A walk in oblivion

She pushed hard against the door. The rusty hinges screamed as it opened in fits and jerks, but she barely heard them through the full-body suit she was wearing. Hell, it was hard to hear anything at all in this thin atmosphere. Not even the heavy brass handle of the door dropping onto the bare ground, raising a cloud of dust that hung suspended in the windless air.

After a minute she finally pushed open a space large enough for her to squeeze through without damaging the suit's purifier. It alone was responsible for piping breathable air in from the poisonous atmosphere. Slowly and carefully she slipped through, ensuring that the tubes that were the only thing between her and a very painful death would not tear on the rusty metal.

She stood still for a moment as she caught her breath. Surveying the desolate landscape around her, she found herself wondering why she came up at all. But of course she knew. They were running out of fuel, and as the gatherer it was her duty to search for it. She glanced up at the sky. A long time ago it used to be blue. Now it was just a transparent window to the millions of stars twinkling in silence.

She moved forward, stirring up grey plumes of soot with each step. As she made her way towards the nearest structure she kept her eyes peeled on the ground illuminated by the pale sun. There might be fragments of fuel she could salvage. After all, it was clear nobody had been here in years, if not centuries.

She reached the structure without finding anything. Looking up, she tried to recognise it. It vaguely resembled the house pictures they kept in the library records. Thinking harder, she recognised it as one of those barns in what they used to call the American Midwest. There was even a rickety windmill fifty metres behind the barn, looking comically out of place in this nightmare landscape.

She laughed and regretted it immediately. Any sound was instantly swallowed up by the silence, reminding one of just how alone one was. Keeping her mouth grimly shut, she pushed open the door and got a shock as it fell inwards. She hesitated, afraid of entering. But looking around, she realised that she had no choice. There was nothing else for miles around.

Tentatively she stepped inside. The floor did not disintegrate, and taking the small encouragement that gave she carefully moved deeper into the shadows. In one corner she saw a dark mound, and moving closer she saw it to be a large pile of hay. She studied it. It could be used as fuel, but was so obviously dessicated that whatever energy they might gain from it would be outweighed by the effort of bringing it back.

But for the pile of hay the barn was empty. With nothing else to lose she started digging into it. There might be something else of use inside the pile.

Grab. Lift. Throw.

Grab. Lift. Throw.

People used to live here. They did not have to wear protective suits, afraid to breathe the thin, toxic air all around them. They did not have to stay underground, huddled pathetically in dark caverns with ever-dwindling fuel supplies. They could run freely, unafraid to laugh and sing under a blue sky. There were even birds, insects and proper animals. Not the sad excuses the scientists bred in their labs for food.

The professors said it was a chemical reaction between nuclear war and uncontrolled pollution from a new energy source. Or maybe it was global warming gone too far. Some others even claimed that God himself had punished mankind for his greed. She did not care. All she knew was that now, she was living on a world humans did not even dare walk on.

Oh what she would give to experience life then.

Grab. Lift. Throw.

Grab. Lift. Throw.

Grab. Lift-

Suddenly she screamed. Beneath the clump of hay she was holding lay a twisted figure. She desperately scrambled backwards and tripped, almost falling in her mad panic to run away. Its arms were frozen in grotesque angles, its legs were bent unnaturally, and in her horrified state she thought she saw a detached hand on the ground.

But what terrified her the most was its face. The eye sockets lay empty staring hollowly at her, the skin, grey-brown in a sickening complexion, was pulled so tightly it tore in places, and half the hair had disintegrated into dried wisps. And that mouth. It was open in a contorted scream, half the teeth missing in its voiceless cry.

She backed up against a pillar, breathing rapidly as her brain frantically tried to overcome the fear pulsating through her body. Slowly, somehow, she managed to bring herself under control. It could do nothing to her. It could do nothing to her.

Her mentors had told her stories. Occasionally a gathering expedition would turn up a corpse from centuries past, unclaimed by the families as they fled underground and mummified by the noxious air which hung over the planet.

They would always be contorted in pain.

Yes. Nobody knew for sure what had happened. But they were clues that whatever did was quick and agonising.

She inched her way closer. The corpse appeared to be that of a man. The clothes on it were disintegrating, and around its neck was a golden chain. The thought of using it as fuel flashed through her mind, but shame quickly crushed it. She was not that desperate, and she darkly hoped she would never be.

She now saw that what she thought was its hand on the floor was instead a slim wooden container. The grain was dark, and the rectangular container obviously well-made. It could not have otherwise passed the centuries without more than a grey tint edging into the wood. She turned it in her hands, terribly wanting to know what was inside, but afraid to see it.

Finally, she opened it. What she saw surprised her. On the right side was a photograph of a smiling family. A father and a mother with two daughters and one son, standing in what appeared to be a field. She marvelled at the sky in the picture. The same blue as the pictures in the library records. The grass was so green and they were smiling so happily. It was actually a photo frame.

Her eyes focused on the young man in the picture. He was quite handsome, and was well-built. Glancing once more at the corpse, she could recognise its build in the picture of the young man. On the left frame were the carved words: "To a loving son and a loving brother".

She wondered how it came to this. How had this person, so obviously treasured by his family, come to his lonely death? She could picture him running from... From whatever it was. Seeking refuge in this barn, seeing only this mound of hay and digging into it for whatever pathetic protection it would give.

She saw him there, hiding, cowering, as he began to realise that he could not breathe. That he would die in this place. He began to twist in panic, his mouth gasping for air to breathe. Maybe the poison in the decaying atmosphere was destroying him from within. And as he struggled in vain he... He...

She could not bear to finish the thought.

She realised that there was nothing of value in this barn. Just emptiness and pain. No. Not quite nothing. She stared at the wooden frame in her hands. Unlike the corrupted wood of the barn, this frame still seemed quite usable. As small as it was, she was sure that the scientists would find a way to extract a good amount of energy from it.

Something pushed the thought away. A gentle voice told her that she was human. She looked at the picture again, and this time felt tears forming in her eyes. No. She would never give it to the scientists.

She began to walk out, feeling the corpse's hollow eyes staring at her back. She did not stop until she stepped out under the dead sky. Looking at the frame in the light she was struck by its elegance. She would have to hide it. They would punish her for keeping a source of fuel to herself. But she would do everything to keep it. Her people were not that desperate. There would always be another expedition to go on.

Slowly she moved back towards the tunnel's entrance. It was a long journey back to safety.

It was a long journey away from what used to be home.

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