Tales from Nowhere

In the pits of emotion lay grief, dismay, disorder

But may the stars guide your way

Before seems so strange to me now. I remember being a teenage with one of my first girlfriends. We seemed to fit well together for a while until eventually she just changed. I remember the break-up. Slamming my fist into the closet door until it gave way. I had broken my hand, though I hadn’t noticed until some time later. A broken bone wasn’t the end your life then. The loss of a person seemed like it. Things have since become the opposite. Who cares about romance in a world like this? If there is anyone else alive, that is. I do not.

I remember when I was upset with people. In my mind I would wish death upon them until I came to my senses. I no longer know why, though they’re all gone now. I would give everything for them to be back now. I have learned much without them, but without them I’ve nobody to share my knowledge with. I am stagnant without others. The world is stagnant without them.

I remember my first jobs. Though hard work and though I often disliked them, I thought I was serving a purpose. I was keeping the world going. It’s now obvious that the world will continue without working jobs, though it’s not the world I knew. I am just outside of a city now. Maybe I’ll see reminders of the past world here. Remembrance of a world of old, when people would drive and work and learn and live.

The conclusion of the bashing upon the cellar door bring me back to the harsh reality. Maybe when one is about to die it’s not exactly seeing their life flash before their eyes. Perhaps it is their nostalgia and memory of their old world before entering the world of the dead. I’m thinking too much. It can’t be helped anymore. What do I have aside from my life and my thoughts? Not much. I’ve got a whole day here. Maybe there will be enough places to stay here for days.

Ascend the stairs. Unbar the door. Morning life pours into the opening. I walk up and fall to the grass. Much softer. I take the can of fruit from my bag. It’s the sort of can with the tab that pulls of top off. I’m relatively surprised that it doesn’t snap off before the lid. It smells fine. I pour the liquid and bits of fruit into my maw. It tastes fine. I eat it quickly. I won’t call myself satisfied, but I feel better with food in me. Pushing myself back up, I’ve got the entire day to find supplies and shelter. Better make it count.

The silence is broken with the sounds of my feet pounding against the ground and my panting. I’m too malnourished to run well, but right now it’s either run as fast as I can or die. I’m guessing I’ve got around fifteen minutes to find sturdy shelter. A suburb sprawls in front of me. I’m sure one of those houses still has a cellar with a sturdy door. I hope so, at least. Luck will only take one so far. Adrenaline pumps. I start doing my best to vault what standing fences are left without getting tetanus and quickly scanning the bases of the had-been homes for somewhere to hide myself. Ten minutes at most. I’m exhausted from this. But I can’t stop.

Blocks blur by until some minutes later at a little street corner I spot a cellar door. Though wooden, it seems to still have some support to it. I nearly fall flat on my face trying to stop running. I pull on the handle and it flies up and open. There’s not enough time to try to find anything better. The inside is concrete and looks claustrophobic. I enter and find a bar for the door. Unfortunately, it’s fallen off of the hinge. The board feels sturdy, still. I place it on the inside of the double-doors. They open up, and they’re going to try to beat it in. This should work. I pull my lighter out and hope it’s still got fluid. After a few tries, a small flame emerges. No other way in or out. I let the flame go out and sit facing to stairs to the doors. The sounds of pounding and scratching on the door start. My stomach growls. I wait.

I don’t sleep. I sit and sweat and worry and hunger. Can the door take much of their efforts? I should have managed my time better. I shouldn’t have daydreamed. Too late to regret that though. Hours of noise outside. I’m grateful that they’re not ethereal. I think. Maybe death is better than the constant running. I don’t know. I haven’t felt like this since the first time they appeared from wherever they come from. I wonder why they don’t appear during the day and where they go at night and where they come from and why they do the things they do and how they know where I am and more. I sit on the hard floor for hours. Until the pounding stops.

I lived.

I pull my bag back onto my back and re-tie my tattered boots. I should try to loot some better ones once I’ve got the chance. I walk up the stairs. I think I see dim light coming from under the crack of the next door. Clock must be working at this point. Unlock the door and step through back into the main level of the musty old church. The main door wasn’t breached, but the pew holding the door in place was dented in the middle. A lot of them overnight. Gone now, however. I take the time to pull the pew back out and push it back into the room a few feet before pulling the huge doors open. Cloudy outside. I’ll see how it goes. The weather changes rapidly these days.

I begin walking what I assume is West, judging by how the Sun has moved. Even if one can’t see it, they can see where the clouds are brightest when they are this thin. I begin thinking of the past again. It’s strange. When humanity was still considered as something, the things they would consider were so abnormal in my eyes now. To be on time, to be a good person, to be considerate, to lie about how one felt. They ended up being for naught. We memorized words and phrases to say or write to one another, we learned how to work with numbers, we paid to learn more to get a job to make money to live so our offspring could repeat the lives we lived. That ideology was gone now. I wonder if there is anybody but me now. I wonder if the world was empty. I wonder if this is Hell.

