One Fine Morning

It’s my survival philosophy to avoid other people, wild animals, fires, and other natural disasters. But I’m a fucking voyeur. I heard sounds, looked for them, and started watching.

I was on top of a mall. The malls have been pillaged, and more than a few were kissed with fire and destruction, a natural target representing the corporations and greed that people blamed for the collapse. The malls that survived are often like little town-forts. This one was a little bit of collapsed ruin and town-fort. Bowie and I went to the roof for a few days of rest and recon before resuming our road trip.

It was on our third and final day when we heard the noises. The noises were coming from the mall’s eastern parking lot. Most of the noise came from a female source and could best be described as screams and pleas. That’s probably what prompted Bowie and I to take a look.

Bowie said, “Woof.” I said, “Yeah, I know.” Bowie believes in protecting others. He’s a big, gracious beast, with a lot more manners and empathy than me.

“Woof,” Bowie said with a firmer, sharper intonation.

“I hear you,” I said, “but you know our policy.”

Bowie growled.

Employing my binoculars, I watched the scene and listened to the noise. Clearly, these four men had grabbed this female, who looked like a sixteen-year-old, and planned to rape her. She was fighting back. From their laughing and gestures, they seemed to think her cries and fighting were comical.

“Woof,” Bowie said again. He looked at me.

“All right, all right. I know I’m going to regret this.”

Unslinging my Waxman, I brought up the scanner. The five bodies below were found. I targeted all of them and then deselected the girl. Two seconds of debate were embraced as my mind hovered over kill or sedate? Being a compassionate idiot, I chose the latter, pushed the button, and released the fledges. They went with a sporting hiss and struck within a few seconds.

Down went the four. Hooray for my side. Relieved from being hit and raped, the girl scrambled to get the hell out of there.

“Our work here is done, Bowie,” I said. The tranqs would keep those four down for about twenty to thirty minutes, depending on a lot of factors. I figured the clock was running. “Time for us to exit Dodge.”

“Woof,” Bowie said.

Hearing a shout from another part of the parking lot, I whirled. Someone had seen me. Hello, shit. The Waxman was employed again. But then, there were others out there looking up and pointing. Some pointed with hands and fingers. Others used weapons. Arrows flew toward me. The pop-pop of automatic weapons followed.

None reached me but now the roof was a dangerous fucking island. “Let’s go, Bowie,” I said. “Let’s make like a bandit, and git.” Bowie, being smarter than me, was already on the move for the path we’d used to come up.

We had to move fucking fast. Folks might be stupid in this raw, new world, but someone would say, “How’d he get up there?” Someone else would know that we used the pile of junk stacked against the mall’s entrance by Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Leaving precious stuff behind, Bowie and I ran hard. I was ruing my intervention because of the stuff I was leaving behind, but, come on, civilization had already collapsed too much. I wasn’t going to countenance more collapse by sitting idly by while men raped a girl. If death was what I had to pay for my noble stupidity, c’est la vie.

Bowie and I made it down the rickety pile of wreckage but shooting arrived as we reached the bottom. Grabbing Bowie, I hauled myself back behind a line of scorched, toppled refrigerators as rounds made discordant sounds on the junk. Looking through a gap between the fridges, I saw a charging mob. I fired the Waxman and realized it remained on sedative. That was about all the time I had because noises behind me revealed that I’d been outflanked. Another mob was charging my position from the rear.

“Take them alive,” an ugly blond woman shouted.

Should have killed them all, I thought as Bowie launched himself, and then a shit-storm hit, and it all went black.

I apparently lived. I awoke in a silent pool of sunshine. But, as a corollary piece of the environment, I was on a bed and the sunshine was streaming in through a window. The window was above a petite tan sofa. Looked like leather. Sitting up to color in more, I found Bowie beside me on the bed. Good, I thought, but then had to deal with a headache that attacked when I sat up. Sitting up had not been a good idea.

Alas, I’m a stubborn shit (my mother was a stubborn shit, and my father was a stubborn shit, to paraphrase some Richard Pryor lines in Stir Crazy), so I didn’t lay down or do anything to appease my pain. Bowie was bandaged in several places but awoke at my touch, releasing me from a dread that he was dead.

I – we – was – were – on some elevated bed in a small room. The sunshine came through a window to my left. All I saw were sun and clouds. I jumped down off the bed, a movement that required me to pay a toll of dizziness. Bowie was up and wanted down, so, teeth grit, I helped him to the floor. He immediately sank down to rest on the blue carpet.

That’s what I should have done, but that window attracted me. I crossed to it and looked out, confirming, yep, I was in something that was airborne. It was pretty impressive. I’d flown back in the days when we’d had the means. I’d never been on any aircraft that was this smooth and quiet. I’d never been on anything, including car, train, and boat, so smooth and quiet.

