27.9647° N, 82.5206° W

December 24th, 2086.

27.9647° N, 82.5206° W

Morana walks along Route 92, past signs that read “Hillsborough County” and “Tampa International Airport.” She glances over a landscape of burnt cars and shattered glass, now permanently parked along this once busy highway.

She steps on something soft, moving her foot and inspecting the source. She picks up a mold-covered plush toy. A cheerful yellow bug adorned with a blue shirt, a white bolt of lightning smack in the middle. Once a mascot of a popular sports team in this area, the item is subsequently meaningless to her and she tosses it back to the ground.

This woman was once part of a far different world, too young to remember life before the blast. Born to two parents in 2067, living in what used to be known as South Carolina. The first three years of her existence were cookies, swing sets, bubble baths, and happier times.

Then came the sonic boom of 2070 that knocked out every grid across the globe. No hospitals, water treatment plants, importing or exporting of goods, smart phones, television, electricity. What soul knew who, or what, caused it - extraterrestrial life, an act of war, or just some idiot spilling coffee on a very important control panel? Sadly, as is human nature, international relations broke down, blame was tossed around, and nuclear conflict ensued.

She had a few more years with her parents, and it was not all horrible. She could somewhat remember them amidst the fog of her suppressed memories. They lived out of their car, going campsite to campsite to avoid people. What she could recall most about those days was when they would break into libraries in whatever town they were passing through. They lived off of donated canned goods from food drive boxes and read pilfered books until the sun went down. They still even found ways to celebrate birthdays and Christmases, even if it was sharing an expired candy bar and gifting each other with brand new novels or textbooks they came across.

Eventually though, par for the course, tragedy ensued. Perhaps it was just the trauma that lingered, or the hunger from not eating for two days, but she mentally skipped over the gory details that caused her to be on her own. Why obsess over it, she thought to herself. Can’t change the past.

As she strolled the cracked cement of the highway overpass, she caught sight of a large beige structure on the horizon. She pulled out her binoculars. International Plaza. Okay, why not? She placed the viewing tools back in their leather case and trekked over to the defunct shopping center. It took her almost an hour to reach her destination.

Surprisingly, much of these crops of buildings were still standing. She knew these used to be called “malls,” often part of the plot in many young adult novels she would read with the aid of a flashlight. She climbed up a wheelchair ramp and traversed a walkway. On either side of her were once heavily populated restaurants. She did not bother to duck into any of them to find remnants of food. Her past dalliances with abandoned restaurants resulted in disappointment, as they were previously ransacked by others or had spoiled meals not consumed in a timely fashion. First come, first serve, as they used to say.

She tilted an eyebrow as she found what looked like a survivalist store to her left. She approached the doors of Urban Outfitters and easily pushed them open. She once again was met with chagrin, scoffing. What the hell kind of survival store is this, she thought to herself. Among the tipped over mannequins and chunks of plaster on the ground, all she could see were vinyl platform shoes, impractical fanny packs, skimpy dresses and a rack of novelty sunglasses. The second thing she had come across today that was of no use to her.

She quickly turned back around to exit the store and head to the nucleus of the mall. She walked over to a large sign that read DIRECTORY and studied what use she could find out of it. She used her finger to scan over the letters and found the ALL FOOD SPECIALTY category. She memorized where each location was and cautiously hit each shop.

She was able to find a decent selection that would last her a few days. She hungrily ripped open the wrappers of two protein bars in a GNC and scarfed them down quickly. She also gulped an entire, warm bottle of water before stuffing about eight more protein bars and two bottles of water that she found in her bag. Since this store was otherwise cleaned out, she hit her next location, which was a bodega called News At The Plaza. Sadly, it was padlocked shut. She had neither the strength nor tools to get the door cut open, so she mumbled a cuss word before moving along.

She made her way to Nordstrom, and initially was aggravated. Come on, more clothes? She scanned over the unserviceable designer shoes, shirts, pants and dresses, but then caught sight of a sign that read GIFTS. She walked over and nodded to herself in surprise. She opened her bag and stuffed it with candies and a few more bottles of water. Not bad, but I need real food.

