After two weeks of roaming around this shattered place, just the memory of the water that once filled this lake was refreshing. But like everything else here, the memories carried nothing but pain.
My legs slowed as I reached the end of the crumbling dock and I dropped my pack to the ground. The dock had once been painted a bright blue, perhaps the same color as the water it stood above, but now the little paint left flaked off at my step and beneath was only gray. The same gray of the empty lake bed below, where a few scrub trees and grasses attempted a comeback where fish once swam. The same gray as everything on this forbidding, forgotten world. It was a gray of weeks-old ruin left untended and unhealed, and it would probably stay this way forever, as the planet had nothing more to offer, and its former masters had nothing left here to claim.
I had seen only two things break away from this gray in the weeks I had walked this desolation. The first were the thin rays and glimpses of this world’s sun, which would rarely show itself, offering no real heat when it managed to struggle through a thick haze hanging constantly in the sky. The other was a column of smoke I had sighted two days prior, far to the west. It was to this smoke I now drove myself, though I knew where that path would eventually lead.
To follow that ominous smoke sign, I had to cross this dead hole of a lake and the dam at its far end. From the elevated vantage of the dock, I took a reflexive look around the horizon, scanning for hazards, before casting a quick glance into the sky in vain hope of seeing my vessel in orbit far above the planet’s surface. I slid my pack over my back, fastening it with a triple-click of buckles and a weight-centering shrug. As I turned back to find the shore and a way across the lake bed, I closed off the dry sound of my footsteps on the brittle grass and remembered the lake at my homeland back in Oregon.
Like this one, the lake was artificial, the river back home stopped by a lattice of delicate metal and shimmering ripples. This hole had only a crude, crumbling wall. A simple concrete of rock and sand. Such a frangible substance to use for something as vital as enduring a dam, I thought, but so much of what its makers did was fleeting. My travels through the planet’s remaining signs of habitation had shown me how little the inhabitants knew of permanence.
Not that it would have mattered here, even if they had.
Stark in the late afternoon light, the battered skeletons of boats littered the lakebed and reminded me of the days I spent on similar boats during my early education as a boy. Now here I am at the bottom of a lake, nothing waiting to challenge me—just the crumbling boats, the stunted gray trees, and the occasional crunch of bone beneath the matted gray grass.
I first heard that hollow crunching at my step days ago, and I knew the sound had been bone. In my first days while walking through towns now wearing away to dust, I had stopped to loosen many such bones from tangles of touch grass or a covering layer of dust and dirt, spending much time wondering who these people had been. Now it had been weeks since I’d stopped looking for the source of that sound.
Usually I’d found these bones alone, spread far from the rest of whatever body they came from by the wind, war, or animals, though I had not seen a single living creature or even tracks anywhere in my travels. As expected, the death in this place had been complete. I’d found full skeletons as well, flesh long since torn or worn away, usually inside the few structures with more than one wall remaining or even a bit of roof left waiting for the insistent pull of time and gravity to bring it crashing down. I wondered for a moment whether the events prior to the disaster might have been difficult had this place been prepared, expecting the crisis, but I knew that it would not have mattered. It would not have mattered at all.
I no longer stopped to inspect broken bone, and I did not know whether to care. My path was set—head up and eventually over the dam and to wherever the smoke called me. There I hoped to find an answer, and that was enough for now.
When I reached the top of the rough staircase cut into the side of the dam, I saw a dry scratch of a riverbed leading down from the dam’s base to the beginnings of another settlement—at least to the few standing walls that remained three months after the inhabitants were wiped clean from this place. As the ribverbed moved farther from the dam, it cut through miles of such ruins, small square outlines of stone and rusting metal hiding among those hard, short, gray trees. Scattered between these buildings and their dark square holes for windows was a jumble of fallen pillars that had once held lights or statues or whatever was used to decorate this place. Farther away from the dam, down towards where my path was leading me, nothing remained even remotely whole. Even the landscape itself appeared to have worn down dramatically between where I stood and the slight rise that cut off my view of the road far below.