I think a lot while I travel. It makes it feel shorter, no matter how pointless my thoughts are anymore. Nature had began taking back what we created shortly after we past, as if it was anxious to reclaim what it had spawned. The trees thin ahead of me into a wide clearing. I can’t see anymore ahead of the seemingly endless green grass. I look towards the skies. The clouds are darkening. Rain today. Better than snow, I suppose. Though it will tire me, I start to run to try and make up for the time I will lose being soaked from rain. I only stop to occasionally sip on my water. I’ll be able to collect more soon, anyway. I can only hope I can find a stronghold before night comes. I think back to survival. I find it strange.

The rain comes suddenly. I collect what I can while I’ve got time, and open my mouth to the skies to try and gather extra. The water weighs me down. Soaking my water and gear. To think some years ago, people would simply have to worry about their electronics being fried. I suppose that would cost them money. Money is no object in this world. I walk now. Trying to run in the downpour would simply wear me out too much. Fog will come after the rain. I’ll need to try and move quickly then.

The rain passes in what I’d guess to be thirty minutes. The Sun shines through tears in the clouds above, thinning back out quickly. I move more briskly at this point. I need to make up for the lost time. Saplings have begun to cover this field, but not enough to cover the flora from the star’s nourishing rays yet. Maybe in a few more years. The fog is moving in and thickening already. I wish I could find a working watch battery from somewhere. Even if I can’t synch it with anything, it would help to have an estimate of how much time I’ve got. I walk for miles. Eventually, I see pavement on the ground. Time has made it erode, and green was starting to sprout in the cracks. A sign is laying on the ground. I go to take a look, but it has rusted and I can’t make out any words. I’m not even sure if I remember how to read one way or another. The fog starts lifting. I continue moving along.

I can’t believe what I see as the Sun melts the fog away. Buildings. Hundreds of buildings. A city. I haven’t seen a city in so long. I stand in awe of the forgotten metropolis stretched before me. Minutes must pass as I scan the entire scene. Though most buildings seemed to be crumbling under their own weight, there must be many that could still keep me safe for a night at a time. But I snap out of it when I realize the sky has turned yellow and pink. The Sun was starting to set. Was I really walking for that long? Adrenaline kicks in. I’ve got to find shelter fast.

I lunge into a sprint, full of hope and fear.

This church is my outpost for tonight. Tomorrow I continue West. Looking through the abandoned cathedral, I find a door going downstairs and I follow down it. No batteries for my flashlight. It’s nearly impossible to find batteries that haven’t corroded. When I was younger, I occasionally wondered what it was like to go blind. Times like this are when I know. No windows and no light source. Feeling my way down, I come across another door at the bottom. Perfect. I walk back up the stairs into the dim light. I’ve got maybe an hour.

Before I start, I grab a can of vienna sausages and my water flask from my tattered bag. Some people say those sausages are an acquired taste. I’d have to call them insane. Then again at this point it’s more likely that I am the insane one. No matter. I choke them down and flush the taste out with some water. I can’t drunk too much. Always must conserve. Clean water is not always easy to find. The taste lingers slightly. I remember the early days. Eating more than once daily, gulping down my water with no care. I eventually ran out of food and drink. I think I nearly died then. I’ve learned to conserve my commodities and take care not to over-consume.

Putting my things away, I start to seal every ground-level entrance. I’m lucky that there are no low windows. I’m not so lucky that pews are incredible heavy. Then again, I’m also lucky that they are not bolted to the floor. 50 minutes at most. I begin pushing one of the massive wooden pews. Little by little, it shifts across the rough stone floor towards the door. I need to keep changing which end I push to keep it straight. It takes at least twenty minutes until I get it to the door. The task is exhausting. I also bar the door. Luckier still, the wood has not rotten through yet. I approach the stairs and check the door. Deadbolt on the inside. This place is perfect. I step through and lock the door behind me. Just me and the darkness now. I walk down to find and open the door at the bottom. Another lock on the inside. I enter and lock it.

I cannot see a thing. I know nothing of this room’s form or function. I assume the priests used to do work down here. I feel around for the makeshift torch and lighter in my bag. I try not to use them, but there may be something of use. As I light the torch, the room is clear. Small, not more than four square meters. An old wooden desk and cabinet. I start in the cabinet. Old papers, stale bread, and empty bottle of church wine… And a silver necklace with a cross hanging from it. I do not believe in any gods, but I take it anyway. Perhaps it will bring more good luck. Towards the back is a musty old can of mixed fruit. I take it, hoping the contents haven’t spoiled. I next turn my sights to the desk. Four drawers. The first on the bottom left is empty. The bottom right is more stacks of old papers. The top right contains half a bottle of scotch. Dated 1987. Before my time. I take it and put it in my bag. Perhaps if I can find an ample water supply I can amuse myself for a night. The top left drawer has a bible in it. I leave it be. I put out my light and sit on the hard floor. I should survive tonight.

