Chapter One
“Where am I?”
“You’re in a hole.”
“I know, but where am I? Where’s the hole?”
“You don’t know? How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Would you mind telling me again?”
“You’re on Earth, or what’s left of it.”
“What’s Earth?”
“Do I have to tell you again?”
“Would you mind?”
“Earth is our planet. It’s where we were born, where we live. That is, until the bomb was dropped. Now everything’s fucked up.”
“Who am I?”
“Listen, I’m not going to do this again. You ask the same questions every day. I’m sick of it. I’m leaving.”
“Please tell me who I am and I won’t bother you anymore.”
“You’re Nathan King.”
Nathan King looked at the skinny, partially-clad man squatting in front of him, illuminated faintly by the flickering flame from the small, white candle, and wondered who he was. His greasy long hair pointed out at odd angles and, but for a ripped pair of denim shorts, nothing else covered his body, except black dirt smears across his chest, legs, and face. Lines creased his weathered face, more pronounced on his furrowed brow. The corners of his lips pointed down, the signs of much suffering etched into his worn features.
They sat cross-legged around the candle, the only light and heat source in the otherwise dark and dank-smelling cave.
“Who are you?” Nathan asked.
“When are you going to start remembering shit?” the man snarled.
“I don’t know,” Nathan said. I can’t remember one day to the next. “But if you tell me I’ll stop bothering you.”
“You said that before.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, this time I mean it. Please tell me who you are?”
A long pause. The only sound was the faint howling of the wind, increasing in intensity, far above them on the surface of the Earth.
“I’m Edward Sole, your friend.”
“You’re my friend?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“Yeah, you did.”
Funny, I don’t remember him. Or is it? I don’t seem to remember much else. Should I ask him how long we’ve been down here? No, better not. Enough for one day. “What do you want to do now?”
“Not much we can do now. It’s getting late. I’m going to bed. You should do the same.” Edward extracted a small candle from his pocket, lit it on the communal candle, stood up eyeing Nathan despairingly. “We should try and get some clothes tomorrow and some food. As long as the Neanderthals don’t return.” He disappeared down a cavernous passage.
Nathan looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. But the cave, dimly lit by the flickering candle, was mostly black. Neanderthals? Where’s my bed? I’m hungry.
He absently put his hand to his aching stomach, realizing for the first time he didn’t have a shirt either and he could feel his ribs. He looked at his stomach, his arms and legs, saw the same black dirt smears and frowned. His only clothing, a knee-length pair of cotton shorts with multiple pockets. Travel shorts. He could barely tell they might have been green at one time but were now mostly black and brown with dirt and grime.
I smell bad, he thought, bringing his nose down to his hairy armpit. He brought his hand to his face, felt the scruff of a thick beard. Did I have this before? He ran his hands through his hair and realized it was long, disheveled, and greasy. Like what’s-his-name.
“What happened?” he asked out loud, his voice echoing through the cave. He strained to try and remember. He sat a long time in silence but very little entered his distressed mind. At least, not anything that would remind him of where he was and how he got here. How could this be? I’m here with that guy in this dark and desolate place and can’t remember anything. Please, please mind, remember something, anything.
But still nothing came to him and he shivered, wondering if it was more from the cold or from his fear. Fear that he would never remember anything, would continue to ask that guy—what was his name again?—the same questions over and over again, every day. That would suck big time.
His stomach growled, breaking the long silence, and he flinched, rubbing his arms which were now crawling with goose bumps. Remember something. Anything. Travel shorts. You like to travel. That’s something. Yeah, but not enough. Travel where? And when?
He felt overwhelming sadness suddenly rise up from inside his heart and penetrate the depths of his soul. He leaned his head into his hands and started crying. He couldn’t stop it if he wanted to. The sobs started weakly, a whimper, and slowly grew in volume, the tears streaming down his face until he sat wracked with sobs, his head buried in his hands, tears running down his hands, arms, threatening to extinguish his only source of light and heat.
Finally the sobs ebbed in intensity, were reduced to a whimper again and gradually subsided. I’m running out of tears. Stop crying, you baby. Edward’s going to think you’re a little wimp. Wait. Edward.
“I remembered his name.” Nathan tried to smile, but was too weak, cold and hungry. He slowly picked up the candle and stood up. He turned around, trying to figure out where he might sleep. Should I go where Edward went?
Before he could answer the question, the small flame illumed an oval-shaped opening in what now appeared to be a network of caves. He walked into it holding the candle, noticing the ground was strewn with garbage. He accidentally kicked a tin can and it bounced off the rock walls ahead of him—cling, clang, cling, clang—before it finally stopped and the tunnel became quiet again.