I knew what lay past that rise, and I wished that my path did not have to take me there. Waiting beyond it was a black mark that had been burnt into the surface of this planet as proof of my endeavor. Three months ago, this black mark had signaled the doom of everything that once lived here.
The setting sun glinted briefly from a bit of the glassy surface of the mark, shimmering as if bouncing off water in the distance. I shielded my eyes from the low glittering rays and grunted, moving my head left and right to take in the length of that gigantic scar in the land ahead. There was no end to it visible from where I stood, and there was no option of going around. My path would eventually draw me directly across that dark line, and it would lie there, patient, until I reached it. I knew many such lines had cut through the hills and mountains and shattered towns that had once stood on this planet.
I knew all of these things because it had been my hand that had put that mark there. I had killed this planet so that my victory might come more quickly. That victory had never come. And now I’d returned to this planet, the site of my greatest achievement and now my greatest shame, to seek inspiration for what I were to do with myself now that everything I’d fought and lived for was as thoroughly destroyed as the forsaken land I stood on.
Rising from these thoughts, I knew the sun’s setting would make it difficult to push onward safely. I found what looked like a small structure farther down the dam and set my gear down in preparation for passing another night alone.
As my eyes closed and I began rest-breathing, I listened again for any sounds of life around me. I heard none. Not even the wind stirred enough to scrape leaves across the dust. And as I dropped into sleep, my mind spun from the sound of my breaths to the silence of the death on the planet’s surface.
I awoke with a thin layer of ash and dust covering my body. I looked down from the dam and in the weak morning light, saw a clearer view of the wide road that ran straight down to the valley below and perhaps all the way to the scar itself. The road cut through what might have been some kind of settlement near this lake, and the buildings in the area nearby stood largely intact, minus the months of adandonment and decay. As my eyes scanned farther down the valley, I saw that these remnants of buildings grew more and more feeble, shrinking almost to nothing just before the land dipped down and out of my gaze.
As I climbed down the other side of the dam that I cut parellel to the empty riverbed, toward the road and the scar below. I could still see the column of smoke in the distance, seemingly blacker than it had seen the day before. The smoke had been billowing for three days since I first saw it rising thinly on the horizon. Each day, I was more afraid that it would disappear before I could find it’s source. It could not be natural; the fires of this world went out months ago. This fire, and it’s creators, did not belong here. But perhaps they could help me find the guidance I was seeking.
I passed rows and rows of shattered buildings as I moved down the road. Sharp, rusty fragments of debris poked out from tall grass and scrub trees all around me. I tried to remember whether this part of the mark I was walking toward was closer to the start of the end of my deeds those months back, but the details eluded me. I only knew that I was responsible for everything around me. I was responsible for so many things, all of them done with such an absolute certainty. All my life, I had no reason to question my path, and the focus this afforded me allowed me to achieve so much.
I paused briefly to wonder where the fully intact roof lying directly across this road had come from, how far it had been carried from its building by the winds of the event that day. I had put this roof here, and I had destroyed what ever building it came from closer down to the scar. All of it. I had done all this to follow a promise, and when that promise was exposed as a betrayal, it made everything I had done it its prosecution a betrayal as well.
I walked among the ruins of that lie, knowing its guilt as it was I who had been deceived. I had come here again to find out what to do about that lie. If I had no real response, no path forward, no real promises to make…
I shook my head and continued toward the rsing pillar of smoke across the scar. I would find my new promise, or I would not leave this place intact.
Hours passed and in its time, the sun fell to the far horizon, once again making travel across the rubble problematic. I made for a strangely intact structure just at the edge of the long rise agead. The ruins here had all crumbled to the point of just rough outlines of stone among the weeds. Small bits of foundation stuck up like markers for the dead. Despite the growing darkness, I could tell that this building had been some sort of shelter, as metal pipes and bars held the thick walls together, heavy metal plates buttressing every visible angle—a suitable refuge for the night’s sleep.
I made a quick sweep of the surrounding area just to get it all fixed in my mind. I knew there was no threat here… this close to the scar; the land did not want life. I did not blame it.
