Dreams of Yesterday

Dust was the only inhabitant of the vast and empty expanse of the Once Great Plains. Dust and Wind. Ominous, black clouds filled the sky in all directions, sending unrelenting Winds and devastating cyclones to ravage the barren plains. It seemed that the only thing the Wind couldn’t drive away was the Dust, which casually played through the violent Winds as though they were not but a gentle breeze. It hadn’t always been this way. Before the bombs fell, the Great Plains had been full of life. Cities, towns, farmsteads, and acres upon acres of farmland provide food for the once great nation. It made sense that the first thing to go was food. The rest of the country was, as of yet, untouched by the horror of nuclear war. At least, not directly. The Once Great Plains were now under a strict quarantine. Inhabitants of neither coast were allowed entry and all inhabitants of both coasts were forced to remain in their hometowns. Travel between states, cities, or in some cases even neighborhoods was strictly prohibited. These restrictions seemed not to encumber the lone man riding a 2035 Harley Davidson through the endless Dust of the Once Great Plains.

Acrid fumes poured from the exhaust pipes of the vehicle as it sped, rather clumsily, through the Dust. The Dust rolled around and followed the motorcycle as it disturbed what was on the ground. It was rocketed backwards by the worn and aged tires and then sent spinning back to the rider by the relentless Wind. The rider rode on, unbothered by the impish trails of Dust that seemed to follow the motorcycle’s every turn. Getting this far had not been easy; a little Dust was not going to turn him around. He was going home.

When the bombs began to fall and the prairie was set aflame, the rider had been gone. He had been gone. She had begged him to stay. She had pleaded that he postpone the trip for just a few more days. But no. He had needed to go. His superiors- No. He wouldn’t think of that. He couldn’t think of that. These days, among the petulant Dust and ravaging Winds, all the rider would allow himself to dwell upon was home. Not his town. That name was lost to him. Not his parents. Their faces had been erased from him by grief. Not even thoughts of her were given notice. She had been among the first memories to disintegrate. Despite her disappearance from his mind, the rider could still hear her voice in the whipping Winds.

“Please don’t go.”

“I’ll miss you!”

“No.”

The rider shook his head, banishing the voice from his mind. He needed to return home. If he never reached it, he would never know. There were those who claimed some had survived. People whispered rumors in the dark shade of night, fearing that if they spoke them in the light, it might reveal a dark truth. People whispered that there were people forgotten and lost in the endless sea of Dust. People that the government had abandoned. People that they had abandoned. Again, her voice rose in the Winds around the lone rider.

“Stay.”

“I’m scared.”

“No.”

Again, the rider shook his head as he tore through the thick blanket of Dust that covered the road. Out here, alone with the Dust and the Wind, the rider was forced to look inward to occupy his mind or risk losing it entirely. A temptation for sure, but one that he would not let himself indulge. Mindlessness was too good for him. As he rode, the lone man dwelt on those he had slain to get here. Their sacrifices would not be in vain. He would find his home. She would be there. She had to be.

“You left me to die.”

The Wind seemed to mimic her voice so perfectly.

“This is your fault.”

Even if he did ever make it home, he doubted she would ever forgive him. She was right, the rider had abandoned her for his work. Dangerous thoughts were these. They urged him to give in. They told him to pull over and lie down; allow the Dust to cover his sins and let the Wind bear his guilt and shame across the desert and far away from him.

No.

The rider would not give up. He could not give up. The only hope he had for forgiveness was to find her and beg. In his state of deep thought, the rider began to doubt that he would even recognize her if he found her. How could he search for something he didn’t even know anymore?

Suddenly, the lone rider was thrown from his contemplation, and his motorcycle, as it crashed into a fallen telephone pole that had been buried beneath the Dust. He slammed, face first, into the soft blanket that covered the whole of the plains and proceeded to slide several feet before coming to a stop. He sat there for a moment. A long moment. Too long of a moment. The longer he lay there, the more tempting it became to stay. The sun, though obscured by dark clouds, still beat down heavily on the world below it. It was warm. The rider could stay here and rest a while, couldn’t he? No. Slowly, he picked himself up off the ground and patted the Dust off his clothes, though it didn't seem to want to leave him. As he turned to look at the ruined motorcycle, he knew that he would be making the rest of his journey on foot.