After about thirty feet, of walking crouched down to avoid bumping his head, the tunnel led into another much larger cave with a vast ceiling, indiscernible in the dim light. He glanced around, trying to find his bearings, having no idea where he was or what he might find.
A scuffling sound near his feet made him leap up in fright and he smacked his head on the low stone above. He looked down and saw small glowing yellow eyes regarding him. That’s a rat. There, you remembered something else. The rat stopped, eyeing him curiously for a few seconds before slowly crawling away into the blackness. The rat was not afraid. Do I know him? Why is he not afraid of me?
He held the candle in front of him, searching the cave for a place to sleep. His body had begun to tremble with fear or cold, he no longer knew which. Then he saw it, a clump of sleeping bags and blankets, a worn pillow, off in a corner on a tattered mattress. He walked over, knelt down, perching the candle precariously between some rocks and climbed into bed. Mattress springs poked into his back and he rearranged some of the blankets to try and take the edge off. It helped, but only a little.
He twisted and turned, pulling a sleeping bag over his head until he finally curled up and was still. What about the candle? Can’t sleep with that on.
He blew it out and listened. He could hear the shuffling of the rat, the whistling of the cold wind. Will I have to eat the rat or is he my friend too? he thought, scratching his aching belly. He closed his eyes and his mind raced. About an hour later, overcome with fatigue, he finally felt sleep taking hold. Only one thought lingered, moments before he drifted off: How am I ever going to survive in this wasteland?
Chapter Two
“Do you want to survive?”
“Yeah,” Nathan whispered.
“Well, then you’ve got to kill him,” Edward said softly. “We need food.”
They were above ground the next day, perched behind a stump of what was once a very large tree. The surrounding landscape was barren and sand-colored, the sky an orange haze of thin clouds, the sun behind the clouds glowing reddish-orange. Small outcrops of debris punctuated the otherwise desolate landscape.
Nathan held a crossbow, Edward at his side instructing him on technique. “Here, you pull it back slowly, once you reach this point let go, but hold it steady, make sure you have him in your sights, before you let go.”
Nathan flinched as he eyed the small camouflaged rabbit, only spots of white revealing its identity. Otherwise, it was the beige color of sand and blended in almost perfectly with the hostile landscape. He leveled the crossbow, lined up the rabbit head in his sights, and released the arrow. But his right arm moved just slightly during release and the arrow narrowly missed the small prey, which raised its eyes immediately and darted away after identifying its predators.
“Give it to me,” Edward said, snatching the crossbow from his hands impatiently. “We’ll never eat if I leave it up to you.” He stood up and walked toward an outcrop of debris far away in the distance.
“Where are you going?” Nathan asked, catching up and walking a few feet behind him.
“We need clothing. And food.” Pointing to the debris pile. “Over there, let’s see what we can find.”
Nathan followed and they walked along in silence for a few minutes, like a couple of primitive men in search of food and clothing.
“Edward,” Nathan finally said.
Edward looked at him in surprise. “You remembered my name?”
“Yeah.”
“You can call me Ed if you like, but if you can’t remember then Edward’s fine.”
“Okay, Edward.”
A few minutes later they arrived at the debris pile, its contents slowly coming into focus. It had once been a house on what looked like a farmstead. Large log beams jutted out at abnormal angles, the remnants of an asphalt shingle roof precariously perched atop the pile. Bits of metal, clothing, household items, furniture, and damaged appliances also rendered its twisted mass.
Nathan sat down on a tree stump as they surveyed the fractured monument to a better life. Ed rummaged through the contents. He found a few garbage bags of clothing and groped through them. He pulled out a white t-shirt, smelled it, and put it on. He found another long-sleeve button up shirt with a collar and put that over the t-shirt. Finally he dug out a tattered blue parka with a furry hood and put it on.
“Well aren’t you going to look for some clothes?” he finally asked Nathan. “It gets awfully cold at night around here. You’re going to need them.”
Nathan had his face in his hands and was just starting to become overcome with sadness again. He looked at his friend. “Okay,” he said, slowly getting up and walking over to the pile.
A few minutes later, Nathan was dressed in tattered hiking boots, a rather good pair of blue jeans, layered shirts, a kangaroo jacket, and a red jacket, the style clearly denoting the feminine gender. He also wore a black baseball cap with the red word Budweiser screen-printed on it.
