The Mistakes He Made

Watching the wind rustle the hair of the dead is often unsettling. I walked by a killed raccoon just the other day, and the breeze slithered through the animal’s fur. It looked as if it was taking a shallow breath. I wondered why the image disturbed me, and I thought, Maybe because we know dead things are not supposed to move. It is almost like the wind is playing a cruel joke, tricking me into thinking that life still courses through those veins. Or perhaps I misjudge the wind. Maybe it is desperately trying to revive the dead. Give it up, then, what is dead will not come back no matter how hard you will it. Poor wind, I would guess that it gets lonely. Its’ air is the substance upon which we live, what failure it must feel when it can no longer fill our lungs.

I thought of my love, then, how the wind used to play through his golden hair. My fingers would follow, twirling his strands and gently tugging on his soft curls. I smiled at the memory, and grimaced shortly after.

I forget exactly how I met him, I seem to forget a lot of things now a days. I do remember his smile, though. I can never forget his smile, no matter how much I may want it to be erased from my mind forever. He didn’t have one of those flashy, TV star smiles, his wasn’t what one would typically call “charming.” His smile, I would have to describe as genuine, goofy, and pure. His eyes sparkled just briefly as the grin formed, his eyebrows raised, the corners of his mouth lifted to reveal slight dimples on his cheeks. His lips parted and I heard a light-hearted laugh rush from him, how I grew to love that laugh.

I won’t say that I loved him instantly, that would be a lie, and I doubt very much that anyone loves anyone instantly. Our relationship grew and developed. We worked hard to maintain our love. I found new ways to love him, and I abandoned the ways that did not fit. I learned to put his needs above my own, because I think that is what love is, and I wanted to love him in the purest way possible. So we grew, we flourished, we loved. Then he was gone.

This is not a love story. His memory haunts me in my every waking moment, so if you were to categorize this story, stick it with the grieving or the terrified.

Nothing can prepare you for the end of life as you know it, I’m sure everyone can agree with that. It isn’t like how you would see it in the movies, where all the survivors are “dirty” but still healthy and good-looking. I can tell you, they didn’t look great. Their skin care routines, hair grooming, bathing schedules, all of it, down the drain along with their hopes and dreams for a normal life. Just imagine: A handful of acne-stricken, reeking-with-body-odor, frizzy-haired survivors just waltzing about the otherwise naked earth. Not the loveliest sight imaginable. Toilet paper was equal to currency at that point. To understate the situation, there were a few trials and errors.

The handprint that mankind had left behind was beginning to decay and be erased by nature. Inevitability at its finest. It was quiet, though, and that was nice.

I have grown to enjoy long walks in the silence of the decay. This is what I had thought I would do when the old world died, I just thought he would be walking alongside me.

All that was left of my darling was a necklace that he had given me, it seems so long ago now. It was the most precious thing that I owned. I would always take it off before I went on my walks, I wouldn’t risk losing it. It was a little heart-shaped locket with a picture of our old dog in it, he had always joked that I loved that dog more than I loved anyone. He wasn’t completely wrong. I don’t remember why he gave me the locket, if it was some special occasion or something, but I do remember the look on his face when I opened the box. His eyes were flooded with excitement and anticipation for my reaction. His eyes - have I told you of his eyes yet? Oh, they were the most wonderful things in the universe. Looking into his eyes were like looking into the sky on a sunny day right before a thunderstorm. There was so much intelligence and curiosity - so much life - in those eyes.

I have to shake him out of my thoughts. He’s gone now, that’s all.

I said I enjoy the long walks because of the silence, and while that is true, I generally take my walks to spy on the remaining survivors. I hadn’t thought there would be anyone left, but you know how easily plans get ruined. Thankfully they have not found my home, that would ruin everything. The handful of survivors that I have seen are the only ones that I know of, I’ve been keeping up with the radio to see if anyone out there was trying to reach out. No one so far, and if my plan worked well enough, no one ever. I was of the opinion that if he couldn’t live, then no one else had the right to.

My grand scheme began in the lab that I managed. It was one of the most esteemed scientific foundations in the world, which of course worked to my advantage. It was too easy, really. I had created a neat little beverage with an addicting flavor, my best-selling creation to date. People everywhere purchased the drinks, we were always creating more due to the demand, but what these people did not know was that I had added a little ingredient that would break down their immune systems. Once my products had been out on the market for a while, I released my virus. Of course I was unsure if the drink had done its job, but the detrimental effects of the sickness reassured me. The disease spread like wildfire, but obviously it could not kill everyone. The gangs that the survivors had created would, I assume, finish most everyone off. The violence that this disease brought out in people was appalling and brilliant, you’ll never know someone’s true nature until you hold a knife to their throat and force their hand. Unfortunately, the forest in which I have hidden myself has been raving with these groups. Still yet, I don’t expect to be found.

This is all his fault, really. If he hadn’t left, if he hadn’t accused me of such heinous crimes, perhaps he would still be here. Perhaps I wouldn’t have gone through with the whole thing.

I listened to the sound of the crunching leaves beneath my feet and felt a slight breeze in my hair. Finally, peace and quiet. I had returned from my walk and entered my home that I had had built before all this, it was a sweet little log cabin with a wood furnace. I had it built right by a beautiful natural spring so that I would have access to fresh water. I wiped my shoes on the rug and locked the door behind me, how I loved this place. Before anything else, I went to grab my locket. Gone. It was gone. That’s impossible, I always leave it right here. My mind raced to every spot it could be. I began to look around frantically. Then, with a terrifying creak, my bedroom door opened. We locked eyes.