After some time, I drift to sleep. Even if they did breach the massive main door, I wouldn’t hear them. Some hours pass.

I wake to the darkness. A dreamless sleep. My internal clock tells me that I’ve still got an hour before dawn. I hope it can be trusted. I think back to the first night of this. The day everything changed.

Nobody saw it coming. Nothing indicated a change. One night, everything just changed. The whole world. My family was downstairs. I was occupied by a book in my room. Then all I hear is screaming. My entire nuclear family screaming bloody murder. All I could think was that an intruder had entered the house. I wasn’t entirely wrong. In a panic, all I found myself doing was pushing my bookshelf in front of my door, which luckily opened inward, and hid under my bed. I suppose I’ve had a lucky life. Banging on the door started. Not some sort of hard knocking, but full force banging on it. The shelf held the door in place. In the days where rotten wood was far less common. The banging went on all night. I didn’t sleep that night. I left my hiding spot probably an hour after the banging. It was bright out again. Nobody in the streets. No sound. I went down to find my family. Whatever they are, the drained all of their blood with no wounds to the flesh. I left the house. Nothing. Knocked on doors. Nothing. It was as if humanity ceased to exist.

In a way, it did. Billions must have died that night. If not, hundreds of millions. The world changed that day. No wind. Sudden weather changes. Animals went from common to extremely rare, which no cadavers to be found. The day the world ended. Now I just survive. I’ve got no idea why or to what end. It must just be the animal-like drive to survive. To live on to another day.

After deep thought on the past I’ll never know again, it must be morning. I unlock the door after feeling for it.

It’s time to move again.

I walk ahead into the rather thick fog that obscures the treeline. The forest couldn’t be more than 100 meters in front of me, but all I can see is the long grass and the wall of fog. I’ve never been this far out, but everything feels familiar. I suppose everything feels familiar these days. It’s been months since I’ve heard another voice and nearly just as long since I’ve heard my own. There’s no real point in talking when there’s nobody to talk to. The world has been silent for some time now. I oftentimes wonder if this is still the world that I’m from or not. It doesn’t matter now. I think the fog is starting to lift.

Walking forward still, something appears at the edge of the fog. A rusted automobile. It couldn’t be newer than 20 years old. I wonder how long it’s been laying in this field? I walk a little quicker to close the gap faster. I now see that the windows have all been broken as well. Watching out for broken glass, I approach the driver side door. Looks like the owner is still inside. Have you ever seen a skeleton wearing tattered clothes? It may be morbid of me, but I find it a bit silly. The bones are slightly blackened, as if they were burned. No evidence of fire is apparent, however. I force open the door and check for supplies and to my surprise, I find a handgun. A Makarov PMm, still in surprisingly good condition for the amount of time it must have been sitting here. Ejecting the magazine, it’s even still fully loaded. The owner won’t be needing it anymore. Good thing I scavenged that ammo when I had the chance. I continue on my path.

The trees are in full view now. Most of the fog has been banished by the sun, though there are still some patches floating through the trees. In the last several years, this place has grown thicker and thicker. Nobody and nearly nothing to bring these behemoths to the ground. I stop before I enter. Listen. No wind. No rustling. No chatter. Silence. Pure silence. The first time I heard true silence, I was completely unnerved. It’s uniform now. I walk forward. Always forward. Time passes. Thirty minutes? One hour? Two? I couldn’t even tell you how time passed anymore. I rarely wonder what it was like. After however long passed, a sight that is quite new to me appears. A large, circular clearing with a tall stone cathedral in the center. Obviously not as tall as the trees, but little is anymore.

Vines have climbed their way up and over nearly the entirety of the structure. The stained glass remained intact, and there was little decay. Nature was just taking back. I approach the huge wooden doors and pull. Vines crossing across the doorway stretched, but remained unbroken. I unsheathe my knife. I hate to harm nature, but night must be coming soon if the sun is to be believed. I slice them apart. I feel like vomiting. Something feels wrong. It’s like the silence has been disturbed. Listening again, it’s still silent. It’s not the lack of sound that has gone, but a feeling of being watched. Silently judged. I kneel for forgiveness before I enter. The doors are heavy, but they swing aside after a moment. I pull them shut behind me.

Virtually untouched by time. Though there is a thick layer of dust on everything, it’s all been preserved. The stone walls have not yet crumbled, the windows stay unbroken, the pillars stand strong. The pews have yet to rot, the books lay where they have for so long, the candles still have their wicks. I’d love to take a look in every corner, rediscover this relic, find potential supplies… But those will have to wait. Night is coming.

I must prepare.