Never Gone

Funny thing about the Dixton was that once you caught it, you were branded like cattle. An odd, little blister would develop around your wrist like a bracelet immediately identifying you as infected. As horrifying as the Dixton was for its inevitable doom thrust upon its victims, it also gave some a strange sense of peace. The Dixton was a guaranteed death but you would have time and other than the fear it pierced you with, it offered no real physical symptoms or pain. Essentially, if you could accept your demise, your death could be as peaceful as possible. Accepting death was no one’s first inclination but as years passed, it became “all the rage”. I watched humanity’s religions change overnight to now peddle Dixton as “God’s answer to the pain of death”, I saw therapies for acceptance become something as common as going to the grocery store. After the initial shock and dismay of the first year of Dixton, I started to see humanity accept Dixton as somewhat of a relief. One of the most famous ways of coping with the Dixton was a place called Nevergone.

Nevergone would sell these small but decorative boxes just big enough to hold a pair of sneakers. These boxes would be given to those who were infected with Dixton and then the people would fill the box with their memories before they passed. Their memories consisted of relics from their life like their favorite book, a degree from college perhaps, a love letter, a picture of a loved one, or your first baseball glove. Anything that could fit in the box. People made these boxes out to be their legacies and legacies were all anybody cared about anymore. Along with the box, people were given a piece of decorative paper to explain the contents of their boxes and why each item was important. These papers were folded neatly into a small compartment within the box. The boxes were all stored in giant warehouses that became tourist attractions. People would tour the warehouses and guides would open boxes at random and relive the lives of Dixton victims. It was a very beautiful idea and also, a very lucrative one.

Nevergone exploded in popularity and in just five years, was one of the only thriving businesses left in a decaying world. Nevergone was started by a man named Richard Matague. He quietly became the richest man in what was left of the world. The world probably would have scoffed at a man becoming wealthy off the backs of such a benevolent and enriching idea but where people store their emotions, they also store their cash. Matague would catch the Dixton as well and as was customary at the time, he created a box of his own. The funny thing is that the day before he was to add his box to the original Nevergone warehouse, he passed away. His box never arrived there. Matague’s popularity rose highly after his death as people began to spread rumors of what he did during his mysterious life. Some called him the world’s only wealthy man even though that wasn’t exactly true. Some called him the only one who delivered any sort of hope to people because of Nevergone. Whether they thought him a hero, villain, or somewhere in between, no one actually knew him. His life was a puzzling mystery. Naturally, everyone wanted to know what was in his box but its location was a mystery of its own. Everyone started looking for it. As Dixton continued to dwindle the world’s population a year following Matague’s death, a scavenger hunt to find the missing box began and I, Evan Donnelly, was going to find it.

It has been five years since Dixton took its first victim. Since then over a billion people have been taken by it. Dixton hit my family early. It killed both my parents and my sister. My brother, Grant, and I had never gotten it. Dixton is contagious but the way it spreads is a mystery. It seems to just pick and choose like it’s its own entity and randomly chooses its victims. Grant’s wife and child both died from it too. This is one reason I was particularly happy my love life never developed during the end of the world. Grant and I were lucky to grab jobs as Nevergone security guards for the past few years. This was one of the best and only jobs one could get in the apocalypse. It would also help us in this new journey. We knew everything about those boxes. They were basically indestructible and there were only a few people with keys that could access them, the guides. So we knew Matague’s box was likely still out there along with its contents since it couldn’t be easily destroyed and we knew we’d have to find a guide. Of course working in security, we knew of one but that didn’t mean he would give us a key so easily.

