The Man In The Ruins

A fiction short story — What could be worse than an apocalypse?

It has been a rough few months. Total destruction, they called it. I’m standing in what used to be called Washington D.C. Dust has covered the ruins of this beautiful city, which I called home. Well, not exactly. I only spent around 7 years here. I was originally born in New York City. The most beautiful place on earth, I tell you. Wonderful people. All of them.

Funny. Those two cities used to be so different. But now they both look exactly the same. A barren wasteland. Ruins decorating the once beautiful skyline in what is left of this country. I swipe dust off my gas mask as I stare at a huge crater where the White House used to stand. What a pity. It was a beautiful building.

A total nuclear war devastated our beautiful country. Well, we started it. Gotta give them that. They said mean things. They were evil people. And America stood up to these bullies. One thing led to another, things escalated, and then came the fire and fury from all sides.

I really thought that they were bluffing. Hollow threats. We had so many fake news recently. But they weren’t bluffing. And our beautiful country being burned to the ground by nuclear weapons sadly was just as real. How could that happen? We have the mightiest and best military in the world. We had. We can’t change that now. But we can learn from our mistakes. And the American people are known to be resilient. We stand back up and keep on going.

Somehow, I survived. It must have been god’s calling. He chose to let me live. He knows that I mean well. I am not done yet. I made a promise. And I’ll keep it.

I slowly make my way down the crater. If I remember correctly, it should be buried somewhere to the west.

As I rummage through the debris on my search, a voice echoes through the barren wasteland.

“Another survivor? Hey, you!”

I look up, my hands still buried in the dirt.

A young man, maybe mid-twenty, stares at me from the top of the crater as I keep digging in the rubble. He doesn’t have a mask but wrapped a rag around his mouth as a makeshift scarf. I’m sure it works just as well. We’re both alive, aren’t we? He waves his hand, seemingly surprised to find me here.

“Hello there, fellow citizen.”, I respond.

“What are you doing out here? There’s nothing left. You can come with us. We’re looking for some food to take back home. We got a shelter set up where 8 of us are holed up for the time being. There aren’t many of us left. It’s always good to find other survivors.”

Nice people. Always have been. I nod at him, it would be impolite of me to turn down that invitation. And I admit that I felt a little lonely over the last few months. I’m not used to be on my own like this. I lost my family in the chaos. Now it’s just me. But I’ve got to keep going. I have a calling.

“You have my gratitude, but I first got to find something that should be buried around here somewhere. Please, wait a second, will you?”

He jumps over the rubble to come closer, curious about what I’m doing.

“What are you looking for? There’s nothing left. And this was the White House, nothing useful buried here. We need food and water. We should look for old supermarkets instead.” He looks at me as if I’m crazy. Patience, my friend.

“You will get your food and water. I just need something else first.” Now I got his curiosity. “Will you give me a hand?”

“Alright. But let’s hurry up. Or I’ll leave you here. People are relying on me.”

“Yeah, it’s a tough burden to bear, isn’t it?”

He nods. “I’ll do the best I can.”

“So do I. Trust me.”

We lift a broken pillar of concrete out of the way to reveal a big, broken chunk of wood.

“Is that?…”

“Yeah, the desk. This used to be the oval office.”

I swipe away some loose debris that covers the compartments.

As I reach for the compartment, he grabs my arm and gives me a confused look.

“Are you out here to plunder what’s left of our country? Why do you even care about that stuff?” He points into the dust-filled sky, the sun looming through the thick, dark clouds. “This is our present. We have to find food and water. Then we need to make a plan on how to survive in this shit-hole. Leave this stuff buried here. It’s never been any use to us. It’s the sole reason we’re in this mess.”

I admit, his speech hurt my feelings a little. But all’s not lost yet.

“I do have a plan.”, I respond, pulling my arm out of his grasp. “First I need this.”

Despite his aversion, he seems to take interest in the content of the desk as much as I am now. It’s a national treasure after all. I pull the compartment out of the rubble. In it, there’s a stack of paperwork, an old pin of the flag of the United States, as well as an old calendar, riddled with crappy handwriting and little doodles all over it. Everything is covered in dust.

The young man’s anticipation quickly turned into visible disappointment.

“I knew it. Only trash. Now that you got your souvenirs, can we go looking for food? Else I’ll leave you here.”

“Got it.”, I respond, grabbing the little pin from the compartment. “Now comes step two. There are always two steps to everything.”

He sighs. “What do you mean? We need food, water, and a plan for long term survival. In one step, if possible.”

“I know. Don’t worry so much, my friend. I have a plan. That’s where step two comes in. You will soon have plenty of water. And fresh food. For all of you. I can guarantee you that.”

The little pin looks gorgeous. The little flag is a bit dusty, but a strong wipe of my finger and it looks as good as new, reflecting the dim sunlight. I take it and slowly put it onto my torn up suit, careful not to puncture my finger again.

“How do I look?”

The young man rolls his eyes. He clearly wants to go now. He seems impatient, not valuing this little ceremony as much as I do. He thinks that I’m wrong. Or that I’m crazy. The young people don’t know what they want. They never do. I smile at him, only now realizing that he can’t see the expression of utmost satisfaction on my face through the gas mask.

“So, what now? Happy?”, he hisses with a mocking tone.

I nod, coughing under the gas mask. It’s not easy to breathe in that thing. The dust can’t be much worse, so I decide to take it off for a while.

It was pretty hot inside, and the fresh wind cools my face. My hair soaking up the cool breeze. I give the guy a wide grin, as his chin drops like a brick.

“Now,” I say in my charming voice, “now we’ll make America great again!”