"Grandpa, Grandpa," the kids yelled running to sit around the fire, where their oldest family member sat rocking and staring bemusedly at the fire, "tell us another story about when you were young, tell us about the apocky-lapse!"
The old man chuckled, "Well, you're all getting older, I think its about time you heard the story about how I survived to see such a wonderful family before me, each one of us healthy and happy! Its not a happy story, but you've learned by now that life is rough, it was before the bad times, and it still is afterward."
Then he smiled, suddenly, a twinkle in his eye. "But even back then I found reasons to smile, and I never let any of it get me down, not for long..."
He trailed off, but the kids knew not to interrupt. After a moment he started again, "Well, it all happened like this...
They told everyone to go to rescue centers, the news ran a listing of the them, but I never saw one. Like a lot of people I didn't have any way to get there, hadn't bought gas for almost a year, but a guy was coming through with a giant industrial truck with a huge flatbed, and me and about 30 others hitched a ride and sat hunched as he tore up the empty backroads on the way to some damned fort, whose name no one remembers anymore.
ReplyDeleteNext thing I knew I woke up in a ditch, covered in shards of steel and wood, someone's forearm on my lap, which struck me as a prop, and I wasn't too eager to convince myself otherwise.
:Originally posted in violation by Shribarbi, edited:
ReplyDeleteThe scene before me had a touch of medieval, there were people about 100 yards ahead of me. Some had chickens in cages, other had greens for sale. The line to get a cold fresh squeezed wheat grass cooler reached around the raggedy fort. Although the basic style reminded one of fors built through the 17th and 18th century in America, it had such late 20th century iconic touches. The sun had touched the long row of western hubcaps and the sharp sunlight blinded me as I staggered from the ditch and over to the juice line.
Wondering what one must pay for the cool drink, he tapped the shoulder of a large hooded man.
"Bael and Semiramis, my friend," the man spoke as he turned to face me.
ReplyDeleteHe wore a smile that I did not much like. From deep within his long ragged clothing, something stirred and made quite an noise. The man quickly smacked it with a stick, the thing became quiet and still.
"I see you've been let it." He pointed to my lap where I became aware that the forearm I had perceived was my own, attached and opportunity independent of any of my will.
My mind was swirling, strange colored mists began to seep from the man's robe, and all the while a deep, earthy mumbling seemed to be coming from the very hills.
ReplyDeleteI felt like I was dreaming, and I have no idea how long it lasted, but it only seemed a few seconds, because just as suddenly I came to, and nothing seemed to have changed.
But in that same instance a woman screamed, the tent next to me seemed to fly apart in all directions, and in a whirl of canvas a man knocked me over while he screamed, "Zooommbiiiieeesss!"
The encampment erupted in a frenzy. People started to scramble everywhere, panicked shouts filled the air. A group of men and women rushed to a nearby tent and emerged seconds later with a an assortment of automatic weapons.
ReplyDeleteThe robed man spoke. "The culling has begun, care to make a wager?" I shook my head, confused and looked to find a place to watch.
I took up a place behind the armed militia who had taken a position behind a baracade.
Their weapons were pointed to the hillside where the original cry had sounded. Minutes passed... and nothing.