Hope

Quick read but not a quick fap. Enjoy!

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It started with the water.

The Colorado had been drying up for years. Honestly, decades. As the Earth heated, the river started to wane. The river that supplied water to Vegas, all of California, and most of Mexico, suddenly came up short. It wasn't actually sudden; it had been happening for decades. It's just that no one important enough, or with enough power, noticed enough to care until it was an immediate problem.

When it happened, the government made a plan. The president at the time, Meyerhoffer, set up a rationing plan that ought to last long enough for his presidency to end and for it to become someone else's problem. People had enough water to drink. Things seemed okay.

Then came the food.

With limited water, we couldn't grow enough crops to feed the cows. Now maybe, if we were happy just eating the grain and corn, we could have made it. But no, Americans needed their beef. So we threw away our bountiful, easy food resources trying to raise the sparse ones. The cattle got thinner. There wasn't enough food or water for them, either. They started to die off. And then, almost overnight, so did the people.

McDonalds ran out. Taco Bell too. Within 3 days, the country went from being rich and healthy and happy -- if a little thirsty -- to being hungry. Thirst sucks, but it's manageable. Hunger, on the other hand, makes people angry. Folks quick to the punch took action, stealing food and stockpiling dry goods for the long haul. Those caught unawares were robbed blind or murdered. Civil war broke out. Not one based on political or religious disputes like those of the past, but one based on hungry people scared for their lives and fighting each other for what limited resources were still available. The military got involved but were paralyzed into inaction, not knowing which civilians to shoot and which ones to save. Major cities became war zones. Rural areas were flooded with people trying to escape, only to realize they had nowhere to go. People died in droves. It was horrific.

That was 20 years ago. My daughter and I were able to flee to a small corner of land in Montana where I'd set up a property in the before times. We had a well for water, a farm for food, and were far enough away from any civilizations that it was easy to protect ourselves from the rare straggler who wandered our way. Things were good. If a little lonely.

My daughter started to grow up. She went from being a cute kid to helping out around the farm. She went from helping around the farm to being a woman. Inevitably, she started to want woman things. She started to want a lover.

We packed our things and started striking out on expeditions. Some old maps pointed to places nearby that used to be civilizations. We checked all of them, looking for any signs that someone might have passed through or be living nearby. Over the course of years, we scoured what must have been most of Montana and parts of old Idaho and Canada. We found nothing. We found no one. The expeditions were becoming too long; the farm was paying the toll and we were stretching our resources thin trying to travel as far away as we could while still making it back to our only safe haven. The years started to drag on. She was getting older. So was I. We were losing hope of ever finding anyone. Things were bleak.

Finally, she asked the question. The one I'd been dreading.

"Dad, will you make love to me? Will you be my lover?"

She had asked it before. I had immediately shut it down. We'd begun our expeditions, searching for a suitable suitor for her. But the years started to drag, and I started to consider it. Every time she asked me, my defenses fell a little. How could I say no to my baby girl? As a father, I want the best for my daughter. If she wants a child, could I live with myself if I denied her that? If I denied her her only shot at love and company? At having someone around when she grows old and I can't be there? I don't think I could. One day, after nearly a decade of searching, she asked me again. And I obliged.

We made love. The first time, I was tentative. But we quickly found our passion. It was new for her. And might be her only chance at it. And it had been so long for me. It felt incredible to love and be loved. And to know we were creating life. Even if I knew it was an abomination. We did it again and again. Over the years, we created over half a dozen lives. 7 little mes and hers, running around on the farm. Suddenly, a barren, desolate place was full of life again. It was beautiful. There was only one problem.

They were all daughters.

As they came of age, my baby girl plead for me to share with them the same love that I showed her. I caved. What's one more round of atrocity? I was an old man now; there wasn't much else I could do for them. And coming on 40 years of living in the aftermath, we've lost all hope of stumbling across other survivors. My only hope now is that one of them will have a son who can help them carry on. So I made love to my granddaughters. I made love to my daughters. I shared with them what I could, while I could.

We've got 5 little buns in the oven now. I can feel myself starting to fade. I've got nothing left now but hope. And the joy that I can see myself bringing them, and the love that they feel for each other in our small community. My bones are giving way. It won't be long now. I have nothing left but hope. Only hope. Please, God, help them. I can only hope.