I stared out the window for several more minutes, mostly because it let me minimize my movement, which assuaged my headache, but also because I was curious about our airborne location. I could see a shore and water, and buildings in various states. I’m not an expert but I don’t think we were higher than a few thousand feet. We weren’t moving fast, not even as fast as a jet on final. After satisfying my headache, I checked on Bowie, confirming he still lived, and looked around more.

There was a television, Keurig, and small refrigerator and microwave. I also found a pocket door. Behind it was a shitter, sink, and mirror. The mirror showed my familiar, weathered mug, matted hair, and thick beard. It also showed some cuts and scabs. Feeling my head as I checked my reflection, I found a knot behind my right ear. It was tender and wet, so I kept touching it and wincing from pain, because I’m stupid like that.

Satisfied that I’d been hurt, I resumed my room inspection and saw a second pocket door. I tugged on it. It remained closed.

“Well, this turned out to be a fine morning,” I said. I knocked on the locked door. “Hello. Anybody out there? Nod if you can hear me.”

I didn’t expect anything to happen. It didn’t. You’d think I’d be happy because I was right, but I wasn’t.

Nothing to do but chill and wait. My patience and willingness to accept whatever happened is probably what’s kept me alive. The frig had Jarlsberg cheese and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. I opened a bottle of the second and took the package of the first with me to the sofa.

There was no use in starving and staying sober while I waited. Not if I could help it.

The Case for Being A Zombie

This is it, my last meal. I’m grilling my last steak, a lovely marbled porterhouse. A bottle of pinot noir has been secured to go with it, along with a baked potato with the works, and asparagus that I’ll grill. Dessert would be key lime pie. It has to be pie, and I’ll eat the whole damn thing.

Yes, it’s still early days. The virus or whatever the fuck is spreading is not understood. Zombies are running amuck. There’s panic and terror in the streets, and speeches to stay inside, avoid zombies, and remain calm are airing around the clock on the net, television, and radio. It’s all zombies, all the time.

But I ask you, why should I try to stay alive? My retirement account has plummeted. A zombie apocalypse will do that. Inflation is sky high. I had five grand set aside in my house, but it’s down the forty-five hundred. That meal I described? Guess how much it cost? Two hundred dollars for that stuff. Two hundred. Keurig coffee pods are going for five dollars each.

Sure, I have a supply of essentials (like coffee pods), but then what happens? You really think the world is going to get its sierra together in time to solve this crises? I laugh at you if you do. Hell, only a dozen senators and sixty representatives survived the first zombie wave. They also got the POTUS and most of the cabinet. The politicians that are left are, well, politicians. They can read from teleprompters and look good, but they don’t have principles and they’re not leaders. I’m not depending on them for anything.

Why not become a zombie? Zombies don’t worry about anything. They just wander the fuck around, eating whatever is alive that gets in their way. They have no concerns about climate change, gun control, taxes, healthcare, trade wars, tariffs, the environment, new cars, clothing, hygiene, or what constitutes a catch in the NFL. Droughts, war, and natural disasters don’t bother them.

So I’ve decided, I’ll eat this final meal tonight, and then join the undead masses in the morning. In a way, I think it’s funny, because the revolution is finally here.

It’s just not the one we expected.

Boxes

Empty wine boxes littered the floor. It was a sign of the times.

It dismayed him. Where were the boxes of beer and boxes of coffee drinks?

Inspiration seized them. He would create them. And he’d sell them in his own establishment. He’d call it Boxes. It would look like a boxcar on the outside. The chairs and tables would resemble boxes.

People would come in and order boxes of food and drink. He imagined the orders. “Give me a box of onion rings, with a box of soda pop.” His burgers would be square, so they’d look like boxes, and be named for boxes. “Give me a Boxtop with a box of IPA.” His place would be decorated with takes on boxes – like a pair of sixes on dice. “Boxcars!” Boxing Day would be celebrated with big discounts.

Excitement growing, he turned to rush out. His feet tangled with several empty wine boxes. Tripping, he slammed his head into the door frame. Passed out, he bled out on the cold floor before anyone found him.

The young paramedic who responded to the call said, “He’s done. Let’s box him.”

It was crude, but he would have approved.

Wednesday’s Bumper Sticker

I’m curious about the genesis of this one. Makes you speculate, though….

 

Having secured the windows, and alone in his house, he opened the secret compartment that held his coffee stash. Breathing deeply of the smell released, he gasped with delight. It’d been two days, and he needed a cuppa.

