To the Children of the Aftermath: We are sorry. The Country failed Us; the World failed Us; God failed Us. May your last toils be under a more merciful Being.
--Foragers of Life, deceased
"Good Lord, what is this?" Omaui stood in front of a sign that almost two years ago would've read "Welcome to Mayfield!" but had been painted over sometime between now and back when all the chaos first broke out. A few birds were perched on the sign, probably the only ones in the whole town. They looked like a weird cross between imp-ish peacocks and inky black ravens. A chill ran up Omaui's spine and for a mere moment a thought that he was going to die flashed through his mind's eye like a flash bang. The raven-cocks squaked at him and flew away.
All was silent once again. Omaui continued walking.
About half a mile away from the sign Omaui hit the town. There were many small buildings that looked like they were once home to quite a few family owned businesses. Now they looked more like shops selling empty shelves, broken glass, and blood-stained floors. None of this surprised Omaui. It was like this in the last town. And the town before that. And the town before that one as well. All the towns would be this way until things were rebuilt.
When exactly will things be rebuilt? Probably not in Omaui's time, that's for sure. Everything was still shaken pretty roughly from the first day. None of those that actually survived will probably be sane enough to trust anyone that's not one of their own. Hell, they may even be paranoid of their own. The thought made Omaui cringe weakly. Couples unable to look at each other without at least a sliver of mistrust? Families being torn apart just from paranoia? Mothers seeing their own children as threats and... and killing them?
Maybe. Maybe not. But
(but what if it's all true and humans can't trust?)
what if it's a possibility? What if mankind can never regroup? Will its species just whither away and die out? Or will there be those few that are still in the gene pool and will not suffer from the Darwin effect and repopulate? Not the best subject to think about.
Omaui kept walking. That's all he--or anyone else, really--could do at that point. First it was the plague, the horrid desease that turned even the most docile of man into the most crazed of animals. The desease grabbed a hold of its victim's brain, scrambling their neurons and brain cells until it would look like their brain was put into a blender with a frog and blended if put under a CAT scan. This, of course, made them go insane. Its methods were odd, however: some people went completely insane, wanting nothing but to kill anyone and everyone and thinking their own hand was some viscious animal, while some people just barely went out of their rockers, as in they didn't kill anyone, but they saw things and did weird things. Crazier than bat shit.
Of course, the government had to intervein, and by intervien, they nuked it. Blam-o! Turned every problem city or town or state into a fallout wasteland. In some cases, this helped the problem. But in most, it just strengthened it. Apparently, the government didn't take into account how radiation sometimes messed with people's heads. So, if you take a place inavertanly affected by the nukes, where there's people who are already crazy as bat shit, and add all that radiation, you've got a serious case of
(case of what? bat shit-heads? super-duper whoppers with a few cases of nuts in the attic? what? a case of WHAT?)
people who look even funkier than incest-bred hillbillies and have brains sloshed about as if they were dump stew.
Omaui was still walking, passing more buildings, but bigger ones this time, ones that seemed more for the town; there was the town bank, city hall, the school house, the court house, police station, fire house. Omaui wondered if they put everything where it was in a sort of pattern, like, having the bank and city hall closest to the fire station, you know, in case of emergency? Or if the police station (which had a sign proclaiming it being built in 2008) was closest to the school house because the school had major drug problems, or problems with kids bringing weapons or something. The thought of a town being so creative as to form everything so that it was so readily available in case of emergency made Omaui think of the Boy Scout motto: Be prepared. This town was prepared, just not enough it would seem. In the end, it was still hit just as hard, if not harder, by the fall of everything. Why, Omaui even figured that the town did have last ditch plans to save itself, planned obviously by an overly paranoid mayor, who...
Bang!
A gunshot pulled Omaui from his thoughts and made him crouch low and run behind a mailbox. He didn't look back until he was completely behind the mailbox and hidden and he had his revolver out and cocked. Peering over the top, he scanned the street with both his eyes and his ears, trying to pick-up any sight or sound of another person. All was clear, until he heard a loud laugh that sounded as if it was the result of a hilarious joke about someone killing their wife.
Despite the sound, their was still nothing to be seen....
Miraculously, as if by some blast of unreason and clearity as see-through as deisal, a figure ran around the corner of the police station at a dog-trot, again letting loose a crazed cackle, and called out defiantly, "Hahaha! You dumb lil' Crank Wankers! You'll never get me!" The figure kept running, and when the figure got closer, Omaui saw that he was carrying a road sign that read "One-Way," pole and all. Omaui wondered who he was yelling at, and why he was carrying a road sign as if it were a weapon. A creeping suspicion that maybe he was one of those still infected arose in Omaui, and he slowly started to take aim with his revovler, wanting to drop him quickly and easily.
Omaui didn't have to wonder who was chasing the crazed man for long. A group of ten shappy looking men and women soon followed the man with the "one-Way" sign, each with either a blade or a blunt instrument to call their own. Maniacle grins that seemed to glow plastered each of their faces, and their sole attention was on One-Way. One-Way just smiled and laughed. A tall man with mangy hair and a moth-eaten jacket stepped forward, pointing a little dagger that looked like a miniaturized version of a sword at One-Way.
