“Come, now, you rich men, weep, howling over your miseries that are coming upon you. Your riches have rotted, and your outer garments have become moth-eaten. Your gold and silver are rusted away, and their rust will be as a witness against you and will eat your fleshy parts. Something like fire is what you have stored up in the last days” - James 5:1-3

 

It's a touchy subject, the end of the world. Some people were never willing to talk about it, and others had dedicated their entire lives to the idea. The truth is, it didn't matter. The end of the world effected everyone. It was indiscriminate. The end of the world didn't pay attention to race, religion, age, size, or gender. No one was spared.

 

Before it happened, people had all sorts of theories and ideas about the end of the world. Some thought it would all happen in a matter of seconds. Others thought that the end would be drawn out over a period of weeks. The truth is, the end of the world began when human error began. Weather human error began as a sin in a heavenly garden or began as soon as humans came to exist is not known.

 

Some thought that the world would end when the sun became too large and burned life off of the earth. Others thought that extra-terrestrial beings would bring the end upon us. The truth is, the end came through a slow, painful self-destruction.

 

Everything that had ever happened in human history contributed to the end. All those events were like drums of oil that spilled their contents onto us all, repeatedly, for many years. It was only a matter of time before someone or something lit a match, and we all went up in flames. Who lit the match?

 

Was it the governments? Did the corruptness and selfishness and lies of these governments push their people to the edge? Or was it the drug trade? Did the evil and disgust of the drug lords, traffickers, buyers, and sellers throw the world into chaos? Or was it the sheltered ones? Did the fear and ignorance and distrusting nature of these people cause violent paranoia to sweep the world up in terror?

 

The truth is, the answer to all of those questions is “Yes.” It was a horrible combination of those things that brought the end. I know this combination as “The Machine.” “The Machines'” only purpose was to trap us all in it's iron clutches, and then slowly bleed to death with nary a bandage to help.

 

Even now, as I write, and “The Machine” lies dead, there is only one question: Who created this machine? Was it God's plan all along to have the humans liquidate the worst of themselves by letting them create “The Machine”? Or was “The Machine” created of our own volition, in a feeble and doomed attempt to quench our thirst for power and control? To answer that, I believe I must start at the beginning.

2: The Dead Flag Blues (Intro)

“At this I said: 'How long, O Jehovah?' Then he said: 'Until the cities actually crash in ruins, to be without an inhabitant, and the houses be without earthling man, and the ground itself is ruined into a desolation'” - Isaiah 6:11

 

I had anticipated the end just as the match began to rip across the striking paper. I had stored enough food in my basement to last me six months, and armed myself with a wide arsenal of guns and explosives to defend that food, and myself. The end of the world began with huge riots and gargantuan revolts against the governments of the world. The governments responded with brute force.

 

Week by week, whole countries rioted themselves into ruins, including my home in The United States of America. I had resolved to ride out the riots holed up in my home at the edge of Santa Fe, New Mexico. I resolved not to fire a single shot if it was not in my own defense. By the third week, fierce fighting in the streets had destroyed most of the city, and had taken off the upper right side of my house in the process.

 

I had developed a fever of 101 degrees, due to the unfortunate tendency I have to get sick during the spring. My head felt as if someone had wrapped a lasso around it and was pulling the rope, constricting my head and causing me extreme pain. Earlier that day I fell on a shard of glass that was created from the explosion that wrecked the upper right side of my house, and I had a pretty good gash in my right leg. The fever served only to make the pain worse.

 

Fighting in the city had stopped, save for a few skirmishes on the northern side, and since I lived on the lower west edge of the city, I figured now was a time as good as any to try and find a doctor. I had taken a swig of DayQuil that I had in my medicine cabinet, and with that I set out to find, if not a doctor, then a reasonable bandage for my leg.

 

I exited my front door at around seven o'clock that night with a pistol in my jeans for protection. I looked at the skyline of the once proud city I called my home. Fires raged in any building that was still standing, while others, like my house, had giant chunks ripped off of them by weapons fire. The sky was the perfect color of orange, made hazy by the constant flames. It brought a tear to my eye, for it was beautiful, yet horrific all the same.

 

I made my way into the middle of the city, weaving through broken buildings and back alleys. I was about to cross over a two-lane street, when I saw something peculiar. A 1971 Chevrolet Nova, it's blue paint rusted over, rolled idly by, going about 15 miles per hour. The car was engulfed in flames, crackling and firing off embers as it rolled. I peered into it. There was no driver at the wheel. It was just rolling, slowly, burning as it moved. I had never seen anything like it before.

 

I stepped across the street as the car went by. I kept expecting an explosion, but it never came. I suddenly came across a horrible scent. It was a foul, menacing smell, like that of a rotted turkey. I stepped across the street again to find the source of this monstrosity. I stopped at an opened manhole that made it's home in the middle of the street, at a four-way crossing. I knelt down, covering my face, and took a long stare into the sewers below.

 

A shiver went crashing down my spine as I swear I saw someone or something staring right back at me from the abyss, like a reflection in the water. My curiosity got the best of me and, gun drawn, I climbed down the foul-smelling manhole to greet whoever or whatever was glaring at me. I felt for concrete, but all I felt was a squishy, muddy substance. I was ready to turn my flashlight, that I had fitted onto my pistol, on fearing I had stepped in excrement. I wished it had been.

One look was all it took for me to empty my stomach contents onto the ground. I had never seen any horror like this. Bodies. Thousands of them. All of them dead, some freshly so, some weeks gone. I looked below me and met eyes with the eyes that had beckoned me down here in the first place. They belonged to a young boy, maybe 12 years old. I had seen enough. Trying to keep whatever I had left in my stomach down, I rapidly climbed up from the sewers and back into the open air of the city.

 

“Adam?”

