Ashes of the Past

James walked through the burnt and ruined house. Between the fire, the raiders, and random looters there was little that remained beyond the skeletal framework. This had been his home not so long ago. It had been place where he could raise a family and enjoy the rewards of his work. A time when his only worries were getting to work on time, paying the bills, making sure the kids had a ride to whatever after school activity that they were involved in. A time when his wife still smiled.

The change had come with the arrival of the pandemic, which in turn had led to the food shortages. The old science fiction writers he had read when he was younger had gotten it wrong. It wasn’t robots or nuclear war, or some lab grown zombie virus. The change could not be summed up in one single apocalyptic event. There was a pandemic sure, but it was only the catalyst. When the food shortages hit, the riots weren’t far behind. Decades of repressed tension erupted, the ensuing violence spreading like the wildfire that had ravaged his home.

James thought back to the day they had been ordered to evacuate. The fire was close and the resources were no longer available to fight it. Even then there had been some hope left as they packed their bags with just a few necessities. A hope that even if the structure burned completely that they would be able to come back and rebuild their life.

That hope was crushed only a few weeks later, on the day the raiders came. The shelter had been a prime target. A few hundred evacuees, most of whom had little to no experience in setting up a guarded camp, let alone any actual form of defense. They had no weapons to speak of, only a few pallets of supplies dropped off by some volunteer relief group and a token guard force made up of a half dozen retired police officers. On the night the raiders came James was working late in the fields, part of a volunteer force doing what they could to keep the fire at bay.

The volunteers had returned to find the camp in ruins. The dead and dying were bad enough, but the missing ones caused the most pain. The few living that remained were left forever changed, their minds destroyed by the atrocious acts that they had witnessed and been part of. James found his wife a broken shell of the woman that she once was.

The passing days were hard on all them. James finally decided to return to where their home had once stood in the hopes of finding some memory of their former life, some memento that just might bring some joy to his wife. He walked into what had once been their old bedroom and nearly fell through the damaged floor. Looking through the hole in the floor he saw a dull gleam. James got down on his belly and reached for the object. Pulling it out he saw that it was a locket.

He thought back to the day that he had bought the heart shaped locket for his wife. It was her first Mother’s Day and he had wanted to get her something special. In each side of the locket he had put a picture of their six month old twin children, Seth and Lillian. Every Mother’s Day since, for the last eight years, she had updated the pictures in the locket.

James slumped down on the floor and held the locket in his hands. The memories of their children came flooding through his mind. Each stage of their lives, from walking and talking, running and playing with the other children in the small neighborhood, their first day of school, so many wonderful memories with them. The tears ran down James’s face leaving dusty grey streaks. The memories were as painful as they were happy. No longer would he look upon those smiling faces and hear the laughter in their voices.

The day grew short and the shadows grew long. James gathered himself and slipped the locket into a hidden pocket. It was not far to the camp, but it would not be safe to be in the wilderness after the sun went down. At the front of the house he paused and took a careful look around, watching for any signs of others.

The fire had left very little in regards to trees and such to hide behind, which meant that it would be that much more difficult for the raiders to hide as well. Still, James was watchful for any signs of being followed. Soon he reached the outer foraging area of the camp. The group here was unburnt and fertile. Already there were signs of the growth in the newly cultivated area. Just as James was about to take a step into the unmarked boundary, several figures rose from the dirt and advanced upon James.

Carson stood in the door of the shelter and watched Vanessa as she helped the others prep food for that day’s meal. Like many of them, she worked with a sadness in her face. He did not want to do what he was about to do, but they had chosen him as mayor and he felt that such was part of his duty.

“Vanessa, have a seat. I need to speak to you.” Carson indicated a seat next to him. “Vanessa, I am so sorry for having to tell you this. A group of foragers, they uhm, they found James this morning. He was badly wounded. I’m sorry, but they could not save him.”

Carson took Vanessa’s hands and tried to provide some small measure of comfort as the tears began to run down her face and her body trembled. After a time, she calmed enough that he could tell her the rest of what he had to share.

“There is one more thing though. Before he passed, James gave them this.” Carson held out the heart shape locket.

Vanessa took it from him, running her fingers over the surface. Carson almost thought he saw a faint smile on her face as she looked upon the locket, turning it over in her hands. She looked up at him and first the first time since the raid, Carson saw a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. Steadying her hands, Vanessa opened the locket and looked inside.

The locket slipped from her fingers, the ashes of her past spilling onto the ground.