by Luka Petrov
Hamish steadied his shot, but the mutant knowing the upper hand that he held, kept moving and hiding his lump-filled skull behind Siobhan. The muddy paw of the mutant smothered Siobhan’s airway, and now she was on borrowed time as no air made it past the filthy fingers. Siobhan gave a knowing gaze to Hamish, one that only the twins would understand. With the strength that she had left in her, she bent forward just as Hamish engaged the trigger of the Ross rifle. The timing of the occurrence could not have been more perfectly timed as the mutant did not have a moment to react as it fell victim to the round, the tumor scathed skull spreading on the window that the twins would admire the sea through.
Now the window that the siblings saw their first beauty that this Earth had, stained in a scarlet veil as blood slid down from the glass, unable to adhere to the surface and dripped onto the floor. The window where Hamish and Siobhan watch the red sunset, covered in its own red tint. The sunlight that emerged from the opposite side of the horizon, glowed the blood veil that covered the window in its own red-orange hue that mimicked the sunset. This was a sign of how the Earth had turned. These twins did not know of an Earth before the apocalypse, but they had heard of how things used to be, how things once were.
For a moment in this lighthouse, they experienced an old Earth, one that had peace and serenity in it. One that allowed relaxation and wonderment. One that did not have survival at the forefront. However, this new Earth would eventually emerge, as it always does. The new Earth was stronger than the old Earth, and that was unfortunate. The twins were only the few who did not know the old Earth since they were members of the few surviving newborns, so they did not chase an old Earth. They could adapt faster, not wanting to go backward, but wanting to go forward and finding a new Earth.
With the blood-stained window and three dead mutants, and a busted exterior door lock, the twins could not be safe in the lighthouse. Their safety was an illusion and they had to find a place where their safety was a reality. With the dawn upon them, they took their few belongings with them and walked down the stairs of the lighthouse for the final time. They cautiously stepped over the mutant who laid at the foot of the stairs and made their way outside, squinting their eyes to the emerging sunshine. The shoreline filling with a golden glow.
As long as the twins had each other, they would consider themselves lucky. Few had solace in this world and they knew that they were fortunate to have the comfort of each other to face the world. For a moment they had felt what it was like to live without fear, and both were grateful for that experience. They longed to feel like that again. As they walked down the path, theyfelt the fallout snow on them. Hamish took his jacket and held it over Siobhan’s head, making sure none of the fallout flakes fell onto her.
Both were concerned of their exposure to the mutants and wondered if they would get the Stranger’s Cold. Neither of them could be certain if they were exposed or if in fact the mutants had the infection. The only thing that they could be certain of was that they had each other and for now, that was enough.
Together they walked until their feet were sore, following the endless roads. They seemed to lead down into the crevices of hills, moving toward a flattened landscape. Each took turns listening for the telltale signs of poisoned areas or watching to locate the colors of the warning flowers, but none could be seen on their way. Trees seemed to grow here without thinning out, the grass longer and more lusciously green.
8. The Crooked Path
As they walked through the winding landscape, heading down into the hills, Siobhan noticed something in the distance. From her brother’s vantage, he could barely see it, his gaze recognizing only distant silhouettes. His sister saw there was a vehicle positioned on the road, stuck between the soil and the tarmac. Its lights were switched on, the back of the car glowing in luminous detail. It looked like a vintage car, something from a movie poster, red and sacred.
“Whit dae ye think it is?” asked Hamish, staring at the red blot in his vision. A deep breath exhaled from his sister’s lungs as she turned around to him with a strange smile. They both looked stark and pale in this strange environment, two figures lost in the murky green-grey of the outside world. “You’ve seen a car before, silly,” she said, clutching him by the elbow. “It drives us places. Makes us go fast.” He nodded in understanding, a gentle laugh coming from his belly. It was a laugh she hadn’t heard in such a long while, so she joined in his joy, giggling along with him, walking up to the road. Their pace was fast, a gleeful childishness behind every footstep. Siobhan’s leg hurt her as she limped along, still affected by the wound of the past, but she made it look as if it wasn’t.
Before they had reached the vehicle, a passenger exited through one side door, waving them down. The two siblings approached as one might an alien, forgetting the common courtesies required. “HEY!” the figure of a man yelled, an excitable grin on his face. “HEY! IT’S WORKING!” he exclaimed, hopping about from side to side. The man appeared to be somewhere in his fifties, but he skipped about with the virility of a younger person. A long leather coat hung from his shoulders, ripped and torn, with stuffing coming out of it. His hair was slicked backward, cut haphazardly.
Hamish first approached him, a quivering hand reaching forward. The man clasped it in his, shaking it violently. “God, you guys look pale,” he said, his mouth grinning happily. For a moment they had forgotten that anyone could see in them anything that looked different at all. There was a silence between them, only the whistling of the wind rattling through that lonesome world. Finally, in strange greeting, her brother spoke up. “My name is Hamish,” said the tall white giant, looking down upon the greasy man and his car. “Well, that’s a helluva name,” he responded, the man grasping him for a second by his side. Hamish flinched backward, frowning. It was only then that Siobhan intervened, a curious look on her face. “He doesn’t like to be touched,” she said, “not when he doesn’t know you.”
