A Beginning after the End

I wandered in the death-filled environment of what used to be a metropolis in which I lived. My eyesight... gone. My hearing... gone. The only indication that I still walked around was my inner ear telling me I was upright, and my feet were shuffling and stepping on a crunchy surfaces. I didn’t know what I was stepping on, be it the ruin of concrete, steel, and glass structures, or the remains of those who had died in the blast.

 Lucky saps.

 Pain filled every fiber of my being, be it physical, mental, or emotional. I knew that I was about to die, as my family did in front of me. I was just walking for however long before I would too crumple down and join the dead.

Dull marks in my destroyed hearing indicated my footsteps, and I felt myself breathing the irradiated air. My eyes were entirely blackened when I saw the blast. For some reason, my sense of smell remained, but I was not entirely grateful for the smell of a dead city.

I walked into a something solid, perhaps a wall that stood up to the cataclysm. I decided then that there I would rest.

As I slid down into a sitting posture against the solid remains of a structure, my hands rested on my legs. I noticed that I still had something in my pockets. I reached in and pulled out a most peculiar object.

It was a pocketknife. I had it in my pocket when I was unboxing a gift for my son to wrap for a friend’s birthday party. I felt tears running down my burnt face, providing some alleviation from the pain, even if only a sliver of relief.

 I pondered on how long I would survive here. I came to the conclusion that even if I had food, water, and shelter, and medical help, I was doomed when my body was irreversibly irradiated.

My mind became unusually calm at my next decision. Yes, I would die by my own actions, and not those of the unseen enemy which had done this to my life.

I passed out as I rubbed what I presumed to be the sharp edge of the knife against my forearms.

I did not expect to wake up in the manner which I did. In fact, I was surprised to wake up at all. Through my remaining senses of touch and smell, I deduced that I was in a hospital. The sanitized air smells of chemicals used in such institutions, and I felt the wrapping of bandages against my skin, providing medicine which eased the aching burns. Another cloth, cold and damp, rested againt my forehead. tight bandaging dressed my forearms, causing me to embarrisingly think of the effort my rescuers to save me from the combined actions of myself and the destructive force which destroyed my house and home, family and freinds, sense of safety and society. I assumed that paramedics flew in from another city and saved my life, even if was just barely. I thanked my lucky stars I was alive, and my hopes soared for the safety of my family. If I could be saved, could my wife and children be saved also?

I attempted to communicate, the sensation of my shallow breathing replaced by the sensation of my raspy voice.

“H-hello?”

I was shocked. I could hear myself speak. I had previously not thought I could, but now I am fully aware of being able to hear the world. I opened my eyes, hoping to see a ceiling, but the same blackness filled my vision before pain forced me to snap my eyes shut. I was disappointed by my lack of sight, but I thanked every single deity I could think of for my hearing.

I heard the commotion of doctors outside my door. They were not entering, yet they were not idle outside my room. I thought back to the irradiation my body must’ve suffered and I feared for my life. Soon, I heard someone enter, the squeak of the door and the thudding of someone walking to my bedside. I heard a female voice, presumably one of a nurse.

“How are you feeling?”

With my exhausted voice I replied,

“W-where’s m-my family?”

I could almost feel the nurse recoil from the statement. Several horrifying therioes came to my mind at once. One theory was that my family simply died and I was the sole survivor. Another sad theory was that they did receive my family, but they had died in their care. Either way, the reaction of the nurse confirmed that my family is gone. I pleaded with the nurse,

“C-can you tell m-m-me where my wife and k-kids are?”

My voice was turning to sobs. They couldn’t be gone. I-I....

The nurse somberly replied,

“I’m sorry.”

I wept bitterly. I wept for my wife, lovely and kind. I wept each of my children, so full of hope and promise. I wept for my friends, all competitive and full of childish spirit.

I was not immediately aware of being held, but as I wept, I realized that arms had picked me up and I was being held in a motherly manner. I wrapped my arms around the nurse, wondering for a moment why the uniform of a nurse would be so soft when the nurse calmed me with soft words, stating,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright. You’re in our care. You’ll be alright. Can you tell me your name?”

