Hope in the Time of Trouble

I walked in the shadows, carefully making my way past the debris that littered what was once our green and friendly neighborhood. Trees looked like fallen soldiers, houses that were once warm and inviting now melted and twisted their way into the ground as though they were seeking shelter. Frightened hollowed eyes peeked from various hiding places, wondering if this was the last time they would draw breath. I know how they felt. If we thought no day was promised when life was normal, we didn’t realize what was coming.

My younger brother, Christopher and I did have a slight advantage however; though we never imagined how accurate our father’s foretelling was going to be.

My dad always had it, since he was a little boy…

“Momma, grandma needs you! She fell, her heart hurts so bad! Please hurry, hurry!”

He ran out of the house before his mom could grasp what he was saying and ran towards the direction of his grandma’s house two blocks away. Little legs and feet took off with the speed of lightning leaving his mom only one choice - and that was to follow.

“Isiah! Wait! Wait!” She called trying to keep up. She saw him stumble and fall, but bounce back up and continue to run with the precision of an Olympic gymnast.

He lunged through the front gate and ran up the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him. He struggled with the handle, but pushed it open from sheer will. His mom leapt up the stairs, now in a panic.

“Isiah, mom, where are you!”

She walked through the door and saw her son kneeling by his grandmother, his tear stained eyes pleading for her to do something. Whether she or his father wanted to believe him or not, their son had a gift. He could see what was and what was to come, the proof laid there in the middle of the floor. Her mother, always vivacious, now laid crumpled and defeated on her hardwood floor, barely breathing.

The doctors said that if she was brought in any later, she would not have made it. The heart attack was sudden and severe.

Isiah was snuggled in the hospital bed holding his grandma’s hand.

“I knew you would find me.” His grandma whispered. She pulled her precious locket from around her neck and placed into our father’s tiny hand and said,

“Hope… is always at the root of making things happen.” He smiled back at her with a mature look of one deep into their years, though he was only five.

Our grandma always told us this story with pride and tears. As my dad grew, He managed to help so many…

My dad was the rock of our home and our protector. You knew where you stood with him and he expected the same from all of us. Honesty is the rope that tied us together and we loved him for it…

He prepared us for the destruction that came in waves like a violent storm.

He told us something catastrophic was coming and that he would not be with us when it came. He told us that we were strong enough to carry on and that we would share his gift, me and my younger brother. He gave us our grandmother’s precious locket and told us to always hold onto hope. He told us to stand still, even when everyone else would run in fear and panic.

We helped him build a secret place for us in the basement and filled it with what we needed to survive. Our dad taught us that hope is the push you need to conquer any challenge and that sadness is only a foundation for happiness to build on.

Sadly smiling at the memory, I slid through the burned and gnarled door that led to our sanctuary. Glossy splashes of rose colored pink paint twinkled in the moonlight reminding me of what our old Victorian house once was. I looked around, my eyes sorrowful lenses once again capturing the picture of destruction, but searching its memory for the beauty it once reflected.

Weary and defeated, I made my way to the broken wooden door that was the face of my dad’s old tool room. I slid behind an opening in the crumbling concrete wall and jumped down into what was now home . Our water supply, canned goods, makeshift bathroom and bathing area, all stared at me like the provisions of a fine hotel, or at least it did compared to what most had.

I had been out sharing some of those provisions to those trying to survive and trying to erase the images of bodies falling like rain drops out of buildings that crumbled like crushed cans.

I also shared different ways that they could fool the new breed of humans that took DNA from those who survived; in order to make something they thought was superior. This breed needed minimal sleep, had no need to overeat or suffer from anxious emotions. They healed faster and learned at a rate that the most advanced technology would envy. They were trained to be polite, but showed no remorse. They thrived on power; power to rule and make decisions freely, without consequences. The world was destroyed to be a starting point for what they called, “New Earth.” It was presented as something for everyone, so no one suspected that the injections were to be fatal to some and empowering to others.

“New Earth,” they called it. How could they sustain the new one when they did so badly caring for the old one?

Christopher and I had only recently discovered that “New Earth” was actually not to be constructed here, but was already flourishing on another planet. We thought we must be dreaming when we both fell into a trance and saw them ascending and descending from space like the fallen angels going to and from heaven. They scoured the land daily looking for more survivors.