Pounding on the door kicked his heartbeat into a gallop. Closing the compartment, he waved away the smell. Thinking more clearly, he turned on the exhaust fan.

They pounded again. As he said, “Coming, just a minute,” a woman on the other said side,  “Caffeine police. Open the door, or we’re kicking it in.”

The day he’d feared had arrived.

Prove It

The first thing he thought of, after recognizing where he was, and what he was doing, was the Rolling Stones song, “Get Off of My Cloud.” Not really correct. Does correctness have degrees? Sure, they give partial credit to partially correct answers. Yes, but not in this situation. So, he corrected, not correct. He wasn’t on a cloud. He was on a contrail, as he’d learned they were called, a chemtrail, as others called them in the second half of his life.

Poisonous air vapors, they were. Surrounded by blue sky, he was walking on them. As he didn’t know how he’d reached them (nor how he could be walking on them), he believed he was dreaming. How high was he? Well, very high. He’d read that commercial aircraft generally fly over thirty thousand feet in the U.S. He assumed he was in U.S. air space, although nothing supported that assumption.

Physically, then, he wasn’t doing this, couldn’t be doing this, unless it was a dream or virtual reality. There was no way he could otherwise be surviving so comfortably at such an altitude. At this altitude, if it’s over thirty thousand feet, he was higher than Mount Everest. The air would be too thin for normal breathing, he was breathing normally, he ascertained with tests. At that altitude, the temperature would be forty-nine degrees below zero, or worse. He wasn’t dressed for that kind of cold.

But here he was, in his Lee jeans, knit shirt, Nikes, and Columbia Wear fleece, striding along without issue. Which presented the idea that maybe these contrails were far lower than they should be. That was absurd, of course; that’s not how they worked. Nevertheless, he stopped walking, turned, and looked over the side.

Big, big mistake.

He’d been able to see mountain tops and distant horizons of clustered buildings and farmland when walking along. But now, looking down, he found a true sense of his altitude, and it freaked him out. He was so freaked out, he should awaken at any moment now.

He waited.

Nothing changed. He looked back and forth along his contrail. It stretched on for a long distance. He could do three things now. One, step off the contrail and see what happens. Two, follow the contrail and see if it led anywhere. Three, he could stand there and do nothing until the contrail faded away.

Pet

She’d never had one before, but she thought it was time. Everyone else had one. That made it time. Otherwise, she was not part of the norm. She liked being part of the norm.

They were so tiny, they amazed her. She walked past their cages, looking down and studying the inhabitants. A few made noises at her, but most stayed back, wary and watchful. It was one of the latter that attracted her.

Stopping before his cage, she knew he was the one. White, with brown hair and a beard, he looked older than most. Older ones were rarely adopted. His clothes smelled; she would need to buy him new clothes. They took care of themselves, but often needed supplies. Besides food, he would need grooming materials and clothes. The Center sold it all, goods the Forces had captured and brought back with them for the pets.

“Open the cage,” she said. “I want to see this one.”

He seemed to realize something was going on because he stood and stepped forward. His tiny hands were balled into fists. The inhabitants of the other cages began making noise as his cage opened. He stared up at her as she leaned in and picked him up.

“Careful,” the slave said.

“I am,” she said, resentful of the other’s tone and words. “I know what I’m doing.”

The slave scuttered back.

The human fit in her hand. He was so small, delicate, and light. “He has blue eyes,” she said.

“Yes,” the slave said.

She liked his blue eyes. “How old is he?”

“He’s fifty, in human years.”

“How long will he live?”

“He’s been treated. I’ll probably live another hundred human years with proper care, which is about twenty-five of our years.”

“I know. Do you have clothes for him?”

“Yes, I think so. He’s average. I’m sure we can find something to fit him.”

“Then I’ll take him.” She held the human up so he was level with eyes. “I will call you Riajin,” she said.

He squeaked back.

He was so cute.

 

Portents

He couldn’t quantify how long it took — minutes, certainly, but how many? — but it required some time before he could gather enough information and thinking to perceive, something was wrong, and then to specify what it was. That, he told himself, was because it was morning, he’d not had his coffee, he was hungover, and this was weird. Then his thoughts were, I must be wrong. He sought to understand what was going on by learning how he was wrong.

The thing first noticed was that the sun was coming in the wrong windows. For that to be happening, it had to be past noon. This time of year, the sun didn’t move to the front windows until the mid-afternoon. He’d just arisen, so he must have slept in past noon. That made sense. The clocks said seven oh three, but they must be wrong.

Armed with a cup of coffee, he went outside to vet further observations. Nothing was really there. It seemed like morning, with the most obvious clues being that his neighbors’ cars were parked as though they had not left for work yet. Unless…was it a holiday?

