Dear Kathy

Day 1246:

Dear Kathy,

I spent six hours retrieving several piece of shrapnel from inside a man’s chest today. It’s barbaric how fast the devolution of humankind occurred and how bad things have gotten since The Event. Every town to which I venture seems to be plagued by gangs of ruffians whose sole purpose seems to be inflicting damage upon those that have already lost everything. Aren’t things hard enough without them?

The locals of the town watched me work but everyone, aside from his family, told me to just give up; he was dead anyways, now, or later. I guess I can’t blame their apathy or their cynicism: humanity is but a shadow of its former self and only a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of us remain. Nevertheless, you know me: I must save everyone. Sorry, I should not bring up our fight like that. In all fairness, I think you would be proud of me: I haven’t lost a patient since that meteor struck.

I did manage to save him though, so who’s laughing now?

Your husband,

Caden

Day 1247:

Dear Kathy,

I woke up early this morning. Keeping a strict schedule saved lives when I was in the war, so I imagine that it does some good here. The family of Shrapnel gave me some rations and a place to rest for the night. I don’t really like staying in one place too long, but then you knew that. You were always on my case for travelling so much.

This is different, though: I’m not giving lectures anymore. I’m barely saving lives. Still, the nature of staying in one place too long doesn’t sit well with me. Something about caring for people now just feels… pointless.

I always stare at your picture when I’m feeling blue. It fills me with hope, I suppose. I tucked it away in this locket I bought you. The heart-shaped one I got just before the Event? The one I got you to make up for our fight?

I hoped I would get to give it you one day. It’s a shame how things worked out.

Your husband,

Caden

Day 1250:

Dear Kathy,

Today, I met Anya. It’s not what you think. I would never. I could never. She’s just a teenager I found by my campfire this morning. Poor child looks like she could have died right then and there from exhaustion.

Apparently, she’s on the run from a man that she calls the Zealot. She wouldn’t tell me his real name, though I wonder if she even knew it. She did tell me about this camp that she was at since the Event: a real hellhole, as she describes it, where the children are forced to worship and work for this man.

She further described him as being overtly religious, believing that the meteor had come to purge the world from sin, like Noah’s flood. A toe out of line and you were cast into a fiery pit. That’s how Anya came to be sitting by my campfire.

She had this friend… Eve, I guess, and she had been there with her since the beginning, and they grew quite close. Apparently, they wanted to go further, but were caught. Anya couldn’t say it, but I’m guessing that Eve died just so she could escape.

Anya asked for my help, but what can I do? I’m a doctor, not a fighter. I don’t know how far this camp is, nor how long it will take us to get there. On the other hand, this man is clearly sick, and Anya needs my help. What kind of doctor would I be if I did not do everything in my power to help?

I took her back to a nearby town to get her some rest. We will head out in the morning.

You husband,

Caden

Day 1252:

Dear Kathy,

I heard Anya crying last night. I wonder how hard it must be for the children of the Event. Roving gangs, fascist leaders, a lack of moral decency? They’ve all been amplified by the abandonment of societal law. It’s not safe for children to play in the street anymore.

I wonder if it ever will be again.

Anya doesn’t talk about it, though. When I asked, she denied it, putting on a brave face. She’s determined to get back there and liberate her peers. She also has an unnatural thirst for revenge. I’ve tried to explain that it will not help her in the long run. It won’t bring Eve back. It will just eat at her soul until she’s nothing but a hollow shell. She remained undeterred.

Do you think our child would have been this way?

Your husband,

Caden

Day 1253:

Dear Kathy,

I had that dream again: the one that reminds me why I’m here. Our fight. I’m sure that you’d remember. I don’t think you’d ever have forgotten it. You told me that you were pregnant.

I don’t really remember being overjoyed by that, which is likely why we fought. Well that and your little revelation to me.

It’s probably better that you never got to give birth. Look at the world around me. This isn’t somewhere to raise children. Humanity would be doomed if they thought like me. Of course, it’s not like our regular lives would’ve been any better to raise the child. I was away all the time, and I could never have given you the support that you deserved.

Still, I cannot help but wonder.

Your husband,

Caden

Day 1257

Dear Kathy,

Anya tells me that we are getting closer to the camp. In fact, we passed through the town where the Zealot once lived. I know this because we ventured into his house. Anya recognized it from before the Event. She said that the house was frequently the subject of pranks. I guess he was not very well liked prior to the world ending.