The guide’s name was Sam. Sam was an eccentric older woman who was very entertaining in her time as a guide. She would rattle off all kinds of tales to keep her tourist group enthralled or at least distracted from the decaying nature of the world around them. She had retired from being a guide around Matague’s death. She was a clear suspect to know something about his missing box. We arrived at her house to find that nobody was home. No cars in the driveway and the outer front to the whole house looked as if it hadn’t seen any lawn grooming in upwards of a half year. She clearly had abandoned the place. Grant noticed something though that made us think she may not have abandoned it in her own free will. There were bullet holes in the one side of the house. It wouldn’t be particularly strange in a crumbling world for Sam to have been robbed or just shot up by some random thugs but I feel like there was more to this. Besides if it was a random attack, Sam lived in the middle of nowhere and didn’t have a glamorous house. Grant and I agreed that this was the work of something to do with Nevergone. She had something that they wanted. The key or maybe even Matague’s box was in the house. As I pondered over this with Grant, we could hear a car coming down the road. This house was pretty far off the beaten path so it was clearly someone looking for this house specifically which could mean certain trouble. Grant grabbed a shovel that was a few yards from the front door propped up against the house and I reflexively pulled out a pistol I keep in the car even though I did it so fast I didn’t think to realize it was out of bullets. In those short moments as the car pulled ever closer to us, the thought of death weighed on me but it was different. In this day and age, death couldn’t hold the same fear so it didn’t weigh me down like I expected. The car comes to a sudden stop assumedly once it spotted our car in the driveway. I hear a car door close and look up over the windshield of our own car to notice that it’s just Sam.

Sam recognizes Grant and I immediately and gives us both bigger hugs than we would expect to get. She was obviously scared. She said that she was camped out further along the road and saw us drive by, otherwise she would have stayed hidden. Sam explained to us that someone was after her. We responded with agreement after seeing the bullet holes. Sam tells us that Matague’s son, Jeremiah Matague is trying to secure all links to his father’s box. Jeremiah, apparently, doesn’t know the location of the box either but apparently thinks it will damage his father’s reputation and thus the reputation of Nevergone. Sam went on to say that one of the guides had stolen the key to Matague’s box and they thought it was her but she exclaims that she doesn’t have his key, she has the whole box. Grant and I stand back a moment almost in an awe shockwave of what she had just said. We begin to think that maybe her “eccentricity” was actually just being mad. Before we could question her on this point, we hear another car coming up the road, make that multiple cars. Nevergone is here.

We run inside the beat up house quickly. There’s not really anywhere to hide. The sun’s rays are beating through the random bullet holes and window shades reminding us even clearer that if Nevergone was to open fire on the house again, we’d stand no chance. I quickly decide that I’m going out there and don’t ask for any permission. I know we won’t survive by hiding. As I walk out the door I see a few big men in formal wear looking very menacing but unarmed. They stop me before I walk any further. They simply say to me “give us the box”. I tell him that I don’t have the box and don’t know where it is, which is still true at this point. They simply repeat the same line upon hearing it. A man appears behind them wearing a suit that looks rather beat up. Sam runs up behind me and demands that she won’t give up the box until she’s seen what’s inside it. The man from behind walks up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder and I immediately see the mark on his wrist. He’s infected. He looks me in the eyes and I can tell through his eyes that he had been through hell recently. “Please” the man says. “I want to know who my father really was.” He then pulls a key from his pocket. Sam looks him up and down trying to decide if she wants to take out the box, but judging how outnumbered she is, she rushes back into the house and comes out with the box. Jeremiah wastes no time in plugging the key in and unlocking the last, great treasure of a broken world. The box is nearly empty except for one heart-shaped locket. The locket is very small and is dwarfed by a box that is far too big for it. Jeremiah looks on the locket with tears in his eyes. He opens it up and starts to let the tears fall down his cheek. “My brother” he whimpers. Sam reaches for the note in the slot and finds that the message is shorter than expected. She begins to read Matague’s note.

This locket was a gift from my youngest son, Benjamin. Ben and I were parted from each other when he was only ten. I watched him die painfully for years. He ached and begged for death to release him, but I was selfish. I allowed him to suffer so my own pain could be diminished. I pissed all my money into keeping him alive and I left my other son, Jeremiah to fend on his own. Eventually, death took young Benjamin and effectively took me as well. I never lived another day after that. Not until I discovered Dixton. A day came where my scientists showed me a virus that would kill without doubt but wouldn’t put a person through any suffering. They wanted to use it to save people from a death like Benjamin’s. I realized something much deeper than anyone else. I realized that Benjamin’s suffering wasn’t just reserved for him, that suffering was over every human being because of the way we lived, the way we tortured ourselves. But if we could die with meaning and peace in our hearts than it would be like we were never gone. Please forgive me. We will never suffer again.