Sunset: Survivors

Amir Baghira New York, NY October 4th, 1991

After it happened I walked the streets for hours in a daze. The cold rain continued into the evening. I was frozen and chilled to the bone. Smoke poured from some buildings while others appeared untouched by the disaster. I can’t help but think of it that way, a disaster. If I would have been responsible for the deaths of all these useless sheep it would have been a glorious triumph. Since it was some freak act of nature it is a disaster.

The city lights were still on but nothing moved. The twisted metal of automobile crashes lay in huge dripping heaps. Some smoked, some burned and others sat in silence showered by the rain and streetlights. Of course there were bodies literally everywhere. Thousands of them. I had to weave and jump to avoid them. Occasionally I had to walk on top of parked cars for half a block to avoid stepping on them.

I tried to pretend they weren’t there. They weren’t even people to me before so why should they be now? I could not even bear to look at them. Thankfully the majority of them lay face down. The ones that didn’t had their eyes open. I could not meet their cold stare with my own eyes. I had to look away. Why did I all of a sudden care what happened to these useless people. This is what I wanted wasn’t it?

I came out of my trance long enough to realize where I was. As I looked out across the calm black water I could see her standing motionless in the bay. The light from her torch was standing out against the rain and darkness like a beacon calling me to my homeland. Tears started welling up in my eyes and I had to stifle a surprising whimper that rose in my chest. I grew up hating what she stood for. But now she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I walked back the way I had come. I needed to get out of the rain and think. I went into the first building I came upon that didn’t have too many bodies blocking the entrance. Once inside, I found a couch in the lobby and collapsed onto it. As I sat I contemplated suicide but without any of them to take with me, martyrdom seems out of reach. I closed my eyes and was asleep within minutes.

I awoke to the sound a voice calling my name. The voice was sweet and songlike and definitely female. I opened my eyes and gazed upon one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She wore sheer and lacy see through garments which barely covered her breasts and mid section. The woman was sitting cross legged on a pillow in front of me. She was smiling. I could not help but smile back at her.

“Hello, Amir” she said.

“Hello” I answered.

There was another voice to my left. “Hello, Amir”.

I looked to my left and sitting next to me on the huge bed I lay upon were four more beautiful women dressed very much like the first. I looked to my right and saw that there were more amazingly beautiful women sitting there also. “My seventy two virgins!” I thought. Thank you Allah!

The ladies leaned in toward me and started massaging my back and shoulders. Some rubbed my feet and ankles. Others caressed my stomach and legs. Soon hands found my manhood and made me erect in seconds. I closed my eyes and relaxed while enjoying my reward for being a martyr to my cause.

Then I smelled it. It was something foul and rotting. I quickly opened my eyes and looked to my left. The skull of one of my virgins grinned back at me through rotting teeth. I looked around and the others were in a much similar state. Some had gray, rotting skin and sunken eyes that looked like black holes. Still others had open sores and bleeding eyes and noses.

I try to get up to flee but the hands hold me down. My erection quickly shrinks and for a moment I think I am going to urinate in my pants. I scream loudly as the virgins tear at my clothes and pull my hair. I can feel their fingernails digging into my skin and drawing blood. When I think I will go insane and can no longer endure the pain I wake up.

I sit up on the couch I fell asleep on screaming. I am drenched in sweat and the pressure on my bladder is unbearable. I am breathing heavily and I feel like I could have a heart attack. I try to calm myself and my breathing grows slower.

I walk over to one of the potted plants that flank the couch and relieve myself. I can see through the glass doors which I entered by that it is now light out. I look to my left and notice a security guard still sits at his assigned post. He wears a blue uniform and cap and his head leans to one side. I realize that he watches me urinate but can do nothing to stop me. This brings a small grin to my face. I grasp the fact that I am finally free. I have no oppressors and I have no responsibilities. There are no authorities to tell me where I can drive, where I can sit and where I can go. There are no more speakers who bring forth information and instructions from the homeland. I can go anywhere and do anything I please. I am FREE!

In all the excitement my stomach has been forgotten and is now telling me that I have not eaten in many hours. If I wish to survive I must find food. I walk to the glass doors at the front of the building and look out. It continues to rain. Everything seems to be as it was twenty four hours earlier. Bodies lie everywhere. Huge masses of twisted metal still smoke like iron volcanoes.

I exit the building and stop on the steps that lead down to the street. Rain still pours from the skies. I look to the heavens and let the rain wash over my body. It is cold but it feels good to feel something again. I look up and down the street searching for somewhere I can get something to eat. I see a sign for a Starbuck’s Coffee across the street and ahead of me about a block. I pick up an umbrella that one of the cattle have dropped. I use it to shield me from the rain as I make my way toward my destination for breakfast. The head of a police officer sits perched perfectly on the curb. I take two quick steps toward it and kick it as hard as I can. I raise my hands to the sky and laugh like I haven’t laughed since childhood.

FREE.