I strode to the top of the nearby rise and saw my scar directly from where I stood, and while it was hard to tell in the last light of the day, the ground there looked dark and hard. I guessed the scar’s width at least two or three hours to cross, depending on footing and whether it was as smooth as it appeared. There was no way I would chose to spend a night on that black ground.
I turned back to my night’s refuge and pried a door partially open to squeeze my body inside.
My first step raised that familiar crunching sound, and when I turned on my flashlight, I froze. Dozens of full skeletons piled on one another with scraps of clothing and bits of posessions hanging stilly from graying sticks of bones. More bone littered toward a doorway at the other side of this room, and I could tell I would find more remains lingering in the further darkness inside. They all must have gathered here in their last moments, perhaps in hope that the shelter would save them. But it did not save them from anything. Nothing would have saved them
that day.
I backed out quickly and did not stop to close the door in my haste to get away. I could not get far enough from that tomb in the night, but I found a low, partial wall nearby and set myself on the far side of it, facing away from the hidden bones. The grim discovery took my mind back to that day, as I took a little of my almost depleted snacks. My mind thus burdened, and I slept.
The new light of dawn did little to rid me of the dread caused by my dreams. I looked again to the smoke. It was still rising. With a small sip of water, I left the shelter of the crumbling wall, moving toward the expanse I knew I must cross. I glanced back at the tomb, glad to leave it behind.
This relief did quickly as I came to the rise and caught full sight of the scar. Shortly past the rise was a sheer drop into the black land, and I nodded at the prudence of not attemptong to proceed the night before.
Finding no easy path down into the scar, I found what looked like to be a clear landing spot below and dropped down into the channel. The smooth walls were twice my height, and I worried about how long I would have to look for a path up when I reached the other side. I did not relish the thought of staying down in this place any longer than I absolutely must.
The bottom was truly as black as it had appeared from above. There laid several meters of molten stone, and had leveled to an almost perfectly flat field between the boundaries of the trench. But while the overall terrain was smooth, every step of this land was jagged and crystalline-sharp. The long since cooled rock must have fractured and cracked, creating a field of knives… no living thing would dare traverse this place. None except me.
As I stepped carefully to avoid the myriad cracks and vertiginous pits that cut across the ground around me, I looked up, knowing my vessel was in orbit, with remote control to wait for my call, but I did not know what I would do if I did not find any answers. I only had food and water for a few more days. There was nothing edible here and the little water I had found so far had been bitter and sharp in my mouth.
The steady sound of the rocks against my shoes was my only distraction. I moved quickly across that black land, keeping my eyes on the nearing pillar of smoke. I was not far from its source now, although it was hard to tell how much farther I had to go from so deep in the cut of the scar.
Suddenly, I came across the surprise of a small stream. It flowed right down the length of the scar; I couldn’t tell how far it wound, but it looked as if it had been running for some time. The water had the same sharp smell as all the other water on this planet, probably caused by the depletion of some mineral when fire etched on this world. It carried with it smaller rocks, dirt, and sand. I stared at that tiny stream and, for a moment, forgot the fires put to this place. I wondered if this stream offered hope that this place might someday be returned to its former state.
The stream would become a river, wiping away the massive scar on the land, burying it deep beneath new soil, sand, and water. I knew that forgiveness from this planet would take far longer than I thought, but perhaps someday my wrongs could be wiped clean. The thought was comforting. Stepping over the small stream, I looked up to the smoke once more, making sure I was on my proper path.
But the smoke was not there.
I scanned the entire horizon, hoping I had only become disoriented, but still I found no smoke. How long had I stared at that stream, lost in self-indulgent thoughts of comfort? This was my punishment for such thoughts, and I cursed myself and my weakness. I quickly found a spot on the far wall where I thought I could exit this place and return to normal ground. I began to run, forgoing caution for the sake of speed. In surprisingly short time, I threw myself against the far side’s rocky wall, found footholds I could not see, and propelled myself to the top.
I, for one, have lost my stomach for killing legends.
