Desolate Salvation

This place is a wasteland, a world once thriving driven to destruction by a war no one thought they'd win. No matter where you look, everything is charred and dusty. What little remains of the architecture is dross, it's completely unrecognizable. The scene is vast and unchanging.

"I don't know why I keep coming out here." I say to myself aloud. There's no one else to talk to, so I've been keeping myself company in my father's bunker underground. He was a fragile soul, but brilliant all the same. He excelled at his work to theorize ways to help prevent the worst of the fallout, but he would insist there's something that can be done to save Earth, even after the war.

"Even if everything fell to ruin, as long as someone was left alive." he would say to anyone who would listen. His colleagues scoffed and denied his claims, yet praised his scientific breakthroughs in the same breath. He trusted his teammates with his life and felt betrayed by their dismissal. The heartache caused him to become reclusive and he stopped appearing at his job. He obsessed about his own work in private, hiding away from everyone, including me. At that time, I had no idea where he was hiding.

His bunker is underground, a long ladder leads to a plethora of shelves and boxes stocked with cans of food and water meant to last a few years. There's also a writer's desk, covered with scattered papers. When I first arrived here, I concluded that he must have spent all that time in here, obsessing over his own discoveries. It's been almost a year since then, and I've read every page he wrote hundreds of times over. I could recite it effortlessly. He had blueprints and maps, plans and lists. He listed the names of important people in the war. He listed dates, times, and places of importance during the war. Somehow, he had devised a meritorious plan to bring down the entire war from the ground up, starting... about 5 years ago.

I would never have believed his research was valid or even taken the time to read it all if I never found his locket.

In the desk, hidden in a compartment cleverly sealed, there was a bright red heart-shaped locket. The desk was worn and wobbly, aged by the rigorous work my father had put into it. The seal on the hidden compartment was faded and cracked, it would have been seamless if not for the test of time.

I've only opened the locket a few times, there hasn't been much reason to check on it. I open it again and see the same small dial and button inside. A masterpiece of science I could only dream of before now. I smile and let out a small chuckle.

"Completely mad, he was." I place the locket open on the desk and take a moment to look one last time at the room I've called home. At the edge of the desk is a packet of cigarettes that he would smoke often. I have never tried smoking, I only kept them around because the smell reminded me of family.

"Well I suppose it can't hurt much now, can it?" I take a cigarette and light it with a match. I place the filter to my lips and inhale. I go into a coughing fit, feeling like my lungs are on fire. I think to myself how I will never understand the appeal of these things. After regaining my composure, I take the locket back in hand and hold it to my chest, taking a deep breath.

"Father, I promise to you I will do everything I can. I will not let you down." I look to the ceiling and hope that my message went through to him, whever he may be now.

"Okay," I say, finally preparing myself for what's to come.

"I'm going back."