Haven

The state of the world had been deteriorating for decades, but we chose distraction over awareness. As pollution levels increased, air quality steadily declined. Disease and infection spread easily, and death rates soared. Natural disasters became more frequent and the destruction they caused more catastrophic. Rising political tensions resulted in war across the globe, leaving many countries in ruins. The long-observed gap between wealth and poverty widened substantially. When living conditions became deplorable, the wealthy flocked to private islands where money could buy luxuries like vegetables and clean water. The remaining people were spread throughout the world, all fighting to survive in their own personal purgatory. They called this the Divide. The islands formed a new continent named Valorem. There is power in a name. To name something is to validate it - to humanize it. Healthcare, law enforcement, and government were now reserved for Valorem. The old world was nothing but the ruins of a civilization that no longer existed. Resources were hoarded, famine was rampant, and violence was unavoidable. People had lost all civility - all humanity.

My husband and I were blessed with a son before he died. Jamie had his father’s dark brown curls, my pale green eyes, and a contagious laugh. He was six when the Divide happened. I was a nurse, so after the hospitals shut down, I continued to treat people in the streets while a neighbor named Maria watched Jamie.

Eventually, Valorem realized that in order to maintain their civilization, there was work that the citizens were unwilling to do. The government sent military forces to scour the old world collecting children aged 5 and older. They were classified as Desirables and would be brought back to Valorem where they would be enslaved to its citizens. They would be assigned identification numbers - seen as less than human. I was bandaging a woman's leg when we heard the roar of an army truck barreling up the street toward us. We hid in the shadows as we watched four soldiers with machine guns climb out of the vehicle. They stood in front of a small, dilapidated house nearby. A soldier lifted a megaphone and with a commanding voice, spoke words that made my blood run cold.

"ATTENTION OCCUPANTS: WE ARE AWARE OF A DESIRABLE AT THIS LOCATION. VOLUNTEER THE CHILD OR WE WILL REMOVE BY FORCE."

The soldiers stood in place for a few moments, then marched into the house. We heard shouting and gunfire, then the soldiers came back out, two of them carrying a flailing young girl about the same age as Jamie. Behind them, the parents of the child, yelling and crying. As the two men pushed the girl into the vehicle, the father ran toward them. Without hesitation, the other two soldiers lifted their weapons and emptied them into the distraught parents. They left their bodies in the street and drove away. The woman I was treating began to sob. I finished bandaging the wound and walked away. I glanced at the bodies that lay in the street. I grieved for the dead, and for the sobbing woman I left behind, but I did not cry. I had to find my son. I began to run, faster than I had in years. My chest heaved and my lungs burned with every breath, but I kept going. I finally stopped as I spotted Maria on the ground near my house. I could see that she had two bullet wounds in her abdomen and would not live much longer. When she saw me, she reached for me, but screamed in pain.

"Shh, be still now. Don't move too much, I'm here." I knelt beside her and cradled her head in my hands.

"They took him, I couldn’t stop them," she cried.

"It's okay, I know. Don't worry, he's alright. I know where he is, he's safe." I reassured her as I stroked her hair.

As she began to drift away, I hummed a lullaby I had sung to Jamie and stroked the heart shaped locket that hung around my neck. Inside it was a tiny picture of Jamie and I on his first birthday. My husband had given it to me before he died. I had not taken it off since. The truth was I did not know where my son was, or if he was safe, or if I would ever see his face again. When she took her final breath, I closed her eyes and covered her in a blanket from inside the house. I packed a bag with whatever useful items I could carry. As I circled the house, my mind was flooded with memories. Birthdays, Christmases, Jamie's first steps, my wedding night, my husband's funeral. I saw the best and worst moments of my life, but I was disconnected from them. Impartial. Numb. I threw the bag over my shoulder and walked out, past the blanketed heap on the ground, and began looking for my son.

I searched nearby at first, then methodically moved outward, getting further away from any sense of familiarity with each passing day. I slept for brief intervals and ate only what was necessary to keep me alive to spend another day searching for my son. I had been reduced to nothing but a series of repetitive steps; I became robotic. I lost track of time. Had I been searching for days? Weeks? Maybe even months? Eventually, my body surrendered. My vision became blurry, and I felt myself hit the ground hard and a sharp pain shot through my head before everything went black. When I awoke, I did not recognize my surroundings, but I knew I was inside a building - it was warm, and I could smell food cooking. I realized I was not alone. I began to panic; the state of the world had left many people in a state of depravity. It was reasonable to assume my company had less than noble intentions with a woman my age, alone and too weak to put up much of a fight. I began to look around the room for a door or window to escape when an unfamiliar voice startled me.