Apparently, his name is Flint Burns and he was a youth pastor with a wife and two children: a boy and a girl. From the pictures, he doesn’t look like much of a threat, but there’s something more interesting in them: the girl looks a little like Anya. I checked out the back yard, where I found two graves.

His wife and his son.

When I asked Anya about it, she denied it. I may not have known this girl for long, but I am helping her do this, so I felt like I had a right to know the truth. According to her, everything she’s said is true, she just left out the part where she was his daughter. She asks me if that makes Flint’s crime lighter or worse.

A puzzling conundrum.

She didn’t want to stay there, though, so we stayed at her neighbor’s house. A gun-toting maniac lived here. I won’t sleep very soundly, but Anya might.

Your husband,

Caden

Day 1259

Dear Kathy,

I’ve failed. Anya has died.

The morning after we visited Flint’s house, I awoke to find it set ablaze. She had started a fire, thinking it was the only to purge it from her heart. I must hand it to her; the girl knew how to get closure in this new world.

The problem was that it alerted Flint to our whereabouts. We hid from his goons, whom Anya called the Horsemen (likely a cheeky reference to the apocalypse). Creative, huh? Anya deserved better than this. How is this fair? An entire life snuffed out in an instant? And for what? Purification?

Oh yes, I met Flint. The sadistic coward didn’t just go crazy, he went off the deep end. I remember Anya telling me that he though the meteor was a cleansing purge. What she failed to mention was that, when her father cracked, he saw it as a sacred calling. A quest to purge the remainder of humanity of sin. We followed the guards back to the camp but were captured before we could do anything to help her friends.

The sick, twisted nature of this world revealed itself in the most gruesome way. I watched as Anya told Flint off, calling him “Zealot,” rather than “Dad.” I watched as he spat in her face and called her an abomination.

As a doctor, I’ve seen some terrible things. Terrible, gruesome, and horrifying things. But I have never seen this.

I watched a man grab his daughter and toss her to her death. I watched as a human being tossed his last living relative, his child, his own flesh and blood, his pride and joy into a fiery pit meant to sacrifice.

I was tossed outside and ordered to leave. On the walk back to the town, I’ve had more time to think than usual. I didn’t deserve your love and you deserved better than a posthumous gift of cheap silver in the shape of a heart.

I should have been a better husband to you and let you know that you were always important. I should not have left you alone so much. The child you were bearing should have been mine and I should’ve been the kind of man who could father a child.

And I should have been there during the Event, not giving a lecture across the country. I was not with you when you died. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you.

I can’t save anyone.

Day 1261

Dear Kathy,

This will be my final entry. I always assumed you were crazy when you said that some people can’t be saved. I think I understand now.

When I got back to the town, I passed out in the street. I don’t really know how long I slept, but when I awoke, I was filled with a massive urge for vengeance. That man killed his own daughter and would’ve killed countless others had I not intervened.

I grabbed a pistol from the maniac’s house and practiced firing a few rounds. I’m not very good. I stowed it away before heading back to the camp.

When I got there, I tried, one last time to reason with the Zealot. I told him about you and what I did for a living, and how bad it had hurt when I lost you. I had no such luck; psychology was never my racket. He told me that his duty was to God and that I would never understand.

I pulled out the gun. I’ve never fired a gun in my life. I find them abhorrent. I’m a healer. I took an oath to do no harm. But what was this sin weighed against his? Was one life worth the saving of any that would fall by his hand?

I missed, of course. I think I hit him in the shin, but he fell into the pit. The Horsemen dispersed before he even hit the ground. I told them to free the children. I don’t know if it was because they were afraid of me. But I heard him.

I heard the Zealot.

I stood at the edge of the pit and gazed in. I could see when Anya got her determination from. I stared down at the Zealot, hanging on the edge of the cliff. He told me again that I didn’t understand. He told me he was trying to save them.

I told him that he could not save everyone.

The cliff crumbled and the Zealot fell. He was dead upon impact.

I returned to Anya’s house and put up a little memorial for her. I felt like she deserved that. I couldn’t save her, just like I couldn’t save you.

I figure that she’ll be a good guardian for your locket.

I can finally lay you down to rest, my love.

Your husband,

Caden