"Come, now, Jackson, your time is up," the tell man addressed One-Way. "You've been suspected of contracting Big Mouth. The Elders have sentenced you to be Purified."
"Purified? Hah!" One-Way scoffed. "You mean killed?" The tall man frowned a little, but seemed to still hold firm. Omaui began to wonder what this Big Mouth was. Was it maybe what they called the M.I.C. virus? Was it a new strain derived from M.I.C. that had been mutated due to fallout? Some of the followers began to circle One-Way.
"Don't fight it, Jackson. All the sick have been Purified. Now it's your turn." The tall man moved forward along with his group, and the next thing Omaui knew was that sign One-Way was weilding as a weapon was now half-burried into the tall man's skull. At this swift movement, the group seemed to engage, swarming, seeming as if they were going to overcome One-Way with their combined force. One-Way seemed almost unfazed as they tried to pull him to the ground.
Quickly pulling his road weapon from the first body, pieces of splinted bone and gray matter still sticking to it, he bucked himself back wards, throwing at least two people off like an unbroken stallion bucking off a cowboy, and planted his sign into the sides of their heads as easily as he had with the first. Omaui was over-taken by the man's shear brute strength, and started hoping that he didn't see himself and decide to go after him.
It was only a few seconds into the fight, and already Omaui knew that One-Way would win despite still being out numbered. There were three left: a woman with what might've been blonde hair at one point with a plank of wood, and two men, each looking equally rotten and weak. One-Way stared the three down, or at least tried to, almost as if hoping to cause them to just drop dead from fright. Almost as if on cue, one man drew out a Police Special and pointed it at One-Way shakily, as if fearing that the virus they feared was in the man might've made him bullet proof. One-Way's gaze faltered, and he took a step back. The man with the gun seemed to gain a little confidence and, settling his shaking hand, took a step forward, and began to pull the trigger....
But, the gunman was too slow, for as soon as he took that first step forward, there was a bullet in his head. Bang! Omaui always did think of himself as the fastest draw in the West. The gunman dropped and blood and bone splinters flooded out easily, as if it were strawberry jam from one of those E-Z-Sqeeze bottles. Both of the gunman's other groupies and One-Way turned to look at Omaui, the new-comer who just rained in on thier little shindig. With a friendly grin, Omaui turned the gun on the other two.
The woman asked wonderously, "Who are you?"
Omaui grinned like an old friend, or an old fiend, and said nonchalantly, "I'm Walker, the judge, and your friend their just failed judgement. Anyone else wanna take my test?" With enough encouragement not to, the two ran off, practically tripping over their own shadows with fright, and dissappeared around the police station corner. Omaui sighed and turned to One-Way, who was rearing up with his weapon and about to bring it down inbetween Omaui's ears.
"Hold it! Stop! Wait!" Omaui cried as he jumped out of the way in time for the sign to make sparks on the pavement.
One-Way scowled and reared his sign up again. "And why should I, Mr. Judge?"
"Because I just saved your life?" Omaui said, almost as if asking a question. One-Way set his sign over his shoulder and stared up at Omaui. Up this close, Omaui finally realised how short One-Way was. He probably only made it to Omaui's neck or chest. Omaui was tall, but not extremely tall.
"Fine. I won't kill you then, but I am going to kill them." One-Way turned and started for the two that ran away, carefully stepping over the bodies of those who just attacked him. Omaui followed behind, finding it hard not to admire the guy's strength, but feeling he was too good to let him get himself killed.
"Hold up! Don't go after them! Why not follow me?"
One-Way stopped and looked at him over his shoulder. "Follow you where?"
Omaui smiled a genuine smile for once in a long time as he spoke that one word: "Harrietville."
One-Way's eyes widened, appearing as if like saucers,and he almost dropped his sign. "No, that place is a fake. It's only a trap set up by some people infected with the Big Mouth or something." Omaui just shook his head.
"No, it's real. I found out about it in this," Omaui removed a small notebook from his duster. One-Way stared at the book, his bright brown eyes and hard Indian features appearing almost ravenous, like a wolf when a rabbit appears from a hole, just outside the wolf's grasp. He turned around fully, now completely facing Omaui.
"Okay, I'll go with ya. I still am not a hundred percent, but I've gotta get out of here quickly anyways, and having a second pair of hands helps." Omaui held back the sigh of relief that had been building up and nodded.
"Okay, One-Way, let's get the hell outta here." One-Way gave Omaui an odd look, squinting his eyes, turning his head sideways to where his long hair hung limply, and shook his head.
"Did you just call me 'One Way?'"
*Okay, here's the first chapter of a story idea that's been bugging me forever. I know, it's a little rushed I think, but this is only draft one. I plan on re-writing this later. For now, just let me know what you like, dislike, where I can improve, and different things like that. Also, another note, this is post-apocalypse genre, so keep that in mind in case you didn't realize it at the beginning. Thanks!
Gender:
Points: 4494
Reviews: 123