“Hey, hey, that’s all right. I’m sorry,” the Driver gestured, holding his palms open in apology. “I was just so excited to see anybody. Y’know the feeling?” The question seemed rhetorical and Siobhan took it as such, merely shrugging with her shoulders. The towering figure of her brother almost looked like a rottweiler, like a creature she could let off a leash at any time. “But the good news is,” the man stuttered, “that with both your help... We can get this thing started.” With that, Hamish inspected the vehicle as if by command. He ran his hands over the metal, patting it down. The Driver watched with ambivalent curiosity, reaching down below the front seat of the vehicle. In one motion he passed them bottles of water, unlabeled and recycled. Both siblings drank until each drop was gone, the first they’d had since their escape. The Driver assured them that it was purified.
“Why... does your car work?” asked Siobhan, her voice earnest and gentle. “I haven’t seen one work since I was a little girl,” she added, almost cautious of the technology, as if this man had some kind of occult power. The man, for a second, was perplexed, until he grasped that it was a reasonable question. “It’s an older model,” he said, pointing to the silver decal on its side, “so the EMP doesn’t affect it.” Now she took her turn to analyze the body of the car, looking it up and down. The term seemed strange in her mind, as if detailing the parts of the device itself. She smiled up at him while watching her brother climb into the leather interior. “What’s EMP?” she asked as innocently as possible. She had certainly heard the letters somewhere, but very long ago, lost in the faded memories of her island.
The man almost had to hold his hand against the car in confusion. He furrowed his brow then laughed for a second, throwing his head backward. Then he stood, serious, lit by the car’s interior lighting. “EMP? Electromagnetic pulse?” he asked, half expecting a laugh in return. Siobhan simply shook her head, restless and excited. “Well,” the man said, his voice thick and American, “that’s what happened to the world.” She listened intently as he gave his description of dying suns and solar sto
rms, of how the lights were manifestations of dying plasma, of electromagnetic energy. But in her heart, she knew this was too simple of an explanation. Much more lived in those woods than the green of the borealis.
The Driver instructed them on pushing the vehicle from behind, first getting it out of the ditch. Hamish, with the strength of several men, did this almost entirely on his own. Soon, the wheels were firmly on the cracked road, thankfully in one piece and un-punctured. Next, they had to push start it. The Driver sat in the front, barking friendly commands toward the two in the back. “Push, guys, we can do it,” he yelled, a giddy excitement in his lungs. “We’re gonna get this thing a movin’!” They continued to push, brother and sister smiling at each other until the engine sputtered and belched into life, dark grey clouds puffing out of the exhaust. In a sweaty, swift motion, Siobhan pulled her brother’s hand into the car. And suddenly they were moving, driving down the road. At first, they screamed and sang with joy, eventually settling to the motions of the road.
“Are we driving somewhere?” she asked, a smile on her face. It interrupted the man’s intense joy, both Siobhan and her brother looking at him with pink eyes, white hair, and the widest smiles ever known. The Driver’s furrowed brow showed his confusion as he glanced back and forth between them. “You guys aren’t... You’re not from around here, are ya?” They nodded, the elder brother pointing toward the horizon. “Wur fae an island just ower there,” Hamish said, “but we ainlie just came home.”
Driving was an unusual sensation for both of them, like riding some strange animal. Their bodies jigged with excitement, thrown about by the speed and the movements of the vehicle. As they were moving, the Driver pointed out the road signs along the way—Caithness was where they were. They were heading right toward the town of Thurso some miles away, the landscape changing all around them. Outside of the windows, they could see wild horses, some almost skin and bone, thundering across the earth of barren fields and twisted trees. They had seemed to evolve differently over time, peculiar stripes marking their fur.
“I came here from America fifteen years ago,” he told them, explaining how he had stayed in the manor house of a friend for so long, his associate an aging rock star, full of cash, in a remote estate of absolute privacy. “I watched the power plants fail on TV, saw the diseases move their way through the cities... But I stayed the hell away from it all.” He admitted to knowing he’d absorbed the radiation, too many of his own friends falling prey to it. “Hell, my life expectancy is zero. That’s why I’m road-trippin’ around,” he joked as if his guests would understand.
“So, you guys... You lived in some kinda commune?” asked the friendly Driver, half making conversation and half intrigued. Hamish nodded, just like he did to everything. Siobhan clutched her brother’s hand, smiling. The Driver watched their expressions while talking to fill the silence. “Sounds cool, baby,” the Driver added. “Sounds like a great way to spend the apocalypse.” It felt like the first time Siobhan had heard that word or the first time since she was a child. The sisters had always referred to it as the Last Judgement, awaiting the return of Christ who would end the days of darkness. Her young, pallid face turned serious in reflection, realizing the implications of the Driver’s words. Perhaps it was not that they were fleeing from the doomsday but simply entering another incarnation of it, another circle of hell. The end, it seemed, was all around them.
