Survivor’s Guilt

“What was it actually like Before?”

“Before what?”

“You know, Mom. Just Before. When we were hiding under that bridge and you held me close and told me not to make a peep. I was listening to those people walking by above us. Other than you and Dad, I'd never been close enough to another person to actually hear their words and that one man’s voice was so loud. I heard him say to someone else in their group, something about how what they were doing would have been unthinkable Before. What did he mean, unthinkable? What were they doing? And whatever it was, why wouldn’t they have done that Before?”

“Before was just different. That man meant before the collapse of… well…. It’s tough to explain. The world wasn’t always quiet and empty like it is now. I guess the world was always dangerous, even then. But in a different way. For starters most people weren’t hungry. We didn’t have to forage or hunt. Many people actually had so much food that they threw a bunch away each and every day. One of the dangers was eating too much and getting sick. There were all sorts of diseases that came from eating too much or from eating the wrong stuff. Some had names that would sound silly to you, like diabetes. Many people were actually fat back then, if you met someone from Before you'd be amazed. You couldn’t see their bones like you can on us, they were round and puffy and soft. Peoples faces kind of looked like frogs. Or toads.”

“Come on Mom I was being serious. And you're telling me fairy tales! I’m not a little kid anymore. You know I don’t believe in magic. I know there’s no such thing as round, puffy, frog people.”

“Roll your eyes if you want but I’m not joking. You wanted to know what it was like Before and I’m trying to tell you. We didn’t have to scavenge for food, we didn’t have to eat roots and leaves and bugs. We had all the food we could want in boxes called refrigerators. And if the refrigerator started to get empty we’d go to a big building called a grocery store and get more food to fill it back up. What was the yummiest thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“The raspberries we found growing along the river. Oh— wait! Maybe that time when dad was still with us and he caught and roasted that dog.”

“We didn’t eat dogs Before. We kept them as pets. That means we took care of them and let them live with us.”

“Really? But the one we caught kept trying to bite Dad's fingers… And remember when we found somebody's bones in that field back then? You tried to stop me from looking but dad made me look. And wouldn't let me look away, even when I got scared. Remember he said that they probably belonged to someone who got attacked by dogs— and that’s why we always had to be careful, always on guard. If dogs are so dangerous why would the people of Before want to ‘keep them as pets?’”

“Dogs were different back then too. They didn’t get fat like people, but they were well fed so they were docile. Docile means gentle. And back then, dogs were gentle. Most of the time anyway. If they were treated right and protected, they were loyal companions.”

“Okay, but didn’t anyone think about how good they’d taste? The one Dad cooked was delicious.”

“To you. But that's just because you don’t know any better.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means that back then, back Before, we had tastier foods. Plenty of things that tasted much better than dog. If you wanted meat, you’d get it from the animals we raised for that purpose. Cow or pig or chicken. You remember the pictures I showed you in that little book we found in that burned out building. The building I told you used to be a library?”

“Kinda. I don’t remember any of those animals looking like they’d taste good. They were ugly.”

“Well, back Before, thats what we ate and they tasted good. They were greasy. We cooked them until they were tender and added salt and flavor. Or we'd put them between slices of bread and made sandwiches.”

“Bread?”

“Kind of like biscuits I make when we find and crush up tubers. But softer and fluffier.”

“So people ate ugly animals and kept dogs as pets.... So... Is that what the man meant when he said what they were doing would have been unthinkable Before? Were he and his people hunting dogs?”

“Not dogs.”

“What then?”

“Why couldn’t you just stay quiet? I told you not to make a peep.”

“What were those people hunting, Mommy? If not dogs, then what?”

“I should have told you all this before we had to leave the cabin. Before we got to the road and long before that damned bridge. Your dad wanted you to know everything. Even the bad stuff. He said the ugly truth could have kept you safe. But I didn’t want to rob you of your innocence.”

“What were those people hunting, Mommy?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“I’d ask Daddy but he just won’t answer. He won't talk. Not anymore. He just stares at you. Glares like he’s mad at you. Why is daddy mad at you? And why is his skin so bloody?”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“Stop crying Mommy. Just tell me: what we’re those people hunting?”

“Us! They were hunting us! I’m so sorry. I'm fucking sorry. If you’d just stayed quiet! I told you not to make a peep! Why did you have to call out to them? What were you thinking?”

“All I did was say hello. I heard them talking but we’d never been that close to other people before. And I wanted to know what they looked like. I wanted to know if they were like us. Wasn’t that innocent enough? Isn’t that the innocence what you were trying to protect, when you tried to stop daddy from showing me those bloody, gnawed up bones— back in that sunny field?”

