Genesis Again

by Brian Dae

  As the sky grew dark, the drivers decelerated to avoid puncturing their tires on the varied terrain. Each kilometer had to be rediscovered by sailing through the earth underneath their headlights. Gradually the land began changing and chatter spread when the visage of mountains appeared far in the distance. Cradling up against mountains drew colder winds and they shared blankets to stave off the drop in temperature, holding onto each other’s arms while trying to catch some sleep. Most continued staring out instead. By now the driver looked worried about stopping short and he whispered to Cassidy through the glass to give an idea of where he should be headed now that nature’s wall rose to confront them. Cassidy suggested they continue southeast until something like a road started to form, betting that his recollection might lead them correctly. An uncomfortable hour passed until they started to see the outline of a highway. Instead of continuing straight along toward a town, Cassidy instructed him to move through the mountains. This decision raised some doubt and he knew it would need to be explained.

  “Code 1145 is the code for a nuclear strike. If we continue eastward, the clouds are going to follow and blanket us in radiation. Even if we make it to the town, you know how wild the winds get and if there’s been a bombing, the soils going to fly up with it. We’re safer hiding out in the mountains where we’ll be shielded and then we can travel south to Estessia. If the Karkovians have really done it then the war’s over. Let’s just try to survive until the end.”

  By rank, Cassidy naturally assumed the position of acting commander, allowing him to both voice and act upon his own opinion. Uncertainty plagued his mind, as it must, but an indelible conviction overwhelmed him, something never elicited in battle, and he questioned from where the source arose. For the first time his decisions made the defining impact although he was hardly sure what Code 1145 stood for and whether he made the right choice in taking the unconventional path forward. All their lives rested in his trembling hands. What psychopathic subconscious convinced him that he held the authority to change course on a whim reassured him that things would turn out alright. A desire to survive drove him to become fearless.

  When they drew closer to the mountain, Cassidy walked through the central aisle and looked around for anyone wearing a watch. He pulled an arm to his face to check the time, squinting his eyes to make out the small hands. Although it neared sunset, they were on actual roads now and it became a little easier to keep an even pace. Cassidy told the driver to keep the headlights on and dismissed the threat of ambush outright insisting they would surrender if there were warning shots. As they pulled onto the final turn before entering the mountains, a small sign appeared at the bend. Here the trucks came to a stop. Everyone who could move stepped off and relieved themselves next to the trees while Cassidy looked for someone to translate the text. It spoke of a campsite some 10 kilometers off and a town named Verden 30 kilometers further which he estimated would take two or three days by foot for the remaining able-bodied men. Whether spring or summer, some trails kept cool year round under the canopy where sunlight never penetrated deep enough to keep the ground warm. These cold temperatures could shave weight off even healthy men. As Cassidy wandered around the periphery, he noticed small streams trickling out from the surroundings, signs the winter snowfall had begun melting. Hibernating seeds started germinating and small sprouting weeds poked exploratory shoots above ground. Farther toward the entrance, they could make out little fences separating the clearing from the forest where someone had sawed away at creeping branches to keep the line clear. Pale white circles on the trunk revealed how recently they had been cut. Here in the backwaters and away from the heavy fighting, someone found time to maintain the trees. Cassidy imagined the war felt inconsequential to their lives as it did to those sitting in Vandian cafes chatting about each victory. Or perhaps people just needed to do normal things. Still, small signs of human inhabitance relieved him after long stretches of nothingness even if they belonged to a likely adversary. Nature could be far harsher.

  Despite a growing fondness for these mysterious country-folk, Cassidy selected four men to accompany him while paying a visit to the campsite. They distributed ammunition equally between the few rifles they carried and shared a meal of crackers standing around the trucks. Once boarded, they assumed the trucks would stall before reaching the site and, 2 kilometers in, the first sputtered and stopped. A difficult rebalancing based on whether one could walk determined the new seating arrangement. Each disembarked man shivered walking alongside the road with his hands receding into his sleeves. Soldiers wore light jackets that could easily be torn off on particularly sunny days and switched to heavier woolen alternatives as temperatures dropped at night. Privileged conditions for a better funded army. In escaping, the men left with what they wore at the time, struggling to keep warm while shuffling their feet. A few unfortunate men, those who appeared in better condition, carried the provisions against their chests while making the final trek. When the second truck broke down, the load further shifted onto whoever could carry it. And just as the final truck entered its final throes, they stood below the summit where the campsite sat. A trail of soldiers split in uneven stretches followed suit.

