Hoping For Something

 

The marshy landscape stretched endlessly in front of him. He was standing in mud almost to the top of his gum boots. Every time he took a laborious step forward some of the muck would pour down his boots and find its way right down to his toes. It was almost dusk and the sky was an ethereal pink. A cold breeze was blowing across the soggy land creating ripples wherever the marsh gave way to water. John felt a cold shiver pass down his slight frame as he tried to keep warm by pulling his coat together tightly with both his hands.

It started to rain. A cold persistent drizzle that fell like a fine spray. John cursed under his breath.

"Damn, that was all that I needed! I might as well be waterboarded."

He was aware that he was amongst the lucky ones. The whole planet was largely submerged and life as it used to exist on Earth was fast becoming a memory. Climate change and global warming had long crossed the tipping point and everywhere was flooded. In some places, the water rose twenty to thirty feet above the land and at some places, it was a few inches-but everywhere was covered.

Nations had disappeared from the face of the earth like they had never existed. There was death everywhere. Death of humans, animals, birds, plants, forests, farmland, infrastructure, cities, villages and towns. The signs of destruction were largely out of sight covered in water and mud, except at the places where the water was shallow and you could see the relics of destruction-the roof of what was once a proud house, a flattened-out automobile, the ruined fuselage of an aeroplane, parts of skeletons of what were once living beings. Above all was the all-pervading stench of death.

The stench was something that John was used to. It didn’t bother him. Nor did the fact that he might be the only human alive. All he knew was that he was alive and it was his duty to find a way and means to survive another day. He would forage for something to eat all the time. A piece of fallen fruit was his best hope. He didn’t have the strength to hunt. There were a few animals here and there in the marshy land and plenty of waterfowl, but there was nothing he could use to fashion any kind of weapon.

He was thankful for the rain on account of the fact that he could stick his tongue out and try and quench his immense thirst. The patches of water stretching all the way to the horizon were not fit to be considered a source of drinking water. There was simply too much contamination in them because of the dead and decaying matter they contained.

John was a man with a steely resolve and determination. In normal times, he would be the kind of person people would look up to-a natural leader. Someone, who would one day make president or prime minister. But here, he was in an apocalyptic world, which he would not have imagined possible a mere ten years back. He tried formulating a plan in his weak and enfeebled mind.

“What can I possibly do, now? Keep walking, till I find someplace where there is dry ground? Maybe it is large enough to support others like me who have survived? Who knows, we might be able to get together and create some kind of a life? Get a fire going to keep ourselves warm and try and build some thatched huts?"

He held on to that hope and trudged across the muddy plains mile after mile. At times he would get into parts which were as deep as him, and he would have to exert every ounce of his depleting strength to swim out of danger. He knew that if this happened a few times more he would drown on account of sheer exhaustion. 

John thought he saw a large tree loom ahead of him on the horizon. It was dark now and the moon was up. He thought that his mind was playing tricks on him. As he moved closer to what he initially thought was a mirage,  took on the definite shape of an oak tree its twisted leafless branches stretching out towards the moon as if to grasp it. AND IT STOOD ON DRY LAND! Faint with relief John staggered onto the dry land and threw himself down on it and lay prostrate with his face in the grass that grew abundantly around him.

He thought he hear a sound-a human sound and turned onto his back. A tall well-built woman wearing a garment fashioned out of some kind of animal skin stood over him with a large axe in her hands which were raised high above her head as she prepared to strike him on his head. Speechless and transfixed with fear, he watched as the moonlight glinted off its steel blade and the woman struck with all the force she could summon.

John yelled at the top of his voice as he felt a crackling sound emerge from the middle of his skull. A searing pain ripped through his body from the top of his skull to the top of his toes. He opened his eyes and saw the calendar on the wall opposite his bed show the date- 10^th August 2023. The clock next to it showed it was 10 am.

"Damn, I must have hit my head against the headboard. God what an awful dream!”

“That’s what you get when you go on a drinking binge with your buddies,” said his wife smilingly as she came into the room bearing a tray with two cups of tea.

“After you came back from your college reunion party last night, you crashed like a log and snored the night away. Here, this herb tea should cure your hangover.”

"Thanks, honey. I better get dressed for the office. Have an important meeting to attend."

“That may have to wait,” his wife replied.

“Why?”

“It has been raining incessantly since yesterday and all the streets are waterlogged. The city authorities have declared a holiday."

“What?” said John, his skin an ashen- white.

“What’s the matter honey, you can always work from home.”