by Miles Harman
Enjoying my time, I don’t realize its late afternoon until the overcast sky darkens. The sled is soon tied to some large rocks on the shoreline with the sail and twelve bags of food safely inside. Jogging home to the compound I stumble through the dark terrain. Following my faint footprints, I arrive well after nightfall and lay down to sleep.
The excitement of driving the sail sled soon wears off, and thoughts of my family and Allison quickly return. Embarking on the journey is all that’s keeping me from entering the chamber. Without this goal, I would’ve been in a dream world long ago.
*****
Early the next morning, I make final preparations. I scavenge the compound for anything that will be useful in the wilderness. From the bedroom, I gather several sets of clothes from various drawers. In the storage closet I find a tent, some fire starting materials, tools and materials for sled repair, and several other small survival items. Two lighter sleeping bags are combined to make a warm weather bag. Assembling the thickest cold weather suit, warmest undergarments, gloves and goggles available, I prepare some defense against the extreme cold waiting on top of Haleakala.
I add cooking gear from the kitchen, a survival kit, a small flashlight, and my rifle with several clips of ammo, tent stakes, a hammer, hygienic items, my notebook and a pen. Finally, I assemble the remaining twenty-three bags of food and place everything in a pile by the front door. I’ll need a way to transport this large stack to the sail sled.
Using some rope, I make a sled out of a sheet of thick plastic for a pocket and a piece of cardboard for the base, securing them on one end. The sled is quickly loaded just outside the door. I’m ready to set out.
Walking methodically from room to room, I check the greenhouse, bathroom, library, and bedroom, to be sure nothing is forgotten. While leaving the bedroom I glance at a picture of my parents, taken when I was a child. Flashbacks surge of our months together inside the compound. They loved me unconditionally. This is something I’ll never have with them again in this world.
Overcome with despair, I walk to the chamber room and stare at the machine. Turning on the console, I listen to the message they made to welcome me back into this world. It is too much. I need to go back in the chamber and have them and Allison again. My journey across Hawaii can wait. The more I think about a life with them and Allison in a world without a nuclear winter, the more desperately I want to forget all this. Starting at the chamber, I’ll dream just once more.
After programming the console with the desired parameters, I lay inside, contemplating if this is really what’s best. I imagine myself trekking into the frozen wasteland, running out of food, or becoming stranded and freezing to death. This reality is contrasted with the life of a king that I have here, continuously creating exactly what I want in warmth and safety. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and then the lid on top of me.
The console lights up and flashes, running through the sequence to create my dream world. While the sequence progresses, I have a flashback- My father is inside this room, standing a few feet away. I’m about to enter into one of my lifetimes. The memory suppression has been bypassed and I’m going to live an awakened life, fully conscious of this world. He tells me he loves me and I make him proud. The chamber flashes, but something’s wrong. This is the lifetime in the chamber during which my parents leave me in the compound. My father has turned the memory suppression back on so I won’t remember or try to leave! The suppression beam is nearing my head, I try to push the lid open, but he is holding it closed! Struggling, the beam passes over my mind, and I fade into forgetfulness.
This was the last time I saw my father’s face. He made me lose my intention of leaving the compound by causing me to live a life of forgetfulness so I would awake, not knowing they left. I’m brought back to the sequence the console is currently initiating.
Lights flash inside, and the console announces, “Memory suppression sequence initiated.”
Thinking of my mother and father and their courage to go out into the world, I know what staying here means. An instant before the scanner reaches the crown of my head I forcefully push the lid open, causing the chamber to become dark. Knowing I’m not going back into a dream state again, I stand up and walk towards the entrance to the compound. It’s time to embark on my living journey into the unknown.
Chapter 16
The Journey Begins
“The longest journey of any person is the journey inward.”
-Dag Hammarskjold
Sealing the door to the compound behind me, I emerge into the frozen world. Taking the rope from the surface, I pull the sled of supplies towards the coast. Afraid of the temptation to return, I focus on the path in front of me until the compound disappears from sight.
