Saturday, 24th Jan 2032 – 11:00 GMT
It was a clear day, with azure blue skies. It should have been a perfect day to be outdoors to relax or look for money. Unfortunately, it was not one of those days, today was the 24th of January 2032; the day the asteriod Apocalypse2 was expected to touchdown if the interception efforts failed.
Five miles from the bustling town of Mutukula, a sleek black Kiira Motors limousine cruised through the desolate four-lane highway at a breakneck pace, racing towards the outskirts. The usually bustling road now lay eerily abandoned, a stark contrast to its typical gridlock. The limousine's destination was the remote village of Sipata B, a distance of thirty miles from the town.
With the passenger-side windows rolled down, the melodic tones of Jim Reeves' "This World is Not My Home" reverberated through the empty surroundings, creating a surreal symphony amidst the prevailing silence. Inside the luxurious vehicle, two men lounged in plush, velvety seats, holding bottles of beer. Their eyes, fixated on the empty highway, betrayed the peculiar circumstances of their journey.
Across the globe, most of humanity had taken refuge in designated public underground shelters, bunkers, or, for the fortunate few, their privately constructed safe-havens. The reason behind this mass exodus from the surface world was the imminent cataclysm known as "Apcalypse2," an asteroid hurtling toward Earth with impending doom. Tension, anxiety, and fear had gripped the collective psyche of humanity, an unease that transcended borders and cultures. Prayers for the success of the military's efforts to thwart the impending disaster echoed in every heart.
However, there was a segment of humanity that had resigned themselves to whatever fate the cosmos had in store for them. They were finding solace in their homes, pubs, or whatever venue they felt more at peace. From there, they gazed at the sky, courageously waiting for the imminent end of all life on planet Earth. While some of them harbored the belief Earth would be better off without the presence of humankind, many simply sought to face the inevitable end on their terms. These diverse groups represented the resilient human spirit at this dark moment.
Amidst this backdrop of impending calamity, the limousine continued its swift journey along the lonesome highway. Its passengers, seemingly unperturbed by the global crisis, appeared to be on a different mission altogether.
What had caused these people to travel when the majority of the people around the world were taking cover in shelters? First, we have to understand who are the people in the limousine.
In the luxurious confines of a sleek black limousine, sat two passengers. The first, an elderly gentleman named Amos Tatu, had weathered the tumultuous storms of seventy years, his fragile frame draped in a somber black suit with a brown shirt beneath. His bald head bore the scars of numerous chemotherapy sessions, devoid of a single strand of hair. His eyes, once filled with youthful vibrancy, had now assumed a resigned hue of dull brown, mirroring the bitter struggles he had endured. As the limousine glided through lush, vibrant green landscapes, Amos found no solace in the beauty that passed him by.
Sitting opposite the old man was his grandson, Liam Tatu, a young man of thirty-two. Possessing a tall, lean figure, Liam's head was adorned with short glossy black dreadlocks, a stark contrast to his grandfather's bare scalp. His almond-shaped brown eyes sparkled with the zest for life that eluded his elder kin. Liam's attire was a reflection of his vibrant spirit, donning a colorful African fabric shirt paired with brown trousers. Together, they embarked on a journey to their ancestral home in Sipata B village, a journey of significance, resonating with the echoes of a painful past.
Amos Tatu's adult life had been a tapestry of trials and tribulations. Three decades ago, while serving in the armed forces of Finland, he received a diagnosis that would forever alter the course of his life—HIV/AIDS. Having emigrated to Finland during his teenage years, he could never have foreseen the treacherous path his life would take. In the years that followed, his body was besieged by additional adversaries, with diagnoses of Leukemia and prostate cancer casting long shadows of despair. The convergence of these diseases on a single body felt like a death sentence, he wanted to give up on life but the presence of his two sons and four grandchildren encouraged him to seek treatment.
Their unwavering support and boundless love compelled him to continue seeking treatment, even in the face of immense suffering. Chemotherapy sessions had become a routine ordeal, with the count of these treatments lost to the relentless passage of time. Over the past year, he had endured two stem cell operations, an arduous battle to vanquish the relentless adversary within. There were moments of hope, as the initial signs suggested triumph over the cancer and leukemia, but after the second stem cell operation, the grim reality resurfaced—the cancer still had a tenacious grip on his fragile body.
The once-mighty soldier was now a frail and ailing figure, his body drained and weakened by the aggressive treatments he had endured. The realization had settled in; his days in the realm of the living were numbered. It was then that he made a solemn decision, one born of nostalgia and the desire to return to his roots. He longed to conclude his earthly journey in the embrace of his ancestors, in the ancestral home of his parents, where the memories of his youth still lingered in the air.
As the limousine journeyed toward Sipata B, the ancestral village, Amos Tatu sought solace in the arms of his cherished homeland. He yearned to spend his last days amid the familiar sights and sounds that had shaped his early years. His destination was a family's ancestral home with a graveyard in the backyard, where generations of his forebears lay at rest, waiting to embrace him in their eternal slumber. It was a poignant pilgrimage, a return to the soil that cradled his beginnings, and an opportunity to bid farewell to a world that had tested his strength and resilience.
Despite his refusal, his grandson Liam Tatu had graciously volunteered to escort him home, vowing to take care of him until the end of his days. This heartfelt kindness and love touched Amos' soul. Yet, amidst the warmth of this gesture, an undercurrent of guilt tugged at his heart. He could not shake off the feeling that his failing health had coerced Liam into temporarily pausing his dreams and taking the risk to escort him home.
Instead of waiting, for the imminent conclusion of the state of emergency, a decree imposed by both the World Government and the East African Federation set to last until the 26th of Jan 2023. Amos Tatu decided to take matters into his own hands. He reached out to powerful acquaintances within the Ministry of Health, seeking special permission to embark on this journey on medical grounds. The urgency stemmed from his unwavering desire to not squander the precious remaining moments of his life within the confines of an unfamiliar shelter, surrounded by strangers.
Amos had resolutely made up his mind; he wished to savor these fleeting days in the comforting embrace of his ancestral home, nestled beside the graves of his beloved parents. The thought of departing from this world while resting at his ancestral home brought him a measure of solace, and it was a bittersweet urgency that propelled him to undertake this journey without delay.