His Fitbit said it was November fourteenth. He pondered whether he could accept that its calendar was accurate while its time was wrong. Either way, November fourteenth wasn’t a holiday, was it? None that he could recall.

To the computer! It would explain it all. He couldn’t really think what it was going to explain. From his simple observations, the sun was rising in the west.

That didn’t portend anything good for the remains of the day.

Himself

He dreamed he was looking for himself.

The search began deep underground. Dressed in jeans and a shirt, he stood, trapped by the earth, mud and rock crushing him.

But he knew which way was up. Pushing back against the pressure, he lifted his hands and raised the earth above him, first by a barely measured fraction, then, as he kept pushing, by inches, and then by feet. As he lifted the earth away, he gained more freedom to move. With that freedom, he began swimming up through the soil and rock, even though it filled his mouth and he could not properly breath.

The last barrier was concrete. He slowed, but did not stop, though it took greater effort. The sounds he made attracted others’ attention. At last, the concrete broke enough that he could push pieces away. With them gone, he broke off more, creating a hole.

Fresh air washed in from a sunlit blue sky. Although exhausted, he worked more quickly. People’s voices reached him. “What’s going on?” people said. “Is that a person? Who is that?”

“It is a person,” an elderly female voice said. “It’s a man.”

Another female said, “Someone call the police.” Conversations swirled about why the police should be called.

Pushing concrete aside, he lifted himself out of the hole before a decision was found. A circle of staring people, most holding cell phones to videotape his emergence, surrounded him. They backed away at his growl.

Orienting himself, he began walking. The people scattered. He was on Ashland Street. He lived on Clay Street. It was less than a mile away.

It was time he found himself. Up on Clay Street, he awoke from his nap on the couch with a start. Elements of the strange dream buffeted coherent thinking. As understanding developed, he turned to the door. Watching it, he waited, bitter about what was coming. He’d betrayed himself before.

Now it was time to pay.

 

His Dark Secret

His dark secret wasn’t that he disliked coffee. Nor was his dark secret the revelation about how broke he was, or how he collected cans and bottles from the streets and did odd jobs to have the money to buy a four-shot mocha at the coffee shop every day.

His dark secret wasn’t that how he worked for the money and spent it on coffee every day because he liked flirting with the young women who worked behind the counter. Neither was his dark secret his admission that his coffee shop visit was his day’s only highlight, and he looked forward to it each morning. No, his dark secret, that he didn’t share even with himself, was that they were the only friends he had.

During the Eclipse

I don’t know if I was the first to think it. How could I know? I didn’t tell anyone what I was thinking. It was too damn crazy. There were probably others who likewise noticed, but kept it to themselves. Because, what could we do?

When I began thinking it, I don’t know. I didn’t mark the date. Like the economy, or a war, it took a few months to get a true and complete sense of what was transpiring.

It began with people telling about miraculous recoveries from cancer, and other diseases and injuries on Facebook. Those stories swept across the media as newspapers and television networks noticed. Reporters hunting the stories found bigger stories, even as hospitals and government agencies added other elements.

People weren’t dying. Gunshot and stabbing victims recovered. So did people who overdosed. Burns healed. Drowning victims took sudden new breaths, startling everyone. Diseases went into remission. Those who needed assistance from machines, nurses, caregivers, and doctors were able to push them aside, walking, chewing, and wiping their own asses, without others’ help. Memories, speech, and motor control returned. Their vision and minds sharpened.

So many thought it a miracle, a proof of some God’s love. Meanwhile, the planet’s average temperatures jumped. Hurricanes and cyclones destroyed cities, but nobody died. Glaciers melted. The sea levels rose, as did the heat, shriveling crops. America’s Midwest dried up, becoming another dust bowl. Water grew scarce and precious. Unemployment climbed, because there was less need for taking care of the sick, dying, and dead. People cried and screamed in hungry pain. Animals were killed. Fights over food and water broke out. Then came the riots.

I was sure I knew what had happened. Sometime during the cover given by the eclipse, others invaded Earth. They were wiping us out by accelerating our climate change, and keeping us alive even as we starved. It was a soft invasion. They didn’t want us dead, just weak, so they could enslave us.

Guessing that’s what was happening, I’d taken quiet actions to make things as pleasant as possible for my family in our remaining days. There was no way to kill ourselves; there was no way to die. All we could do was wait.

After eleven months, Nate Silver published results. August 21, 2017, was day zero. That was the last day anyone had died. We should all remember that date, when we meet our new masters. I’m sure they’ll introduce themselves by giving us food.

And we’ll be so grateful, we’ll do what they want.

 

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