“Shhhhh,” Ed suddenly said, bringing his index finger to his lips. He pointed left and Nathan saw another rabbit perched about thirty away, crouched behind an old wooden box. The wind had picked up and the rabbit’s fur fluttered in the distance.
Ed picked up the crossbow, container of arrows, crouching down behind an old metal garbage can and took aim. Nathan had frozen to the spot, watching. He had to admit his stomach was still knotted with hunger and when he had woke up this morning he had even done a little searching for the one rat he had seen crawling around. He had planned on eating him but couldn’t find him.
Ed released the arrow and the crossbow twanged, the only sound but for the faint wailing of the wind. It whizzed through the air and found its mark, penetrating the rabbit’s head. The animal hopped two or three steps, slumped over spasmodically twitching for a few seconds before dying.
Ed smiled, revealing brown and black stained teeth. “Dinner,” he said, approaching his kill. “Let’s go to the cave and eat. We don’t have much time.”
Ed picked up a cardboard box, threw some items into it along with the dead rabbit, and handed Nathan a worn out knapsack that he had also packed with items.
“Here,” he said. “Carry this.”
“What’s in it?”
“Some food. And cutlery.”
Nathan thought of asking why they didn’t have much time, but quickly changed his mind. The afternoon had been going well with Ed and he didn’t want to ruin it. He had strained his mind all day trying to put pieces of his past together. But not much would come to him. He vaguely remembered a life in a civilization much more modern than where he was stuck right now but it was an unsolved puzzle and Nathan didn’t know if he had consciously blocked the memories or they had disappeared as the result of some major traumatic event. He didn’t want to think about it right now anyway. He was starving and wanted to eat.
About twenty minutes later, they arrived at the mouth of the cave, where a few piles of wood and debris were scattered to the side of a makeshift fire pit surrounded by odd sized rocks. Using some tiny twigs, a few bits of paper, and a lighter, Ed quickly had a small fire blazing. They sat cross-legged around it. Ed reached into the knapsack, pulled out a large carving knife, held it over the fire momentarily, and started skinning the animal.
When he was finished, he found a large branch, carved it into a spear, impaled the rabbit and held it over the fire, rotating it every few minutes.
“Do we have anything to drink?” Nathan asked, his throat was parched with dust and starting to ache.
Ed fumbled around in the knapsack, finally fishing out two cans of Coke and handing one to him.
He watched Ed pop the cap off, smother his mouth to the opening as the can fizzed up in his face, before he copied the movements. The liquid tasted sweet and fizzy and he finished three quarters of the contents in two long gulps. He studied the red can. Coke. I’ve had this before. Where?
A little while later, they sat quietly eating barbequed rabbit from makeshift cardboard plates, cut out of the side of a cardboard box. Ed eyed his knife collection, an acquisition from the debris pile. He picked a long machete-style implement up, brandishing it with a side to side swinging motion before skewering a cooked piece of meat and biting into it.
“You should get familiar with one of these,” he said, tossing Nathan a large serrated edge carving knife. It skidded across the ground and came to a stop a few inches from his crossed leg. “It might save your life.”
“What’s there to be afraid of?” Nathan asked, picking it up and stabbing it into his portion of meat. He lifted it to his mouth, ravenously biting off large chunks.
“I told you. The Neanderthals.”
“Who are they?”
“They’re a violent tribe who rape, pillage, and steal. It’s survival of the fittest, literally, buddy. And you don’t look very fit.”
“Neither do you,” Nathan said to a gaunt face, indistinctly illuminated by the flickering flames.
The orange sky was getting darker, the crimson sun setting in the distance. They looked out at the open plain, desolate but for the odd mound of debris haphazardly scattered. The wind moaned, the temperature dropped.
“Yeah, but I know how to defend myself,” Ed said. “Who do you think got you here?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“It was me. I dragged you here just before the bomb was dropped.”
“How long have we been here?”
“Three months and thirteen days.”
“How do you know?”
“I mark the days on the wall.”
“Oh. So has the whole world been destroyed?”
“I don’t know. No communication.”
“Where are we?”
Ed was growing impatient again. “I already told you. Do we….”
“No, I mean what city, what country are we in? I’m starting to remember a few things.”
“We’re in rural Prince Edward Island, somewhere near Montague.”
“Oh.” Nathan paused a few minutes, finishing the last delicious morsel of his rabbit and licking the bones clean. He tossed a few bones into the fire and stared at Ed. Who is he?
“What year is it?” he asked.
“It’s July 16, 2016,” Ed said, tossing a few bones into the fire, picking up his machete and standing. “We should go back into the cave.”
