Shelter

Every day was torture before society collapsed. It felt like every minute dragged on as we all marched towards our doom, I became frozen by the fear. That was until I leaned into the fear and began making preparations. I spent every bit of money I had on building a shelter that could endure any amount of destruction that may come. I filled my shelter with provisions to last twenty years, hopefully that would buy me enough time to outlast the inevitable nuclear fallout that would come upon society's collapse. I lined the shelves with books, to keep me entertained and to educate me so I would be ready to be one of the leaders of the new world. I would be there to witness a fresh start.

I knew the end was coming long before society actually started collapsing. I always listened, listened to the "crazy" folks and got to work. My provisions were well researched, guaranteed to last and I invested a large portion of my money into acquiring a device to sterilize and repurpose urine. I'm the only one down here, whenever I'd bring up the apocalypse with loved ones they'd become visibly uncomfortable. It was easier for them to believe that I was crazy than to accept the world they knew wasn't forever.

I decided that a new society should have it's own numbering system. Year one began when I entered the shelter, it wasn't until year thirteen that the chaos outside truly began. The years in between feel so unimportant now. The memories are a blur, I can only recollect the feelings now. I know at one point I felt sadness, also loneliness. I suppose the memories have faded because my brain had no use for them.

The true apocalypse started with natural disasters, in year thirteen. Where I live, outside of what was Portland, local news reported tornadoes. We all watched the news as the skyline was ripped apart, I personally watched from my shelter, at least until the signal cut out. Before my television was reduced to a white noise machine, I saw so clearly the fear in everyone's eyes. Fear and confusion. It made me sad to see them all suffer, but I was able to distract myself with a book from my collection.

I wasn't free from the fear, which is why my shelter remained locked at all times. Locked through the days full of banging against the metal door, locked through the faint sound of screams, locked to keep myself safe from the outside. Time is a vague notion to me at this point, but I believe this was my life for the first five years. I could only imagine the chaos outside, weather became dangerous, storms more powerful and eventually the destruction caused a worldwide nuclear meltdown. I kept reminding myself of how awful the Earth was, to avoid acknowledging the corpses on my doorstep.

Once year twenty came around (I knew because of the seventy-three hundred tallies on the wall), I decided it was time to suit up in my hazmat equipment and take a look at what was left for the inheritors of the Earth. Those prepared enough to restart society. I felt encouraged, I was very well studied and in great physical shape, relative to my conditions. My optimism was quickly replaced with a deep sickness in my stomach once I heard the bones snapping as I forced the shelter door open. Piles of bones suffocated my property, the harsh weather had made quick work of decomposition. I closed the door immediately. I should've expected it, looking into the faces of death is an entirely different thing that simply pondering the concept.

Eventually I made my way out into the wastelands, through the bones and over the dead land. I made my way to the highest point on my property, to see if there was any sign of life on the horizon to act as my North Star. That day bled into night and showed me how dark this world can look without the presence of other human life.

It became my goal to simply survive. Survive long enough to find someone, anyone that would connect me back to my humanity. Most of my days were spent in the shelter, I couldn't face the bones that seemed to taunt me every time I stepped foot outside. This solace was short lived, as the taunting turned to shouting. My mind rattled with the screaming, the pleading, the crunching of bones. I was losing my sanity, fast.

My solution was to pack everything that was still useful and leave for a new home, hopefully with other humans ready to restart society. I believe I made it one step outside of the shelter before light flashed across my eyes. I had hoped for headlights, possibly belonging to a rescue vehicle, but what I found was far more powerful. Under a set of shattered ribs sat a gorgeous, though tarnished, locket. The locket was in the shape of a heart, a symbol that seemed entirely foreign to me after surviving alone as long as I had. I delicately pried the locket open to reveal a small cameo. It was a woman, she was beautiful. I don't remember enough about what human beauty was to say otherwise. What really mattered is that she was human, she was the piece missing through all of this survival. What's the point in surviving if you'll always have to be alone?

I fashioned a necklace using some old cord, so I could take my locket with me wherever I'd go. I wasn't alone anymore. I'd ask the locket questions, tell her about myself. It felt nice to be heard and I had grown far too tired of being alone. The locket even convinced me to deal with the bones scattered around the property, a chore I thought would remain unfinished. She made me feel like there was a purpose for my existence again. Surviving was worth it, I had been working towards this relationship. A beautiful culmination of my efforts.

This all leads me to the purpose of this note, I have completed my tasks. Not my daily tasks, my life's purpose. On a fairly normal day, picking up bones, the locket presented me with a new goal. A goal that has just been completed. The locket told me, she told me that these bones were once all human and maybe I could bring them back. The locket and I would finally have company.

I took bones from the piles I had constructed with the intent of rebuilding these people. It was painstaking work, honestly the locket was a little snarky the whole time, which didn't make things any easier. I don't know for sure if every bone ended up in the right spot, but the locket reassured me that this wouldn't matter. We were making new people for a new world.

I was the only one that could've done it. I needed to be alone, the locket tells me so. I had the vision, I was prepared and it is through my hands that our new society has been shaped. The locket has taught me that those who died banging against the doors of my shelter were meant to do so. I am the survivor, the shaper, the creator.

The locket and I have completed my vision for the future, a society of happy bones. I will take my place among the bones, the locket says it is time to complete my ascension. I haven’t seen any human life in decades but should you be a lucky survivor like me, this note, left in the shelter where it all began, should catch you up and allow you to join right in after you read it.

The locket tells me that everything is perfect. I was to be a vessel for the bones, a savior, so that I could bring all people together. These bones are what is left of humanity, see what we have done together.