 

The voice startled me and soothed me at the same time. I looked to my left to see an old friend of mine, Evelyn. I had loved Evelyn since the day I met her. Seeing her now was just what I needed. She asked me if I had seen a ghost. I told her I may have seen one driving a burning car, and that I wished I had seen one in lieu of what I had just witnessed. She told me that she knew of a train that could escort us both out of Santa Fe, and into a survivors camp in Hastings, New Mexico.

 

I noticed a couple of billboards around us, with the smiling faces of actors and actresses advertising the latest product plastered all over them. I felt as if they were leering, listening in on Evelyn and I's conversation. I noticed the flag of New Mexico, and the flag of the United States of America hanging at the top of two separate poles. They meant nothing now. They may have meant something before, but now they meant absolutely nothing. They were simply dead at the top of their poles.

 

I felt warm inside with Evelyn, and I could tell from the look in her eyes that she felt the same. I had loved her always, and I know she loved me too. I stopped talking for a moment, and stared deeply into her eyes.

 

“Kiss me” I said, “You're Beautiful”.

 

As I felt her lips touch mine and our arms embrace each other, I understood that this was my life now. This, and nothing else.

 

“These are truly the last days” I said to her. She gave me a nod in response.

 

We both resolved, at that moment, to face the end together. Whatever lay ahead of us in our lives, we would face it together. We would face it head on with nothing left to lose. She grabbed my hand, and we slept outside that night, outside my house. We planned to set off for the train station in the morning.

 

I woke up the next morning laying in a ditch. I looked up, and realized I must have fell into the ditch last night as I slept. Evelyn lay silently sleeping as the sun rose. I joked in my mind that the ditch was the Valley of Death. I felt as if I had been cheating death. My fever was still high, and my head still felt constricted.

 

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. My pocket was wet and my wallet was as well. I opened the wallet up. The only thing in my wallet was a deposit from my leg wound. I opened up my wallet, and it was full of blood.

 

3: Slow Moving Trains

“Flee out of the midst of Babylon, and provide escape each one for his own soul. Do not be rendered inanimate through her error...” - Jeremiah 51:6

 

We got to the train station not a moment too soon. The train was just beginning to move out of the station when we got there. Around that time, my fever began to take a turn for the worse. I was slowly turning groggy and tired as we boarded the train. We had to jump onto the coupler and waltz our way onto the back of the passenger car.

 

Someone opened the door for us, I didn't catch his face. Even if I had, I wouldn't have been able to say anything to him. I was just too tired. Evelyn thanked him for opening the door for us, and sat down in a booth next to a window. The train was carpeted red. I chuckled. Even in the apocalypse, beauty and comfort mattered. I sat down in the booth facing hers, and admired her.

 

She must have felt something was wrong, because she began to feel my forehead with the back of her hand. She had a quite worried look on her face, and got up quickly. Around then I started to fade in and out of consciousness. Everything slowed down. It felt as if the train was moving slower than my walking speed. I jumped back into consciousness when I felt a clunk on the table that separated Evelyn and I's booth's.

 

It was a glass of water. It was tall and shimmering, and at that moment was the most appetizing thing I could have ever thought of. Evelyn held it up to my mouth, and I drank in large gulps. The water helped me stay conscious, but I still felt as if everything was slower. Especially the train. The train was moving far too slow.

 

I felt Evelyn's hands on my face, and I felt her sweet kiss on my cheek. She whispered in my ear: “It's okay, Adam, go to sleep. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

 

That was the last thing I remember before I curled myself up on the booth's seat, and drifted off into sweet, caressing sleep.

4: The Cowboy

“In all your dwelling places the very cities will become devastated and the high places themselves will become desolated, in order that they may lie devastated and your altars may lie desolated and actually be broken and your dungy idols may be actually made to cease and your incense stands cut down and your works wiped out” - Ezekiel 6:6

 

I awoke feeling better than I had been in a day. I was fully conscious, and felt well rested. I poked my head up to peer over the table, and saw Evelyn in a slumber of her own. I didn't want to wake her, so I slowly and quietly sat up in my seat. I yawned in the quietest way I could, and looked to my left. The man that had opened the door for us was asleep in his booth as well. Then I looked to my right.

 

The landscape had changed from a bombed out, destroyed city to a desert plain. I took a long stare into the distance. I felt like I could see for miles. I saw the sun starting to set under the plain. The sun cast a brilliant amalgam of red and orange across the sky. The highest sky I could see was beginning to turn a purple color. I smiled a faint smile at this spectacular sight.

 

I soon saw that the train we were on was coming up on a horse that was galloping beside the tracks. The speed at which the train and the horse were going allowed the train to gain on the horse slowly, inch by inch, and was fitting to give me an excellent view. I saw the horse's tail fly in the breeze as he ran, and soon it became apparent someone was riding it.

 

The man that was riding the horse looked like your classic cowboy. Soon, my face met his in a perfect parallel. He wore sunglasses, so I couldn't see his eyes. He kept the same, disillusioned face on the entire time I was looking at him. It didn't occur to me then, but now I can't help feeling that he was dead upon his horse. Not the type of dead you see in tombs, but the type of dead that you see when someone has seen too much. Not physically dead, but mentally aloof and vacant.

 

Suddenly ruins began to appear along the line. Scraps of metal lay sprawled out across the desert. Then larger structures began to appear. Burned out gas stations, broken homes and cars lay twisted and wrecked everywhere. Everything was blurred in a gray, murky color as the sun began to fall beneath the plains. I saw a wooden, splintered sign just to the outside of the tracks. The sign welcomed me to Hastings, and was followed by more desolated structures. I studied the trashed state of the structures I saw, and realized at that moment that the riots spared no town, not even Hastings.

