Sam's Nightmare

So, this here. This is a picture of my mother. Ignore the rest of the junk for now, I’ll get to it tomorrow.

It’s old enough to where it’s starting to get that faded, yellow tint. Though somewhat harrowing, I think it’s fitting that it’s in a heart shape. If only it was a square or at least a rectangle, it would be easier to carry without worrying about it creasing, but I’m still willing to die to save this photo, because to be honest, it would be difficult to remember what she looked like if I didn’t manage to salvage it.

All I know is that I loved her. I loved her a lot.

Now, during the time before I was born, I’d assume most would have thought of the “end of the world” as some sort of fiery hell that makes you go from living your normal life one day, to sitting on your porch with a shotgun at 2 AM to stop the raiders from getting at everything. Oh, we have fiery hell and 2 AM shotguns, all right, but it didn’t happen overnight. First it was the government-mandated water rationing, then food rationing, then sky-high prices for the internet, to eventually no one being able to use the internet except those who could still afford it, and so on so forth. Only later did the shotguns, the fire, and the hell truly come into play. It actually feels pretty normal while it’s happening, only with the older folk shaking their heads, longing for the “old times” more and more with each passing day. The one saving grace is that I was only a kid when this all started happening. “You don’t miss what you’ve never had” has some truth to it, but to me, it’s always made more sense to say, “you don’t miss what you didn’t understand”.

I remember the first experience with the raiders, because that was the week when the price of gold reached the equivalent of $10,000 per ounce. It was broadcasted on the radio. That was back when we didn’t even have any weapons in the house. Obviously not, because why would we have needed them?

We didn’t even notice him until it was too late. My only regret about the situation, though, is that I wish we somehow hadn’t noticed. By the time I was fully awake, I was already aware of the smashing, and the yelling, and then he had left. All I remember of him was seeing his wavy brown hair as he made his escape. Of all our valuables he took: jewelry, gold, and anything that had value worth more than a damn, the only thing that mattered to us was that he took my mother’s life. And with all that, he took the locket. The locket that kept my father from going insane from his stress trying to keep the family fed. What the raider didn’t realise was that although the small heart-shaped picture of my mother inside had fallen out, with him still went our souls. That son of a bitch probably would just have ripped the picture out and thrown it in the street as long as he had the locket.

That night was the last straw. That next day, my dad stopped being my dad: only my father. Although I remember him being a good parent before the incident, over the course of the next 10 years we probably only said 50 words to each other as he slowly dived into alcoholism. I don’t know where he was getting it, or even his food, because he stopped working and I was left to fend for my own. After a few months of neglect, I became pretty damn good at the survival game. Meanwhile, he kept deteriorating, until I ultimately found him the way no son wants to see his father regardless of the situation. He’s buried out that way, about 10 feet away from that window. And no, ever since then, I’ve never walked close to that window.

“Sam.” And there she is. I’ve been waiting for her for the past twenty minutes. That’s why I was going through the stuff in the attic and looking at my mother’s picture I keep in my back pocket while having a thought tangent explaining my situation to an imaginary audience.

“I’ve been waiting for you. What’s up, is something wrong?”

Lilly shakes her head. “I was just coming back from the river. Didn’t expect it to take that long,” she said, taking off her coat. Judging from that and her breathing, it looked like she had run the last stretch.

“Shit, Lilly, the guards are gonna start their thing if we don’t hurry the hell up.” We were planning to sneak into the government farm to steal a chicken tonight. Now, I never steal from other people, but the bureaucrats are an exception. Fuck them. At their farm, the guards always patrol routinely, which makes it easy to break in. You’d figure they would think this through, but I’m assuming that the bureaucracy just didn’t care enough. Plus, the guards were probably stealing food themselves, so there have been times that they definitely noticed but didn’t do anything. For the times that I thought they would take action, though… let's just say I’m glad I traded for this revolver.

We quickly get our backpack and hightail it out of there, running past the old houses lined up evenly. Most of these houses have already been abandoned, either due to foreclosures before the resource disaster began, or because of people who fled. Or simply because of people who died. Looking around, I can somewhat tell that this area used to be a nice neighbourhood. I’m used to seeing these cracked walls, rotten wooden doors, and the vines and shrubs that have long since colonised the expensive homes, but I bet people who used to live there way back when would have a heart attack seeing their precious houses reduced to such rubble.

