Mirage

“What do you think is over there?” a boy, no older than seven, asked from Dante’s side as he clutched at his sweaty hand. “Do you think it’s beautiful?” He fumbled over the last word, getting caught on the heavy B where his chapped lips didn’t stick together properly and instead, dry and raw, slid over each other to blur into the rest of the word. He made a face as if he were thinking about correcting himself, but it faded away quickly. He was a child after all and the air around them was too hot, too heavy, to worry about anything much more than getting one foot above the next as the pair climbed the mountain. But still, he muttered, “I think it will be.”

Dante looked over at the boy— his cracked lips parting as he panted, showing one of his front teeth missing and the other only half grown in— and tried to remember at what point the boy had joined him. Dante couldn’t even remember the last time he saw anyone younger than himself and last he knew, he was somewhere around twenty. He might’ve been older now. Maybe twenty-one. Maybe twenty-four. It was getting hard to tell the years apart since the world had abandoned their children in the name of survival.

We cannot defeat these monsters, but we can starve them off. Give them their whole food supply at once and then disappear. Watch them starve themselves. Then we’ll have kids again. For now, stay apart. Stay hidden. Then we can come back together. Then we can start again.

Yet here the boy was, walking next to Dante as if the world were nothing different than it had been. Even stranger, Dante did not have the compulsion to ask the boy any questions. It was merely as if the boy had been with Dante all along but only now did he become conscious of it. It was a curious feeling, almost like a severe case of deja-vu; something that must simply be accepted and not thought of too deeply.

Besides, Dante was scared that if he thought about it too hard, the boy would leave the same way he came— by simply doing so without cue. Then, staring up the side of an impossible mountain and hoping that at the top he would find the city he was looking for, Dante would be alone again. And he didn’t know if he could make it to the top alone.

So instead Dante hardly allotted the boy a second glance as he took another heavy step upward and then slid back into the black gravel. The boy took the lead, taking a step and then sliding back a tiny bit to create a small indent in the gravel that Dante could use as a foothold. It wasn’t perfect. The gravel occasionally gave out and Dante would skid backwards three or four feet rather than only a few inches, but it made it easier to climb and his progress up the mountain became less of an impossible task. All the while, the boy did not let go of Dante’s hand, and all the while, the boy continued to talk.

“I think we’ll find a new home there. Not one that has boarded up windows though. I think we’ll still be able to see through the glass. And I bet when we get up there, the sun won’t be so hot. Instead it’ll be warm. And nights will be cool but we won’t build a fire because we can just sit inside. I think we’ll be able to stand at the top of the mountain and look down at the forest and laugh because nothing bad will be able to reach us up there. We can be safe.”

Dante half expected the boy to stop at some point and look back, to look for some kind of reassurance, but the boy hardly paused to take a breath as he painted the picture of the town they were going to find at the top. His focus centered solely on the peak like Dante’s had been until the moment he noticed the boy’s presence. Their fixation was, however, different. Dante’s had been dry, hard— full of nothing but the pure will to survive and not end up like the rest of the barren mountain that swelled and sweat underneath his feet with each breath he took.

The boy’s held possibility.

Dante thought he must have had that kind of hope once, but it seemed like such a distant memory now. For a while, he had believed that his hope died out back when civilization split apart, believing they’d be better off hiding by themselves. Or maybe when they left the children behind. But looking at this boy now, feeling the tiny hand in his, Dante wondered what kind of man would leave a child helpless if he still had an ounce of hope?

Dante had gotten lucky. He knew that much for sure. He hadn’t been quite 18 yet when the monsters arrived, so by law, he was abandoned. But he was one of the oldest and he had matured quickly as a kid. The chances of the beasts coming for him were low and as long as he stayed hidden, he would likely survive. Unless, of course, this mountain took him out. But then again, he was older. And stronger. And faster than many of the others. And not having any siblings, he did not have to bear the heavy burden of abandoning anyone in the name of living to see another day. The biggest burden he had to carry was the small, heart-shaped golden locket his mother had put around his neck before she whispered to him, “Don’t lose hope,” and ran out the door leaving him alone.

But still, it was a heavy request to make.

“I think there will be other kids there. The top of the mountain is safe for adults because the monsters can’t climb that high, so the kids must have come here too. Or maybe adults had new babies now. I don’t care either way. I am just excited to see the other kids again because,” Then his lip twitched a little, almost like he was catching the final word before it came out, a scratch in the emotion.

It was too late, though. The weight of the boy’s hand grew heavier as the thought made its impression in the thinning atmosphere. Not alone. It whispered. I wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Dante suddenly understood that it was not only the boy who was keeping him company, but also Dante who was comforting the boy. After all, while Dante had been traveling alone for what could have been years, he was also an adult. Fully grown. Able to protect himself. Able to think for himself. And perhaps even more importantly he was able to remember a time that was different.

This was a child in a world without children. A world that had been without children ever since great creatures appeared out of nowhere and began hunting them by scent. And what did the world do but turn its back on its children. Ignoring their most internal instincts to protect the next generation, the world voted for preservation of self and ran like cowards; the few brave enough to stay, died.

Anyone under the age of 15, tie them up. The beasts will devour them quickly and it will be merciful. Anyone between 15 and 18 can be left to fend for themselves. The monsters prefer the younger children and may leave the older ones alone. We cannot defeat these monsters, but we can starve them off. Then we can have kids again.

How this boy survived, Dante did not understand. He must have been only three or four years old when this started. He would have been tied up, possibly even killed out of mercy by his own parents. There is no way he should be here with Dante now.A question bubbled up and Dante finally opened his mouth figuring it was worth the risk to speak it, but the boy stopped.

He turned and with one hand still in Dante’s, the other wrapped around a small heart-shaped golden locket that hung around his neck, he looked at Dante. And Dante understood.

Dante swallowed his question. His words would only add more weight to the boy’s hand, and Dante feared this time it would be heavy enough to shatter the shallow frame of hope that hung between them. Afterall, the question had changed at that moment; it was no longer about whether they should continue together even if it leads to madness and had become an imperative instead. If they wanted to avoid madness, if they wanted to avoid the blistering, heavy, lonely madness, they must stay together.

So Dante remained silent, and with one hand digging into the earth ahead of him to pull himself forward, the other wrapped tightly around the locket, he continued up even as the mountaintop seemed to slip farther away. He was determined. He was hopeful. Dante would get there and he would find beauty on the other side.

Even if it was just another mirage.