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Young Writers Society


Apocalypse: What now Chapter 5 part 1



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Thu Dec 29, 2011 1:34 am
captaindomdude says...



Spoiler! :
Alright, It's been awhile since I posted a new chapter, but school kinda got in the way. Warning, this has some...unique dialects, but please bear with it, it shouldn't be too hard to understand. Enjoy! also, for those of you who might be new to it, until the 'this is part of novel' thing comes back up, here are the links to the other chapters.

Here is Ch 4 part 2http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=88056&p=919183#p919183

Ch 4 part 1http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=88053&p=919175#p919175

Ch 3 part 2http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=87618&p=915195#p915195

Ch 3 part 1 http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=87615&p=915186#p915186

Ch 2 part 2 http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=87615&p=915186#p915186

Ch 2 part 1 http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=87454&p=913775#p913775

Ch 1 http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=87353&p=913183#p913183

Prologue http://youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=364&t=87308&p=912769#p912769



Chapter 5

As soon as Markus entered the stairway and was out of sight of the others, the tan skinned boy looked over at the red haired girl and said,

“Fighter, why we trustin this bit ’? fer all we know E’s jist gonna try to use us, thieve us, or change us.”

The girl sighed and said,
“I….cn’t say. E’s….diffrent. N’t like the others. E’s got a healing haunter on his side. T’at has mean sometin’. ‘sides Shooter, it’s five of us and one of ‘im. If E tries sometin, we’ll just have Basher Smash Im.”

She grinned `at the dark skinned boy, who grinned in return. Shooter shook his head, still not convinced.

“Yea, but what’s E want? Lessons six, others only give when they want sometin. What do E think E’s gonna get by ‘elpin us?”

Fighter shrugged her shoulders and replied,

“I dn’t know. But we’ll know ‘wen E asks, and we’ll work from it.”

--------------------------------------------------------------


Markus made his way up to the employee’s lounge and stood in front of the vending machines again. He wondered what the gang of youths wanted, before shrugging and grabbing as many types of the junk food as he could. After grabbing as many as he could carry, he started making his way out of the room when he was interrupted by G.R.A.N’s voice

“Markus, I want to talk to you about those youths.”

Markus paused and asked, “What is it?”

G.R.A.N sighed and responded,

“Well, I really don’t like the look of them. They look like they’re in a gang of some sort. I don’t trust them. I…”

Markus interrupted,

“Look, I know what they look like, and you’re right, we need to be careful around them. I just…when I went outside, the world was so different from what I remember. Everything’s in disrepair, nobody’s around. I want to find out what happened, why the world is like this. And they are from outside here, so they should know what happened.”

G.R.A.N was silent for a little bit, then asked,

“Is that the only reason you invited them in? I understand your curiosity, I do, but I don’t think that is enough reason to help this gang of strange youths.”

Markus sighed,

“No, that’s not the only reason. That guy who was shot, I couldn’t just leave him. He was shot, I had to do something. Speaking of him, how’s he doing?”
“I’ve got both bullets out, but I still need to stitch him up and disinfect the wound. It will be a little while longer.”

G.R.A.N paused, then said,

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Markus dropped his head while saying, “Yea, so do I.” before walking out of the room.


He made his way back down the stairs with minimal difficulty, and entered the hallway carrying the junk food. The gang of youths were scattered sitting scattered around the entrance to the operating room, with the two older boys sitting on either side of the door like guards. As the door to the hallway closed, they all looked up and watched him as he approached. He walked to the gang’s little circle, then kneeled down and dropped the bags on the ground.

“I…uh, it’s not the most filling food, but I think I grabbed enough for you guys. It’s mostly junk food, but there is some dehydrated stuff also.”

Markus said as he stood back up and motioned to the pile. The three boys shot forward to grab their share, but stopped as the girl gave them a sharp look. Standing up, the girl moved in front of Markus and stared at him for a moment before asking suspiciously,

“Wy ya doin tis? W’at ya wantin from us? We d’nt ‘ave notin, our bodis ain’t worth ya time, and we d’nt change for nobody. Wat makes us worth ya time?”

Markus stepped back, startled by the girl’s suspicion. Stammering, he replied,

“I…uh…I just…It’s the right thing to do.”

The girl blinked in surprise at the answer. She stood there, staring at Markus and trying to figure out what he said. The others of the group weren’t expecting the answer either and they all looked at Markus in confusion.

“Wat do ya mean?” The girl questioned, her eyes narrowing in distrust.

Markus opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it and took a second to collect his thoughts before answering,

“I couldn’t just leave your friend out there, it wouldn’t have been right. He needed help. And you guys, you just look hungry, I can see it in your faces. But if you don’t want it…”

“Foighter please, it d’nt matter wat e want’s, cn we just eat?”