 

Now, Evelyn began to wake in a drowsy haze, and I welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek. She smiled at me, and held my hand. I told her we had entered Hastings. Hand in hand, we both watched the twisted metal and sprawling wreckage darken as the sun began to fade. The second day of the rest of our lives came to a close as the train slowed to a stop in the Hastings Train Station.

5: The Dead Flag Blues (Outro)

“There exist companions disposed to break one another to pieces, but there exists a friend sticking closer than a brother” - Proverbs 18:24

 

We exited the train together, hand in hand, and walked through the station building. It was remarkably well kept, especially in the destruction that most of the city was encompassed in. Exiting the building brought a familiar sight, run down or burnt down buildings and houses, with cars lying tossed aside as if they were toys for some giant child.

 

We saw other people, some in matted clothes, others in unscathed ones. They kept looking at me, looking down and then looking into my eyes. I must have looked ghastly. My leg had continued throbbing in incessant pain, but I was reassured by Evelyn that the survivor camp had medical help. She asked the others if they were heading towards the camp, which they were, and we followed them.

 

The camp was quite literally a campsite, where tents sat and individual, controlled fires burnt to give light and heat. We were greeted by a very thin man, who led us to a large tent, in which someone seemed to be passing out bowls of soup. He gave us our own tent, which we would have to set up ourselves, and a couple of bowls of soup. He ran to get a bandage for my leg while I wolfed down my bowl of soup.

 

And that was when I recognized someone else under the tent. I heard his voice, and immediately turned around to see another old friend of mine, Jackson. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he slowly turned to face me. No words were exchanged when we met eyes, only a cry of happiness and a warm embrace. He, Evelyn, and I had all went to the same college in New Mexico.

 

As we caught up over another bowl of soup, and someone began bandaging my leg, he told us that his father, a Sergeant in the military, was sending a helicopter to airlift him to Fort Worth, Texas. His father refused to participate in the revolt repressions, so he and others within the Military who felt as he did formed a brigade that served only to help survivors. Jackson said that he would be fine if we joined him, but that it was to be kept quiet, for fear that others my try and swamp the helicopter as it came.

 

We planned to leave for the Eastern side of Hastings, in which the helicopter would land, in the evening of the next day. I knew then that the three of us, old friends forced together in trying times, would survive. I wouldn't have changed that moment for the entire world, as if there was a world to change it for. I never felt closer to anyone than I did Evelyn and Jackson on that day. I remember seeing another New Mexico flag that night. It was still dead at the top of it's rusted pole, but I had never felt more alive.

6: Nothing's Alrite In Our Lives

“Also, he ordered us to preach to the people and to give a thorough witness that this is the One decreed by God to be the judge of the living and the dead.” - Acts 10:42

 

“Are ye going out?”

 

“Us?” I responded to the voice, not even knowing who it belonged to. I turned to see a relatively old Jamaican man with a sign in his hand that read: Repent, for God sends his Judgment! Next to him a much younger man stood playing a melancholy tune on the bagpipes that he held.

 

“Yes, are ye going out?” He asked us again.

 

“Yes, but...” I answered. Out of nowhere the man interrupted me.

 

“I wish ye peace on your journey, wherever ye may travel. But tell all whom ye pass, that in deese tryin' times there is but one answer. And there will I be, preachin' his good word. But praise God for my and yours salvation, all we have left is god! If ye do not have de lord Jesus Christ, ye have but nothing in dis world! Nothing's alright in our life if we do not have god! Praise the lord for ye safety and salvation, praise god!”

 

“Thank you, very much” I said to him. I bowed to show my respect, as there was nothing else I could think of to do but that, and walked with Evelyn and Jackson. The bagpipes seemed to play us off as we went. The sun began to set on Hastings as we left for the East edge of the town.

7: The Sad Mafioso

“Even though I walk in the valley of deep shadow, I fear nothing bad, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff are the things that comfort me.” - Psalms 23: 4

 

The sun dipped under the sky, casting a darkness upon the city. Evelyn, Jackson, and I were walking the two mile walk it took to get to the East edge of Hastings. The city limits encompassed a large amount of land, but most of the civilization was centered in the middle, where the city was. We were just beginning to exit the city itself.

 

The twisted metal structure that was once a building, possibly an apartment complex, loomed eerily over us, casting it's dark shadow that stretched itself as far as it could go. My fever began to kick in heavily again, throwing me into a state of agony. Evelyn held my hand tightly as we traversed the dark city. Finally, we came to the road that would lead us out of the main city altogether and into the desert, where, at the city limits, a helicopter sent by Jackson's father would pick us up.

 

My fever began to make everything very hazy. I asked Evelyn if I looked okay. She told me I looked relatively fine, but that she could tell my fever was bothering me ever more so. As the sun dipped lower and lower, the sky became bluer and bluer, especially where we were headed. The sun was to the back of us at this point, and we were coming up on where the city ended and the desert began.

 

We began to hear someone to our right. We were greeted with the sight of an old, run-down shanty, only made worse by the riots. There was an old, dressed up man sitting outside. His suit, although torn and ragged, made him known as a member of the mafia. Mafia members weren't uncommon in New Mexico. There was much to be made in the drug trade. Not even upstanding mafia members got out of the apocalypse the same. He was mumbling incoherently to himself when we approached him. He looked upon us with dead, soulless eyes, and said something I'll never forget:

 

“We're taking over the country as of tomorrow. All right? That's it... I've taken a contract on the head of the CIA. He's dead in six months unless he quits. This is it... I don't trust nobody. I'd kill you all as soon as I look at you. I've got a hammer... Where's my hammer?...”

 

I may have been in a fever-induced haze, but I knew what he meant by “Hammer.” We sped up our walking quickly, and left the sad mafioso to mumble to himself. He got up and went inside the shanty afterward. I began to feel weaker, and my leg began to sting. My breathing became labored and I leaned upon Evelyn to keep myself from falling.

