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Pursuit Of Survival
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TITLE (EDIT)
Pursuit Of Survival |
DESCRIPTION
Futuristic.
[1,433 words] |
AUTHOR
R M Harcourt |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
17 in Collage Tasmania, Australia. Just started writing and is loving it
[September 2005] |
Pursuit Of Survival
R M Harcourt
It is the year 2020 and in fifteen years my world has changed dramatically, I am a stranger to myself. Before this I was a comfortable citizen with a ‘sought after’ job, university degrees, expensive home and a beautiful girlfriend, who I hoped would be my wife one-day. Slowly, it was all stripped away to nothing but the clothes on my back and a hundred dollars in my pocket. You may wonder why? What happened to force my country into being one of the last to have living inhabitants?
Late in 2007, the Iraq War should have ended but it only got worse. More riots, more bombings, more deaths and instead of trying to stop the war, every country able, sent in more army personnel. Mortality and morbidity rates increased beyond anything anyone had ever perceived. The war spread from Iraq to all countries like an infectious disease until the dead outnumbered the living. Rotting bodies were left lying in the sun, nowhere and no energy to bury them and no tools to burn them with. Humanity had destroyed them selves and those left behind were ravaged with disease and intense poverty. The government had finally shown its weakness. The politicians had escaped with all the money they could get their hands on and left their country and people to die in pain and torture.
My family, my two children, Ruth and Daniel, Angela my girlfriend and myself, now live in the remnants of an old light bulb factory. Most of the factory was bombed, but our corner provided shelter from the rain and intense sun but not the chilling, winter winds. We sleep on the hard concrete floor and use the curtains s blankets and clothes if necessary.
We don’t have much but we do have a small furnace we scavenged from another area. The coals inside still alight. We have almost used all the wood in the place to keep the fire going. If it went out we don’t know how we would get it alight again.
One night, a couple weeks back, it almost went out. A storm passed through and the rain kept getting in and the wind kept blowing the flame but there was no way I was going to let that flame die. That was our heat in winter and autumn and our means of cooking food and boiling water. If the flame went out so would our hope of surviving. I stood by the furnace all day and night providing it with enough wood, paper and anything I could find, to deep it alight. My struggle was worth while. Being able to cook and boil meant less disease, which was getting worse every day. We were lacking in food and the proof was in my children. They were so thin and their eyes so dull; I broke my heart seeing them like that. We scavenged for food in bombed out houses but that food has long gone. Now we fish, with frayed, old string in a small river, which is half way up the mountain. I travel up there almost every day making sure no one follows me on my trek. If they did there would be no fish left by morning. The river also provides us with clean water for which we are very grateful. Considering how others are living, my family is ‘five star’. Others have had to start eating their pets, some have resorted to the dead. You may think that is extreme, but we are desperate people, we will eat any thing to stay alive. I only hope I can provide good food long enough so my family can get through this darkness. I only hope.
I stood up. It was about six in the morning, and I walked through the old factory. Dust and glass everywhere, the breeze scattering autumn leaves on the floor. I was feeling several emotions at once. Fear. Who knew what was going to happen next?
Confidence because I knew we had a good chance of surviving, especially with clean water and good food, but the fear of the unknown took priority of my thoughts. Who said this situation would change for the better? We were all hoping it would but reality showed there were only worse things to come with disease killing most people.
“Lee, you ok?” “Yeah, yeah, just think’n bout what we’ll do next. Are the kids asleep?” Angela nodded and snuggled up close. All I ever wanted was to marry her, we were, still are engaged but there are no more priests or churches. They were wiped out early in the war. I could feel the warmth of her body against mine, her bones that grew more protrusive each day and her golden hair matted with sweat stuck to her face. We stand together but I still feel the loneliest man in the world, something in me, my being, my soul has gone. I’m empty, broken and have been left in an abyss of nothingness. The only thing I lave left is my family. If they weren’t here, I wouldn’t consider living another day.
We let the kids sleep but I went hunting. It’s funny to think that humanity has come all this way only to resort back to the ‘caveman’ style of living. I began to think, ‘how would the caveman survive in this situation?’ Throw stones and hope they would hit a fish, then go home, urg and arg something that meant ‘look what I’ve got!’ I started up the mountain and reached the river in good time. I stood watching the water sparkle as if precious jewels littered the bottom.
The sun was warm on my face and bright in my eyes. For a moment, the world seemed normal but the sunlight was blocking the view of what was, my city and my town.
I must have been fishing for hours when a massive fish caught my eye. It swam up to my line and I jiggled it hoping it would look more appetising. But the fish lost interest. In desperation I started thinking of other ways I could catch this meal.
The caveman’s rock idea was starting to look good but I thought I’d try catching it with bare hands. I quietly slipped into the river but it was deeper than I thought and came up to my waist.
I slowly made my way towards the fish till it was no more than a meter from me. One more step . . SPLASH! My foot slipped but I still went to grab the fish, forgetting my mouth was wide open. I resurfaced, choking and without a fish. I laid in the water letting the water wash away my problems and for the first time in years, I began to relax.
I surfaced from my dreamy state. The sun was still warm and the water still sparkling but something was different. I waded out of the river and started to run. I hurled myself down the mountain. Smashing into trees and rocks but never stopping or slowing. I felt the warm, ooze of blood start to pour down my leg but I kept going. Something wasn’t right. There was a stirring in me that pulled my down the mountain. Almost at the bottom, I found a ledge and looked off it towards my home. I started to hurl myself again. I jumped off the ledge and tumbled to the bottom. Desperation took over. I was telling myself “everything’s fine, everything’s fine. You’re just dreaming again, just dreaming.”
I burst onto the factory and screamed. Every pain that was held in my heart I screamed out. Then fell on the rubble. I was a mess. As broken as a man could be. I looked through blurry eyes to see, in the midst of torment, my children holding hands but their faces white and splattered with blood. I held them close, never will I let them go. Hot tears began to pour down my face. 'I could have at least been here with them!' I couldn’t move for three days. Though it rained and started to snow, I didn’t move, couldn’t move. I could hear voices but could never place where they were coming from. The fourth day came and I stopped clutching my children, laid them on the rubble and turned my back.
That was the hardest thing I'd ever done. I felt so guilty turning my back on my family. In this moment I wasn’t thinking or feeling. Nothing. A hand was placed on my shoulder. I barely heard the voice that whispered “it’s over, the war has finished.”
Words: 1441
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2005 R M Harcourt |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
September 2005 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1800
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