, you hate me. I can’t change that or how you feel.”

Jeb then turned from Dean, motioning with his fingers, “Come. I got something for you. It’ll be the last you ever see me.”

Jeb walked over the rubble, and away from Dean. After a moment of hesitation, Dean ran to catch him.

What could he have?

Jeb and Dean walked in silence toward a cracked and broken slab of concrete among a destroyed highway. Many of the wires and rocks from the former barriers shaped this little home.

“Ok, one second Dean,” said Jeb. He continued into the concrete home and dug into a broken dresser that was missing shelves. “Here is the first bit,” he handed Dean a package wrapped in brown paper.

“What is this?” asked Dean suspiciously.

“Promise you won’t open it till you leave?” Dean shrugged and slipped it into his back pocket.

Jeb moved to the other side of the room and retrieved a black jacket with some heavy-duty rubber boots. “What you’re wearing is not suitable in these conditions son, you should know better.”

Dean, surprised, accepted these garments, throwing his old jacket to the ground.

“Why are you giving me this stuff?” Dean, curious, let his guard down while checking to see if his new boots and jacket fit.

“Dean, I’ve done my best to help you live in this world, but I am part of why this happened at all," said Jeb, looking to an opening in the roof and at the skyscraper that is the Central Tower.

“Many people from my generation gave two shits about the climate. Profit was all that mattered, but I guess that hasn’t changed much in this world.” Jeb stepped away, head down, thinking.

“I suppose even with the death of the world, those with power still hold us all under their fist,” continued Jeb, turning to look at Dean.

“Listen Dad, I appreciate this, but what are you getting at?”

Jeb sat on a piece of concrete on the ground and pulled out a pistol, looking away from Dean.

“Whoa! Dad, hang on here, what are you doing?” Alarmed, Dean, readied himself and pulled a knife from his satchel on his side.

“I have made so many mistakes, son, but bringing you into the world was a gift. It’s why I tried to prepare you, why I taught you what I knew. But I couldn’t go on knowing I did this. You’ll never know what family is, or what love is,” Jeb, tearful, points his gun at Dean.

“Seeing you again only reminded me how much of a failure I’ve been. After your mother died, I didn’t know how to go on. I thought you were ready to be on your own.”

“Dad, I’m right here, aren’t I? Cut this out now and put that gun away!” Dean, his fear rising, spat on the ground.

Jeb kept it pointed at him, his face in tears. “I have much to repent for.”

“So what? You want to kill me and ease your misery? Get a grip old man. Or pull the trigger, I could care less.” Dean, deep down, didn’t want to show his fear, but he was terrified.

“I’m not going to kill you,” said Jeb calmly, “I want to say how sorry I am. I didn’t think seeing you would be the kick I needed to remind me that I did nothing all these years away from you. I should never have left.”

“Dad?”

“I need to pay for my crimes.” Jeb moved the gun toward himself.

“Dad!” Dean froze, panicked at the sight.

“Goodbye Dean. I love you.”

As Dean stood frozen, Jeb placed the barrel of the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, and pierced Dean’s ears. Jeb’s body slumped over the concrete slab, his blood spilling over the floor, all while Dean looked on, horrified at what happened.

“Dad?” Dean, in shock, fell to his knees.

He hated this man for leaving. He hated this man for thinking he was ready at the age of 15 to be on his own. He hated him with all his heart; but, seeing Jeb lie dead over the slab, with blood spewing out of his mouth and over the ground, it made him feel all alone.

The only family he ever knew was his mother and Jeb. When his mother died of heatstroke one day, just outside the entrance to their home, Jeb left soon after without so much as a goodbye. Dean travelled alone for a few years, meeting a few scavengers along the way.

After the traumatic event, Dean crawled out of Jeb’s place with his new jacket and boots, but not before scouring Jeb’s body for anything useful. He grabbed the pistol, Jeb’s gloves, and some scraps to sell for food.

While walking away, Dean remembered the brown package Jeb gave him. He ripped it open and saw an envelope. Dean grabbed his knife and cut the end off and pulled a letter out. It read:

Dear Dean,

The year is 2045, and it’s a hot one.

If you are reading this, chances are I’m dead. Whether it was of my own doing or not is still undetermined.

Much of the planet is scorched and deserted. Buildings have crumbled to dust, and sand whips through the air and strikes with such intensity that full attire is required to withstand the pelts. The sun never rests, save for a couple hours at midnight. Everyone that lives sweats and deals with the heat that has nowhere to go in those late hours of the night. But you know this already.

The ozone has been affected by all the pollutants we humans have been producing over the years. The U.S. and Canada were both proponents of excessive energy use, but it was a major use throughout the world. Nothing wrong with that, at least we thought.

We kept getting warnings as well. Subtle warnings.

The weather was getting extreme. Winter (the cold season I told you about) met us with blizzard like conditions, ice shards blasting through the air, and frigid temperatures that would freeze your blood if you didn’t wear enough layers.

The heat of the summer was incredible, with the sun starting to burn people’s skin after a few minutes outside. Many people tried to reduce their internal heat by taking a dip in the water, or hanging by lakes, but the water was starting to boil, so all it did was cook some people alive. A human soup.

Nothing was said of a change in climate. The corporations that led the energy surge had methods of surviving and were happy atop their ivory towers. The had all the money and resources to survive the intense weather conditions. With the argument that weather changes all the time being the leading one, the idea that we were damaging the planet was falling out of people’s heads.

Near the end, they owned all forms of media, publications, news stations, and they were running the show. World leaders had to abide to the desires of those corporations. Lobbyists, salespeople essentially, would show up at all those political buildings, like the American White House and the Canadian Parliament Buildings, and “sell” the idea that their energy sources were for the greater good. And those governments had no choice but to abide since those companies, as it turned out, were paying them to live.

The media at the time was filled with nonsense, and that nonsense was doing all the thinking for anyone that consumed it. Nobody was thinking for themselves anymore. That’s how they got away with it: they controlled thought, and brainwashed people into believing there was nothing wrong, only to care about trivial things, like which celebrity is dating who.

The other problem was there was no alternative. Everything we produced was destroying the planet, like that was our purpose all along, and all the alternatives were being bought and destroyed, or talked about in a negative way to lose public confidence. All so they could keep filling their pockets.

When the weather really started to change, people just dealt with it, because no alarm bells were ringing since those companies weren’t ringing them. People started dying of heat exhaustion or froze to death on the street.

But that’s the thing about people: when we want to survive, nothing else matters. We’re like rats, scurrying about in a frenzy hoping for a morsel of food, and we go back and back using it all till it’s gone.

What’s the lesson here? Let me tell you: we are our own destruction son. We did this. We killed this planet and its inhabitants. Hope is a long shot, so you have to remove that bone from your body and move forward and survive. Simple as that.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you, but like I said, I am probably dead if you are reading this. The family you never knew is somewhere, and I’m going to join them, whether to add to this hunk of earth with my rotting corpse, or in that folkish cloud-in-the-sky. Even that hell you keep hearing about with all my cursing could be it.

I love you son. Survive. Use those wits and kill if you need to.

Yours Truly,

Dad

Dean felt the sun beating down as he walked through the wasteland with this memory in his mind’s eye. His father made him sick, but he took his lessons to heart and did what he could to survive.