by Miles Harman
Satisfied, I follow the curves of the road up the mountain. Abandoned houses line the sides of the street once again. The falling snow clears up late in the afternoon enabling me to see the islands of Kahoolawe and Lanai under a dark grey sky. Seeing Lanai, I recall taking Allison around it and exploring the massive cliffs on the western coast. Relaxing some in the dream was good for me.
Farther up the road, the sky darkens. I need to find a place to sleep soon. Having climbed an estimated 3000 feet during the day, the temperature is colder. A sturdy house emerges on the right side of the road- nowhere near as nice as the house last night, but it will shelter me from the elements. It’ll do. The front door is locked. A broken window on the side makes a nice entrance. Emerging into darkness, I grasp my flashlight in one hand and my rifle in the other.
I navigate through the black interior. Ice covered windows block out the little outside light. Entering the kitchen, I find barren shelves and continue to the hallway. The first door emerges from the darkness, containing a small closet with several empty shelves. A second door contains a toilet on the far wall.
Opening the third door, the outline of a bed is next to the far wall. Relieved at finding a place to sleep, I walk over and throw my backpack on top. Before coming to a rest, it rolls back off, settling on the floor by my feet. After picking it up, I shine the flashlight on the bed. It’s a mound protruding in the center that caused my bag to bounce back and fall off. I follow the mound to the top of the bed with the flashlight to the pillows…I’m terrified!
Sticking out of the top of the covers are the shoulders and head of a frozen man. Startled and disgusted, I fumble for my backpack and clumsily run towards the door. After stumbling out of the room and down the hallway, I quickly dive through the window I entered.
Flopping onto the frozen ground I distance myself from the house. Safely away, I take time to catch my breath. This man died at home, shut in and starving, many years ago. Nobody’s left in the world to take care of his body. Still shocked, I decide not to either and continue up the street.
Under a darkened sky, I approach the next house, and this time the front door is unlocked. With my rifle ready, I enter. This dark home requires my flashlight to scout the rooms and I’m fearful of finding another body. After ensuring that the kitchen and living room are vacant, I check the bedrooms for bodies. Satisfied that the house is empty, I roll my sleeping bag out on a bed.
After settling, I make dinner. Taking some dried food and cookware, I build a fire in the backyard with wood from old furniture. I fill the pot with snow and bring it to a boil, adding dried vegetables. After boiling for several minutes, I extinguish the fire and bring the food to the bedroom to eat. After dinner I climb into my sleeping bag, still in shock. My legs are also sore from miles and miles of uphill hiking. Soon, I fall asleep in the cold and dark bedroom.
*****
Waking the next morning, I quickly leave the empty house. Forcing my legs to move, I continue up the mountain. A piece of cardboard sits in the back of an open garage along the way. I take it for a sled on my return trip down the icy road. Around noon the terrain steepens and becomes a series of switchbacks. I stop for lunch, soon ready to start the real climb.
Winding back and forth up the steep terrain, I know it’ll become increasingly difficult as I near the top. Air cools and thins throughout my afternoon climb. Seeing fewer buildings, I’m concerned I won’t have a shelter other than my tent tonight.
I need to reach the summit tomorrow. Hiking until the last light penetrates the overcast sky, I finally stop to set up the tent. I’m grateful to have the thin layer of fabric flapping in the harsh wind to block the chill, even if it doesn’t keep in my body heat.
Here between 6000 and 7000 feet, the cold will be a worthy adversary tonight. After putting on a fresh set of my thickest clothes, I climb into my sleeping bag and fight for warmth and sleep little throughout the night. At the faintest sign of light, I wake and pack my gear. Is it really wise to continue to the top? I can’t turn around now. Making it to the safety of the shelter at the top before nightfall is imperative.
Eating dried food while hiking, saves me time and helps me stay warm. The road alternates between straight and switchbacks throughout the day. The higher I climb, the more I shiver inside the cold weather suit.
Around the middle of the day, the road enters the clouds which swallow me. Keeping a steady pace, I approach a ranger’s station belonging to the former National Park. Wiping off a roadside sign, it reads, “Welcome to Haleakala National Park”.
Not far beyond the entrance, I pass an old visitor’s center sitting vacant. Proceeding up the winding road, switchback after switchback towards the peak, I miss the motorbike in my dream. With the sky darkening in the afternoon, I must be getting close. Climbing against every complaint of my body, my progress to the top becomes drastically slowed by the steep incline and cold, thin air.
The sky darkens further as I persist towards the peak. Stricken with fear, I attempt to jog, but quickly run out of breath. Resuming a swift hiking pace, panic sets in at the thought of spending the night outside in the inadequate shelter of the tent. Should I try to sled back down? It’s too late. My only option is to make it to the top.
The clouds veil the darkened path below my feet. Bouncing from one side of the road to the other, the only things correcting my route are the large rocks I stumble into next to the road. I continue walking only because if I stop, I’ll rapidly freeze to death.
In a state of sheer panic, I have to find shelter immediately. Coming here was a terrible idea; nobody can possibly survive at this altitude. I definitely overestimated my own survival abilities on Haleakala. Running now in desperate horror, fear overcomes me. Stumbling back and forth across the road, my foot hits a large protruding rock. Falling to my hands and stomach on an icy snow bank, I lay motionless.
