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Trying to Be A Hero – Carol #13

 Hi there,

My name’s Carol, or the Suburban Savior, if that name ever catches on in the future. I came up with the name randomly, and I like it a lot, even though I’m technically not in the suburbs anymore. I’m currently 26, and I used to live in the northern part of Trenton, before everything happened.

If this note is found and used for any sort of study material, I can fill in the blanks on what happened for anyone reading. I don’t know how it happened, but one of the foreign powers accidentally fired a nuke towards the US, and the US, alongside other powers, responded by sending nukes back, and once the nukes stopped dropping, a nuclear fallout occurred.

It’s a bit surprising that the US “survived” as much as it did. Most of the east coast didn’t die as soon as the bombs dropped, so there’s that at least. A little while after the fallout started, and after fiddling with a radio for a bit a couple months ago, I heard someone on a station calling out for help, and giving me where they lived, which was just out of state. So since I had nothing else to do, I packed up the supplies and gear I salvaged from nearby areas, and set off on my adventure as a hero to the east coast.

That is, that is what I would have liked to say, because nothing has gone well since I started that ”adventure”. I did eventually make it over to the person on the radio, who was a guy around my age, who was trapped in his house, under some rubble. I promised to get help, and I did find some rods and a crowbar to try and pull the rubble up, but by the time I got back, he was dead.

The worst part is that this happened multiple times, and I don’t know why. I find people who need help, try and help them, and they always die on me. Most of them seem to have just recently keeled over, and others may have fallen victim to an infection of some sort.

It’s been 2 years since the fallout, and I haven’t been able to save a single person. I can’t even remember how many people I’ve found and tried to help, and it frustrates me beyond belief that I can’t help anyone.

I’ve even started to think that maybe I’m cursed or something, like some otherworldly force just chose me to be their little torture puppet, who’s laughing at my efforts. It’s infuriating, but I guess it makes a little bit of sense why it would be happening to me, of all people.

Ever since I was a kid, I always had a dream of making it big, having a mark and a name in the world that people can remember, and doing something that people like, and like me for. So when the world gets destroyed, and I have the chance to save people, and mainly the chance to make a name for myself as a hero, I hopped right on it. Maybe this “curse” is just the world trying to show me how selfish I really am.

At this point I don’t know why I’m still even trying to do this, maybe just to spite the world and prove it wrong, or maybe just because I have nothing else to do, and need something to motivate me. Maybe it’s even just still because I want to be the big hero in my head.

Hell, maybe that’s even why I’m writing this, just to try and show the future that might not even exist that I tried, to show that my efforts were not in vain. I wouldn’t be surprised, since I can’t think of any other reason why I’d be writing this. The best answer is that I just want to be seen or heard by someone, even if I have to die to put my mark in history.

Today I tried to help another person, a younger girl, who had locked herself in her room after her parents had died from the radiation. I passed by them as I went through her house, their faces were discolored, and extremely off putting, with missing hair, skin, and other things that I don’t like thinking about. I eventually made it to the girls room, whose name was Becky. She looked terrified, and I comforted her, and told her that I would be able to find somewhere to protect her.

I left her in the house for a short while, and had supplied her with a bit of my rations to help nourish her, and went to the radio I had stored in my car looking for anyone to contact for help. Eventually someone came on, with news that they had a safehouse that was covered in protective material just outside of Philadelphia, in a small town, so I went back to Becky to tell her the good news, but unfortunately, she was dead on the ground.

She had come in contact with an intense amount of radiation, and had begun convulsing on the ground while I was gone, and choked on her own vomit. That’s when I had a thought, and is the reason why I’m writing this section here.

Every time I come in contact with a survivor needing help, they always die when I go looking for help. I used to blame it on a “curse” that was put on me, but I think I have a more reasonable, but unpleasant explanation.

I haven’t been able to wash the protective gear I’ve been wearing since I started this journey, so the amount of radiation on the gear itself had been unknown to me until recently. The thought I had, after looking at the young girl’s corpse in front of me, was just, “What if I did this?”

Looking for answers, I found my way into the small town where the safehouse was, hoping that they had one of those radioactivity gauges, and as soon as I appeared at the entrance, they took me in and used one of them on me. As soon as the gauge gave them a number, all of them stepped back in horror, and told me that with all of the gear I was wearing,

I was giving off a constant dose of 90 R, which was a lethal dose if someone were to come in direct contact with it.

All of the people I was trying to save out there, they all died because of me. The idea I had that I was helping all of these suffering people was a lie, I was unknowingly killing all of them.

They let me inside of their safehouse, after decontaminating me, and I’m writing this in one of the beds they gave me.

I’m going to leave the safehouse with all of my gear on, and I am going to travel back through all of the places I’ve been to, and collect everyone that I had attempted to help.

I’m going to give them a proper grave, and once they are all buried, I will be joining them.

I don’t want to hurt anyone else, and I want to be able to apologize to them all once I join them.

I’m going to take this note with me as well. I don’t deserve any recognition, so leaving it at camp would just be selfish.

I’m sorry to everyone.

If I ever get another chance at life, I’ll try to do better, I promise.

Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in Contemporary Fiction

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