We approach the creek. Lilly jumps over, and I do too. As I jump, I make it to the other bank, but nearly lose my balance. She laughs, and as I get up, with mud covering my whole left hand and elbow, I smile too. Lilly and I met, I’d say about three years ago, when we were both at the trading forum. I was buying some pork, and she was buying bread. You ever make eye contact with someone and you don’t stop, but you both smile and for whatever reason, it isn’t awkward? I still remember hearing her voice for the first time: “you know, I bet it would taste awesome to put these together.” Once we had bought our food, we were headed home together with plans for a pork sandwich-making date. And of course, it’s been history ever since.

We get to the complex. I can't hear the guards yet. Lilly crawls through the tiny hole in the fence and I follow her. We crouch down, trying to move nothing but our legs. The chickens are right inside the door in front of us. We had cut the hole close to this door, because chickens were the easiest to steal: they make a tonne of noise, they’re much harder to account for due to their size, and they can be transported easiest. Just grab one, lay it down, chop its head off in one swift motion so it doesn’t feel anything, put it in the bag, and good to go. That’s why, for example, we wouldn’t ever dare try to steal a pig.

“Ok Lilly. This time, you stay watch and I’ll be right back, alright?” I whisper as lightly as possible.

She nods. She hands me the bag, I take out the knife. I open the door, only enough for me to slink through, and rush in. The workers are never here at this time of day. I scour the sea of chickens to find one that doesn’t look as sickly as the rest as fast as I can and grab it. The chicken starts trying to fight me, but I’m too fast. I get out the door in record time, and immediately start my impromptu butchering.

Lilly’s right next to me as we both hear the sounds of people. I’m too busy trying to neutralise the chicken, while Lilly starts getting nervous. She looks at me, her eyes wide open. I get the message: HURRY THE FUCK UP. My heart is pounding, although I know we’ll probably be safe. The only problem is this chicken flapping around as I frantically try to finish the job, which is causing us to pretty quickly lose the illusion of silence.

The guards start to get louder. They’ve definitely noticed us. Fuck. How is it that we’ve done this so many times in the past, but this time around we’re getting unlucky?

I’m panicking so much I can barely put the chicken in the backpack. Lilly looks like she’s about to burst. She and I are both sweating like hell, and seemingly losing grip on what’s going on.

The revolver! I have the revolver. It’s too late for us to both sneak out without getting caught, but I can just hide around the corner and scare them when they come. They usually expect people to have knives, not guns, so they’re generally used to an easier job. I never hear of what truly happens to the people they catch, so this is my best chance to leave free. I start to breathe slower to control my nerves.

“The revolver, Lilly, the revolver,” I whisper as the voices around go silent. “I’ll threaten them with the revolver. Get the bag and go.”

She looks ready to do whatever to get out of the situation. She grabs the bag as I get out the revolver. I’m starting to get frantic again. I've never had to use the revolver on anyone before, but as I slowly pull the hammer back, I wonder if today is going to be the day that changes.

She crouches down and starts her getaway. A few paces in, she trips on something hidden in the grass and falls over, still within a few feet of me.

I hear fast footsteps approaching. The guards definitely heard that.

Lilly starts to get back up. I’m trying to watch her and the corner at the same time. If she manages to get far enough, she won’t be noticed by the time they get here. Then, I can threaten them, and slowly make my way out too. As she regains her footing, I see something come out of the top of her shirt. I look closer.

The locket. It’s the heart-shaped locket.

I freeze. There’s no way this is happening. Why haven’t I ever seen this before? I can’t say anything to her because she’s too far by now. But from where I’m standing, I can very clearly see the locket, the same locket that’s big enough to fit the picture of my mother.

I start to lose control of my breathing. Maybe she bought the locket at the trading forum, maybe she found it on the ground. No matter what, it doesn't stop every instinct in me from starting to boil.

I look at her wavy brown hair. The memories all start flooding back like a nightmare.

The guards are there now, but they’re not. I can hear yelling, but it doesn't register. They’re staring at me with their guns drawn, but I don’t care. I just don’t care.

I can’t read Lilly's emotions.

None of this was ever supposed to happen.

I look down at the revolver while rage builds in all corners of my body. The world, the universe.

I see red.