Sole Survivor

The Earth was a barren wasteland. Broken homes stood half-buried in sand, dirt and rock. Metallic shells of what once were vehicles lay strewn about, rusted and ruined far beyond use. Various household appliances were identifiable amidst the chaotic rubble but nothing was of value. It was all gone. Entire cities turned to ash. Lakes and rivers dried up or poisoned. A sickly haze had formed across the sky, tainting the rain and amplifying the sun's radiation, turning the majority of the planet into a toxic desert landscape. Not a single tree still stood as far as the eye could see, nor any life for that matter, aside from one man. For all he knew, Jared was the last man alive. The bombs had destroyed everything: his family, his friends, his home, his future. Nothing but broken fragments and hollow memories remained of the world before the war. He walked on in search of food and water, though why he did not know. Surely it would be wiser to give up hope and join the rest of humanity in the land of the dead. But why, then, was he saved? Why hadn't he died in the blast? He had to believe that there were others out there. He had to believe that he could find them. Somehow, if enough had lived, they would find a way to start over. Somehow they would survive.

Jared removed his wide-brimmed hat and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair as he scanned the horizon. There was little to be seen but sand and rubble. The sun's heat radiated down mercilessly, reflecting off the reddish-orange landscape as vast, shimmering mirages. Jared licked his cracked lips longingly. He had run out of water several hours earlier, and already he felt as if he hadn't wet his tongue in days. As the sweat oozed down his face and body, the suffering man prayed for the hundredth time that hour for any whisper of a breeze. He fanned his face with his hat and tugged at his sweat-soaked shirt, but the subtle air flow offered little relief. After a moment's rest, he replaced his hat, hooked his bandana over his nose, and continued marching forward with weary reluctance.

There were several standing structures visible in the distance and Jared headed straight for them. He collapsed in the shade of the highest wall, feeling grateful to be temporarily sheltered from the blistering sun. He knew he needed to find water and food, but his trembling legs refused to move and his mind seemed drained of any motivation. What was the point? Why should he continue? Wouldn't it be better to stop fighting and let death take him? Jared rubbed his face hard to hold back the tears that had begun to form. A small voice deep inside his mind told him to keep going, to hold on just a little longer. With the voice came an image of his daughter. He saw her bright, wide eyes as she beamed up at him. He felt her smooth brown hair and the squeeze of her slender arms as she hugged his legs. He remembered the day he gave her the locket. Tiny and heart-shaped, it opened to reveal a photograph of their family: Jared and his wife Sofia, with their beautiful little Leah between them.

"Remember that we're always close to your heart, no matter where you go," he had told her as he placed the locket around her neck.

"I'll wear it for the rest of my life," she'd declared excitedly. If only her life had been longer.

Jared reached under his collar, pulled out the heart-shaped locket, and looked upon the image of his late wife and daughter. The memory of their death and of his failure to protect them brought on a sudden wave of determination. He had to do better. He couldn't save his own family, but perhaps there was still a chance to save someone else's. Perhaps there was hope for the future. With great effort, Jared pushed himself once again to stand and move forward. His sore and blistered feet carried him on, past piles of brick and shards of glass, past mounds of stone and splinters of wood. Across the merciless land he marched, a sole survivor in a dying world.