The Lost Locket

“It has to be here somewhere.” I said out loud to no one in particular.

“We have to go.” My mom said from the hall as she walked past my door, her arms filled with pots.

“I just has to be here. I can’t leave without it.” I said again.

I looked frantically around my room. The nightstand? No. I’ve checked there. It should be over here, on the bookshelf. That’s where I always keep it. It should be right here. I shoved books and decorations to the side, desperate to find it.

“What about the hamsters?” My younger sister’s voice cut through the surrounding chaos.

“Just leave the damn hamsters. We don’t have time.” My dad said on his was back from the driveway. He held the door open for my mom and headed towards the master bedroom.

“Have you packed your clothes?” He asked me.

My sister started crying. The shrill, panicked cry that only a small child can manage. My mother, having unloaded the pots into the back of the family minivan, came back inside and grabbed my sister by her shoulders.

“You can just leave the hamsters here. They have food and water in their cages. They’ll be alright for a little while.”

“No. I can’t leave them behind. I just can’t. They won’t make it.” She shrieked between sobs.

“We don’t have time for this. Have you packed your clothes?” Dad asked me again over the commotion.

I grabbed the first duffle bag I could find and swung open my closet door. I stared blankly at the hangers, not sure what to grab first. In the back, at the bottom, I saw my baby blanket wrapped around my favourite stuffed animal. I shoved them both into the bottom of my bag, and tossed in whatever shirts and dresses came to hand until there was no more room. I grabbed a second bag and started emptying drawers.

“We don’t have room for that much. You have to leave it behind.” Dad said to me on his way by.

“We don’t have time to cut holes in the lids. Just put the hamsters in the container and you can cut air holes on the way.” Mom was telling my sister.

I dropped the duffle bag in my hand and frantically looked around my room again. I couldn’t leave without it. I combed through my bookshelf again, tossing things onto the floor as I went.

“Have you packed your gas mask?” My mom asked.

“Shit. No.”

“You’d better grab that now.” She glared at me over the box she was carrying. “Watch your language.”

“Mom. I can’t get Mr. Hammy to come out of his bedding. It’s too loud.” My sister wailed.

“Well then Mr. Hammy will just have to stay here.” Dad said.

“Do you have the dog?” I asked.

“Frank’s in the van already. And you should be too.” Dad said.

I handed him my first duffle bag, and turned back to my bed to grab my mask.

“Mom, where’s the case for it?” I asked.

“Nevermind the case, just grab it and go. We have to leave.” Mom yelled back at me.

My sister wailed harder and louder than the warning sirens blaring outside. Frank started to bark, anxious about being stuck alone in the van for so long. Dad threw bags and totes into the back haphazardly; There was a frantic energy about all of us. Before, on family trips when I was younger, Dad was always so meticulous about packing the van. He was the only one to do it, and he would wake up hours before the rest of us to Tetris our luggage in place. Today was nothing like that.

My mom scooped up my little sister and dragger her towards the van. She was dangerously clutching an entire hamster cage against her chest. My dad looked at her and snorted.

“Fine, but that damn cage is sitting on your lap the whole time, you hear. There’s no space for it in the back.”

I swiped my arm across my nightstand and dumped the yellow pill bottles into a tote. They clattered against my gas mask and one of the lids popped open, anti-depressants clattering off the respirator. I ignored it, and kept looking around my room. It was here somewhere. It had to be.

“What are you even looking for? Let’s go.” Dad yelled at me.

“The locket. My locket. The heart shaped one. Have you seen it?”

Mom was out in the van, buckling my sister in. Dad had closed the rear hatch and the driver side door was open and ready to go. Dad looked towards the front door, then back at me.

“Where was it?”

“Here, on my bookshelf. I swear, I always kept it here.”

“I don’t see it. Have you checked the dresser?”

“It’s not there. I need to find it.”

Dad took a step towards the door, urging me to come with him.

“We have to go. It’s time.”

“Not without the locket.” I said.

“Forget about that damned locket, we should be gone already. Your other sisters are probably past the blast containment wall at this point. We need to get out of here, before it’s—”

A flash of white light outside the window filled my room, momentarily stunning us. That instant felt like an eternity. My eyes watered and baulked at the brightness.

“—too late.”

Dad grabbed my arm and dragged me screaming out of my room.

“I can’t leave it. It was right there, I know it. I just. It was there.”

“There’s no time.” Dad shoved me through the sliding door with one hand and began shutting it with the other.

“We can still make it before the shock waves. We can still make it, right?” Mom asked.

Dad didn’t say anything as he flung the van into reverse and whipped it around. The engine complained when he slammed the shifter into drive before we had even slowed down. He slid around the corner at the end of our street, ignoring the stop sign. And the children playing sign. And the speed limit sign. None of that mattered now.

“We can out run the blast wave, can’t we?” Mom asked again.

“Maybe.” Dad gripped the steering wheel so tightly all his knuckles went white. The engine revved again as he kept his foot pressed to the floor.

“The blast shield. We should at least get to the blast shield before it hits us completely.” I said.

My sister screamed as the van fishtailed it’s way out of the suburbs. Mr. Hammy was violently rattled against his cage bars, and clucked angrily. Frank barked, then whined.

“You and that damn locket. We should have left a half hour ago.” Dad said.

“It’s not my fault. None of us were ready.” I replied meekly.

My heart caught in my throat and it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. The locket.

“We won’t make it.” Dad said.

“We’ll make it.” Mom said.

“The locket.” I said.

It was all I had left of my life before. Before all this happened. Before the world went to apocalyptic hell. It was the only thing I had left to remind me of him, of my mother-in-law, of my family. I tried to breathe in but my lungs collapsed. The only thing I had left of my husband, and I left it behind. Now, all that I owned was rolled up into one duffle bag: my baby blanket, my favourite stuffed animal, and a haphazard collection of clothes. I don’t even think I had grabbed myself any socks.

“This is your fault.” My dad’s icy words cut through the air like daggers.

The ground began to heave under us, and I turned to look out the back window. It was blocked by the remains of our lives, shoved unceremoniously into whatever bags we had on hand. But beyond that, I could see the blinding white light chasing us down.

After the ground had settled, an eerie silence took over. All sounds were muted by the pillowy ash that covered what remained of a sleepy suburb. The sun shone yellow through the haze, and just barely pierced it’s way past the shattered windowpanes. It trickled it’s way onto the nightstand where there lay, long abandoned, a silver heart shaped locket covered in dust.