Rebel Wasteland
I fear I have but a short time to write this, they’re after me and whoever has their hands on this letter at this very given moment, back before the great ending, I’m warning you, please take this letter very serious.
It all started in January 2030; I was sixteen. A deadly infection called the Corona Virus started to spread around the globe, killing millions and affecting others. There was no cure. Once you caught it, you started to plan your funeral. Your life was over. The pandemic grew worse and worse as everybody started isolating. Airports shut down, shops and retail stores followed, and with that, with everyone fighting for survival, all hell broke loose. The world leaders were star struck with what to do, even with some countries turning on their leaders and vice versa. Rebels protested, cop cars were getting burned, a war within society which lead to devastating impacts. I named it The Great Ending. I’m sure you can figure out why.
After a couple of weeks, the world went quiet. This wasn’t earth anymore. It smelt like fuel, ash, and fire. Like a huge wasteland. Everything was decimated. Forests were burned out; lakes were poisoned and cities and towns went mute. Buildings were abandoned, spray painted by the few stragglers. Huge clouds of smoke lingered in the atmosphere blocking sunlight from entering. The government evacuated the remaining people to an underground bunker after earth deemed too toxic to live in. It stretched for kilometres on end and had everything needed to keep sustaining human life. It seemed all too good to be true, but at this point, me and my family would do anything to survive as we made the deadly journey to reach one of the bunker doors, on the brink of death.
The Minister. That’s what they called him. The man who invented the idea. The man who ‘saved’ us all, was the leader, everyone praised him as he walked by almost kissing his goddamn feet. It was weird. The whole thing felt too good to be true. To ensure that no one contracted the disease from anywhere, tests were done weekly. However, it was at this point where I knew this saving grace had a more insidious background than what everyone predicted it to be. The minister set up daily masses, creating a new religion, preaching this new idea that he could in fact save us all from our sins and the virus. His followers multiplied, and soon enough my entire bunker got roped into this religious cult, where they would wear white garments with a golden star on it, symbolising a new healthy life with also being The Minister’s logo; theybelieve everything he spoke of.
Soon enough even my family got fed into his lies. It felt like everyone in that bunker suddenly changed. Rules were set in motion and the more I observed the more I realised seeing some familiar faces disappear: no trace, no record of them. Just complete disappearance and no one cared. Everyone just kept abiding by The Minister’s rules and commandments. It was almost perfect. I needed to know what really was happening, along with acting like I was one of his followers. So, at night I explored the authorised personal places.
I snuck in through the vents, into this huge room which spanned almost as big as the bunker itself. Huge clockwork machines, with people: actual human beings running it, it smelt like earth after the devastation. I saw The Minister; he wasn’t in his white robe though. He was in a black suit. He ran the entire operation, punished the people who didn’t work hard to keep the place going with his guards tasering people, even taking them away to God knows where. I sure didn’t want to find out. All these people being controlled to keep the bunker going, were people who didn’t want to believe in his prophecies. People who sinned against his laws. I quickly realised that The Minster wasn’t what people thought he was. He was an evil man, with sinister actions.
This is what happened with an overriding control; a megalomaniac man, playing
as our saviour. I was 16, and stupid me really thought that if I spoke up infront
of everyone, exposing the minister of his work in the under caverns, I would be
able to shout some sense into those poor emotionally controlled people. It was
this mistake that got me on the run. Instantly, guards rushed in and tried to
cuff me, his followers, even my parents preaching and screaming
“THE MINISTER CAN REDEEM YOUR SINS!” while chucking white garments and golden
stars atop of me. I hid, I ran and eventually I escaped. It wasn’t easy. I
was weak. The grey earth on top, provided nothing but rushing winds of
depression and a huge grey paddocks of rubble. I live on the run, with my
health constantly debilitating, due to the toxicity of the air. Afraid of my
punishment if they find me.
I’m afraid I must wrap this up. I never stay in the
same place for to long, its to risky. I’m hoping to find at least someone in
this black wasteland, no luck so far. 162 days it’s been, living on nothing but
seeds and any source of water I can find. Don’t let his presence fool you, like
it did everyone else. I’m cautioning you from the future. This is what happens with
a rebellious unstable society. Don’t let yourself be controlled. Be free. What
have you got to lose anyway? Your life? I lost mine, as soon as I stepped foot
into the bunker. Don’t lose yours too.
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