Passing though the empty town, I reach the sail sled mid-morning. After a snack and refill of snow in my water bottle, I untie and reposition the sled, rig the sail, and am ready to go. I raise the sail and sweep along the coast to the west, soon reaching full speed.
Like an early explorer, I’m journeying into the unknown. Rounding the southern coast by the middle of the afternoon, I’m soon on my way up the western side of the island. Allison and her family were in this same area in their sailboat, heading to safety towards the island of Kauai many years ago. What did she feel when her home disappeared over the horizon? I pass the bay where the early explorer, Captain Cook, was killed long ago. In the late afternoon the sky darkens near the old resort city of Kailua-Kona.
Once safely in a cove between some rocks offshore, I lower sail and secure the sled. Carrying my rifle and supplies for the night, I hike inland towards the abandoned buildings. After climbing up exposed rock, the first structures I pass once stood at water’s edge but were later submerged by the flooding ocean. I walk through remains of larger buildings that are now concrete chunks worn by years underwater.
Climbing the frozen hill past the highest point the ocean reached, buildings display no apparent sign of human disturbance but are weathered from exposure. An abandoned department store emerges around the next bend, giving me another flashback- This same location, but it’s hot, and rich with foliage. I’m a young boy and my parents drove here when cars were used. I’m swinging from their hands while we walk inside to buy clothes when money had value. Flashing back to the present, the green palm trees morph into my current reality of barren snow.
Past the department store is a small hotel. Cautiously looking around, I enter the dark lobby. An empty reception desk sits against the back wall. Taking a key from a hook behind the counter, with the number “220” imprinted on it, and using my flashlight, I make my way through the dark interior to the stairwell. While climbing, a creaking forewarns me of their eventual collapse at some point in the future. On the upper floor, I find room “220” under the dim white light of my flashlight, and with a short struggle, the door opens to a cold and dark room.
After locking the door, I set my backpack on an old chair next to the bed. Not wanting to waste the flashlight, the only thing to do is sleep in total darkness. Placing my sleeping bag on the bed, I eat a dehydrated dinner.
My body heat soon warms the sleeping bag. Sore from the long day of sailing, I want to sleep, but the creaking of the building, the wail of the wind, and the cold, dark room all keep me awake in fear. This is a far cry from my warm and safe bedroom in the compound.
Flashback- it’s the first month after the freeze, and I’m lying on the couch. We’re paranoid attackers will come at any time. When will these random new memories stop coming back to attack me? I have to remember everything eventually. I fall asleep.
*****
The next morning I wake to a dimly lit room from the faint light of the overcast morning sky coming through the glass door, outlining shapes around me. Climbing out of my sleeping bag into the cold morning, I quickly dress in warm clothing. After breakfast, I step out onto the balcony, and the faint outline of my sled tied to the edge of the ice below.
Moving carefully thro
ugh the dark interior hallway, I’m soon outside the hotel. A short hike through the decrepit town and I’m back at the sail sled. After loading up and rigging the sled, I soon glide across the ice to the north.
Rounding the coast, the rocky shore becomes steeper where it intersects the edge of the ice. The outline of the bottom half of Mauna Kea is now visible towering into the clouds. This mountain is covered in snow, thick clouds and fog unlike the lush mountain of my dream. By late in the afternoon I arrive at the northernmost tip of the Big Island, and a large frozen channel stands before Maui in the distance.
With the vast channel too far to traverse before sunset, this will be a good camp. A slight rocky outcropping makes a great wind shelter for the night. With the tent firmly into the ice, I throw all my important gear inside.
Remains of a crumbled house sit at the bottom of the rocks, fallen from high above. I collect scraps of wood for a fire, which is soon roaring near my tent. The warm flame thaws my hands while the wind howls around the solitary rock sheltering me. While eating dinner, the sky becomes dark, and the temperature drops. Sitting on the edge of the vast ice plane by the comfort of the warm fire, I feel completely alone.