Siobhan was not certain what to believe about the apocalypse for she had ben indoctrinated by the beliefs fo the nuns. Under her breath, she recounted a passage that she mumbled to herself so neither Hamish nor the Driver could her. She mumbled, “Matthew 7:13-23: ‘Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it. Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so, every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Therefore, by their fruits ye shall know them. Not every one that saith unto me: Lord, Lord, shall enter into the Kingdom of Heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in Heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity’.” Tears flowed down her cheek as she recounted that verse. She did not like the nuns, nor did she remember them fondly, but their was a respect there that she had for their devotion to something not seen.
In a way, she too waited for the second coming of the Christ, because then all of this would make sense. Siobhan desperately wanted all of this to make sense. To have some sort of meaning. She mumbled another Bible verse to herself, this time from a different chapter of Matthew, her favorite of the gospels. She whispered, “Matthew 25:31-36, ‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me’.” She appeared as though she was praying, whispering to herself with her eyes closed. If it weren’t for the driver asking her these questions, she would have never remembered these verses. Perhaps the nuns were correct in their beliefs and that is why they had been safe all of this time? Perhaps the angels of God came to their aid each time there was an attack on the monastery? Perhaps she was supposed to give her body to the Abbott as a lamb because he did the work of God?
One of the nuns told her while she worked in the garden along side her that they thought that this Earth was a Purgatory, even though they had not died, the souls that were removed from the Earth either went to Heaven or to Hell and the souls that remained were in Purgatory. This nun was grateful because a soul in Purgatory will always reach Heaven, but those who are in Hell, will be there for eternity.
She was taught that the Last Judgement will occur after the resurrection of the dead and the reuniting of a person’s should with its own physical body. During the Last Judgement, Christ will come in His glory, and all the Angeles with him, and in his presence the truth of each’s mans relationship with God will be laid bare, and each person who had ever lived would be judged with perfect justice with those believing in Christ, entering everlasting bliss, and those who rejected Christ would go to everlasting condemnation.
Perhaps those lumped beings were the dead resurrected? Who can know for certain what kind of place they were in. All they knew, Hamish, Siobhan, and even the Driver knew that this was not a place that they wanted to be for long. They wanted to find peace, and they strived desperately to it.
Siobhan had entered a meditative state, rocking back and forth her her seat, recounting her time at the monastery, one of mixed feelings. She enjoyed riding in the vehicle, and seeing the sites, something that she had never done before. The teachings at the monastery had reasons for why things were happening, but how would one know for certain those were the reasons for what was occurring? Could anyone know for sure? And if not, why not? These were answers that Siobhan desperately wanted answers to, and she knew she would never get them. The best way would be for her to come to her own conclusions herself and to rev
eal what she knew what was the truth. Yet, those Bible versus helped her find peace and soothed her in a time of desperation.
The landscape thinned out around them the further they travelled, the barren patches of land becoming more numerous. When the curse affected the land, it sometimes had the effect of scorching the earth itself, stripping it of plants and trees. Only the tallest, most gnarled white trees survived, their trunks covered in a moss of snowy fur. And the off-colored bluebells that clustered around them, perhaps a strain of flower that had survived the effects of the blackout. Evolution guided these odd-colored flowers to bloom in the areas that only the cursed resided. Somehow, resistant to the curse, yet a sign of where they laid. These cursed areas also seemed to contain boggy, marshy ground, the acid rain pock-marking the ground with watery swampland, nothing but curled reeds growing out of them.
Despite the attempt to keep away from the cursed land, the vehicle ventured into the uncharted territory. They had ignored the flowers and yielded to the warning-blue color. They had found themselves in the midst of a forest filled only with gnarled white trees. Shadowy figures appeared on the white bark, consuming any light that had shone brightly on them. The sun faded behind clouds and darkness filled the sky. The Driver turned on his high-beam lights, only one of them working. “Damn it, the light must have burned out. What is this?” the Driver asked. He was very familiar with the cursed lands, but never had seen anything like this.
They traveled along a dirt road, looping along the side of a valley, where the oldest trees lived. Some of these trees exceeded four thousand years, and lined the side of the valley, growing spectacularly in twisted and beautifully white-colored wood. This splendid remoteness and moonscape appearance gave a surreal atmosphere. The Driver turned the vehicle with the curve of the road, still careful not to veer off, yet endeavoring to leave this land. Static noise filled all of their ears as they appeared not to be able to hear each other speak. Entering these lands tremendously could scrabble one’s brain and render them virtually useless as any sense of wherewithal is negated by the overpowering radio noise.