She finally found the last shop on her list. She walked over toppled displays of fancy cooking tools and grabbed a shopping tote, as her backpack was thankfully starting to become full with supplies. As she made her way into the store, her eyes lit up upon the discovery of the PANTRY section.

A plethora of nourishment stood before her. Nuts, popcorn, dried fruits, jams, and crackers. Gratifying items like cookies, gourmet chocolates, and candy. Even the dog treats she came across had nutritional value to them, after she finished reading the label, so she shrugged and placed them in her shopping tote. Never had a dog - what’s the difference? She slung the stuffed tote bag over her shoulder, silently thanking whoever Williams and Sonoma were. Or was it one person? I don’t know, I’m tired.

Her mission for the day was nearly complete. Having determined there was no other life in this mall except for some rats and birds, she knew she could set up camp for the night somewhere in here. She walked past the different stores that had items of little consequence to her survival. Louis Vuitton? Gucci? Prada? Crap, crap,crap.

As she strolled, something shiny caught the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a sign for a shop called Pandora. Part of her hesitated. She recalled a story in Greek Mythology about Pandora’s Box. Then again, the translation of her name meant “Death” in Slavic, so she decided to ignore the label and investigate. She looked through the glass display of the shop and saw a heart-shaped locket. Her eyes slowly began to fill with tears, hit with an unexpected pang of nostalgia.

A sudden memory, pushed down deep, came rushing to her. She remembered the locket her mother would wear around her neck. Inside the pendant was a photo of her maternal grandmother, or her mom’s mom, and the other side had a photo of Morana as a baby being held by her dad. Her mother caught her opening the locket when she was trying to sleep one night in the passenger seat of their car, and when she woke, she was not angry. She instead smiled, her eyes tired with the rigors of perseverance, and promised that she would give her this jewelry someday.

That “someday” never happened, and the young woman suddenly crumbled to the ground, sobbing forcefully, grieving over what had been long lost and forgotten. She allowed herself a few generous moments to feel sadness, but soon recalled where she was. Even though she was certain she was alone here, she could not be making such noise to attract negative attention. She took in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

As she stood, she stared long and hard at the locket. Even though her mother’s was a dull gold color, this one was silver. Her mother’s was also vintage and had ornate etchings on it, whereas this one was smooth. She walked to the door of the shop and pulled it open. She walked through the dark surroundings and made her way to the display window, stepping around a rack and gift boxes scattered across the floor. She grabbed the trinket, holding the chain with one hand and placing the cool metal in the other palm. She wrapped her fingers around it, sticking the item in the pocket of her jeans and made her way out of the shop.

Exhausted, she set her sights on a store called Crate and Barrel. Though one would think it was once a supplier of shipping or farming supplies, it appeared to be a furniture emporium. She made her way in and located a nice display with a freshly made bed, if not covered in a slight layer of dust and plaster.

She set down her backpack and the tote bag on the side table next to the bed, taking off her shoes and slipping under the covers. She grabbed the pillows, sticking them over the side of the mattress, and patted them to get the dust off of them. She coughed at the sudden unwelcome influx of debris in her lungs and flipped them over to sleep on the cleaner sides. She certainly had camped for the night in worse locations. At least this place didn’t smell like rotting food, or rotting bodies for that matter, and it was dry.

Before retiring for the night, she grabbed her backpack and dug down deep into it. She shuffled past two new books she found on the road, the food she collected earlier, and a flashlight to locate a plastic baggie. She grabbed it, opened it and freed the item she sought out. She carefully peeled at pieces of the paper, and retrieved the locket she claimed previously this evening. She flipped it open, thoughtfully removing and replacing the generic placement photos inside.

This was the only photo she had of her parents, and she let herself smile that now, they would be protected within the walls of this locket. She looked down at her watch and noticed it was a few minutes past Midnight.

“Merry Christmas, you guys.” She closed the locket, nestled into the sheets, and hoped to see them again tonight in her dreams.