“What for?” Nathan said, enjoying the orange sky, even though it had hurt his eyes for the first half hour or so. He knew he hadn’t seen real brightness in a very long time, even if it was an eerie orange post-apocalyptic sunset.
“I told you,” Ed snarled. It’s danger…”
Suddenly a large rock whizzed past his head, narrowly missing him. As he turned around, brandishing the machete to face his attacker, another one cracked him square in the forehead.
“Fuck,” he said staggering, falling to the ground inches from the small blaze. “Neanderthal—get him!”
In the twilight, Nathan could barely discern the image charging forward, wielding a large crudely fashioned club. He looked almost ape-like, grizzled with a full beard, covered in animal furs, mouth wide open, shouting indecipherable babble.
His heart racing with adrenaline, he quickly grabbed his carving knife, waving it at the attacker. He ducked as the swinging bat whooshed passed his head and connected with a rock outcrop with a loud crack.
The Neanderthal growled and advanced forward, swinging. Nathan ducked again, reaching out with a slashing motion simultaneously, cutting into the attacker’s leg. The Neanderthal stepped back for a second, surveying the dripping blood, and came forward again with angry resolve.
Nathan stepped back, slamming into the rock wall as the bat came down on him. It was all he could do to dive to the ground, narrowly avoiding a crushed skull. He instinctively rolled as the bat came down again and connected with the dirt a few inches away.
“Aaaaaahhh,” the Neanderthal suddenly said, spinning around.
Ed had staggered to his feet and accurately thrown one of the blades, which had lodged in the predator’s back.
“He’s coming for me,” Ed said. “Get him!”
Nathan jumped up and in an instant leaped on the attacker’s back. I don’t know if I have the strength for this. In a swift motion, as the Neanderthal swung him around, he put blade to throat and sliced with what little strength he had left. He heard the hissing and gurgling sound of air and blood discharging from a severed esophagus, felt the gush of warm blood soaking his hands as the predator fell forward into the fire, Nathan still clinging to his back.
Ed was already running for the cave entrance. “Let’s go,” he said. “There’ll be more.”
Nathan felt like he would collapse with fatigue and fall back into the fire but he forced himself to stagger after Ed. They arrived at a large steel door and Ed produced a skeleton key, opened it, and they went inside.
“You did good,” Ed said, securely locking the door behind him, fishing into the knapsack and producing a small LED flashlight, which he turned on. He pointed the beam to his forehead and Nathan could see the small cut trickling blood into his eye, down his nose. “How’s it look?”
Nathan brought his head closer. “It doesn’t look that deep. Do we have anything to clean it?”
“In the cave. Some alcohol, I think.”
Suddenly banging and growling at the door.
“Shit, they’re trying to get in,” Nathan tensed. “Can they get in?”
“No, they’ll go away soon. It’s going to get real cold at nightfall. Nuclear winter, I think it’s called. Let’s go.”
Ed led and Nathan followed down a long, winding tunnel, just tall and wide enough to walk without crouching. The thumping and growling grew faint.
After a few minutes they reached an opening, their ritualistic meeting ground where they had conversed previously before departing to their respective sleeping quarters.
“Do you have another one of those?” Nathan asked, pointing to the flashlight as he panted for breath.
“It’s a flashlight. And no, I don’t.” Ed shone the beam to the ground, locating a cardboard box of candles. “Take one of those.”
Nathan picked up a candle and Ed produced his lighter and lit it. He picked up a garbage bag, rummaged through it, finally pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a white cloth. “Could you help me?” he said, handing Nathan the bottle and sitting on the ground.
Nathan sat down beside him, opened the bottle and poured some of the liquid on his temple, quickly wiping it clean with the white cloth. Ed took the cloth and held it to his head.
“Thanks,” he said. After a short pause, “I’m going to bed. We need to make a plan tomorrow. We won’t last long like this.”
Nathan nodded. He was physically and mentally spent, and the image of his dirty bed linens and old mattress on the debris-strewn ground sounded more appealing than anything he could think of right now.
They went their separate ways.
Nestled in his dirty sleeping bag, the candle perched a few feet away hazily illuming the surrounding squalor, Nathan reached into his pocket and produced a bite-sized morsel of barbequed rabbit.
The rat squeaked, scurrying up to the candle, tempted by the scent. Its yellow eyes stared at him, unflinching, unblinking.
He put the piece of meat down by the candle. The rat quickly gripped it with its small teeth and darted away.
The last image in his mind before drifting off was of a shapely blonde woman, bound and gagged, partially-clad and wide-eyed with fear.