Death Wish

I should be dead.

Why can’t I die? I glance down at my wounded side and wish for death. Death is the absence of pain. Death is relief. I clutch my waist and relive the events that brought me here.

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Almost four years ago an event took place that shook the globe. On an average summer day over 60 million people disappeared. Mothers and sons, businessmen and schoolteachers, Iranian and French…the reaping was instantaneous and indiscriminate. They were simply there one moment and gone the next. Chaos ensued.

Then a leader rose up from among us. Somehow he calmed us down. He prevented a major market crash, provided jobs for those in need, he fed us and housed us and the whole world came to see him as its savior. He ended the wars in the Middle East. Israel and Iraq signed a peace treaty. He even developed a new formula to boost people’s metabolism. Obesity is no more.

It was all so perfect. For three and a half years we looked to him for guidance and he had never let us down.

Until two months ago.

Two months ago a major war broke out between China and the United Seven (what used to be Russia, Italy, Turkey, Greece, Iran, Tajikistan, and Kuwait). An atomic bomb was dropped over China and twelve million people died. I wish for that relief myself, for after the war began, there was famine; then earthquakes, which in turn caused tsunamis. Meteors fell causing the water to become so polluted we couldn’t drink it. Hundreds of millions died in weeks. And in our greatest need, our fearless leader turned his back on us.

Suddenly the death stopped. The horrors remained. The climate continued to change and natural disasters continued to plague us, but we couldn’t die. People in the war were shot, but now they screamed in agony, begging for a relief that they would never find. Their bodies didn’t heal; they simply cluttered the battle fields and moaned in agony.

A few days ago I finally ran out of food. I waited until night fell, then gathered the few things I had and began to make my way to the little cabin my grandmother had left me. I knew that at least I could find something there to eat, and maybe I would be able to distract myself from the things that were happening until it all blew over. When I stopped to put some gas in my bike with the few dollars I had left, there were people everywhere. One man realized that I had a backpack with me and suddenly I became a target. I managed to get a little bit of gas in my bike before someone pulled a knife. My backpack never stood a chance, but the gash in my side worried me a little more. I swung my leg over the bike and got as far away as I could.

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Now I’m on the side of a mountain with nothing but the key in my pocket and the heart-shaped locket around my neck. Thankfully the cabin is well hidden, so its one of the last places on earth that hadn’t been looted or burned. I've finally reached a resting place. The wound in my side throbs, but I’ve rather gotten used to it. My fingers run over fond memories as I wander through the tiny haven. Grandma always liked to read and I smile when I see her little library above the mantle. A tiny, black book looks a little more worn than the others, so I pick it up and flip to the end. I smile as my mind returns to the last visit we made to this cabin.

“Don’t do that! That’s cheating!” Grandma’s words hold no heat, and I see the smile in the corner of her mouth.

“But all the best parts of the story are at the end, Grandma!” She chuckles and pats my head.

“Some stories are worth it. Start from the beginning, and the ending will be so much more satisfying.” I ponder the words as she walks away. She’s right, I decide. But I can’t tell her that. I just sit down, and begin to read.

Tears fill my eyes and I can barely see as I flip to the back of the book. For being so small it sure holds a lot of words. I remember this being my Grandmother’s favorite book, but I never bothered to look at it. What I read shocks me from my reverie.

“And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sits on the throne…”*

I think of all the men who are lying out there bleeding and moaning and wishing for death. I sit down and flip back a few pages, then I begin to read in earnest. I’m crying again, but for a different reason. The whole book has record of everything that’s happened to this point.

Someone knew. And they tried to warn us.

They tried to tell us that the peace would never last, and that our “savior” was anything but. They tried, but we would not listen. I read on and begin to weep, because now I see. Things are only going to get worse before the end.

And I wish that I could die.

But I can’t.

*Quote taken from the King James Version, Revelation 6:15-16