Waves Crashing on the Distant Shores of Time

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That was all that appeared when Kureha attempted to access any of her social media profiles. All of the sites were down. Everything was offline. The internet and telephone lines were gone. Her last upload was supposed to be the group shot at Fukuoka, but now it would never be seen again.

Blank, pitch black above made it impossible to know what time of day it was. All Kureha knew is that the van had been driving alone on the ever-darkening highway for hours. Shifts had been divided among everyone except Riku. Even Kureha, who was a novice, handled a leg of the drive. Not having a license was no longer a concern. She had driven for four hours while Kai caught up on sleep before taking the wheel once more. Now, they were somewhere outside of Kyoto, trying to find gas. Fuel depots were abandoned now, but after several stops, they found a depot with a handful of forgotten canisters of unleaded gas. The van was refueled, and a spare canister was taken for the next refill.

From there, they continued towards Fukui, where they were forced to pull over so that Rin could vomit. Shiona was soon joining her, until both of them were all but dehydrated. A forgotten konbini had forlorn shelves that mercifully held hydration packs and lost sports drinks. Bags were desperately stuffed with every good possible, just in case.

Legs stretched. Backs popped. Necks extended. Kureha’s entire body felt like it was being run through a trash compactor. The van’s fuel efficiency was noticeably declining as the engine strained under the newly intensified pull of gravity. Everything was getting darker. Kureha began to panic internally as she started struggling to remember the shape of clouds and the color of the sky on a spring day. It didn’t matter anymore, as she would never see such things again.

According to Arata’s own projections and math, The Calamity was likely across all of the Americas now. Once it wrapped around the Pacific at its ends and joined into a cohesive seal, everything would be over. In a little over a week, they would be in the single-digit countdown. Not seeing dawn or dusk made it nearly impossible to know how many days were already gone. Even worse, every clock and watch had stopped when the great scar had torn across the world.

Fewer and fewer glances out the window happened as it became harder to see anything in the distance. Travel speeds slowed as visibility dropped. Light itself seemed to struggle to reach as far as it once did. Through it all, the van continued on its journey to the edge of Honshu.

They couldn’t see it, but hundreds of kilometers away, Mount Fuji joined hundreds of other dormant volcanoes around the world in erupting without warning. Plumes of smoke and ash rose miles into the sky and coated the surrounding lands in a grey film that would never be seen. Air became toxic for millions.

In time, they reached the northern edge of Honshu. Oma’s coast was unrecognizable in the dark. As they retraced their steps to the wharf where their ferry had delivered them from Hokkaido, none of them expected to find any such operation, instead hoping there would be some remaining form of transport that would take them across the shallow bay towards their home. There was a tunnel that was once used by bullet trains to connect Honshu and Hokkaido, but none of them wanted to walk the fifty-kilometer route beneath the ocean’s waves. So, they went to the wharf, praying there would be an option to cross.

A lighthouse continued shining in the distance, but its light was only visible when they were nearly at the edge of the island. There was something strangely haunting about seeing its automated rotating caution light streak through the dense fog as the group pulled the van to the edge of the wharf. Unsurprisingly, the docks were all but abandoned. There was no sign of a ferry anymore. No workers. No signage.

The six of them exited the van to explore in a last ditch hope. Gravel crunched beneath their feet but the sound was muffled now. Kureha herself was all but deaf in her left ear. Rin had lost hearing in both ears it seemed, and could barely make out her friends’ voices as they motioned forward. Arata took her hand and did not release it as they entered the gathering darkness.

Shiona shined her phone’s flashlight for guidance, leaving trails of light behind her as she walked. Its beam barely reached the ground in front of them, yet she continued shining its light forward in search. Kai joined her, and the two faint glows cut through the ambiguous realm as the group made their way to the dock.

To their shock, their search did not last long. Their lights were noticed, and a small lantern beam cut through the inklike air to greet them. A roughed woman in her late forties approached them with a curious gaze.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“We’re trying to cross. We’re trying to get to Hokkaido,” said Riku.

“Whereabouts in Hokkaido. Not a lot of options anymore,” she replied.

“Anywhere,” answered Shiona.

The woman observed the six friends then looked up the ramp towards the parking area.

“Was that your headlights I saw?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She paused.

“There’s nothing that can transport a vehicle anymore. If you’re trying to cross, that won’t be coming with you…” she sighed.

It was a gut punch that all of them had been secretly fearing. Without a massive ferry or shipping barge, there was no realistic way for a regular boat to transport something as heavy as the van. If they truly wanted to reach Hokkaido, this was to be their goodbye to their long-time companion that had so faithfully carried them across the country.

Rin sniffled, having understood the woman’s words.

“Our van…” she said in a muffled voice.

Arata nodded. No one wanted to accept it. Not only would it mean saying goodbye to the van, it meant that they would be walking the last hundred to two hundred kilometers to reach home. With their weakened bodies, and Riku’s leg, that would take days. No one knew how much time they even had left anymore, but as they stood there contemplating, Kai shook his head in acceptance.

“We can make it,” he said to his friends.

Everyone thought it over once more then agreed. This was goodbye for their van. Riku turned to the woman.

“Do you have any supplies… or like a tent or anything that we might take with us?...” he asked solemnly.

“There’s a storage center just down the street. I’ll take you. There should be some options for you there,” she said with a bow.

