Prompt: After the Fall

“Jase? Jason! Mom said come on—”

Jason looked up as his younger sister Bethany threw open his door. She stared open-mouthed as he swept the items on top of his desk into the center drawer and slammed it shut. He glared at her. “Honestly, Bebs—”

“Honestly? Jase, a techhead? How could you? What if someone saw you? What if they took you away like Daddy? What would happen to Mom and me?” Bethany burst into tears and ran from the room. She ran into her room and slammed the door shut. Jason sighed and followed her down the hall. Coming into her room and closing the door, he faltered at the sight of her standing in the middle of the room. She hugged her arms around her middle and stomped her feet. He’d taught her that trick. Let the anger chase away the sad. After Stacey died…

Jason knelt behind her and wrapped his arms around her in a big hug. Leaning his forehead against her shuddering back, he said, “I won’t get caught, Bebs. I promise. It’s just…there’s so much…I just want to see if I can make anything work.” She tugged away in his arms, and he picked her up with a squeeze. “Besides, you’ll scare away anyone who comes looking for me with that scowl,” he teased, tossing her on the bed and tickling her.

She shrieked and threw pillows at him, then climbed up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Please, Jase. Be careful. Tech is bad.”

He hated to hear her parrot the party line. Hated that they taught it in school. Hated that their dad had been cuffed and carted away for trying to tinker with medical equipment when their older sister had been dying and no one could do anything about it.

Now. The technology had been lost over two hundred years ago when the Peacemaker virus swept through all the interconnected systems throughout the globe. It had been lights out for everything with, well, lights. And in the Aftermath, all tech became the enemy.

But their father, a doctor trained in a real medical school, knew stories about technology that did wonderful things. Saved lives. When Stacey got sick and he couldn’t cure her, he went looking for options, and found rebel techheads in an abandoned hospital who showed him some of what they’d been able to restore. Not much, with no power grid. But he brought back a few tools he thought might be useful.

How did they know? Did someone tell? Men showed up in the middle of the night and took him away. Stacey got worse. Then she died. If the tech could have saved her, how was that bad? Jason ran away from home and found other techheads. When he came home three weeks later, their Mom didn’t ask any questions.

TBC?

Dogs in House	Brindle, Houdini
Music	Chorus frogs
Time writing	~30 minutes
April word count	1752

Prompt: Staring Down the Crocodile

Allie sat on the old rusted stands overlooking the river. Perched at the end of the third row, she could see around the river’s bend, where the rapids flattened out and the water grew slow and murky. On the far side, a crocodile floated, his pale belly and arms barely visible in the brown flow. Only his eyes showed above the water, locked on Allie.

They stared at each other, unblinking. Allie knew he could move faster than she could scramble up the bleachers, leftover from some public spectacle long before the Collapse. Now people avoided the river – and the crocs.

Which made it the perfect hideout for Allie and her sister. June had gone hunting in the early hours and taken both their handmade spear and bow. Allie had her staff and a wicked blade, but she didn’t think either would be much defense against a full-grown croc. She couldn’t tell for sure, but this one seemed small, maybe seven feet long. Savvy though, staying still and hidden for so long.

June would be mad if she pulled energy – it might draw attention. And she couldn’t always control it. They’d had to leave the commune when June pulled enough energy with her first blood to burn the fields. Even their mother turned away from her, fear in her eyes. Everyone but June, who tightened her lips until they were white and stomped across the floorboards as she threw their few possessions in two backpacks and held Allie’s hand tightly while they walked out, heads high.

Allie had tried to control it, a little each month, and she got better, enough so that she didn’t set fields or trees on fire when she pulled the energy down from the sky. But she couldn’t control it enough to be of any use for them, such as hunting, so June told her not to risk someone seeing it and finding them.

But June was gone. And Allie had sat on the cold rusty bleacher a long time. And the croc wasn’t moving as long as she didn’t, but if she tried to climb up, it might chase after her. Surely, surrounded by all this concrete and metal and water, she couldn’t do too much damage to anything by the croc? She would try a very, very little bit, the thinnest line of energy from the sky into the river. Maybe she could even cook the croc and surprise June with dinner when she returned.