 

We were leaving the city behind us, now, and I looked behind me to take a look at it. Everything was so hazy to begin with, as a result of the heat, but my fever rendered the city as a gray splotch around a spectacular orange and red skyline. I looked forward now, into the desert. The sky was blue and beginning to turn darker. We were all silent as we continued walking.

 

I suddenly started to feel as if we were being watched. I looked to my right and then to my left, then behind me. Nothing was on either side of me, save for Evelyn and Jackson, and the city still sat, eerily looming behind us. Nobody was following us, and nobody was watching us, but I still felt as if there was some sort of presence beyond ourselves, and that this presence was hostile. I began shivering at the thought of it as a cold chill ran down my spine.

 

My made me feel nauseated and my leg was now burning with an intense pain. I felt so tired, and trekking through the hot desert only made me feel worse. I still could not shake the feeling that someone was watching us. I began to breathe even more heavily than I was. At that moment, I lost my strength, and I fell down the ground with a groan. I felt as if I could fall asleep right there, and if it weren't for my onset of paranoia, I would have. Evelyn and Jackson knelt down next to me, and turned me over. I was now facing in the direction of the city.

 

Jackson gave me a drink from his canteen, and Evelyn hugged me tightly. My eyes watered up with tears from the pain, and I sat weeping as she held me. Jackson got up and just stared into the distance, shaking his head with pity. Evelyn hummed a tune, trying to calm me down. I started to calm down slightly, and my crying ceased after a bit.

 

Suddenly, my paranoid feelings began to well up inside me and surge out. My eyes widened and my breathing intensified. I began to see something in the distance, moving down the road. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and my fever began to quell. My leg didn't hurt in the least. But I didn't care about any of that. I was just too terrified at what I was seeing in the distance to even acknowledge the changes.

 

Soon, the figure became clearer, and my fears became realized. The mafioso from the shanty we passed on our way out of town was running with a head full of steam, and a he was brandishing a handgun. His eyes were red with hate and his teeth clenched in anger. Had he really chased after us this entire time? He'd have to be maniacally insane to do something so ridiculous! I wasn't waiting around to find out, though, as I bolted upwards from my prone position and yelled.

 

I began to run as fast as I could possibly run. Adrenaline flowed throughout my entire body, and I felt no pain as I began to run off of my injured leg. Evelyn and Jackson exclaimed in a mix of confusion and worry, and began running after me. Tears rushed from my eyes, and I could not stop screaming. I looked behind me, and saw the mafioso begin to lift his gun, aiming at me as I ran. I awaited the gunshots, but they never came.

 

I kept on running, hearing Evelyn and Jackson yelling for me to stop. I couldn't. Not with that man behind me, ready to kill me at any moment. The thought of death made the adrenaline pump even harder than before, and as a result, I ran faster and faster, breathing in large, puffing heaves. Evelyn and Jackson still kept up chasing me, however. I had gained no ground on them.

 

And then I looked behind me to see if I had eluded the mafioso. But there was no mafioso. Just Evelyn, Jackson, and the desolated city behind them. No mafioso, no gun, no red eyes, nothing. I was so shocked I lost my footing and fell to the dirt in a swift crash. I didn't cry out in pain or in fear, I was just too shocked. I turned over and faced the city just as Evelyn and Jackson caught up with me and knelt down next to me. Sure enough, no mafioso.

 

A barrage of questions came from Evelyn and Jackson, and their overlapped voices made it impossible to understand a word they were saying. I shushed them loudly, and continued to stare off into the distance at the city. I must have only sat there for about thirty seconds, but it felt like an eternity. I couldn't understand. Everything, the paranoia, the mafioso, it all looked and felt so real to me. Was I going insane?

 

I explained the problem to Evelyn, and she assured me that the mafioso was not coming for us. He had went back into his shanty, and that was the last she and Jackson had seen of him. I realized then that I had been hallucinating. My fever took a greater toll on me than I had thought. I began to calm down as Evelyn hugged me. Jackson gave me another drink of water, and my adrenaline began to quell.

I got up slowly, and faced the city. My leg began to hurt again, and I wrapped my arms around Evelyn and Jackson, the only people that mattered to me anymore. I coughed and moaned as my head began to hurt as well. We turned, without words, and began walking again. The entire episode had made us cover a large amount of ground in a short time, and we were almost near the edge of Hastings.

 

I took weight off of my leg, and used Evelyn and Jackson as my crutches. I couldn't even begin to thank them for bearing with me throughout this long walk. I knew then that they really would always be there for me when I needed help the most. I owed them one, big time. I put my head on Evelyn's shoulder and cried silently with joy. The sky was now a very dark purple as the sun covered it's glorious head with the desert plains.

 

 

8: Drugs In Tokyo

“For our part we by spirit are eagerly waiting for the hoped-for righteousness as a result of faith” - Galatians 5:5

 

“They have a large barge with a radio antenna tower on it that they would charge up and discharge”

 

We heard a voice say those words, mumbled as they were, and nearly jumped out of our shoes. Jackson pulled a walkie-talkie out of his back pocket, and that confirmed the source of the voice. He radioed in a confused response, and waited for the reply. All that came out was static.

 

We had now reached the point that the helicopter was going to pick us up, and we were very anxious for it to come. A very, very small town lay past the border on the right of us. Jackson had said that the helicopter pilot would radio in when it was close to the edge of Hastings, but from the way Jackson was acting, this message was not what he was waiting for. He inferred that it was just an interference.

 

“They have a large barge with a radio antenna tower on it that they would charge up and discharge”

 

Again, the same garbled message emitted from the walkie-talkie. We were all so confused as to what that meant, or why it was being said.

 

“They have a large barge with a radio antenna tower on it...”