The fire melts tiny parts of the ice below its hot flames. How thick does the frozen layer actually extend below the surface? Is there any liquid ocean below at all? If there is liquid, does it still contain marine life? Certain plants can live entirely off of the heat from an underwater lava vent. Could anything still be thriving under there? Will this life repopulate the healed planet someday when the ice thaws?
With the fire fading, I go in my tent and climb into my sleeping bag. Staring at the glowing embers from inside, I have another flashback- I’m camping with my father on the mountain above our house. He brought me into the woods to teach me how to live off the land, knowing at the time that the fractured remnants of society wouldn’t last forever. He shows me edible plants, first aid, and other skills useful now. Hunting a wild pig through the woods, almost within range, I step into a muddy hole, sinking well above my knees. Stopping the chase, he laughs while pulling me free. I miss my parents and wonder if they made it this far when they left many years ago. I fall asleep to the warm glow of the embers.
Chapter 17
Finding Another Way
“Treat the earth well. It was not given to you by your parents;
it was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the
Earth from our Ancestors; we borrow it from our Children.”
-Ancient Indian Proverb
Emerging from the warmth of my sleeping bag into the frosty morning air, I look across the channel to the north at the outline of Haleakala towering on Maui above the ice. After eating breakfast, I carefully pack my gear into the sail sled. I’m ready to leave the Big Island for the first time in my awakened life.
Staring across the channel at my destination I have another flashback- My parents are gone and I’m a quarter mile away from the compound visiting the remnants of our old house, thinking of them. The overcast sky darkens, and snow begins to steadily fall. Concerned, I return home, but half way there a whiteout blizzard hits without notice. Barely making it to the door of the compound, I shut myself inside as wind rattles the walls and visibility drops to zero. I’m grateful to be alive.
Flashing to the present, I know these conditions would be devastating on my journey. Crossing a channel between two islands is dangerous, so I must make the journey as quickly as possible. Even with just a whiteout, I could sail off course into the surrounding expanse of ice and travel thousands of miles before finding land. Meanwhile, I would run out of food and freeze. With firm resolve, I press on.
The sled creeps across the ice towards Maui. Sailing throughout the morning, wind chills my skin around the goggles, the only part of my body exposed to the elements. It will be nice to hike inland on Maui, and not slouch on the sled for a change.
While stopping half way across the flat expanse for a quick lunch, I fill my bottle with fresh snow and look at the massive mountains towering above me in both directions. My perspective is altered, admiring the distance between Maui and the Big Island. Feeling small and isolated, I desperately want to get to the other side soon.
Sailing the second half of the channel throughout the afternoon, I finally reach the southern rocky shore of Maui shortly before nightfall. I continue up the coast to the north, grateful to make it in a single day. The channel between Oahu and Kauai will be longer and it’s doubtful I can cross it in one day, but I’ll tackle that challenge when the time comes. Making progress north, an old mansion sits up the mountainside. I’ll stay here tonight.
I secure the sled at the edge of the ice, hundreds of feet below. With my bag full of gear and my loaded rifle, I trek up the moderately steep incline. A low wall surrounds a cracked and crumbling concrete swimming pool behind the abandoned mansion. After climbing over the wall, I approach the back door.
The house is above the old flood plane, so there’s no apparent water damage to the structure. Many windows are broken, probably from looters or wind damage. Climbing inside, I enter the dirty and cold living room. A tile floor is now hidden by a layer of snow blown in through broken windows. Furniture is tipped over, torn up, or missing throughout the house. An upside-down plastic dog dish sits in the corner.