The only noise I hear is the thumping of my heart in my chest. Whap…Whap…Whap…Whap…Quietly lying in the snow, I realize that’s not my thumping heartbeat but something else making a rhythmic noise. Listening, I raise my head and look around. It sounds mechanical, and I’ve heard it before. It’s the sweet hum of a wind turbine, rotating in the stiff mountain winds. I’ve arrived on top of Haleakala!
Chapter 19
Unexpected Find
“Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things.
And no good thing ever dies.”-Shawshank Redemption
Jumping up, I frantically fumble around the top of the mountain, stumbling into a fence surrounding the tracking station. Climbing through a hole, I approach the same building in my dream. Thankfully, the front door is unlocked. Throwing it open, I spill inside, shutting out the wind and cold.
The whistling wind gives way to dark silence. Using the flashlight, I find the master power switch on the wall. Flipping it, the room comes alive with brilliant light. I shield my eyes for several moments before looking up at my surroundings.
In the center of the main room, computer terminals stand in front of a large screen on the wall. Scattered around the floor is a thick layer of dirt as if someone once attempted to grow food here. Several side rooms branch off the main room just as in my dream. Do the computers still work? Walking over, I turn the power on, booting the machines to life. If nothing else, maybe running electronics will heat up the room.
While the computer loads, I explore other rooms. The first is a storage room containing an electric heater. In the second are two empty cots and some backpacks with personal gear scattered around them. I’ll look through these items later. Taking the heater from the storage closet, I plug it into an outlet next to a cot to make for a warm sleep. Setting my backpack and rifle down on the other cot, I continue to explore the station, closing the door behind me.
After searching the other side rooms and finding nothing, I return to the main room. The computer is alive and projects across the large screen on the front wall. The screen displays:
Choose A Satellite To Connec
t To:
Stellar
Terrestrial
Communication
Interested to see if any satellites still work, I select stellar. A sub-menu appears with fifteen numbered satellites. All but three have the phrase “no signal” next to them. I select one of the active three, and the screen fills with countless stars. Staring in awe at the image, I’m the first human to see behind the cloudy overcast sky into space in fifteen years.
I choose the second stellar satellite, which displays the face of the moon silhouetted by a background of more stars. Many craters are visible on the bright surface, which is over half illuminated by the sun. Choosing the third stellar satellite, more stars display in the night’s sky.
Returning to the main menu, I select the terrestrial option. A menu of twenty satellites appears, and all but one has the phrase “no signal” next to it. Selecting the only active satellite, the screen turns a grayish hue. Is it broken? Depressing a button marked “zoom out” several times, the grey screen becomes a reddish curve on one side. The satellite works fine.
Viewing earth from space, I see a swirling grayish mass of haze. Clouds and storm patterns move around the atmosphere, but the surface is obscured. On the side of the screen, the curved edge turns a deep red color and continues to brighten. Watching for a few minutes, a bright light emerges behind the reddish tint. I witness the sunrise.
Not having seen the sun in my world in over fifteen years, I stare in awe. The bright rays reflect off the grayish clouds, turning them red as the sun emerges from the darkness of space. I picture myself below the cloudy atmosphere impenetrable to the light. The sun moves out of view of the satellite, while the swirling mass of grey clouds covering my world sickens me.
Having seen enough, I return to the main menu and select communication satellites. All the satellites on this menu contain the phrase “no signal” next to them. Finished with the computer, I return to the side room, hoping it’ll be warm.
I enter the warm room and move the previous occupants’ backpacks and other items into a pile in the center of the floor. Who owned all this and where are they now? Maybe their possessions contain clues. Like an archaeologist deciphering the culture of an ancient civilization, I examine each piece of gear.
A nice set of binoculars is in the first backpack. I place them in my pack. Empty water bottles, first aid supplies, and several other items indicate that these people trekked here sometime in the past. There are both women’s and men’s clothing, so it was probably a couple. Maybe they fled their house on the island below to find safety from the chaos.
Continuing through the abandoned gear, a side pocket in the backpack contains a notebook which may tell their story. The first page is filled with writing. An old photograph slides down, falling on my lap. Excited to see another face, I pick it up and turn it over. I stare blankly at the kid in the photo while my own childhood face stars back from inside the glossy print.
Shocked, I drop the picture and take a deep breath. Picking it up once again, I’m still in disbelief. How am I looking at a picture of my younger self? My stomach drops when I open the notebook. The inside of the front cover reads, “Tyler Martin, Life Journal.” This notebook is my father’s, which means these things belong to my parents. This is where they came when they left me behind when I was young. The world around me spins. Where are they are now?
Chapter 20
Connection To The Past
“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what
makes you come alive, and then go and do that. Because
what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
-Harold Thurman Whitman
I stare in amazement at my parent’s gear around the room. How’s this possible? My parents came here after leaving the compound and attempted to grow food and survive. Is there any chance they’re still alive somewhere? What happened to them?