 

This time, the message was cut off by static. I looked to the left of me, at the desert plain, and I began to see it. A huge freight-liner, complete with an extremely large antenna tower on it, moved across the desert like it would through the sea. Now it was confirmed: I was hallucinating, and pretty badly. The antenna tower then emitted a large, light-blue light that became brighter and brighter. The light then shot off of the antenna tower in a huge wave of energy, and then powered down again.

 

I had never had such vivid hallucinations before. I had even tried LSD once, on a field trip to Japan I took in my “Foreign Cultures” class in college. My colleagues' idea of studying the culture was to find the best acid Tokyo had to offer. I never was a guy to use drugs, but I decided, “What the heck? Why not?”I tried it with him in an apartment, but I only took a very small dose. Even those hallucinations paled in comparison to the ones I was having today.

 

My fever-induced haze had begun to return, and I began to feel weak once again. I decided to sit down and rest for a moment, but that was interrupted by another message from the walkie-talkie. Jackson sent a joyful reply back through the walkie-talkie, and smiled with satisfaction. He pointed to the east, and there I saw a light, twinkling in the darkness. The stars may have been plentiful, and very gorgeous, but nothing was more beautiful to me than seeing the helicopter's light shine on us from afar.

 

9: Black Helicopter

“...My shield and my horn of salvation, my secure height, and my place for flight, my savior; from violence you save me” - 2 Samuel 22:3

 

The black helicopter's whirring blades made a breeze as it begin to land on the desert floor, near us. Static emitted from Jackson's walkie-talkie as it landed. The breeze felt euphoric to me, as I felt as if I was on fire. The fever combined with the heat had caused me to hallucinate heavily. However, it finally seemed help was here. I smiled and stood next to Evelyn. Holding my hand, she looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, so happy to have her by my side.

The blades began to stop whirring, and the dust it was churning began to settle. The helicopter doors opened, and out came four men dressed in army apparel and brandishing rifles. They approached Jackson, and told him that the helicopter would need some gas before it was going to take off again. Two of the men began to walk towards the small town next to our position, likely to try and find some fuel.

 

A couple more men exited the cockpit of the helicopter and ordered the others to get a gurney for me, as I was in need of medical attention. I then heard a very irritating noise, a high-pitched buzzing. A fly was floating around my face, and I swatted it down with one swift motion. One of the men thanked me, telling me that that fly had been in the helicopter and had bothered everyone the entire trip. I chuckled. I was happy to help.

 

10: Divorce and Fever

“Indeed, he wondered at their lack of faith...” - Mark 6:6

 

I needed assistance from Jackson to get onto the gurney, as my leg was hurting awfully. I thanked him as I laid my head on the pillow that was provided for me. I suddenly smelled something peculiar in the air, and saw smoke rising to the right of me. I noticed the two men that provided me the gurney had two small cigarettes in their mouth. The smell wasn't tobacco, though, and it occurred to me that they were smoking marijuana. The man on the left turned to the man on the right.

 

“Do you think the end of the world is coming?” He asked.

 

“Well, the preacher man says it's the end of time, and America's rivers are running dry.” He responded.

 

I knew that saying from somewhere, but I couldn't remember. At this point, the two men who left to get fuel returned with a woman and a large drum of gas. She began helping them siphon the gas from the drum into the helicopter. The men began speaking again.

 

“The interest is up, and the stock market's down...” The man on the right began. He was interrupted by the woman.

 

“Spare change?” She asked.

 

“No, I'm sorry Ma'am, we don't.” He said. “You better be careful walking around here this late at night! It's a perfect place to get mugged.”

 

The woman nodded, and returned to the barrel of gas. When the men stopped siphoning the gas, the woman took the barrel and began walking back towards the small town. The two men that were smoking returned to their conversation.

 

“But do you think the end of the world is coming?” The man on the left asked.

 

“No. So say's the preacher man, but I don't go by what he says” The man on the right responded.

 

“Indeed” The man on the left agreed.

 

I couldn't believe it. How could they say that? Everything I had ever known was destroyed, and only the love of my girlfriend and my best friend were keeping me standing, and yet these men were convinced the world was not ending? In what world would a pilot let his attendants smoke marijuana? An ending one, that's what. I felt enraged at those two, but the anger made my fever worse. Luckily, my attention left those two men when the pilot said we were ready to go.

 

The pilot and co-pilot lifted me and the gurney and placed me in the back storage hatch of the helicopter. It had a window on the door, and on either side of me. The co-pilot began an IV on me, and gave me a dose of morphine and antibiotics to help my leg. The euphoria associated with the morphine and the complete divorce from pain my leg and head were having felt as if an angel was blanketing me in peace.

 

Evelyn and Jackson waved at me from outside the hatch, and I waved back at them. They both walked around to the side of the helicopter, to the main bay. I heard the doors shut and the pilot begin to speak. Mechanical arms reached up and locked the gurney into place, so that I would not slide around as the helicopter flew. Now I felt much safer. I was being overtaken by the strength of the morphine, and fell into a deep, happy sleep, just as the helicopter began taking off.

11: Dead Methney

“And they will actually go forth and look upon the carcasses of the men that were transgressing against me; for the very worms upon them will not die and their fire itself will not be extinguished, and they must become something repulsive to all flesh” - Isaiah 66:24

 

I woke up in a euphoric daze, with a large yawn to help me wake up a bit, and noticed that I was still in the back of the helicopter. The whirring of it's blades confirmed that it was still in the air. I got up from the gurney, and peered out of the window, pulling my IV carrier with me. It was still nighttime outside, but there was an ominous orange glow coming from the distance.

 

I heard the co-pilot say to everyone in the cabin that we were coming up on a city named Metheny, which was close to Fort Worth, our destination. He also stated that we may feel turbulence, as we were coming up on a large storm. I saw lighting illuminate the nighttime sky for a split second, and heard light thunder off to the distance.