After climbing the stairs to the second floor, several abandoned and looted bedrooms wait at the top. Children’s toys litter the floor, undisturbed for years. At the end of the hallway, I enter a master bedroom. An empty mattress sits in the center. On a side wall, a fireplace is next to the entrance to a bathroom. A large balcony overlooks the pool and ocean below and a faint shadow of the neighboring islands looms in the distance. This home was a beautiful paradise long ago.
Scraps of wood from a broken bookshelf will make a good fire. Lighting an old magazine from the corner and placing it under the wood, the fire roars to life. While the room heats, I step out on to the windy balcony and look across the channel at the neighboring islands. I imagine children happily playing, a dog swimming in the clear fresh water of the pool on a sunny day, and couples on their honeymoon walking the beach below, barefoot in the white sands. I return inside, angered by what’s lost.
Sitting by the fire, I warm my hands and feet while snacking on dried food. Why did the world end like this? Did humanity’s inability to find a balance with the earth individually and as a whole cause this? Maybe it’s the inevitable outcome of an industrious species that unceasingly needs to out-create itself.
Human creativity boils down to a personal desire for experiences, things, and comforts. The needless consuming of billions caused harmony to go by the wayside. Competition for resources fed this drive. The Earth’s plentitude encountered incredible demand, and technology was used to enhance consumption, not lessen it. Even if a small few tried to change, there was too much greed from everyone else to stop the overwhelming momentum. The scarred Earth before me bears evidence of a battlefield of the human mind’s selfish desire to consume. Was there another way?
Maybe the sleep chamber could‘ve saved these people if its use had been more widespread. If people entered the chamber to indulge fantasies of consuming the planet and each other, all that would’ve been consumed was their own minds in a dream. I’m grateful for the chamber allowing my indulgences to affect only myself, even if the returning memories and its endless promise of forgetfulness are both driving me crazy right now.
I lie on the mattress next to the fire, gradually absorbing the heat. I imagine living the life of a very rich man in this house just before the world flooded. Amassing countless possessions and experiences, I see just how alluring the want of stuff can be. At least I can’t cause the earth more damage than what has already been done. But then again maybe this attitude unchecked is what brought the Earth to its present state. My body surrenders to the warmth of the fire while I drift off into a deep sleep.
Chapter 18
Haleakala
“It is
n’t the experience of today that drives men mad.
It is the remorse for something that happened yesterday,
and the dread of what tomorrow may bring.”
-Robert Jones Durdette
My eyes open to a smoldering fire. After dressing inside the sleeping bag, I enter the cold bedroom. On the balcony, the neighboring islands protrude from the massive ice sheet. My sail sled sits, tied to a rock hundreds of feet below.
Down at the sled I’m loaded and soon sailing up the western coast. Molokini Crater towers in the midst of the ice to my west. Western Maui is populated with more abandoned structures. Around mid-morning, I tie the sail sled off the coast just south of Kihei, ready to take a shortcut to the road leading up Haleakala over the frozen and rocky terrain.
Staring at the towering peak, I calculate my journey on foot will take several days. Packing extra supplies, I hike inland. The ruins of Kihei are similar to Kailua-Kona on the Big Island. First there’s an empty rocky incline, then washed out foundations to many old buildings, and finally an area where structures are still somewhat intact. Passing the old buildings, I reach an open area that was either farmland or dense forest because there aren’t signs of manmade structures. Hiking across this vast untouched expanse of uphill terrain, I’ll hopefully cut a corner and intersect the road I ascended on the motorbike.
A light snow falls as I climb through the morning, dropping the visibility significantly. I begin to feel lost, when sometime in the early afternoon, I stumble, landing on my side in the bottom of a large ditch
Picking myself up and climbing out the other side, I realize the ditch is next to the old road leading to the top of Haleakala. I pause for a moment with this small victory, eat a snack, and catch my breath. Falling snow quickly fills the footprints behind me. I need to leave a marker here so I can find my way back to the coast. Taking five large rocks from the bottom of the ditch, I make an “X” in the middle of the road so I can recognize this spot when I come back through.
