Burned

Let’s look at the facts, shall we Charr? You’ve never had a real job. And no, it doesn’t count that you were a massively successful beauty Youtuber who gave diet advice because you were also a self-proclaimed nutrition and fitness expert apparently. Your name is Charlotte, but you make everyone call you Charr because you thought it made you different and more interesting and maybe even a little sexier.

Now you’re about to be exiled from Mayfield bunker, your home for the last three years, to face what will likely be an excruciating death. You are going outside, where the radiation levels and temperature are still off the Charrts and there isn’t much oxygen floating around. The reason YOU have been deemed unnecessary for the world repopulation plan, along with the rest of these cancer ridden, old, decrepit and degenerate people that they selected is that YOU have no skills or useful knowledge. You could have chosen the euthanasia they offered, but you decided that you didn’t want to die hundreds of feet underground surrounded by the people who decided they didn’t want to play ‘civilization’ with you. You wanted to see the world that was the backdrop to your fame one more time, even though it means you’re likely going to be fried to death while you simultaneously suffocate.

You spent your whole life perfecting the art of staging an Instagram photoshoot and passing off new trends as your own ideas rather than contributing something meaningful to the world. All you have left are two small emergency air masks, this stupid zebra print romper you’re wearing and your grandmother's heart shaped locket. She said it would always shine as bright as your personality as long as you took good care of both. Too bad you didn’t take care of either. It might not hurt so much if you hadn’t spent the second half of your life asking people to call you by the ridiculous name that will also likely be used to describe your body when it’s discovered years from now.

“We’re here,” said the guard.

Charr stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, where 20 others were also waiting to go outside. Out of the two thousand people selected to leave the bunker, all but 21 of them chose euthanasia over this. Because death was deemed inevitable outside as well, everyone was encouraged to choose the less painful route. Of the 21, a handful believed that they deserved to suffer a painful death for the sins of their life. Some, like Charr, wanted to get one last glimpse of the Earth. Others, despite everything they had been told, still believed that there was still a world to live in.

Everyone faced the main door, silently waiting for it to open. Charr looked around the room and saw a mixture of fear and determination. She noticed that everyone had the same bracelet with a metal box in the middle of it. The bracelets were given to each member of the 21 in the event that the pain became overwhelming. You could kill yourself quickly by driving the metalbox into your head. It would emit both an electric current and a radio frequency that when working concurrently would essentially liquify the brain. It’s always nice to have options.

Metal scraped on metal as the door started to yawn. As though it were opening into the vacuum of space, it felt as though the air was instantly sucked out of the room, and the light was blinding. None of them had seen the sun in years, but it was hard to believe that it could be this bright.

Which is brighter now, Grandma? The sun, the locket, or lil’ Charr?

Her eyes adjusted to the light, the room became clear again. The door was open. She hadn’t planned to run, but that’s what she and three of the men did. She was the first out into the open. The moment the sun hit her skin she squealed loudly and kept running up the ramp out of the bunker. The locket bounced violently on her chest as if it wanted to go back inside. One of the men behind her stumbled and fell early on the ramp. The other two kept moving behind Charr, while trying to contain their agonized cries. Charr was almost at the top of the ramp when she decided to throw her first mask on. Each only had about ten minutes of oxygen.

She reached the top and stood dumbfounded by the view. The entrance to Mayfield had originally been in the middle of a forest, surrounded by dense trees, shrubs and wildlife. What she saw now was a red desert. She surveyed the flat expanse, looking for something useful. About a half-mile away, she caught a glimmer of light reflecting off of what appeared to be the roof of a small metal shed with an awning extending from it. Shade. She tucked her locket into her Romper and sprinted toward it.

The burning skin sensation wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, considering she could faintly hear her hair sizzling. At least she could breathe, and run. It occurred to her that the ten minutes of oxygen was intended for someone who was walking and the more she ran the quicker she would use the oxygen. Still, she was sprinting. She had no idea she could run like this. She ran cross-country in high school, but even back then she had never felt like this. The pain gave her energy and strength. She ran like she had something to prove.

She made it to the shed and stopped to catch her breath. The pain loosened its grip in the shade, but it was still murderously hot.

Pfump.

Pfump. Pfump.

She glanced back at the group to see what the noises were, even though a sinking feeling in her gut told her what she already knew. They were using the bracelets. Almost everyone in the group was still at the top of the platform except for a few making their way out toward her. Two women whose ages combined might easily have cleared two hundred years, sat down on the ground, held hands and turned their maskless faces directly toward the relentless, unforgiving sun. There was an unsettling calm in both of their faces. She watched, horrified, they each raised their braceleted arms up, and in unison drove their wrists into their heads.