 

The helicopter began to lean towards the direction of the orange glow in the distance, and the leaning movement felt amazing to me. I closed my eyes and began to drift with the motion, happily indulging in my euphoria. I opened my eyes and looked out the window. Lighting flashed again, and I noticed that I now could see the ground, thanks to the angle the helicopter was leaning.

 

I tried to look for the orange glow again, but it soon became apparent that I didn't have to look. I saw the ground get brighter, with a dark shade of orange. Whatever was causing the orange glow, the helicopter was coming up on it. Brighter and brighter the ground became, until I could start to make out the streets and buildings below. Not a second after that, I met eyes with a truly harrowing scene.

 

The orange glow was caused by fires, burning strongly within several buildings below the helicopter. It was so bright I began to notice people, running around in the streets. Some of them carried torches, and others carried weapons. They kept on firing these weapons at anything that was undamaged around them. I couldn't understand why.

 

I noticed several flashes coming from a building that was broken down, but not burning. I couldn't see anything other than the two flashes, so I returned my attention to the people. A realization dawned on me as a saw two of the people that had been running and shooting now on the ground, motionless, surely dead. I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was still hallucinating. I felt my head and leg, and realized I couldn't be hallucinating anything, all my pain was gone, and my fever felt much lower.

 

Suddenly, I saw a large explosion coming from the north side of the town. I then watched in wonder as many people ran down the street from the north, running as fast as they could possibly go in a southward direction. I finally saw what it was they were running away from when multiple flashes came from the north and several of the runners fell to the street.

 

A huge tank, rolling along the road, chased the people, it's machine gunners firing at them. The tank began to slow, and finally came to a stop after a short time. The main gun on the tank moved slightly upward, and fired. A crack of thunder boomed at the same time the shell smacked the side of a tall building. The building had already been fired upon numerous times, and some of it collapsed. The fires raged on as lighting broke out in the background.

 

The city started to get further away, so that I could barely see it anymore, so that it was just an orange glow off in the distance once again. I was completely aghast at what I had just witnessed. During Tempe's destruction, I had never left my house, so I never saw the horrors that occurred there, aside from the aftermath of the whole event. Seeing that happen here, now, was almost too much to bear.

 

A sudden jerking movement slammed me to the floor of the cargo hold, and I held on the side of the gurney as tight as I could. The co-pilot radioed to everyone to hold on for dear life, although his voice was heavily garbled by static. We were now feeling the full force of this storm, and it was a forceful one. I held on to the gurney with my right hand, and cradled my IV carrier against my chest with my left arm.

 

The turbulence was shaking the helicopter with an extreme force, as if it had a grudge against it. It was like the helicopter was a fish in a bag, and the owner of said bag was relentlessly shaking it forcefully. I began to feel panicked, and I was sure my end would come at the hands of this storm. Shaking... Shaking... I felt as if I was in the gaping maw of hell itself. Lighting flashed and thunder roared all around. I knew I was going to meet Death now. Thrashing... Shaking...

 

Relief came, rather unexpectedly, not five seconds after I had resigned myself to the horrible fate that I felt awaited me. I couldn't believe it. If the fever or my leg didn't kill me, then a heart attack soon would. I looked out my window as a fantastic lighting bolt sparked across the sky, in a pattern like that of a giant, leafless tree.

 

I breathed, heavily, in and out, and heard the co-pilot over the intercom, asking if everyone was okay. I yelled at the top of my lungs that I was. It felt so great to be alive. The co-pilot, chuckling, told me over the intercom that he was glad I was safe. The feeling of relief mixed with the general euphoria of the morphine, and I laughed silently to myself. I stretched both of my fists upward in victory. Through all of this turmoil, I was surviving. I had cheated death yet again, but this time the valley of death seemed miles away.

 

12: Kicking Horse On Broken Hill

“At that time the righteous ones will shine as brightly as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let him that has ears listen.” - Matthew 13:43

 

The morphine was, at this point, wearing off, and only a slight remnant of the euphoric bliss that I had become accustomed to remained. Now, the feverish haze which previously had plagued me had returned yet again. My leg began to hurt, but not like it had been earlier.

 

My hallucinations began to return, but not in a visual sense. Now, I was hearing a distant, almost melodic voice say something indecipherable to me. It couldn't be the co-pilot, the voice was not accompanied by static. The voice sounded like it would be joined by a thick mist, as if a ghost were speaking.

 

But, as quickly as it had come, the voice faded away, back into the figurative mist from whence it came. I looked out of the window and another light could be seen, not orange as was the burning city of Metheny, but white, with a shade of yellow mixed in. It was apparent to me that this light was being created from an artificial source, which was interesting, for not many places had electricity anymore. It had to be Fort Worth.

 

The co-pilot confirmed my suspicion when he radioed his arrival codes to a terminal tower. I could hear the tower controller radio back his approval of clearance, as all radio transmissions were broadcast over the intercom. I peered out of the window as the complex came into view. There were well-kept, unscathed buildings, the first of which I had seen since I left my house two and a half days ago. Giant field lights cluttered the area, casting their white light onto a landing pad, which the helicopter was now leaning towards.

 

Elsewhere within the complex, hangars made for storage of planes and other airborne vehicles dotted the expanses, along with a hospital, living quarters, and a recreational building, complete with a gym and a weight room. I could tell because the roof of the building was made up of skylights and nothing but skylights. We flew near it, and I could see a group of people playing a game of basketball. Even now, people still loved sports.

