The Lucky One

2051 - No one could have imagined my life, not the best sci-fi authors or doomsday predictors. At the ripe old age of 99 I’m still thankful and sickened at the same time. My time is short now, yet the events that happened 30 years ago haunt me to these, my finals days. Billions died seemingly overnight and yet, here I am, old even in a utopian best-case scenario. I’m thankful not only for being alive, although the alternative would have been a horribly painful death, I’m thankful because like all of the survivors worldwide, our direct descendants have survived, too. One day life was good for me, living the dream. I was retired, my wife’s retirement was imminent, but it was not to be. Traveling to far off, dreamt about locations was what our future held. Maybe have our kids traveling with us and the grandkids at times.

The year was 2021 and the world was getting past the worst of the Coronavirus epidemic, life was returning to normal for most Americans even though many parts of the world was still dealing with contagion and the resulting deaths. I was up early on that August morning, I’m up early every day now that 70 is just around the corner. My routine was to hit the bathroom, let the dogs out, get a cup of joe and watch the morning news, always in that order, creature of habit. At first, I thought I was watching a sick repeat of Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds, minus the aliens. Newscast of rioting in major cities around the world, dead people lying in the streets and vehicles askew on both highways and neighborhood streets. I turned to another channel, same. Every news outlet and social media was showing the same horror. I remember standing in front of the tv, mouth agape in total disbelief when my wife called to me. A ragged phlegmy sound, and me thinking, “what now? the world is falling apart, and she was coming down with a cold.” She looked red faced and sweaty, definitely sick and a look of fear because she was not able to catch her breath. She needed to see a doctor. I called our medical clinic, but the automated answering service estimated a three hour wait and there were hundreds of calls ahead of us. She was getting worse as I watched, we needed to get to an emergency room quickly. We never made it. The roads from our rural home to the nearest medical facility was blocked by cars and trucks. The love of my life passed away in my arms, unable to breathe and me helpless to protect her from this disaster. I don’t remember how long I held her. I cried, God how I cried until I couldn’t cry any more. I left my car to inspect the vehicles that were blocking the roads. Death, every vehicle had a dead person in it, some had multiple people in them, but all were dead. What the hell was going on? Then another fear found its way into my head, our daughter was at home and still asleep when we left for the hospital. How would I find her? Dying or already dead? I raced back home, our dirt road now an obstacle course of pickup trucks with trailers, and cars. I ran into the house frantically calling out her name. She was standing in the kitchen making a bagel, looking at me like I was a blathering lunatic. I was.

The next months were mind numbing. Either you got sick and died or nothing, not a cough or runny nose, no sore throat or congestion. My three children were in the latter group as were their kids. But they lost spouses and most of their friends. Most apocalyptic scenarios show looting and groups banding together for protection, think Mad Max. Didn’t happen, those people who had survived were aiding those who were alone and needed a shoulder to lean on. Months turned into a few years, those farmers that had lived, farmed, the carpenters worked with others to maintain homes, teachers that survived were passing their knowledge down to the kids showing up for classes. No money was exchanged, bartering was the new money. You teach me how to fix my truck I’ll get you two dozen eggs. Luckily every walk of life had a person who was still around to pass their knowledge on to someone else. Workers at nuclear plants went through the process of shutting them down in a safe manner. Pollution of all forms was practically nonexistent. The renewable energy power grids produced enough electricity for the people that had survived.

How did those people survive, or why were those who survived, in many cases, have relatives who also survived, what was the one thing that all of the survivors had in common? Ten years after the worst human catastrophe in earth’s history, the answer was found. A virus. To be more specific the poliomyelitis virus. The common thread that each and every survivor possessed was they were a polio survivor or a child/grandchild of a polio survivor. Scientists believe the polio virus altered a gene in its victims and they in turn passed that altered gene down to the next generations, thus making them immune to this unknown murderer. As to what was the actual cause of the billions of deaths, we still haven’t found the culprit. Some theories consider a manmade antigen, an unknown pathogen brought back to life as the permafrost thawed, something totally alien from off-planet or, some believe, the book of Revelations coming to life. We do know that it’s still lurking and is ready to find another victim.

How do we know this? Four months after the big die off, astronauts from the International Space Station set foot on earth and all died within a week. Even tribes in the Amazon rainforest and Inuit living in the harshest environments were not spared. Whatever was responsible for the killing of billions encompassing the whole world, was thwarted by one altered gene that only was found in polio survivors and their descendants. For most polio survivors who had adverse effects from the polio virus, such as troubled breathing and withered limbs, often wondered “why me?”, but now think “lucky me.”

For the last few years of my life, I’ve been amazed at the beauty of this world now that it’s cleaned itself up. At night you can see billions of stars without the light pollution of thirty years ago. Our oceans are now pristine without billions of tons of refuse finding its way into them. Forests are being reclaimed by nature and the animal populations are returning. My children have adapted to this new world and their children will only know this world. Reading about a world, that to them is completely alien. Would I change my life if I could? If asked that question before the apocalypse I would have said yes, definitely! No one wants to live with limbs that don’t function properly. But now, seeing this world, this garden of Eden, no, I would not change anything. I would gladly live with the handicap I suffered from polio, and I daresay, so would the rest of the apocalypse survivors. My only regret is that I had to live these last thirty years as a widower.

The last thing I bought for my wife was a heart shaped locket I carry with me inscribed with, “Love you, more.” Won’t be long now my love.