The road was long.

“You should have stayed.”

“The sun, pleasant just moments ago, began to burn at the lone man.

“Why didn’t you stay?”

His feet began to ache.

“Please just stay!”

The rider lifted his head and his face became a grim mask as he looked over an empty horizon.

“I needed you.”

The Wind continued to follow him, accompanied, as always, by clouds of dry Dust.

“Just stay.”

The lone man lifted his head to the black clouds above and screamed.

“NO!”

The world fell still. A tear slowly began to crawl down the man’s cheek. She was right. He should have stayed, even if it meant they would have both died. But no. He had left and she had stayed. Now, in a desperate attempt to regain a shred of who he had once been, he made his way home. Although, he couldn’t much remember who he had been. That man’s identity was obscured by layers of blood, Dust, and grief. His only hope was to find her again. Knowing her, she would be out there feeding the hungry or caring for the sick, whether she had the capability to do so or not, of this the lone man was certain. She had always had a heart for the weak and for the forgotten. Now she was in that group. And he was going to find her.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the fearful black clouds became bathed in a crimson light that seemed all too reminiscent of pooling blood. His foot bumped into something below the Dust. He knelt down and brushed it off of something flat and metallic. It was a road sign.

“Haysville. Population: 3,456.”

Haysville.

Haysville.

Home.

He stared at that flat piece of metal for what seemed like hours. And indeed it may have been for when he stood again, the sun was gone. He hadn’t realized how close he had drawn to his home town because, in the dim light of late evening, he hadn’t seen any buildings. He reached to his belt and pulled out a flashlight, clicking it on. It was time to search the wreckage.

The lone man hadn’t realized just how lonesome life could be until this point. He stood in the center of town, looking around at places where a quaint, old fashioned downtown should have stood. Instead, there was nothing but several lumps of broken stone and piles of Dust. It seemed to wish to hide from any walking by that there was a town here. The man stepped through what had once been the doorway of the local deli. His home would not be far from here. He kicked at stones hidden beneath the Dust and trudged through street after broken street until he stood in his front yard. Or at least, what had once been his front yard. As he approached the three upright beams and two mostly crumbled walls that marked the grave of his home, he began to weep. He fell to his knees inside the house and sent a rain of tears cascading to the Dusty floor beneath him. He screamed a piteous scream whose length caused his lungs to burn. As his wailing died out, he slammed a fist to the ground. His hand came down on something small and metallic. A locket. The simple silver heart and its accompanying chain bore the marks of their age but it was unmistakable. Hand shaking, he brought it close and opened it.

Lauriel had been so beautiful. Her golden hair cascading in waves around her perfect, soft face. Those bright, vibrant eyes of so true a blue that the sky itself would have wept to see them. No memory could have captured her beauty so fully as this small photograph did, locked away inside a heart of silver. He began to remember her. Truly remember. She had never begged nor pleaded for him. She had never blamed him for leaving so often. Of course she had missed him but she was strong and resilient. She had been proud of him for reaching for his dreams. She had been a bright ball of light in a world that so often felt so dark. Her laughter could pierce even the coldest of hearts and was always followed by a smile warm enough to melt it. His grief had twisted his last remaining memories of her so as to torment him in his solitude. No more. He clutched the locket tightly in his palm and stood, rising just as the sun began to peak over the horizon. He turned the locket over in his hands and froze. There, etched into the back of the locket were two words.

“Alive. North.”

The world around the lone man began to shake. Or perhaps it was just him. For months he had known deep in his heart that his hopes were false and that once he got home, he would find nothing. But this locket, and its message, lit inside of him a flaming hope that he would not allow to die. Whether Lauriel had inscribed the locket or his broken mind had granted meaning to senseless scrapes and scratches, he knew he had to find her. He knew she was alive! He didn’t know how and he didn’t know where but he knew that he would find her. Someday. The Wind picked up and brought with it a following of Dust which swirled around him like a playful dog. Lauriel’s voice began to build on the breeze but it died just as quickly. No longer would the fabricated words of Lauriel haunt him. He would not permit a false memory to control his life. Matthias made a vow on that day. His life would no longer be consumed by dreams of yesterday, but would instead be filled with hope for tomorrow.