The Heart Shaped Locket

The world was different for the survivors. Deep in a forest, once abundant with life, now a petrified and dead land permanently scarred by the war of man. A young woman struggles to grasp a rope leading a bucket down to the bottom of the well for the last of the uncontaminated water in an area abandoned by others, long ago. The sky is fading into darkness and she knows that one of a continuing line of storms will soon be upon them, and with it, the acid rain. She sharpens her focus on the rope and lowers her arm further into the abyss. Finally, the effort pays off as she fills her bucket. Tightening her grip, she begins the retrieval. By now, the rope has twisted into her hand like serrated teeth. She feels a sense of dread as she slips on the uneven ground, fearing that she cannot complete her task. As the weight lessens and she steadies herself, the bucket emerges half full. She thinks, "This will have to do." With little hesitation, she packs her belongings, covers the bucket, and returns to her shelter.

Upon arriving at her metallic tent, now her only sanctuary, she covers her bloodied hands in bandages and composes herself. When she enters the room, her mother is resting next to the fire. Her mother's breathing is harsh and shallow, every breath a struggle, yet she finds the strength to sit up and pleads with her daughter to leave before the storms worsen. The thought of abandoning her mother makes the girl angry, so she quickly changes the subject to New York City.

"Was the city actually like you described it Mom?" she asks in an almost desperate attempt to keep hope alive.

"It is, or well, it was." The mother, surrendering, says "Buildings as tall as the clouds." She suddenly has another violent coughing fit, and the daughter rushes over with the water she labored so tirelessly for.

"Don't push yourself, Mom. You need to rest, so we can keep moving." The mother, at this point, however, knows she is doomed. Dying of the same radiation poisoning as most unfortunate survivors remaining in the U.S. The mother's breathing has become more labored. She is now almost gasping for each breath.

"We both know I don't have much more time left sweetie. Please be a dear and hand me my old tin box." The daughter moves over to the boxes kept in the corner and brings back an old jewelry box. The mother, noticing the wounds on her hands delicately holds them in her own and says, "This is my most prized possession, the last piece of your father. No matter what happens, keep this with you and we will always be close by." The mother and daughter embrace, reminisce on all of the old ways of civilization, and their home in New York until they are both exhausted. The daughter falls asleep with the tin box in her arms as her mother brushes her hair, and the daughter remembers the good times.

Even in her fitful sleep, she dreams of the time after the fall, wondering about the fate of the people she grew up with. Some had joined the large caravan of people that banded together. As the years passed, and more and more fell ill, their numbers started to dwindle. Talks of colonies forming on the coasts drove the group to travel from location to location looking for their so-called Edens. After years of searching and finding nothing but wastelands and death, the group was forced to travel back to the East coast. Shortly after making it to what was once Virginia, her mother started showing signs of the sickness. The caravan leader told them that another storm was coming, worse than the last, and they could not stay any longer. He wished the young woman and her mother well, gave them rations and a map of their route so they could rejoin after the storm if it was possible. As the caravan moved out, the storm was looming on the horizon, always on the horizon. The sky was dark, not just a sky filled with black rain clouds, but tainted with a sickening brownish color, a color of death.

The daughter wakes the next morning and turns to her mother to find she had passed away peacefully in her sleep, embracing her for the last time. The young woman lays her out in her favorite quilt and buries her next to their campsite. She is now alone for the first time in her life. She sits and stares into the void and remembers her mother's box, and opens it to find a collection of tangible memories.

She pulls out pictures of their old house in New York, her father and mother when they were her age, and a jewelry box. With this as her last piece of them, she resolves herself to return to New York to see what became of her home. The journey is long, and after waiting for yet another of the continuing storms to subside, she has just enough food to make the journey. As she enters the city, she finds her way to Times Square, now seemingly abandoned and in ruins. She faintly remembers visiting with her parents before the fall, and she makes her way into a building still standing to rest for the night. As she makes camp, she tries opening the jewelry box but never could figure out how her mother opened the locks. Frustrated and exhausted from her journey, she is drowsy and starts to fall asleep and dreams again, the dreams of loss.

She dreams of the night she lost her father, the night of the fall. The world had been plunged into chaos as an early warning of the oncoming bombs had everyone scrambling. Her parents rushed to get her into their car and get out of the city. As they were driving over the bridge they were confronted by a large mob demanding their car. Her father got out of the car to talk to them and told her mother to drive away if anything happened. A man walked up to her father but all the while was staring into the car at her and her mother. After talking for a moment, her father turned and smiled at them in reassurance. But as he turned back, the man struck him to the ground. Her mother screamed in terror and jumped in the driver's seat as three men ran up to the car. She panicked and drove them over. Leaving them and her husband behind.

Sleeping, as if in a trance, she is startled by loud gunshots in the distance. She peers out the slit in her tent and sees two people running down the street. She recognizes them as members of her caravan. She is about to call out for them to come her way when she sees three people waving guns and running after them. The main pursuer is a woman close to her age, with wild black hair. She and another man are shouting in excitement as the last man slowly walks behind them, scanning the area. Just before she can make out his face, he looks her way, and she quickly ducks for cover. Her heart is racing with fear as she hears the shouting fade.

The pursuers turn the corner and are out of her sight as she begins to pack up her belongings and accidentally drops her mother's box, making a loud bang. She finishes packing her things and exits when all of a sudden she hears footsteps approaching. She rushes in the opposite direction. Running for the stairs leading down to the subway, she approaches the entrance when the female pursuer leaps out of the darkness. Seizing her by the hair, the two struggle on the steps. Her partner walks up, laughing a maniacal laugh while enjoying the fight. The girl loses her footing, tossing her assailant into the void. The smile on the would-be attacker's face twisted and deformed into one of pure evil. He lunges for her as she evades his murderous swings. She proceeds further down the stairs frantically until she reaches a landing. There the mangled body of the woman lay, her neck broken, still as menacing in death. The woman turned in horror to see the man leaping from the stairs like a rabid animal. His death grip tightening around her throat, as they hit the ground. He is on top of her saying "Look at me, look at me!" in an almost demonic shrill. She is beginning to lose consciousness when she feels the knife on his waist. With one swift motion, she plunges the blade into the man's side, and then again. She continues stabbing until he stops choking her and collapses. Her lungs strain to inhale as he lays there motionless. She pulls the blade out of his body and slowly gets back to her feet.

Suddenly she hears a sound behind her and turns around to see the third man right behind her. She didn't even feel his blade pierce her before she started falling. All she could see was the man's lifeless face as pure terror consumed her very core. What scared her the most was not the soulless eyes, but the face was familiar. Tinged with madness, and much older, but certainly familiar. She hits the stairs like a wave violently crashing over rocks. Each bounce, a bone snapping, as she cries out in agony. Her belongings explode out of her backpack and over the steps. The man slowly walks past the lifeless bodies of his group members, unfazed, but stops cold when he sees the photographs, the keepsakes, and the jewelry box. His heart sinks as he reaches the bottom of the steps to the young woman lying in her blood, gasping her last breath. He picks up the jewelry box and begins to weep. He twists the top twice and opens the bottom of the box to reveal a heart-shaped locket. He opens the locket and drops to his knees as he looks at the picture of him, his wife, and his daughter.