Skimming through pages, I hope to find answers. The first half details events prior to departing the compound:
“Knowing we can’t all survive on the limited food, I’ve conducted a search using the console and decided the tracking station on Haleakala is our best chance for survival…
We hiked into Kailua-Kona and found an old government van locked away in storage. After driving it across the icy channel, we filled it with topsoil prior to ascending the mountain. Arriving at the peak, the van was out of gas, so we were relieved to see the wind turbine still providing electricity…
We planted seeds from the compound and rigged lighting in an attempt to grow crops. The food we brought is dwindling and there are no signs of growth in the soil…“
The journal writings become less and less coherent. A few legible sentences read:
“Crops failed. The hunger is unbearable and we are starving…
Claire’s ill, and I don’t know how much longer she’ll last…
Claire died late last night. I’ll bury her overlooking Haleakala Crater today. I have nothing left…”
Upon reading the news of my mother’s death, tears roll down my cheeks.
“It has been five days since Claire died. My physical and mental pain is unbearable. I’m going to hike down into Haleakala Crater tomorrow and won’t return.”
Putting everything together- My mother died here and my father trekked into the crater to a frozen demise shortly thereafter. I can only imagine the pain they experienced. Their sacrifice is the only reason I’m alive and have experienced everything inside and outside the chamber. Every moment of my existence is suddenly priceless.
Lying next to the warm space heater, if I were in the compound there’s no question in my mind I would enter the chamber to forget this pain. Yearning for its escape, I decide this journey is over. Tomorrow, I’ll return to the sail sled and go back to my life in the comfort of the compound. The first thing I’m going to do is create a life filled with happiness, surrounded by everyone I love. I sleep very little, thinking of my past. My parents were in this room, spending their last night alive, withering away on these cots.
*****
Following a sleepless night, I decide to find my mother’s grave and pay my last respects before returning home. Donning the cold weather suit, I walk into the frigid morning air. The sky is clearer, enabling me to see objects in the distance on the tops of surrounding peaks. Circling the building, I search for her grave in the strong winds. Approaching the edge of the crater, I view the vast chasm under the gray and red sky. Imagining my father wandering below to his frozen death, hoping he didn’t suffer long, I continue my search.
I clear away snow from a mound on an overlook, exposing scratches in the rock reading:
Claire Martin
Loving Mother And Wife
1997-2037
Bending down, I say, “Mom, I love you. I couldn’t have had a better mother. I hope wherever you are isn’t anything like this.”
Looking out over the expanse of the crater I appreciate her serene final resting place. Shivering from the cold, I stand and walk back inside the tracking station.
Scouring the interior, I look for things I can keep as a reminder of them. Rummaging through the backpacks again, I find my mother’s necklace and my father’s watch. Placing them into an inside pocket of my cold weather suit, I’m glad to have something to remember them. Finally, I take my father’s journal to finish on my trip home.
Ready to leave, my goal is to return to the safety of the compound as fast as possible. The journey should take five or six days. Taking my backpack, I return to the cold, shutting off the electricity on my way.
Walking down the mountain, I see far more of the landscape than when I arrived. Shivering in the bitter cold, I take comfort in the fact that the farther I descend, the warmer it’ll be. The van my parents drove here sits with four flat tires near the tracking station.
Eventually I reach the first steep downhill, and remember my painful struggle to ascend last night. Taking the sturdy piece of cardboard ou
t of my backpack, I sled down the steep frozen road. Racing over the snow is a good distraction. Reaching the end of the steep hill midmorning, the air is warmer, but the frozen road is also no longer steep enough for sledding. Tossing the cardboard to the side, I continue on foot.
Stopping to eat lunch, I imagine how nice it’ll be to return to the warm compound and forget this journey that nearly killed me and brought only painful memories. While reading my father’s journal, I chew my food. A few lines stand out:
“Even though I’ve come to terms with our impending deaths, I’m still fighting to stay alive and so is Claire. Our only remaining comfort is our lives will continue on in our son. My greatest desire is for him to outlive the nuclear winter to a new world.”
Comforted by my father’s words, I realize the good people they were are still alive in me. I need to make the most of my life to give their sacrifice value. What would they want me to do now?
Returning to the compound as planned, I’ll live a long life in and out of the chamber with a guaranteed escape to bliss. This is the best course of action if I want to outlive the nuclear winter, but what if the nuclear winter lasts the rest of my life? Finishing lunch, I continue down the mountain, questioning myself.
Throughout an entire afternoon of steady hiking, I think about my parents, the last humans I’ll ever see. An overwhelming thought occurs- if I go back to the Big Island now, I’ll never know if anyone else is alive and won’t complete the purpose of this journey. If this journey isn’t completed now, it’ll never be. Wavering between wanting to go home and continuing, I hike until nightfall.
Arriving at the house I slept in on the way up, I carefully reenter the dark interior. Using my flashlight, I make my way down the hallway to the bedroom. I eat a snack and climb into my sleeping bag. Opening my father’s journal, I read more entries under the flashlight:
I’ve lived a very fortunate life. My family has been able to survive many extra months while everyone around us perished. Seeing my son grow into a man makes me proud. It was difficult to make him live a life of forgetfulness in the chamber so we could leave, but it had to be done.