No one questioned why the elderly were gone. Not missing, just gone. But we knew.

They had the elderly connected to some type of life suspension. No longer would you need to live long lives making mistakes in order to learn. Instead they extracted the wisdom and knowledge of the elderly and perfected it, placing it into the new DNA. It did not matter that the older society suffered as they did their studies, it did not matter that any of the remaining people did. We were to be evaluated, processed, and destroyed.

“New Earth,” was for the “New Breed,” period. If some were left alive down here it was just to work and suffer and wait on a change that was never to come for them. They had taken our mom, and had found out what Christopher and I could do. We were hunted, but determined to save our mom, no matter the cost.

My stomach rumbled, and I realized that it was time for Christopher and me to have our one meal. We had trained ourselves to eat once a day so that we could share what we had with others.

“Where was Christopher?” I suddenly thought realizing he had not returned. He usually came back around the same time I did.

It was then, I noticed his scribbled note on the table.

“Olivia, I had another vision. I saw a way in. I have to try.”

Underneath his note was a map showing the route he’d taken. My heart dropped, and then sped up like a treadmill changing speeds until I thought it would jump right out of my chest. We had sworn we would never venture there alone. We would do this, but together. Why would he leave without me?!

The blaring siren suddenly shook me out of my revere. Once again, the search was enacted to find those who were not a part of the plan. I couldn’t leave now. It was time to hide. I hurried over to the case that held the capsule-shots. These shots made our hearts slow down to what was barely a beat. The “New Breed” was so successful because they could naturally detect life, they didn’t need technology, they could feel the life force as soon as they entered any place they suspected held new survivors. That is what made them so dangerous.

I pulled back the sleeve of my shirt and decompressed the small capsule into my arm with just enough to keep me knocked out and barely breathing for a short amount of time. I could hear them slowly searching above me. I slid to the floor and felt the darkness surround me as I slipped into oblivion…

My eyes blinked before opening and the room came into blurry view. The floor wobbled and rolled before me like the undulation of the ocean, but I wasn’t in the ocean. I was on the floor and Christopher was still gone. I slowly sat up trying to clear my head. It always took a few minutes, but a few minutes were not what I had. I took a deep breath and I was finally able to stand.

I drunk-danced a few steps forward and one back. I threw my hand out reaching for stability and wavered in a circle until everything balanced out.

I grabbed my survival bag which we used when we went out, and sloppily slung it on my back. I grabbed the paper with the hastily drawn map which had flittered back on the table and prayed that he was alright.

I made my way outside after checking that all was truly safe. I had to crouch low so I could stay out of sight in case they were watching. Not sure if I was reading the map right, I ran until I came to a wooded area.

“Walk forward, you will hear the stream.” Christopher directed on the map.

I walked until I heard the gentle bubble of a stream. I was about to take a step forward when a deafening boom sounded off to my right. I pulled back and burrowed under a fallen tree that was slightly suspended off the ground. I could hear a commotion, but it sounded far away from where I was hiding.

I waited and listened and finally scurried from under my wooded protector and ran to the stream looking around. Another boom shook the earth and threw me forward.

What are they doing now! I thought in frustration. Next came a spray of pops and then all was silent. I looked around and listened making sure I was safe, and then sat beneath one of the dilapidated trees. “What if I don’t make it?” I whispered to myself. “What if I never see them again, Christopher or mom?” “How can I do this alone?” I took a deep breath and signed in frustration. It was then I saw it…Christopher was here, or had been. He must have dropped it…

There sparkling and twinkling beneath the dried leaves and debris, I saw my grandmother ’s heart shaped locket, it glimmered and shone in the sunlight as though it were a diamond from mystical lands. It was as though it jumped into my hand as I urgently reached for it. I held it, golden and dainty with the most beautiful heart-shaped curvature. My dad gave it to us to always remember that we are loved, but most importantly, it symbolized something that he always wanted us to remember, something that would never be defeated as long as we held it in our hearts…Hope.

I smiled, grasping the precious metal in my hand as though it radiated and filled me with renewed life. I would find Christopher and we would save our mom.

I stepped forward in hope; it was so strong, that a vision flashed before me of the happiness yet to come…