 

Past the recreational building, I saw that a line of soldiers had formed, facing a large hill. On top of the hill, which had a line of dirt patches circle the middle of it, there was a man, presumably a Captain, on top of a horse. The horse kicked twice on top of the broken hill, and the men began to march in a straight line, parallel to the hospital. I imagined the rhythm and beat to the marching in my head, and could almost hear the music, as if my thoughts had come to life right next to me.

 

I began to feel great. The realization that Evelyn, Jackson, and I had actually accomplished what we set out made me feel a great sense of happiness and satisfaction, almost to the point where I wanted to punch the air in happiness and lift my skinny fists like antennas to heaven.

 

The helicopter began to slow to a stop, and began to lower. Just then, my momentary happiness fled from me as a searing pain shot from my leg and into the rest of my body. I pulled my pant leg up, delicately, as the helicopter began to lower itself onto the landing pad. I could tell by the dampness of my pant leg that the wound was infected, and badly so. It began to bleed as I lifted my pant leg. Any touch whatsoever would make it sear with pain and bleed slightly.

 

I can't describe how bad the wound looked. If the wound belonged to someone else, I would be able to elaborate on it, but there's just something peculiar when it's your own. I start to feel sick when I think about it, so to describe it would be unbearable. The helicopter landed smoothly on top of the landing pad, and I was grateful. Any thud would've knocked me over and I surely would've passed out from the pain. The haze got even worse now, and I climbed back up onto my gurney, wincing as I did.

 

Light began to flood the cargo hold as the door lowered. I had to squint to make out a silhouette standing there. It was a man, but I couldn't tell if it was Jackson or any of the pilots. Suddenly, Evelyn came through the light, hugged my tightly, and asked me about the trip. I barely got a word out before I heard the co-pilots voice, outside of the helicopter, calling for a medic team. Evelyn looked at me, then down at my exposed leg, then bad up at me. She looked at me with worried, yet hopeful and loving eyes, and told me I was to go into surgery.

13: String Loop Manufactured During Downpour

“Now as for me, I heard, but I could not understand; so that I said 'Oh my lord, what will be the final part of these things?” - Daniel 12:8

 

The medic team arrived about 5 minutes later. Around that time, it started to rain, and heavily. This area of the storm wasn't as booming and as full of lightning as the one we had flew through a short time before, but it was pretty strong in a precipitation sense. The medics had brought large umbrellas, as they had apparently anticipated the rain, and held them high, as if to make one large tarp over me when I was rolled out.

 

Jackson had joined Evelyn and I in the cargo hold, and I began to feel nervous. The only surgery I had ever undergone was a wisdom teeth removal, and that was pretty tame compared to surgery on a heavily wounded leg. I asked Evelyn and Jackson if they were planning to amputate it, but they didn't know. They both held my hands as I expressed my worries to them.

 

Shortly after, I, on top of the gurney, was being taken by the medic team, presumably to the nearby hospital. Evelyn kissed me and told me I'd be perfectly fine. Jackson gave me a hug and wished me good luck. I could never repay them for all that they had done for me. I smiled, and cried a tear of joy as I rolled away from them on the gurney, with the help of the medic team.

 

As I was being escorted, not one of the medic members said a word. All I could hear was the downpour of rain from the storm. I noticed one of the men had a clipboard, and on the clipboard, there was a note which read “Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada”. I didn't understand what that meant, but I remember Jackson saying something, on our walk to the edge of Hastings, about riot rescues in Canada that were being carried out by his father's brigade. That must have been the codename.

 

“Where are you going? Where are you going?”

 

A voice, distant and distorted, sang these words to me in a soothing voice. It couldn't have come from any of the medics, they were all too close to me. I remember hearing a similar sounding voice in the helicopter, and realized I was hearing things again.

 

“Where are you going? Where are you going?”

 

It was as if this voice was on a string loop, like the ones from old records, because it just kept singing that same sentence over and over to me. I heard nothing else from anyone, just the singing voice, and the pouring rain.

 

“Where are you going? Where are you going?”

 

I couldn't understand for the life of me why the voice was asking me that question. I knew where I was going: The Operating Room. But maybe it was deeper than that. Could it be asking where I was going in life? The truth was, no one knew where they were going nowadays. All I knew was that Evelyn and Jackson would be by my side every step of the way.

 

“Where are you going? Where are you going?”

 

Finally, we had reached the hospital. The voice had stopped now, and only the downpour could be heard anymore. Two of the medics left the group and walked up to the double doors that made the entrance to the hospital. They opened the doors, and the rest of the medics wheeled me in. On the wall to my right was a beautiful mural brandishing the name of the hospital and the official rallying cry for the Fort Worth soldiers: “Fort Worth Army Base Medical Center: 'Allelujah, Don't Bend, Ascend!”

14: Unlisted Silence

“...But Jehovah is in his holy temple. Keep silence before him, all the earth!” - Habakkuk 2:20

 

I was in the operating room in a flash, as the medics were very fast and efficient. I wondered if that was because they were just fantastic at what they did or if they were scrambling to save my leg. I didn't want to think about that. They put a mask over my face, and I began to inhale the anesthetic that they were administering. I knew I wouldn't have to think about anything in a few seconds. The crazy thing is, I did.

 

My mind woke up mid-surgery. I couldn't feel anything or see anything, but I could hear the medics hard at work on my leg. I was half conscious, and I couldn't talk or move my body at all. I realized that this was likely just a side effect of the anesthetic, so I wasn't worried at all. The euphoria was immense, and I was just alone with it, and my thoughts.

 

After a short time, the sounds of the medics were drowned out by my own thoughts, and all was silent. I imagined myself floating on a cloud with Evelyn and Jackson, and wondered if they were in a waiting room somewhere within the hospital, eagerly awaiting my dismissal. It felt so great, even now, in this silence, to have people as wonderful as them with me. Now, I imagined vivid pictures and thoughts similar to the intense hallucinations I had been having, but now it was on my own terms, and it was great.