Obediently, I said back,

“M-my name’s J-Johnson. Johnson Kings.”

The nurse nodded and replied, ‘

“Okay, Johnson. I’ll be back, and I’ll bring some friends. Is that okay?”

I nodded, and the arms placed me gently back down on the hospital bed. The nurse left, and silence filled the room for a duration. There was talking going on outside my hospital room, and I made out this,

“...everyone...different from him...no need for...panic...”

I tried to deduce what they meant when the door opened again, admitting several guests to my hospital room. They all traveled to my bedside, their odd footfalls distracting me from thinking about the conversation to come until I was addressed by the nurse.

“Johnson-- may I call you John?”

I smiled and said as sweetly I can for someone with a raspy voice,

“Everyone does.”

That seemed to satisfy the nurse. I heard chairs being pulled up to the bedside. I count three chairs, so three guests, if one isn’t dedicated to standing. The one who I still think is the nurse calmly asked,

“Can you tell us about what happened to you?”

I thought for a bit and said,

“I think my city got hit by a nuke.”

I noticed that my voice didn’t sound as broken than before. The sounds of furious scribbling hit my ears. So the two other guests were scribes, I presumed. I continued,

“I was helping my son wrap a present for his friend when the nuke hit us. I’m not sure why the alarms didn’t go off.”

I heard the scribes writing down what I had said, but then they stopped to listen to whatever else I had to say. The nurse said,

“Can you tell us what a ‘nuke’ is?”

“Excuse me?”

That seemed to also surprise my interviewer. She said back to me,

“A nuke. You mentioned a ‘nuke’ ‘hitting’ your town. Is this the bright lights we observed from afar?”

So these people were amish, then. No matter, I am well versed in all kinds of sciences, given my time in universities.

“Well, a ‘nuke’ is shorthand for ‘Nuclear device’. Another name for this is ‘Atom bomb’.”

When I had mentioned the word ‘bomb’, everyone in the room except me gasped in surprise. Even the notetakers had stopped briefly. I took note of this. The nurse said slowly,

“So this is a weapon?”

I replied in the affirmative. The scribes whispered to each other, meaning I only caught the words,

“Terrible... why would... like this?”

“We saw bright lights across the horizon. Seemingly everywhere was affected by these terrible weapons.”

I hadn’t thought of more cities being hit by nukes. After all, I would not be distracted by the elephants in the distance as I was staring at the elephant right before me, but I digress. I said,

“How many people have you rescued thus far?”

A pause from the nurse, then she said,

“Not many, I’m afraid. In fact, you’re the first and only patient we’ve gotten out alive. We’re still trying our hardest to find more, though.”

I immediately thought of the dangers of irradiation. I realized that these people might not know the dangers of irradiation. I quickly said,

“You have to be careful, please. The radiation released from those weapons are an invisible threat to life.”

The nurse seemed shocked. That reaction in turn, shocked me. I realized I was still very much in danger. I said, trying to keep down my panic,

“Did you clean me of any radiation? Do you even know what that is?”

The nurse quickly retaliated, saying,

“No, no, we know. You’re safe. We just didn’t know that these weapons were able to do that. We thought that there had been a magical attack, not a bombing.”

...Magic? I spoke to confirm what I had heard.

“I don’t believe I heard you right, but did you say magic?”

There might have been something in my tone of voice, because the room suddenly fell silent. I thought for a moment that something had happened, but the nurse (whom I’m beginning to think isn’t a nurse) said,

The implications of her statement are as diverse as they were astonishing. Before I could board that particular train of thought, The nurse said with a hint of surprise in her voice,

“I should share my name. My name is Luna. The names of those scribing our conversation over there is Twilight Sparkle and Gold Scroll.”

My immediate thought of what incredibly silly names that people could come up for their children, and my second thought was focused on the familiarity of two of those names. Where have I heard them before?

Before I could answer my own questions, my guests excused themselves from my room, and I was left thinking to myself about what I had gathered about my environment. Before sleep took me, I thought of something my college-bound brother liked to say.

Twilight Sparkle is Best Pony.