  Cassidy and his scouts climbed through the thicket to scale the final incline, stammering to collect their breaths as they sucked in wood smoke. The smell of the lodge overjoyed them, conjuring homey escapes in their minds as they stared at a structure built for survival against nature alone. When they crawled past the ridge light shining from the window beckoned them forward. Drawing closer the cabin looked new, rather large, and impressively built. Eschewing caution, they abandoned stealth and huddled around the doorway only to knock on the door. For a while nothing responded in kind until the faint thud of a single person’s footsteps gradually carried over. Without pausing to confirm who had visited, the ranger opened the door. His face looked either 70 or 170 years old, wore a thick fur coat matching his hair color, and appeared well-fed enough to carry weight around his waist. Without signs pointing to his home, one might suspect him to be a hermit decades removed from society. Unfazed by the developments he invited them in. Cassidy interjected and requested that he allow their injured to shelter in his home which the ranger acquiesced immediately. Upon whistling a signal, men appeared over the bend with limp bodies on their backs. A voiceless horde surrounded the cabin and funneled toward the entrance at a creeping pace, lasting hours as the stragglers arrived. Once enough people settled on the wooden floor, the ranger passed around metal cups full of strong herbal tea and tossed a few more logs onto the fire. Cassidy assured him the disturbance would be held to a minimal extent however absurd it sounded. On the first night at least everyone just wanted to sleep. When the majority started to nod off and snore the old man retrieved a small bag from his waist, plucking small crystalline pieces of some waxy substance. He said it calmed nerves and shared it with the few men still awake.

  “These mountains are far away from the war. What circumstances brought you all here?” the ranger asked.

  Cassidy looked around at the soldiers puzzled by how they managed to avoid the subject until now. He sucked in his cheeks and replied.

  “We originally fought on the Sadlya Front but the men here are wounded soldiers who had been recovering behind the lines. From what I understand, the war is already over and we’re making a retreat from the battlefield. I want to thank you again for sheltering us.”

  Without bothering to say anything in response, the old ranger eyed him with bemusement. A long drawn out pause followed where neither side did anything beside continue chewing the waxy gum. Finally, Cassidy finished his introduction.

  “I believe the nuclear plant in Vieten has exploded while under siege.”

  The old ranger leaned back and kept chewing. Countless Karkovians must have perished in the ensuing conflagration, civilians and combatants alike, everyone in the immediate vicinity. An unparalleled disaster for both countries. Some two-hundred thousand Vandian soldiers clustered t
hemselves 10 miles downwind from the blast, likely suffering the same fate. Guilt overwhelmed Cassidy, causing his chest to swell and collapse as the reality of the situation struck him in the image of his fellow soldiers running across the grasslands underneath gray clouds, almost certainly doomed. He felt the need to apologize, for telling the old man that his countrymen had died. Pain seized his neck and pulled him down, making it difficult to raise his eyes. He heard the ranger spit into a steel bucket. Upon raising his forehead to look up he saw the old man unmoved. A toothy grin with teeth stained yellow and gums covered in waxy debris stared down at him. Cassidy doubted if the man existed at that moment. Perhaps he was a specter born of war who stood over these huddled men delighted by their struggles. Above those teeth was an undying hatred within the darkness of the man’s eyes, darker than the pit in his throat. No matter how sweet the revenge inflicted upon his enemy it could not pull his lips back far enough to conceal the grudge around the corners; there was no smile sinister enough to convey it. And although Cassidy alone could see the man’s face, this malice spread among them all, causing men to cry quietly in their sleep. When the exhaustion overcame the stimulant they took, everyone fell asleep.

  His soldiers struggled to rise in the morning; some hardly slept and others laid limp. They rode out the night and appeared to be in one piece but exhausted. Cassidy sat himself upright and looked around the room, surmising that the ranger had gone out early because his jacket and rifle were missing. Even after a night’s rest he feared looking out the window to confirm the world still existed. Annihilation beckoned. Reason dictated that the effects would be invisible for days but frightening imaginations of an apocalyptic world finally became real after years of propaganda. Or at least for the world he inhabited the past three years. Summoning courage as their leader, Cassidy rose from his seat and opened the door, walking outside in brilliant morning light. Pristine air filled his nostrils with the smell of pine and a peaceful silence accompanied the woods. Satisfied, he turned back and circled the room nudging the same four men he gathered last night. Today they would try heading to town. He decided against waiting for the ranger’s return and figured his absence would alert him if he took too long to return. Taking whatever could be carried, they packed the rations into their rucksacks and bade the awake men farewell, promising them they would all cross the border back home.

  Last night the darkness had obscured the mountains. Standing from where the cabin resided, their scale opened before them and presented a daunting challenge. Having fought three years on flatlands and being from cities where they mislabeled hills as mountains, this terrain exercised untouched muscles. Each step prickled their legs with hot coals. If not for stone steps laid by earlier pioneers such a trek would be impossible to traverse, filling them with a quiet respect for those who came before. Even then, the errant twig and stumble caused their worn out boots to separate at the sole and the sun started to grow faint. Spending too many nights would be dangerous when they could not measure distances reliably. They started to gather loose vegetation for a fire and settled on a patch of reasonable flat land to camp. All the hiking made them painfully hungry and the desire needed to be suppressed, substituting food for warming their feet and hands near the fire. Eventually sleep overcame them and passed. Unable to sleep long, they continued walking again and after another full morning came across the final ridge standing above a small village tucked among rocky obelisks, forewarning of old rock falls. Its worn old huts dampened expectation.

