Love Always Survives

The surprised look on his face makes me pause in mid-step, as I watch his body slowly crumple to the ground. The bright red splotch on his chest continues to grow as he shrinks to the hardened dirt. "Fool", I mumble with a sneer. With the end of civilization behind us, how could he not know I would kill him?

I crouch down beside him to scavenge what I can. I take a quick look around to make sure he has no accomplices. Years ago, I would have used the word "friend", but not since The End happened. Taking in the brown hardened dirt all around me, I can see no life anywhere...no trees...no grass...no animals...and definitely no people. Feeling confident I have no one that can get to me, I turn my attention back to the unknown man lying on his back.

Like many of us that survived, we took to wearing trenchcoats or overcoats to help block the never-ending wind and the dust that comes with it. He looks older, like maybe the age of my grandfather, had he survived the painful death that took most of the planet. His hair a stark white to his dark brown clothes, I marvel that he has made it this long past The End. Reaching out my fingerless-gloved left hand, I pull back one side of his trenchcoat while holstering my firearm that I just used.

Inside his trenchoat, I get my second surprise of the day: pockets. This guy had taken small pieces of random fabrics and sewn himself pockets upon pockets in his trenchcoat. Each one looks carefully made, as if there was someone who might remark on his craftsmanship. "Well, old timer," I say gruffly, "No one cares how good you might have been, so let's get to the good stuff."

Putting my hand in one bulging pocket, I find a clear, sealed plastic bag with a red cross drawn by hand on the outside. Grinning as I hold it up, I can see band-aids, antiseptic, antibiotic ointment, bandages, and hand sanitizer carefully stuffed into it. "Score!" I say happily as I reach behind me to open my day-pack. Without a thought, I cram it in and go for another pocket.

Huh, I wonder, another first aid bag...he carried two just alike? Within a few moment, I have pulled 10 of them out of his pockets. Each one identical to the one before it, and obviously carefully packed by hand. Tired of the same thing, even though it is more first aid supplies than I have seen since The End, I reach over him and open his trenchcoat on the other side.

Symmetrical, there are pockets over here. Trying my luck, I shove my hand in one and pull out a water packet. My mouth begins to salivate as I hold in my hand 8 gorgeous fluid ounces of clear water. "My man," I say triumphantly, opening the packet carefully. I put it to my mouth and suck down the precious life giving liquid. Savoring and saving every drop, I lick my parched lips. "You saved my life," I say with satisfaction, but when I look down at him, I feel somewhat guilty. There is something just strange about this guy and all his pockets.

Within a few moments, I am sitting on the ground even more perplexed. I found 9 more water packets, along with 10 nutrition bars. Holding them in my hand, I mumble to nobody, "10 first aid packets, 10 waters, and 10 food ration bars...what were you doing carrying all this?" As if to answer my question, the wind picks up, causing me to tilt my head into it to block it. The wind blows over the dead man, pushing his clothes around a bit, revealing something flashy under his button-down shirt.

My mind is reeling that this guy could have anything more for me to take, as I have overflowed my day-pack already. It will be a tough hike back through the wind-swept hills of this place to my tent with what I have taken, but my curiosity has the better of me now. Sitting down my new prizes, I reach out for another. My hand slides in between the buttons of his shirt to grab something cold and metallic. I pull it out to reveal a heart-shaped pendant.

Rubbing my thumb over one side, the ornate carvings looks amazing. I have not seen anything like this since... *click* My thoughts are interrupted as the pendant opens. "Oh", I exclaim over the wind, "It's a locket!" Leaning over, I see beautiful flowing letters arranged to make this sentence, "Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love". If I had seen pigs flying in the sky right now, I could not have been more surprised. "Love?" I almost spit, "Faith? And hope? What a joke." I start thinking of all the things to prove this wrong, all the actions that had led me to be the man I am today, until I notice there is more on the other side of the open locket. I read it before I even wonder if I should, "But the greatest of these is love."

And at that moment, it was like a bolt of lightning struck me. My whole body tingles at the realization of these words as they begin to seep into my soul. Love, or rather, the lack of it destroyed this world. No blame here or fault on one group...we all lacked love towards each other before The End. And now, there is no love left, or so I thought.

But now, I see this man for the first time. The peaceful expression that has overcome his face, the weathered but sturdy clothes, the handmade coat full of...looking down at my loot, I see it now as a gift not a plundered treasure. He decided to be love in a world without it. He decided to give when everyone, including me, was taking. He thought of others while we thought of ourselves. We missed the lesson that ended the world, yet somehow, he got it.

If I had any tears to cry, I might shed them now. I killed not a competitor, but a friend. I took from the world the last person that could have saved it. How many times have I cursed the names of presidents and kings who ended our world, when it appears I am no better than them?

I try to stand, to get away, to run. But, I can only manage to get to my knees, my heart too heavy to let me rise further. Leaning back, I scream at the sky, as if I could release my guilt and shame upon it, yet I feel no better when I am finished. Breathing heavily, I turn away from the man I never knew but wish I had. And maybe it was more than chance, I catch a glimpse of movement in the distance. I see 3 or 4 shapes, moving parallel to me. I do not even know if they can see me or not, but they look to be trudging very slowly to the East.

My right hand instinctively goes to my gun, but then my left hand starts to burn as I notice it still holds the locket tightly. What if I have been wrong all this time? What if I have been fighting the wrong fight? Maybe my weapon isn't on my hip, but rather in my chest. And maybe, my ammo isn't on my belt, but rather laying at my feet and in my pack.

Leaning down, I whisper into his ear, "I'm gonna take your locket to remind me of what you did for me, although I don't think I will ever forget you." Unclasping it, I put it around my neck and gather up my packets and bars. With a new sense of purpose, I walk towards the people. I will return to properly bury him, I tell myself, I will mark this spot for all to see in the future, but for now, gathering my new found strength, I have to try this thing called love. I have got to give what has been given to me. And maybe, I think with a smile, humanity has a chance now that I know love survived The End.