For a second time the sunset demonstrates the beauty in endings. It casts its orange light onto the enormous plumes of smoke, ash, and dust that linger still on the horizon. Through the same small opening in the hull of the spacecraft that Simon once peered through, does Mary witness this beautiful display. She still lies where Simon left her some hours earlier, enduring the excruciating pain of a heavy object slowly severing her legs. At least her final moments will be in the warm light of this painting.
The pain has left her numb to all that her mind would be conscious of; her thirst, her hunger, the amount of blood leaving her body, and her will to live. She may not be aware but the wind outside has retired, leaving room for something else to catch the attention of her ears. Footsteps, slow and steady, resonate throughout the interior of the wreckage. Somewhere within her hope rises, and so Mary summons her remaining strength to lift her head in the source’s estimated direction, down past her crushed legs. The crunching of various earthly debris beneath the feet of the stranger is all that she hears. She maintains her focus and upright position even after the footsteps cease.
Mary conjures up a desperate plea as her will to live returns, “Hello? I need help! Can you help me?” Her pathetic call for help is met with the violent sound of the tearing of metal. The wreckage of the spacecraft, serving as her shelter, is peeled away by an unseen force in a display that she’s all too familiar with. The metal hull shrieks as it's bent, screams as it's contorted, and bellows as it's ripped apart. The wreckage is split precisely down the middle with each half being pulled away from the other, like a zipper being undone, until Mary is fully exposed.
Most would find themselves confused and bewildered at such a thing, but Mary knows what this means; he’s here. Her fear wars with her pain over control of her mind. At the end of the wreckage, where it first split down the middle down past her bleeding legs, ominously stands the source of such chaos. He appears as he always does, draped in black robes that conceal his sophisticated attire. His heavy black hood can only cover so much of his helmet, but what it leaves exposed is enough for Mary to recognize.
His robes only reach down to his waist, they’re heavy and with structure, whatever breeze may stray about the calm evening fails to make it budge. Only by his actions are his garb made to move. The rest of his outfit keeps to the script that is darkness, slight variations of black are all that can be found on his person. His footwear, both admirable and intimidating, are layered with the ample protection of various metals. The protective layer of metal plates are subtle though, as the black shades blend in with the rest; providing an overwhelming sense of uniformity. This metal plating can be found protecting other portions of his body; his thighs, abdomen, forearms, and shoulders, all of which are consistently subtle and to the eye minimal. If one were to bear witness to his silhouette, it would require a skilled eye to notice any armor upon him. These details however, are no match for the cowl he dons upon his head, and what it conceals within. Beneath the dense fabric dwells the helmet that protects him from hazards of every manner. Its face is carefully designed to fit perfectly onto his, but without any visible details on the outside. Two deep orange lenses are firmly set within the black metal, a distinct contrast that will immediately catch the attention of anyone in his presence.
He moves in on Mary, but with patience and restraint. His steps are calmly made, his demeanor relaxed. His black outfit absorbs the sunlight while the two orange lenses in his helmet are exaggerated by it; the right lens, being more exposed than the other, gleams profoundly and captures Mary’s gaze. Once standing at Mary’s side, with her looking up at him in defiance, the large piece of wreckage resting upon her legs lifts from its place. Mary screams out in agony, and the entire section of hull is thrown away from her, crashing into the ground. Blood flows from her now exposed wounds at an increased rate, and immediately she feels cold and ever weaker. With nothing providing her shelter, she’s able to turn her gaze to the full beauty of the sunset. Tears flow from her eyes as the warm orange light brings comfort to her soul.
With a voice without malice or ill intent, he speaks as if with compassion. His deep voice passes through his helmet’s output speakers as water through a filter, purified and clean, “Mary Michaud, your death I will not allow.” Upon hearing this declaration, Mary feels herself fade away, and carried into a dream of better times.
Simon digs through various overturned vehicles with the setting sun before him once more igniting the ashen filled clouds. Within these vehicles he’s found a backpack, a coat, and some more food and water; along with other various supplies that will make his life easier. Although they weren’t taken without a price. Each item had to be removed from an unfortunate soul, something he wasn’t prepared for.
He forces open the sliding door of a van on its side. He peaks inside before needing to step away for a moment. Within is a family; the parents, and three children who all appear to be under the age of ten. The oldest looking of the three holds a toy spaceship, but not just any spaceship; its a small model of the one Simon once yearned to fly. Tears form in his eyes as he is captivated by this small thing. He imagines the dreams this young soul must’ve had; dreams that were probably not far from his own when he was that age. He carefully reaches in and removes the model from the child’s hands and closely examines it.
“I’ll keep this safe, for you.” He places the model spaceship in its own pocket within the backpack, ensuring it will be well kept.
Continuing on his search for valuable resources he removes a lighter from the last vehicle. He backs away and observes it and the others containing the bodies of those who didn’t survive. Burdened with guilt despite the circumstances he carefully falls to his knees and starts talking. “I’m sorry I had to disturb your bodies, but my need is great and the belongings you have left behind will help me on my journey. I hope you’re all in a better place and at peace. I will be forever grateful for what I have taken, and I will keep all of you in my memories.” He sits for a moment longer in silence out of respect before standing. Why has this been happening to me? First it was Mary, and now these poor people, but I’m still here safe and sound in good health. All I do now is take from those who are less fortunate. I’ll try my best to make it all worth it, I must. For them.
Before Simon resumes his journey west, another natural oddity gives him pause. Ash harmlessly falls from the sky, descending from their places among the dark clouds. The waning sun shines through the coming ashfall that plagues the air. Simon returns to one of the vehicles, remembering something of importance, and removes a grey shirt from a suitcase he found; and uses it to cover his nose and mouth. With hardly any wind, an eerie silence accompanies the falling ash. Each step he takes resonates within him. The familiarity of the world vanishes within minutes as everything becomes blanketed in ash. Orange desert rocky plains transform into barren lands of gray; a silent transition to the ears, but nothing ever so noticeable to the eyes.
The desert region once possessed a distinct beauty. The architects of nature graced the land with tall stone structures known as buttes. Most of them have now been razed to the ground in the spectacular cataclysm that preyed upon the land. Much like the city structures these obelisks of nature are now strewn about. Large piles of stone litter the perimeters of the foundations on which they once stood. Fortunately for Simon, these fallen remains have created spaces for him to take shelter. He approaches a massive piece of stone that leans upon the base of its former pedestal, and enters the space that exists between the two. No ash will reach him here, and so he settles in for the night.
He takes a seat after removing his pack from his shoulders. He reaches inside and pulls out the small model spacecraft. He examines every detail with admiration, and allows his mind to wander. I wonder if anyone up there knows what’s happened down here, and if they’re coming to help us. Surely they must be on their way right now to provide aid. What about other countries? Have they been affected? Are any of them coming to help us? What about the rest of my own country? Has this happened to the entire nation? His questions continuously flow like a stream from a mountain. Endlessly, his mind explores every avenue of possibilities, until his eyes shut and his mind wanders no more; and instead is relieved by a dream of the comforts of family.