The youngest of the gang pleaded. The girl turned her head and looked at the small, light skinned boy. Markus noticed her expression soften, then turned back towards the food and nodded at the gang. The young boy and the dark skinned boy grinned and sprang forward, grabbing whatever they could and ripping it open. The older, tan skinned boy with the holsters stared at the girl for a moment before grabbing his own bas. Finally the girl kneelt down and examined the bags before grabbing one. As the gang ate, Markus stood there smiling lightly at the sheer joy the youths in front of him exhibited.

Once the initial mad rush was over, the four youths split what was left and moved to rest against the walls and digest. Seeing this as an opportunity, Markus moved forward and sat down. He looked over at the girl and asked,

“So what was it he called you? Fighter?”

The girl nodded and replied,

“Yea, us four are called on wat it is we do. I’m Fighter, cuz I beat up everybody who tries anything. The bit over there is Shooter,”

She pointed her head to the tanned skinned boy, who looked up and nodded.

“’E ad all kinds of shooters when we found im, but e only ad bullets for one.

Still, e was best shot I ever saw. Big boy over tere is Basher,”

The dark skinned, muscular boy grinned at the mention of his name.

“e’s a bit slow, but tougher than anyone. And the little bit ‘ere is Stealer.”

The youngest boy looked up and grinned at Markus, who smiled back.

“T’is bit ere takes all kinds of stuff and puts in ‘is pouches. Says e cn’t elp it,but we dn’t believe im.”

The group laughed as Fighter reached in one of boy’s pouches and pulled out a piece of ribbon, stared at it, then growled and backhanded the boy, who went tumbling backwards. Fighter then took the ribbon used it to tie her dirty red hair back. Without missing a beat, the boy rolled back up with a grin on his face and continued munching on an old chocolate bar. With her hair tied back, Fighter turned to Markus and asked,

“So what about you? What do they call you?”

“Markus, My name is Markus.” He replied, looking intently back at her.

“Markoos, what is that? I’ve never eard of someone who markooses”

The tan boy, Shooter, spoke up. He looked over at Markus with an amused look on his face. Markus raised an eyebrow at the tan boy and replied,

“That’s because it’s not something you do. It’s my name, where I’m from, people aren’t named based on what they do.”

“Ya meen lik Lucas?”

Stealer spoke up, an awed look on his face. Markus frowned and looked over at Fighter, puzzled. She dropped her head and said,

“E’s te one gettin saved by your haunter.”
Markus nodded in understanding and, smiling slightly, said,

“Then yea, I guess I am like Lucas.”

They sat in silence for a moment, thoughts of each other slowly forming as they ate.

“W’ere are ya from?” Fighter asked. “You ain’t from ‘ere, that’s for sure. Ya talk differn’t, and you look differn’t.”
I
t was Markus’ turn to drop his head as he remembered where he was from. His thoughts drifted to different memories of his house and life. He recalled playing catch with his dad, the first time he sparred with his tutor. A wave of memories washed over him, and he sat there remembering for a few moments what he’d lost by waking up. After a few seconds, he looked up and, sighing, said,

“I’m from up north, a place called Rickerton.”

Stealer, spoke up and asked through mouthful of candy,

“Wat’sh it like tere?”

Markus swallowed, trying to choke back tears, and answered,

“It used to be a better place, but now I don’t think it’s anything at all.”

The group nodded, sympathizing with his statement. Shooter swallowed a mouthful of granola and said,

“We’ve all been tere.”

Markus nodded, not wanting to say anything else for fear of losing control.
The group sat there silently, not feeling there was much else to say. Markus could sense the anxiousness of the group as they waited for their leader to leave the room. Markus couldn’t tell how long they waited, he suspected that time wasn’t as important as it was before, and even if it was, clocks probably didn’t even work still. He sat there wondering about what he saw outside. The buildings had obviously been in disrepair for a while, which made sense based on what G.R.A.N had said about what happened. Still, he was surprised to see so much damage. It had only been 35 years. He resolved to ask G.R.A.N if there had been anything she hadn’t told him about the world.

His thoughts were interrupted by everyone springing to their feet as the door hissed open. A young man stood there, leaning against the doorway and rubbing his forehead. He was tall and slender, looking a year or two older than Markus. His skin was dark, darker than basher. He wore his hair in thick braids that hung down around his head. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. A light brown leather jacket with two holes in it hung loosely around his bare chest, revealing his semi-toned frame. Simple black jeans with multiple patches were held up by a belt with empty bullet loops, and ended in pointed boots.
(Continued in part two)
"If beauty could be done without the pain, well I'd rather never see life's beauty again"-Modest Mouse.

"What lies beneath this mask is more then a man, it's an idea. And ideas are bulletproof" V, V for Vendetta.
  








When one is highly alert to language, then nearly everything begs to be a poem.
— James Tate