Pfump. Pfump.

The two men who ran with Charr were still the closest ones behind her, but they were staggered now. The one wearing a blue shirt that read ‘I got my crabs from Dirty Dick’s Crab Shack’ was several hundred feet behind the guy in a black Patagonia vest. Never before had a vest been as useless as it was here. Charr was hunched over gasping heavily. Her mask was already starting to run low on oxygen. She propped herself against the side of the shed in the shade, contemplating her next move. Her gaze shifted back and forth between the ground in front of her to far off in the distance. The search almost made her dizzy. Then, something caught her eye around the corner of the shed. It was a motorcycle. At that moment, Patagonia guy showed up.

“I know there’s, like, no air up here, but should my lungs be hurting this badly with a mask on?” he asked.

“Can you drive one of these?” Charr motioned to the motorcycle.

He came around to look. “Oh shit, look at that. Ha! That’s a nice Harley. Damn good condition too... How’s that possible?”

“Can you drive it?”

“One does not drive a sweet steel lady such as this, but rather rides one. And yes, I could RIDE it, but this is Sparta, and we just got our hopeless messenger asses kicked into the abyss. We need keys and we are not going to be that lu…” he stopped as she noticed where she was pointing. The key was in the ignition.”

“C’mon let’s go!” said Charr.

He closed his eyes for a moment then looked out into the distance where the ground seemed to be on the verge of melting. “Shit. Fine, Hop on!

The bike started right up, the dirt spraying in the air behind them as they pulled away. Suddenly, Charr heard some shouting. She turned around to see a short man in a Hazmat suit stepping out of the shed, yelling obscenities, At the same time, Dirty Dick reached the awning. The man from the shed turned toward Dick, pulled out a gun and shot him. The man then started shooting at Charr and Pat, but they were out of range.

Who the hell was that?! We should be the only people on the surface right now.

Charr and Pat put their second masks on as they rode and the burning returned with a vengeance. Charr’s skin was throbbing and blistered. Pat was even bleeding, but he still only let out his muffled groans. She urged him to go faster.

“I think my nervous system is shutting down or something. I don’t seem to be hurting as much,” said Pat.

“Same. Having trouble breathing though.” she replied.

They hadn’t been wearing their masks for ten minutes yet, but they were out of oxygen. Pat started to pull over as if they had reached their destination, but Charr gave him a light jab in the ribs and motioned forward with her limp arm. This time, he yelled loudly then cranked the throttle. There was a hill just ahead.

Just let me see what's over that hill.

She removed her mask before they reached the top and she could breathe. She was too weak to make sense of this until they reached the top of the hill. Beyond the hill about two miles away was a small town. Looking closer, she realized there was green grass and tall pine trees, and cars driving around. Charr ripped Pat’s mask off. He took a large gasp of air. Fresh, clean, earth air.

They howled with joy, Charr was bouncing up and down in her seat. Her locket popped out again, and shining brighter than she had ever seen before. She gave Pat a kiss on the cheek and threw her arms up in the air. Then, she heard a high pitched whistling sound and felt a sudden sharp pinch in her chest. Pat slumped forward, and the motorcycle wobbled left and right for a moment before it finally darted off the road while Pat continued going forward down the road at 70 MPH.

Charr came down on her left shoulder first, just before her back slammed against the asphalt. She ragdolled for a hundred more agonizing feet before coming to a stop in a twisted pile, her face pointed up toward the sky. As her eyes blinked open slowly, she felt the sting of hot sun on the burnt skin of her face.. She waited a moment, bracing for the rest of the pain, but she felt none. In fact, she felt nothing else at all.

I’m paralyzed.

She rolled her eyes downward and looked at her body, and in that instant she felt calm. She knew then that it didn’t matter if she was paralyzed. It was over. Any skin she’d had left was gone, completely shredded by the asphalt. She was going to die right there on that hot pavement, in the middle of a road that wasn’t supposed to lead anywhere.

She could see Pat. He had died before he hit the ground. She looked down to her right arm and noticed her wristband was within a foot of her head.

No. Even if I could move my arm, I don’t want to. I want to feel this. I need to feel something.

Burned by the sun. Burned by the road. Burned by the lie that the earth wasn’t safe. Charr’s last ember faded out.