After We lost

The pale bony arm stuck out from the rubble like a barren flag pole. At first sight, I felt both drawn to it and disturbed by it. It seemed as though it were waving to me. Beckoning me to join it in the deep beyond.

It's not as though I had never seen a dead body, by the end of the war the casualties numbered in the millions on both sides. More of us were dead than alive. No, death was nothing new to me, but id only been working sector 1003 cleanup for two days, already we had disposed of over a dozen "piles.” That's what the workers called the human remains because there was nothing left of them but a pile of sun-bleached bones. The casual way they tossed the bodies in with the rest of the rubble felt somehow wrong to me. These “piles” had once held skin and breath, lives and families. Didn’t they deserve some reverence? When I brought it up to my foreman, he shrugged it off, calling me a sentimental fool. He doesn't think I'll last long in sector clean up, apparently, it's not 'woman's work'. I had a good laugh at this, at least a third of his crew is made up of women. Most of the men died in the war and many more in dangerous conditions since then. At this point, if women don't start doing the work, the work won’t get done. He’s right about one thing though, I am a sentimental fool. I admitted to myself as I climbed carefully up the pile of rubble towards the half-buried body. 

Once I arrived, I set about gently removing the stones and debris to reveal what was beneath. My solemn task complete, I stared down at the corps. It was a woman from what I could tell, in the very last stages of decomposition. There were places where skin still clung to her bones like the last leaves in autumn refusing to give way. She wore the faded remains of a yellow sundress. Around her neck hung a silver locket in the shape of a heart. Perhaps that held some insight into her identity. It took great effort to open it as the mechanism had rusted, but once inside my efforts were rewarded. It held a small picture of a young couple, they seemed happy holding each other close. Along the side was an inscription that read Lucy and Anthony 2042.

“Hello Lucy, my name is Kaizen. I wish we had met under different circumstances, perhaps we would be friends.” I stared down at her for a moment full of sadness, “No we wouldn’t would we, but I’ll do what I can for you now. As little as that may be.”

In her hand, Lucy also grasped a small leather-bound book. I lifted it away as gently as I could. It was a journal, greatly faded from the elements but some of it was still legible. I glanced at her once more half expecting her to rise and condemn me for perusing her most private thoughts, but the body remained in place. All that was left of Lucy’s soul lay in the pages before me, and I felt I must know her, so I read.

January 23, 2043

I have never been a journaling kind of girl, but I wanted to keep a record of what’s happening. I want my children to know I was there.

Today three actual space ships showed up in the sky. I wouldn’t believe it if I couldn’t see it for myself. The government assures us that they are engaging in peace talks and we have nothing to be afraid of.

I remember that day, I thought, I was just a little girl then but I could feel the fear and excitement. Life was changing. We all hoped it was for the better.

I flipped through the damaged pages to the next legible portion.

April 7, 2043

We've been hiding in the bunker for over a month now. There's no food, the water tastes terrible and I would give anything to see the sun again. Anthony says the army is making headway. The aliens are undersupplied and we've already shot one ship out of the sky. His encouraging words don't do much to ease the tensions down here. Everyone is tired and hungry but most of all scared. Fear is so thick down here we breathe it in with the artificial oxygen.

I just want this to be over. I want a life with Anthony. To raise children together on my parent's farm as we planned. Why did they have to come here?

I could read no further. Tears already brimmed my eyelids threatening to spill over, my heart heavy with my own memories of the war. The fear she wrote of had been my constant companion in those days, as well as the hunger and despair. Truly my story was not that different than hers, except in one defining thing. For whatever reason I survived and she had not.

After some time, I pulled myself from the depth of my thoughts and spoke a prayer over the bones. Then I gathered up the pages of the journal, and gently removing the locket from around her neck, went back to work. No doubt I would not be meeting my quota today, but it seemed a worthy sacrifice for preserving a memory.

The rest of the day went by as normal. I walked for miles marking out the safest path through the ruinous landscape. All so that the construction team could avoid getting their equipment stuck in the debris. It took me much longer than usual, and by the time I was done the sun was already starting to set.

“Evening foreman, I’m signing out for the day.” I tried to sound cheerful as I passed over my monitor and other equipment, but my mind was still a long way off.

“Bought time Kaizen. Everyone else’s gone home, but here I am waiting on your lazy ass to check in. Thought maybe you took a tumble and id have to come to find you."

“Nope all good here,” ignoring the man’s jibes I finished clocking out and turned to leave.

“You’re not headed home alone, are you? it’s almost dark.” He sounded legitimately concerned which surprised me. “It gets dangerous at night these days. There are gangs of them running the streets now, it's like they're no better than animals. The rest of them should have been dealt with after the war. Instead, the government gives them their own land."

"I'll be fine foreman; I don't live far. Thank you for your concern." Perhaps he didn’t hate me as much as I thought, or maybe he just hated them more.

I was confident in my own words until about halfway home. That’s when I become aware of just how dark and quiet the streets good be at night. This side of town had already undergone massive rebuilding, but the scars of the war remained. Lightning-shaped cracks down the sides of brick buildings, patched but still there, holes in the street that had been filled or paved over. The empty lots were somehow the worst. Those were the buildings that had been so well and truly destroyed that they were easier to remove than repair. Now they held nothing but tufts of dead grass and creeping shadows

It was in passing one of these gaping black holes that I began to hear footsteps behind me. Or at least I thought I did. I told myself it was all my imagination; the foreman had put this silly notion in my head and nothing more.

Then they grew louder, closer. I felt as though someone was breathing down my neck.

It was probably nothing. Just some drunk stumbling around in the dark. Still, I quickened my pace.

Four blocks to go, then I would be home.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. There was definitely someone behind me and they were getting close. Panicking I broke into a full run.

I was so focused on my potential pursuer I didn't see the man step out of the alley until it was too late.

He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me towards him. I screamed and tried to pull away, but the man from behind was on me now as well.

They pulled me into the ally kicking and screaming. I was thrown to the ground and my head hit the cement hard. Dizzy and disoriented I tried to sit up but could not, the world was spinning around me. I touched my head and felt dampness. Pulling my hand away I saw my own black oily blood, it stood out clearly against my ice blue skin even in the dim light of the ally.

"What do you want from me!" I screamed with defiance that I didn’t feel. My group of attackers had grown to at least half a dozen now.

"We want our home back, but you can't give that to us." The biggest one replied, "So we will settle for killing as many of you alien scum as we can."

“That’s it, just keep killing. Continue to rebel until every last one of you is hunted down and shot. Until the last few living humans are deemed a menace and the reservations burned to the ground. The war was hell for you I know. It was hell for us too. Can't we just move past it?" I pleaded with them in my heart knowing it would never work. There was too much bitterness, too much hate. We had stolen their home and killed their people. Did they know that we were fleeing a dying planet? Did they know that Earth was our last chance? Once we were denied asylum the choice came down to us or them. I suppose the choice was the same on the other side too.

I didn’t feel hate or anger as the blades went in just a deep heartbreak. As I fell Lucy's locket fell beside me. I grasped it in my hand, now slick with blood, and I thought of her. The life she and Anthony never got to live. I thought of my own family and the path of vengeance they might choose. Would it always be like this, two races always apart? The humans sequester away on the reservations, my people rebuilding the cities that had once been theirs. If there were to ever be a future for both people it would not come through violence but hope. Willing to take the first step I whispered into the emptiness of the night.

“I forgive you.”