She closed her eyes and concentrated, imagining a pool of light high above, spooling down in a long thin ribbon into the water across from her. The unique smell of burning air snapped open her eyes, at the same time she heard June’s voice crying out, “Allie! Allie! What have you done?”

Dogs in house	Brindle
Time writing	~30 minutes, interrupted
February word count	7,222

Prompt: Who really believed in the zombie apocalypse? Part 2

…Continued from Part 1

Zach stood outside the room, trying to piece together what he knew so far. He didn’t want to go in. He knew the end. He didn’t want to know the end. Brewer looked up and saw him, waved him in.

“I’m sorry, Zach,” she said before he said anything. “I’m so sorry. He missed his last check. I shouldn’t have let it go, but it was Abe.” She shook her head, tears on her cheeks. Everyone loved Abe. They respected Zach. He saw the difference.

Zach stared at the body on the table. Back exposed, a raw wound on the left side. He ground out, “What happened?”

“Looks like he tried to burn it out. A couple of times, I’d say. He was on the course and a cadet lost his sword and it hit Abe in the arm.”  She gestured to his bloody arm, hanging off the table.

“Everyone saw the cut, so he had to come here. Hoover sat right in front him and started whining.  The sword blow must have triggered the aggression already.” She drew a ragged breath.

“He killed Hoover with one blow. Broke Sam Batts’s nose and arm before we got him subdued. I gave him an elephant shot. But he won’t be out much longer.” Tranqs didn’t work on zombies. Zach wanted to cling to the hope that it had worked on Abe at all. Brewer must have seen it on his face, because she shook her head.

“I just waited for you, Zach. He’s gone. I thought you’d want to say goodbye. But I have to put him down.”

Zach wanted to protest. Abe wasn’t a mad dog. Brewer was talking about him like an animal. Like they talked about zombies. But it was Abe. He couldn’t make himself move closer to the table. Brewer stepped up to him and put her hand on his arm.

“I have to go check on Sam and the other staff. We’ll all have to be quarantined until a medic comes over from the Gator Bowl clinic to clear us.” She hesitated. “Don’t take too long, Zach. We don’t know how long he’ll stay under. I’ll come back in a minute to…”

Zach nodded curtly, looking away from her. Away from Abe. She left the room and shut the door. Locked it.

Zach stepped closer, but didn’t want to see. He turned away. “Jesus, Abe. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you come in right away?”

Because there was only one end.

He heard the rustle of movement. If instinct, friendship, fought with training, they didn’t stand a chance. Zach swung around, dropped to his knee and fired a flare straight into Abe’s chest. They stared at each other for an infinite moment, the flare kindling to life, burning Abe’s skin, his blood. Abe lifted his hand in a silent salute, and Zach jumped back and spun away as the flare erupted.

Abe never made a sound. His body did. Zach didn’t move until the room was silent once more. Until the soft click of the door lock, footsteps, and Brewer’s touch on his shoulder. He didn’t look toward Abe as he walked out of the room. It wasn’t Abe. Goddamn zombies.

Dogs in house	Houdini, Buddy
Time writing:	~1 hour, interrupted

Prompt: Who really believed in the zombie apocalypse? Part 1

Zach climbed the steps to the watchtower and slipped a flask to the two young men on watch. The wind added winter’s bite to the ocean spray that seeped through thick jackets and caps and scarves. They sipped the lighter fluid passing for home-brewed vodka, looking out across the marsh and the ruined road to their island refuge.

“Any action,” Zach asked. They hadn’t seen any zombies in several days, and the tension rose, waiting for the next attack. They wouldn’t be lulled into carelessness again. The guards shook their heads, keeping up their scanning patterns even as they joked and drank with Zach. He kept things casual and friendly, but everyone knew who was boss.

Zach’s dad was the social outcast, the oddball, the crier in the wilderness warning of the coming zombie apocalypse in the face of derision and disbelief. Zach grew up in training, an endless series of martial arts, gun ranges, archery, military-style summer camps. He hated every minute of it. Hated his father. Until Abe, his first real friend, another regular in martial arts classes and summer camp. Until the zombie virus.

