Toxins

Memories. What are memories? They’re images that play in your head of better times. Or worse times, I guess you could say. But we like to forget about the worst times of our lives right? But what if there was someone that kept reminding you of these times? Or in my case, something. I stare at the heart shaped locket that sparkled in my hand like a diamond. It wasn’t made of diamonds, or anything fancy for the matter. But it was worth more then gold to me. I remember the day it was given to me like it was yesterday, although I don’t really know how many days it had actually been. It was a nice summer day in the middle of June. Me and my little brother were playing Marco Polo in the pool, while mom and dad sat on the porch in their rocking chairs. It was my favorite pastime as a 6 year old. Some of my best memories are laughing with my family, as we splash around in that kiddie pool. But then everything changed in a blink of an eye. I hear mom scream as I look up to see hundreds of rocks hurling our way. No one knew what they were, or why they were here. Just that it was bad. Being 6, I don’t recall much of that day. The screams, the flames that erupted once the rocks hit the earth, and the cars that the military men took us away in, was about it. But I remember one image vividly. My mom saying “I love you baby girl! Forever and always.” As she handed me this necklace. That was the last time I saw her or my dad.

“Do you ever think about them Caleb?”

I asked my brother as he fiddled with his toy car. That’s what dad gave him as we drove away, and they faded in the abyss.

“Not much anymore. I mean I can’t even tell you what they looked like. Plus no one survived that anyways Carly.”

He was right. All the kids were sent into the only bunker that was available in Oklahoma at the time. It was so sudden no one could prepare. We since tried to leave, however everyone that has left never returned. It’s expected whatever came left toxins that is unsafe to humans. But as I open my locket, I can’t help but wonder if that’s really true. I didn’t see them die. They just vanished. What if they’re out there somewhere and I can save them?

“Stop doing that thing you do when you have a bad idea.” My brother calls out. He’s now 16 and has lived all but 2 years in this bunker. He doesn’t even remember the outside world, or our parents, so he wouldn’t understand. But I do. And this locket is a constant reminder of all I lost. The memories flood in everytime I open it and see their faces.

“I just miss them you know?”

“We all do Carly. But this is our life now. And I can’t lose you too.”

That’s the only reason I’m still in this bunker. Because I don’t want to be just a memory to him as well. I think about my time in this bunker. 14 years it had been, apparently. At some points, it felt longer. Like since I’ve seen sunlight, or had food that wasn’t survival scraps. But at other times it had seemed shorter. Like when I celebrated my 10th birthday with Captain Turner, or when Lee taught me how to play poker. We were all just kids when we were put in here, and now a lot of us are adults. We should be graduating, and buying cars. Getting a boyfriend or girlfriend, that my dad would’ve hated, but my mom would’ve loved. Growing up without them seeing these milestones, breaks my heart.

“Would they be proud of me?”

I ask but as I turn to face Caleb I see him start to snore again. His auburn hair brushes in front of his blue eye as I remember he needs a haircut soon. He legs stretched past the Star Wars blanket he had outgrown when he was 8. I didn’t mean to wake him up, but I’m restless. I get up to kiss his forehead, and then curl back up with my locket in hand. But I can’t sleep. These nightmares are getting too much to handle these days. It feels so real. It starts with us all together again, like it should be. Eating sandwiches on the beach, as the water brushes our feet. And then mom and dad start calling me a traitor. Guilt fills me as they slowly turn to dust and fade away. I think it’s the survivors guilt? Like I lived and they didn’t. But then I’d have to accept the fact that they are actually dead. And until I see it for myself, I don’t think I can move on. Their memory lives within me. But do I follow that path and risk it all, or just settle with the memories I already have? These thoughts slowly fade as I finally start to drift into a deep sleep. But it’s just temporary relief, because these memories haunt me daily. And I can’t fix it. Can I?