 

The silence was broken when a medic came through the door and let the head surgeon know that I was half conscious, according to a machine which was reading my brainwaves, and that more anesthetic should be administered, just in case I was feeling anything and couldn't let anyone know. The head surgeon agreed and sent for more anesthetic.

 

Minutes later, the euphoria that I was having became stronger, and I knew a new dose of anesthetic was flowing through me, which also meant I'd be unconscious in a few seconds. The last thing I heard was the head surgeon telling me that all was well, and that I'd see my friends soon.

 

15: J.L.H. Outro

“...But he that has endured to the end is the one that will be saved” - Matthew 10:22

 

I woke up later that morning, as sunlight welcomed my eyes. I was in a huge wash of euphoria, and I turned to my right to look outside. It was overcast, with the rays of the sun barely making it through the clouds. I looked even further to my right, and saw that the clock next to me read 11:34 A.M. I looked, now, below me, and there was my leg, bandaged, but still attached to my body. I lightly held my thigh, and smiled because I still had it.

 

The medics gave me a wheelchair, and told me I could leave when I wanted to, as long as it was before the end of the day. I, of course, wanted to leave immediately, for I had people expecting me. The medics had told me that “The General's Son”, and “A Young Woman”, were waiting for me outside the hospital. I was so elated, I nearly floated into the wheelchair. One medic, a short, strong man, wheeled me out of my room and to an elevator that took us down to the ground floor.

 

He held one of the entrance doors open for me, and I wheeled myself out of the hospital. I was greeted with happy greetings and the smiling faces of my girlfriend and bestfriend. I had never felt so alive, knowing that in spite of everything we had gone through, we had survived it together, and endured to the end. We were now safe and sound; the United States' government was under the impression that Fort Worth had been deserted when the riots began, and, thanks to a couple of expertly doctored satellite images, it would stay that way.

 

Now, I began to feel that because I was saved, others should, nay, must have that opportunity. I told Jackson to tell his father that as soon as my leg had fully healed, I would be honored to help him make sure others got the same chance I did. Jackson had a hunch I would say that, and said that it would be done tenfold. I asked Evelyn if she would join me in the service, and she agreed without hesitation. We kissed and held each others' hands, as Jackson put his arms around the both of us.

 

We were able to see, from where we were loitering, two F-22 fighter planes being prepped for flight at a nearby hangar, and watched the spectacle in silence. One plane had the writing “Yanqui U.X.O” on the side of it, while the other had the writing “J.L.H.” I knew not what either of them meant, probably the initials of someone important to the pilot. My dreamlike state of euphoria heightened as I began to dwell on the fact that I had survived the end, and the two most important people in my life had survived it with me.

 

Other soldiers, apparently feeling our collective happiness, joined us watching the F-22's prepare to take flight. Jackson's father, a silent, strong, tall, and slightly gray-haired man, approached everyone from behind. He placed his hands on the shoulders of Jackson and I, and we smiled. Evelyn held my hand and wept with joy, silently. The entire group erupted into claps, cheers, and whistles as the two F-22's took off, flying smoothly into the cloudy distance, as the sun began to come into view.

16: Epilogue

“The little one himself shall become a thousand, and the small one a mighty nation...” - Isaiah 60:22

 

Almost seven years later, a lot has changed in the world. I joined the rescue service about a month after my surgery, and served for around a year, finding and helping those who were lost or sick in the apocalyptic state the world was engulfed in. Evelyn and I got engaged not a week after my surgery, and we were married by Jackson's father, the General, two months after that. Evelyn, Jackson, and I saved around 160 people throughout our service, and I still don't feel like I've re-payed my debt.

 

After the riots, governments everywhere were overtaken and destroyed. The firepower of the nations was no match for the combined strength of billions of people. After the corrupt governments were destroyed, those that survived the riots installed their own governments, the likes of which no man had ever seen before. No monarchy's, republic's, dictatorship's, no fascist, communist, or capitalist regimes, nothing of the previous world.

 

So far, nothing bad has happened, save for a few revolts by former governments. Every nation decided to help each other, and, as of right now, we're all trying to help each other out and make each other better. I'm inclined to say that it's nothing short of a miracle.

 

Evelyn and I had a child named “Moya” about nine months after our service ended. She's five now, and I'm glad the world she knows is a happy and just one, not the horrific and violent one that her parents once lived in. Jackson married and moved to New York to help rebuild the city. His father left Fort Worth to help people overseas.

 

Evelyn and I go to visit Jackson and his wife every other month of the year, starting in January. He and his wife, Bailey, come to visit us every other month of the year starting in February. We live on the outskirts of Dallas now, and even though Dallas still lies partly in ruins, we both love it here. We live in a beautiful house, which we earned due to our service, and we grow our own food out on the plains. We are self-sufficient and happy, and we don't seem to be aging a day.

 

So now, the only question remaining is, was “The Machine” created by god or man? The answer to that question is that there is no answer. I have my own opinion, but I feel it best not to say it, for who am I to pass it off as truth? The beauty of it all is, who created “The Machine” may not matter. It says much to me that I don't know the answer, but don't need to either. My experiences are enough for me. Maybe, years from now, I'll know the answer, but right now, the fact that I don't know may be for the best.

 

So why was this story told if I do not know the answer to the question? I told it so that people may know my experiences, so that people may know what I, and the people I loved, went through. Maybe one day they'll find the answer to the question for themselves through these writings. Granted, I am but one person, but should my story give just one person the answer they need, I feel I have accomplished my goal.

 

The question I have answered for myself, remembering the hallucinatory voice I heard long ago, is:

 

“Where are you going?”

 

I'm happy to say that I am going in the direction that I'm sure will my life, the lives of the people I love, and the lives of the next generation, wonderful lives to live, even unto infinity.