Doomsday RE: An Alpine Dawn

Doomsday RE: An Alpine Dawn

Or, A 1983 Doomsday Tale Through a Nation's Eyes

Somewhere in Burgenland. 1983.

Sweating under the bulky combat overalls that formed his radiation suit, Switzerland wearily made his way towards a large, nondescript tent nestled away from the main encampment. And on such short notice too, he grunted to himself as he tried ignoring the weight of his equipment. In fact, much of it from his rifie to boots was still covered in grime and gunpowder. Though this place seems safe enough.

Yet even from here, the Nation’s ears sensed the familiar sounds of gunfire echoing in the distance over the haunting wind. While the sky itself had taken on a dreary, almost monotone grey even if it was only 2:00 PM. Glancing towards the still smouldering battlefield behind him, he already knew that this so-called invasion was over. Though the few remaining Soviet leaders kept making pleas to cease fire, it was clear the Austrians, albeit with Swiss help had no intention of leaving any enemy standing on their soil alive. Not after they glassed Vienna.

Vash shook his head. Not like I could blame them. It had only been weeks since the nuclear warheads first started flying. Since then, contact with the outside world was lost as EMP fried most of their signals and electricity. But one didn't have to be neutral or a military expert to figure out that America and Russia finally did it. He knew that all the talk of MAD and of every other Nation getting involved in everyone else's business would somehow lead to this: the end of the world, or what might as well be it. Still it wasn’t such a pleasant thought, no matter how right he was.

I'm just here as an observer, the Nation reminded himself ruefully as he finally entered the tent. Close to the opening, he noticed a table showing plans for securing the border around Sopron from the remaining Soviets. Close by, he found several doctors and officers in drab military uniforms, surrounding a dimly lit bed. So long as Lilli's safe. As well as… Even though his view was obscured, Switzerland knew all too well who was lying right in the middle. ...You.

"Grüezi mitenand!" he barked authoritatively with a sharp glare. "On behalf of the Swiss Militia and your own superiors, I'm here on official business. All those not here looking after Herr Edelstein's immediate attention are to leave at once. Schnell!"

Vash watched as the men briskly if tiredly shuffled out, though he was still able to pick up tired grumbling on "disposing" the remaining Soviet prisoners. Soon, he was left only with the bedridden Nation and his aging assistant. Taking off the overalls, he proceeded to close up the tent before turning back to the sleeping figure. For a moment, he couldn't help but cringe at the sight. This wasn’t his war any more than it was for any Alpine country. The nuclear fires should have left them out of all this. I should have expected this…

“…but why did it have to be you, Roderich?!”

--o--

“Colonel Heinrich Steiner, is it?” Vash curtly asked the Austrian officer beside him. “Are you telling me that he just had another stroke?!”

The old man could only shrug. “Ja, Herr Zwingli. I don’t pretend to know how Herr Edelstein manages to suvive such nightmares.”

Sighing, the Nation turned away to glance the hastily set clock. Or rather, he tried to. Yet he couldn't help but end up looking back at the bedridden figure lying right in front of him, bound and asleep in a torn suit.

The former aristocrat looked far too pale for his own good, various bruises and burn marks still fresh on his skin. Occasionally, the Swiss was told, he'd either twitch uncontrollably or wake up screaming before returning to another dull slumber; the less said of what Austria did in the front lines in the few times he was seen awake, the better. Yet still, out of some warped sense of honor or a death wish, Roderich insisted on leading his now stuggling people.

You never change, do you? Switzerland frowned in pity. While Vash would never admit it, Roderich was the closest he ever had to family aside from his dear Liechtenstein. And for all the bad blood between them over the generations, it was in the interests of both Alpine siblings that he make it through. The irony that it took an atomic war to let him and his people to even consider forming a pact with the blue-blooded Nation wasn’t lost to him. You're the only other Nation left on Earth anyway.

It was then that he noticed a small, partly scorched notebook on a makeshift sidetable alongside the brown haired Nation's glasses and a tattered cravat. From its size and damage, it may have been tucked away in his coat when the warheads fell.

Going back and skimming through the pages however, Vash noticed various notes scribbled in the aristocrat's elegant handwriting.

“How typical,” the Swiss deadpanned, more to himself than the Austrian officer.

Most of the contents seemed worthless now yet very much what the Nation expected of him: meeting schedules, directions, music comments and other mundane reminders from a world that had just ended. But the more he read, the more he noticed references here and there to secret phone lines, mail routes and radio channels that went behind the old Iron Curtain. They seemed to grow in number with each passing year. What are you trying to…oh, Gott… Hueresohn!

It hit him: all those codes pointed in some form or another to a familiar name from Budapest. Briskly tearing out the last written entry out of impulse, he stared at the notes and small photographs still visibly intact on it. You can't be serious. Aren't you divorced?! In any other situation this would have incriminated Austria for "patronizing with the enemy" or compromising the neutrality those victorious Allies so eagerly “suggested.” But such things have no place in this new world. Just like this…

"Have you looked into these notes?" Vash finally asked aloud, his free hand moving closer towards his holster. “I suppose there’s more where they came from.”

"Nein. I haven’t a clue, Herr Zwingli,” Heinrich insisted. “No one else is allowed to see those save him."

The Nation frowned. "I see. Gruusig…"

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"Destroy it. Everything."

Before Heinrich could voice his objections however, the Nation pointed a sharp though concerned glare. If not for the fact the man had newborn son named Franz waiting for him, as well as being Austria's aide-de-camp, he would have had him put down for insubordination if not threatened to shoot him himself; these were hard times to allow for such leniency.

"This isn't the time for weakness!” he snapped. "Tell him this was lost in the fighting, for all I care! Sooner or later, your country would have to realize that we only have ourselves to look after. Besides, I can assure you there's no one waiting for him on the other end.”

A part of Switzerland hoped that it would be the last time he would have to wash Austria of certain parts of his own past. But if I have to do so again…Nein, it must be done. Whatever it takes! There was just no time dwelling on such things when more urgent matters of survival were at stake.

“Now do it, Bitte – or I will. That is an order, Colonel."

The old man somberly took the notebook after giving a forced salute. As he left the tent, presumably to do the deed, Switzerland looked once more at the page he tore out. It was dated the 26th of September. The day the world went up flames:

Special occasion. Buy flowers for tonight. Meet Elizaveta in Ödenburg. Hope I'm not too late. We’ll think of something. Please wait for me…

Without ceremony, he set the paper on fire with a lighter; the photographs, showing the Austro-Hungarian couple in happier times, were the last to burn. In trying times, the Nation tried to justify, it was either survive or die. If anything, he mused with a faint cringe, he was doing a favor. The thought brought back old memories of their childhood friendship, forcing him to stay focused on the burning scraps. I'm sorry, Roderich. But trust me: no one is waiting for you on the other end. No one.

And with a deep breath, he let the flames consume what remained of the page just as Austria slowly opened his eyes. While he could guess what was to come, none of them really knew what the furture holds. But whatever may happen, there was no turning back from this brave new world.

While elsewhere, such as in a wasteland across the border, more of the old one continued to die.