The boy speaks up first. “What are you doing here?” 

The man keeps his eyes closed as he responds, unsurprised at the boy's presence or conversation, “I am waiting for our god to bless us with their warmth.” 

How cryptic. Or insane.

“How long will you wait?” The boy says, intrigued.

“I have waited long enough.”

“...How do you mean?” 

“It means I must simply wait no longer, for I am being blessed in this moment.”

“...”

“Are you aware of what has happened here?”

“No. Are you?”

“I know that our god is blessing us, and you are the only one who can satisfy her.”

I think he is more on the insane side. What the hell do I have to do with any of this?

“Our god?” Asks the boy.

The man finally opens his eyes, looking at the boy. “Ahh, you do not know. It is natural to be ignorant of the truth, only experience will create the discongesting effect that is wisdom. You have no purpose, yes?” 

“What does some god have to do with me?” The boy says, not denying his lack of purpose in life.

“The answer will come in due time when you begin to seek it instead of wading through the current.”

“Ok, then what do you mean by satisfying our god?”

“Our god wishes for peace, and this-” He waves his hand out to the desolate plains around them, expression darkening and tone growing serious, “-is not peace.”

“Are you implying this is a war? Bombs couldn’t do something like this, what is it?”

“I cannot give to you what must be sought.”

You can’t tell me a simple answer? This is a messed up dream. The boy thinks. At the same time, he can’t deny that everything feels real. Alright so what do I do here? I have no clue what is going on, the only people I’ve seen are psychopaths and that’s only been 2 people. Nevermind the fact that it’s eerily quiet… If there were people under this rubble they’d be making an awful lot of noise, people would be coming from the parts of the city that still exist to help. 

The reality of the situation is that it would be too hard to believe something of this nature could be true, so he confides in the idea that he can simply ‘wake up’. Helpless to be sure.

In the end, the boy does what he does best and continues walking. It’s been probably 2-3 hours already and I'm starting to get hungry… The boy’s mind drifts to the idea that maybe this really isn’t a dream but to admit reality would be to admit his own helplessness. I think I'd rather die than live in a world like this, if this is real. 

So the boy continues walking in his hunger, not finding any answers as to why the world has changed so drastically, with the idea that maybe this isn’t a dream permeating in his mind. 

After the second day, the boy starts to hear voices, just slightly far enough away that he can’t make them out. 

After the third day, the boy clearly makes out the voices. 

“If you build it, they will come.”

The boy blacks out.

* * *

I awake to the incessant vibrating of raindrops pouring over my face, nearly numb from the violent downpour. I hurriedly crawl up the rubble my sore body has been laid against and slowly hoist off my side until I am standing with some support against the broken concrete block next to me until I am parallel with the ruin building not more than a floor tall. After overcoming my blacking vision from low blood pressure, I stumble over the gravelly bed under my feet, seeking out a slab in front of me that has gathered what looks to be a relatively clean puddle of water and bury my nose in it. 

There’s nothing for me out here. This isn’t a dream. It’s not a game. I will die if I don’t get back to the city… I suppose I actually am in the city but it’s more like a demolition site that’s been extended to the horizon. I can barely make out the intact buildings.