  Descending from the incline would expose themselves entirely against the face of the hill. Carved out from the mountain not a single branch or shrub covered the path. It was unknowable to them if it would alarm the villagers below if soldiers started to drop down. However looking at the shut doors and windows in the distance, and the lack of people moving about below, they wondered if it was at all inhabited. Wandering closer to the road they saw it overrun with weeds and it continued into the village center. Small barricades surrounded the encampment, perhaps to keep out wildlife, but the small plots of farmland appeared fallow and untilled. One soldier named Joseph recognized a Jappelion symbol nailed to the wooden frame of a larger building and persuaded the others to enter. Inside a simple place of worship welcomed them, unadorned and absent any religious iconography save for another similar Jappelion symbol placed in center. Their footsteps announced their arrival and a shaky voice greeted them from an adjoining room belonging to an old local priest. He greeted them half-heartedly, only somewhat conscious of his bearings as he explained how everything had already been requisitioned by the army. Cassidy took note of Joseph’s translation and instructed him to translate in turn.

  “We’re not seeking charity Mr. Priest, we’re just trying to leave this country,” Cassidy said.

  The priest smiled and informed them the journey to Estessia would take one or two days by foot, though it could be reduced to an afternoon of driving if trucks still visited. He could attest to the journey’s length on foot as he traveled it once a month when heading to town for rations. He spoke at length about how the village used to be a major logging site where hundreds of workers trucked out timber from the only road connecting it to civilization. Work ceased with the war and with the workers gone, the machinery rusted as well. Aside from himself, only two other geriatrics remained who could not find somewhere else to escape to during the war. Not for any good reason either as the planes flying overhead never bombed them, perhaps due to the lack of activity. Once he finished detailing the history of his village, Joseph and the priest started discussing religious concepts Cassidy could hardly be bothered to hear translated. They sat among the pews and caught their breaths thinking about the road left untraveled. An optimistic estimate of the supplies remaining for the injured soldiers sat around one week of regular meals or two weeks’ worth when rationed. That served as a deadline for their eventual return with supplies.

  Since they had reached the village by midday, there was still enough sunlight to continue their journey forward. In passing they looked through the village, desiring to see the smaller domestic things that the former villagers lived on. Even if the villagers were gone now, it still felt intrusive to wander around someone else’s home so they only meandered around the streets and tried to peer into the windows for a glimpse of their lives. Most interesting things that could be carried were taken by the inhabitants so only unused furniture or empty picture frames hung around the living rooms. By the time they reached the final house at the perimeter of the village, they could say this place had certainly been visited by the apocalypse.

  Although they had an actual road to walk on, they were still very much in the woods and the endless rows of the tree farm made them feel as if they had been walking for ages. In this quiet young forest, Cassidy thought to himself how little he actually knew about the men following behind him. He only chose them because they were healthy enough for the journey but in truth they did fight together for two years. Sometimes they cracked jokes and complained about their situations to one another but this could be said for coworkers in any organization, even one which thrust bodies in harm’s way like the army. What did they all believe as individuals though and did they still hold onto hopes for after this war? Having traveled in near silence he started to realize he took on the role of Captain without thinking about the position itself. Assuming leadership meant all things were irrelevant now besides the need to move them forward. By the time the sun started to wane they had exited the forest to a swathe of foothills.

  When morning came they continued to roll downhill. With picturesque mountains behind them and gentle grassy mounds before them, they were tempted to just lie there and stare listlessly at clouds. Again, it seemed too easy to surrender and give up on the business of war. Judging by any metric the war had already ended and they only needed to receive official word. The speaker on the phone already declared as much in telling them to retreat. It made Cassidy almost angry that he needed to keep running and to think a
bout soldiers still trapped in a mountain cabin but it was easier to function when immediate concerns kept distracting his thoughts and he felt twisted to admit it made the situation easier to handle. The fallout had already become history in his mind and there was no point thinking about the outcome, even if the men around him were worried about their friends and family from other units. They persevered in their travels and eventually made it within sight of a few hamlets.

  Before Cassidy could even come upon the city’s periphery, they spotted a military truck coming their way. As their navy occupied the city it came as no surprise that the emblem emblazoned on its side belonged to the Vandian Army. They all waved wildly to alert their countrymen and soon enough it halted before them. The passenger, a corporal, dropped out from the side and approached them.

  “Are you the men the ranger is referring to?” the corporal asked them.

  Looking among each other they came to the realization that the ranger had set off to Estessia himself in order to help them reunite with the Army. This act surprised them. Cassidy stepped forward and took command.

  “We still have 53 men left at the campsite in poor condition. Immediate aid would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Your telling me saves me from having to confirm it myself. Hop in the truck, we’ll head back to Estessia and send a proper crew to escort them out. It may take a little longer than you’d expect though Lieutenant, there’s not exactly a lot of personnel we can spare.”

  When they came around to the truck, the passenger rolled down the window and spoke to them sitting down.

  “What level of exposure did you have to the blast?”