The Last Remnant

Through a window she gazed out at the devastation. A reality worse than death loomed larger than life outside cracked and, in some cases, shattered windows throughout the house. Trees had toppled. Power lines were fallen and sporadically sparking in final fights against failure. Dust hung thickly in the air, turning the day into night for what might turn into forever. Smoke billowed into clouds that formed overhead and in the distance. She saw no birds, no bees and heard only the various sounds of sirens streak futility through the city. The sounds seemed to amplify through the remaining broken windows and foundation breaks the great shaking had caused. She heard strange booming alarms she’d never heard before in her young life. And this was only her view of the ravaged world, seen through this window whose crack remained too slight to allow the tainted air to invade.

Rikki clutched the gold, heart-shaped locket in her hand. To her, it symbolized the last remnant of her entire history, not to mention humanity and normalcy. Her father had given it to her when she was only five. The heart opened up and held a picture of him inside to always remember him by. He and her mother had fought viciously. About five years later, he left her mother. Rikki never saw him again. Last week, she celebrated her fifteenth birthday. She’d always held onto the locket, thinking that one day she would see her Dad again. Gazing out at the ravaged new world, she wondered what happened to him. Had he survived like her? Her mother hadn’t. Nearly a week ago, Mama died when an upper beam in the house fell during the quake and struck her in the head. Rikki knew she was dead but called 911 anyway. She remembered the subdued desperation in the operator’s voice.

“Listen, kid, I can’t say for sure when they’ll get out to you, but I’ll see to it they do as soon as it’s possible. We have gas pipes busted, power lines down, major car accidents, pile-ups, collapsed houses and buildings, and that doesn’t count the fires. They’re everywhere.” He paused, and then sighed. “From what you told me, she’s not breathing, right?”

Steeped in shock, Rikki answered calmly. “No.”

“I hate to tell you this, kid, but she’s most likely dead.” His voice remained calm and sympathetic, having subdued the slight hysteria that mounted underneath.”But I promise to get someone to you as soon as possible.”

Rikki counted six days in her mind. No one had come. The smell of death and dust danced together, a fact that Rikki silently acknowledged. Still, she had no doubt of being safer inside than outside. That’s what the cable news channels were broadcasting to survivors who remained holed up indoors.

“Stay inside. The atmosphere in contaminated. Help will come to you.”

Yeah right, Rikki thought. Tell that to her mother. The cable news had spewed lots of warnings to different parts of the country, showing various maps and graphs of things like land destruction, air-quality, and raging fires. Static and frozen screens often interrupted the constant broadcasts.

It all began with “The Great Shaking,” as the news called it. On a bright, warm, and calm Sunday afternoon, Southern California rocked as an earthquake tipped the Richter scale to a point that seemed futile to determine now. The San Andreas Fault was reported to have fallen like a ledge from a great shelf. The monumental trembling rattled up through Northern California, Oregon, Washington, as well as parts of Canada.

Matters worsened when the great quake caused fuel and water lines to break. Massive explosions erupted. Fires spread like contagion. Severely weakened first responders became outnumbered to tragedy and the ultimate unthinkable. Within a day, it seemed like the world had ended for the west coast, but on the following day, the shaking extended its reach. Another high-magnitude quake shook the great Rockies. In shock, Rikki watched mountains fall away live on the all-news channel.

The third day brought even more destruction. In her mind she marked it as the day her own world began to end. The prior day’s event was immediately deemed a “ripple effect,” a phenomenon that struck with a third great quake that broke the Mississippi River and shook the southern states so violently that a few of them were reported to be underwater. Flooding ravaged predominantly. The quake rattled the northeast, shaking New York.

“Biblically prophesied,” they said. Devout worshippers filled the streets deeming this past week, “The End of Days,” as did the news. A tsunami struck Western Europe. Earthquakes were reported on many parts of the globe. Then, on the fourth day, fuel and water lines erupted like they had in California. Power lines went down as well.

Then, the volcanoes erupted. The first eruption came from the Pacific, spewing lava and ash for thousands of feet into the air. The second eruption came from Yellowstone, bringing about the death of daylight and the final utter absence of fresh, clean air.

Rikki watched her last broadcast suddenly blacken out as the air waves went dead. Televisions and computers went blank. Electricity stopped. Rolling blackouts swept everywhere. Internet and cell towers ceased. All of the remaining links to the outside world—gone. The dead quiet within the song of continuous sirens made it seem like time had literally stopped.

She hadn’t slept through the night. She merely stared at the lopsided wall, wondering if the roof would collapse in on her if she slept. Would it matter at this point? It was only a matter of time until the house, now shaken off its foundation, would fall, leaving her dead body behind like her mother’s. She clutched the locket in her hand once again, and then hung it by its chain around her neck.

Still gazing through the cracked window, she noticed the sky turning blacker and blacker. A thick sea of soot filled the atmosphere. What was left of the world, she wondered. How would anyone survive? She had maybe four or five day’s worth of food before she would run out. What then? Sleep was impossible. Broken water lines made flushing the toilet a disaster. Water flooded the floor and filled the house on the occasions when she did. Calling for help was no longer possible. She was now the least of mankind’s worries. She wondered about the 911 operator, the last person with whom she would ever speak. Would he die as she would? He was most certainly out of work at this point.

A rolling tear streaked the slight sweaty grime of her face.

“I’m coming, Mama, shortly.”

Rikki stepped to the front door, her legs shaking. She turned and took one final look at the house around her. Childhood memories flashed through her mind and were suddenly gone, replaced by the sight of sudden destruction. She turned the knob of the door and stepped outside. The smell of dirt and dust proved overpowering. The air was gone, replaced by poisonous ether that caused her to cough within seconds. Her skin burned slightly from the unseen assailant.

She walked to the end of the street to her school bus stop one final time. The familiar bench sat empty. Only she had dared to leave the ruins of her home. She sat on the bench, alone at the end of the world. Her eyes burned and watered. Her lungs ignited from inside her. It became harder and harder to breathe.

She watched as a star fell from the blackening sky. It must be night by now. The sky would soon grow even darker. The last remnant of her life hung around her neck. Rikki clutched it tightly, closed her eyes, and finally slept.