“Stop. Let’s talk about something else.”

“No mom. There’s nothing else to talk about. After all these weeks you finally admitted they were hunting us. But Daddy and I want to know why you left. When I called out to them you and Daddy both panicked. Daddy said he’d distract them, buy you some time so you could carry me away. He said 'to safety'. But you just ran. You left me behind. Daddy didn’t leave me. He stayed till the end. He died fighting, trying to save me from them. But you ran. You left me behind and ran. Why did you do that, mom?”

“Stop it please. I can’t talk about this. Just let me hold you.”

“Okay, but won’t your clothes get bloody too?”

“Huh— I don’t— no! Please don't make me see you like that! Go back to the way you were.”

“But this is the way I was mom. Innocent. They cut me right— no don’t look away! They cut me right here, and all the blood spilled out. Do you still want to hold me?”

“More than anything, just please. Go back to the way you looked before they got you. Before we tried to hide. I want to hold you again, but the way you were.”

“"Mom, if you liked me better whole, then why did you run— why didn’t you take me with you like Daddy said? If you want to hold me again, this is the only way."

"But your skin is so cold."

“Only when I visit you. My actual skin is warm and brittle, it’s been sitting out in the sun ever since—“

“No, God please no! I can't think about that.”

“Mom do you want daddy and I to leave? Mom…. Nodding your head won’t do it. If you want us to leave you alone you must put it in words.”

“Don’t make me say it. Please.”

“Just tell me the truth. You wanted me gone. You wanted them to get me. You hoped they would.”

“No! No I loved you. I still love you. More than anything. I never wanted you to go. I still don't. I just want you to stop haunting me like this. I can’t bear to see the hurt. Your wounds. It's torture for a mother.”

“This is how I looked, after you abandoned me. This is how I looked, because you abandoned me. If you don’t want to see me like this, close your eyes and try to picture me happy. Picture me how I would have been Before— picture me in the days of refrigerators and grocery stores. Picture me eating ice cream. Picture me grinning and pudgy, instead of sunken-eyed and starved to the bone. Close your coward eyes, dream up a fantasy and tell me: if you didn’t want me gone back then, why did you run? Why did you leavef me? Don’t I deserve to know?”

“I was just scared. Too scared to breath. My body took over. I ran and the second I began I hated myself to my very core. That’s the whole damned and wretched truth. Now if I open my eyes will you please be the you I want to remember?"

...

"Baby? Are you there? I need to remember you whole. Just let me see you whole. I'm opening my eyes."

...

"Shit, I'm losing it. If any part of you still exists somewhere, I hope you're better off now than you were with me. I don't know if you can hear me. But I miss you. And I'm sorry. I hope you're whole in the After and when I get there I hope you'll let me see your smile again. God, let there be an After. And let it be better than this."

***

***

***

Author's note: I wrote this for the "Nothing But Voices" Vocal writing challenge. I really liked the prompt. I've never even attempted to write a story through pure dialogue, and I really enjoyed the creative push, felt like the challenge forced me to break new ground.

Also, this prompt really made me want to write a story about a haunting or a hallucination, taking the "Nothing But Voices" to a bit of literal cliche-- with the "hearing voices" trope.

Anyway, this is where my mind went with the prompt. I know this fairly dark, but I hope it works in its own way.

This writing was a bit of a thought experiment for me. I often wonder how parents who abandon their kids feel about themselves after the fact. I was raised by a single mother and now I’m a single father raising my own kids. So I’ve come to know deadbeat parents in a couple different ways.

Granted my dad didn’t abandon me to cannibals in a post apocalyptic wasteland, and neither did my ex abandon our kids to that extreme. But the pressures of the modern world still seemed too much, and people who had big responsibilities dipped out.

Aside from that symbolic stuff…

I also want to note that the post apocalyptic setting in this story is somewhat inspired by Cormac McCarthy's writing in The Road. That's one of my all time favorite books and I highly recommend it if you don't mind really bleak and depressing writing.

Also, a bit of a funny aside, Cormac McCarthy's writing style is kind of famous/ infamous for using little to no dialogue attribution. So part of this particular "Nothing But Voices" really called his writing to mind, at least for me. A major point of appeal in his writing though is painting beautiful scenery with nothing but words-- he tends to be very descriptive, in an almost poetic way.

As always, this story is wide open to feedback, especially considering the format of raw dialogue and nothing else. If you have critiques feel free to let me know what worked or didn't work or what I might have done differently to make this writing more effective!