"Well, look who's awake! Gave yourself quite a knock on the skull there, lady. Not to worry, ol' Robbie over there's pretty good at doin' stitches."

The voice belonged to a man standing in an open doorway behind me. He was tall and muscular, with a thick unruly mop of orange hair and a scruffy beard. Behind him I could see another man sitting on a chair eating something straight from a can. This man was a much smaller build, thin and lanky with light hair shaved very short and glasses.

"Who are you?" I asked, still skeptical.

"Name's Liam. And that there's Robbie, like I mentioned. We go around from place to place, helping folks out when we can. You want some beans? They're nice and hot!" He replied with a grin and gestured toward the other room.

I considered it for a moment before telling them my story, the path I had taken and the places I had already been. They listened intently and told me some of their own. They were soldiers before the Divide. When the military abandoned the old world, they stayed to help whoever was left behind. They had a truck and said I could go with them if I wanted. I didn't know where I was headed, but I was not afraid; I was still nothing but determined. We drove in silence for a long time, when suddenly Liam slowed to a stop, and I followed his gaze to the army truck straight ahead. It was flipped upside down, the doors all wide open. Liam and Robbie exchanged glances, and both slowly climbed out of the pickup. I followed them as they crept stealthily toward the vehicle, scanning for soldiers. As we got closer, I was certain it was the same army truck I had seen before. Liam and Robbie relaxed when it became clear all four soldiers were dead. The back hatch of the truck was open, and Robbie hesitantly peered inside. After a moment, he breathed a sigh of relief and gestured to Liam. I moved closer to see what Robbie was showing him. On the wall of the empty cab was a single letter, a capital "H" spray painted in neon green.

"Alright, that's a bit of good news then, eh?" Liam nodded to Robbie, who nodded back in response. "I think we might know where your boy is after all."

I was paralyzed with anticipation. My throat was bone dry and my heart pounded in my chest, but I could not bring myself to speak. I felt the jostle of my body as the truck pulled onto a dirt road, surrounded by forests on either side. Dust formed a cloud behind us as we bumped along the path. We might have driven for minutes, or maybe it was hours. I didn't know. We eventually came to a clearing in the trees, and I stared in disbelief. There were endless fields of lush, green grass, trees that must have been decades old, and a large lake of crisp, clean water. There were cottages in rows, a large wooden play structure, and several fields of vegetables, flowers, and herbs. I was speechless and bewildered. They pulled up beside one of the gardens and Robbie jogged toward an older gentleman who was busy weeding. I climbed out and looked around, still in awe. Robbie began to approach, the older gentlemen at his side. He looked at least 60, with long grey hair and sparkling blue eyes.

"Hello, I am Ethan," he said as he extended his hand. "You probably have some questions."

He explained that it used to be a campground owned by his family, until the buildings needed repairs and it became run down. The lake became polluted like all the others. People gradually forgot that it ever existed, but not Ethan. He returned when he had grown and over time, he restored it. It stayed hidden because the outside world believed it was still abandoned and worthless. He said that people had come here over time, or had been found and needed help, and he offered them a home. There were still hardships, it was not easy maintaining a place like this, and they had to stay vigilant about protecting this place from ill-intentioned outsiders, but ultimately it was a sanctuary for lost souls who wanted to find their way back to civilization - to humanity.

"We wanted to build a place that valued what humanity really is. We help one another here, and we are hopeful and determined to find peace. We named this place what we wanted it to become. Welcome to Haven.”

He gestured around the space surrounding us as he said this, then smiled and went back to the garden. This abandoned space had been given a name and been redeemed. In that moment, I knew without doubt that Haven would live up to the name it had been given.

"Mommy!!" I felt tiny arms hug the back of my legs tightly.

Tears filled my eyes as I looked at Jamie. He looked healthy, happy. His brown curls fell into his eyes, and he laughed that contagious laugh I longed to hear again.

My name is Laura and today I wept. I wept for the loss of the civilization I knew and for the solace of the one I found. For my own loss of innocence and for the relief of knowing that my son still held onto his. For all I had seen and for all the things I may hope to see in a future I thought would never exist. For the darkness ahead and for the light that love brings to even the darkest of days. I wept because I learned how resilient humanity is after all.