With that, the group followed her along the coastline towards the storage building. Kureha could smell the sea now and knew that it was out to her left, just beyond visibility. Faint echoes of waves crashing on the distant shores of time beckoned to her to come to their watery embrace.

As they walked, their hands remained interlinked. Kureha’s anxiety was pulsing through her veins now, and it felt as though letting go of their hands meant she might be ripped away and pulled down into the dark ways that lurked just beyond eyesight. Another thunderous boom shook them to their cores, causing Kureha and Shiona to scream out. Still, they continued on to the building. Once there, the woman opened the doors.

“Where is everyone?” Arata asked as he looked at the empty streets beside them.

“All gone. After the scar and the fall of Fukuoka, most people accepted it was here. I took about a hundred people out to sea so that they could drown themselves. The rest took meds, slit their wrists, hung themselves…” she trailed off.

“Gods…” whispered Arata, who was grateful that Rin likely couldn’t hear that detail.

They entered the room and were greeted by piles of rice bags. In the absence of a population, the carefully planned supplies now existed as abundance. Kai scanned the room until he found a transport backpack that was once used by couriers. He immediately dumped the contents and hoisted it onto his back.

“We can use this. We can take turns wearing it, but we can store food and a tent in here. That should get us there…” he said as the woman agreed.

“You gonna be able to boil water?” she asked.

The friends shook their heads.

“Okay, then don’t take the rice bags, but grab those preserved oranges, rice cakes, tofu bars, and dried seaweed. Get a few boxes each. Dump them in the bag. That should last you two or three weeks,” she said.

The friends followed her orders and gathered the non-perishable, pre-cooked packets and then dumped them into the pack. Riku and Kureha were scanning the shelves with the woman.

“There are makeshift shelters here somewhere. Meant for evacuees and refugees. That should work for you, but I’m not sure about bedding…” she said.

“Even just having a shelter will be enough,” said Riku.

“Thank you, by the way,” he added.

“No problem,” she replied.

“Why did you stay behind?” Kureha asked in a scratchy voice.

“In case six kids needed my help, I guess…” the lady answered.

Not long after, they found the modular shelters. Sure enough, there were collapsible canvas tents that could sleep up to eight adults. Kai weighed it and realized it was manageable.

“Not going to be the most comfortable thing, but it’ll keep the animals and insects off of ya and keep ya dry,” said the woman.

Shiona and Rin found piles of clothing and footwear to their great relief.

"Oh thank heaven. I really didn't want to die in a yukata..." sighed Riku.

"Or walk two-hundred kilometers in geta sandals..." agreed Rin.

The six of them changed and packed a single alternative set of clothes for the trip. That was to be all they would have until the end. Kureha's rain jacket was a simple black material that covered her tan long-sleeved shirt and slightly too-large jeans. It was perfect. Once the group was changed, the woman returned.

The last thing she handed them was a handful of flashlights. Two each.

“It’ll be cumbersome to carry, but this way you’ll have light. Turn one on and run it till it dies. Then go to the next. Turning them on and off drains the battery faster,” she explained.

Kureha clasped the two she was handed with appreciation. They were heavy and metallic, but she was grateful for the potential visibility they would provide. With that, they were ready. The backpack was loaded and hoisted onto Kai’s shoulders first. Thankfully, it was not overly heavy.

“No worse than a loaded down school bag…” smiled Kai.

“Gods, remember the world history and algebra books? Those things were bricks,” said Shiona as the group exited the building.

It was time to leave Honshu. The woman left them to start prepping a mid-sized fishing boat that would carry them across the one hundred kilometers of open water to the shore of Tomakomai. From there, it was nearly two hundred kilometers to Asahikawa. The group accepted that it would take them at least a week to walk that distance.

Gasoline’s familiar scent drifted into the air, and the fishing boat soon appeared at the dock. As the woman made her final preparations, the friends ascended the ramp one final time to say farewell to the van.

It was alone on the hillside, white and dirtied now. Mud was caked around its tire wells, and the remnants of thousands of dead bugs lined the grill and hood after the thousands of kilometers of travel. Looking at it from the outside, Kureha now fully appreciated how large it was. Even when it was fully loaded down with the six of them, their luggage, and any extra bags of snacks or goods, she had never felt crowded. Yet inside, it had felt so snug and secure, and it was never hard to reach out and hold the hand of any of her friends.

For Rin, the van was the last remnant of her family who were all now gone. Her tears came swiftly as she laid her head on the windshield in gratitude and had her breakdown for the day. The friends surrounded her and held her as they sent their thanks to the vehicle.

“We would have never done this without you, Rin. Thank you, truly,” said Kureha as she reflected on the night of her birthday when Rin first made the offer.

“Truly. You were the one who made any of this possible,” agreed Arata.

“Thank you, Rin,” said Shiona.

“Thank you,” said Kai and Riku.

“Thank you,” Rin whispered to the van, and to her family.

Then they were in the boat and heading out to sea. Out in the water, the ghostly apparition of the lighthouse’s streaking warning light shone to them in a never-ending glow. The coast vanished within seconds, but the six friends stayed facing it for several moments, bidding farewell to the van, to Honshu, to the memories they had gained, and in many ways to their existence. Once the coast vanished and the lighthouse's light failed to reach them, the six of them seemed as though they had already reached oblivion. Deep in the void they floated, barely able to see the water beside them, unable to see any land ahead. 

At that moment, they gathered their strength in one another. They knew that the long walk to Asahikawa awaited them over the next several days, and beyond that, annihilation. They would all be gone very soon.