No one knew. They’d probably never know the truth. Was it a US Government plot? Was it a foreign attack? It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was the skin-eating bacteria modified into something far more aggressive and virulent. It swept through the cities in a matter of weeks, decimating the population and leaving two groups of survivors: humans and zombies.

Zach’s dad emerged victorious, a leader in the new, dangerous world. Zach and Abe stepped up with him in gathering humans and leading them to safety. The surviving zombies were tough to kill, drawn to humans to spread their infection. The humans clustered in defensible cities: islands, walls, bridges. Limited access points to keep out zombies. And strangers. Everyone had to be checked and rechecked for any sign of the zombie virus. Any visible wound had to be approved clear by a medic, stained with iodine for clearance.

“Zach, this is Medic Brewer. Can you come to the clinic?” Brewer’s voice sounded strained, even over the radio. Zach waved goodbye to the guards and headed down the steps as he replied, “On my way.”

The clinic door was open. Zach hesitated outside and called on the radio, “Brewer, status?”

Her voice sounded weary. “Secure. Come in to the back.”

Scanning the empty lobby, Zach saw signs of struggle. Overturned chairs and a smear of blood on the wall. Then he saw the dog. German Shepherds were sensitive to the zombie virus, and the clinics used them for early detection. Brewer’s was trained to whine rather than growl or bark, which seemed to avoid stimulating the early aggression trigger of the zombie virus. Now it lay sprawled on the floor, neck broken.

 

Zach crouched and pulled his flare pistol. Flares were the most reliable way to kill a zombie. Or beheading, but it was really inconvenient to carry a sword around. On high alert, he stepped past the dog and through the double doors to the interior. He checked two empty exam rooms and continued down the hall. Two more empty rooms. Brewer stood in the fifth, motionless next to a bloody figure on the exam table. Zach recognized the man, even laying on his stomach, face hidden. Abe.

Continuedin Part 2…

Dogs in house	Houdini, Buddy
Time writing:	~1 hour, interrupted
November word count:	25,434

Prompt: A New World Sweat Shop

Anna counted each stitch in time to the clock over her head. She knew to the second when she would the hiss and feel the first tug of the feeding tube pulling out of her throat. She prided herself on not gagging. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. The waste tube pulled out and her port rotated closed. The injection site at her elbow was inflamed, so they had put in a wrist port on her left arm. It had hurt during her whole shift, although she tried not to move it much. She stabbed the needle in the eye of the man she had been stitching. If only…

Standing to stretch, she looked around the table. The women didn’t talk during shift changes. She rested her right hand on Mary’s shoulder, and Mary nodded slightly, never breaking her rhythm. She looked up at the clock over Jamie’s head. Two more hours. The girl was done in. Sick and pregnant, but she wouldn’t get any sympathy from them, of course. Two more hours.

Anna walked around the table and hit the button over Jamie’s chair. Jamie looked up in surprise, then understanding, then horror. She shook her head, but Anna said, “It’s done, honey. You’ve got to go home and get some rest. I can do it. Don’t you worry.”

She turned to the wall speaker. “I volunteer two hours of time. Release Jamie and I’ll take her place.”

Tears streamed down Jamie’s face as the tubes released. “No, Anna, you can’t!” She croaked when the feeding tube cleared her mouth.

“It’s okay. You’ve got to take care of that baby. I have some time off coming up.”

Jamie climbed to her feet and wrapped her arms around Anna’s neck. She began to cry in earnest. The light flashed yellow over her chair. Anna reached up to grab her arms and whispered in her ear, “Listen honey. You have to be strong. This isn’t going to last forever. And we have to be ready.”

Jamie pulled back, questions in her eyes. Anna smiled and shook her head ever so slightly. Under her breath, without moving her lips, she said, “Not here.”

She slid into Anna’s seat and forced herself to stillness as the needle slid into her wrist port and the feeding tube pushed down her throat. Two hours. She could take two hours.

Dogs in house	Houdini
Time writing:	25 minutes
October word count:	20,170

Prompt: There shouldn’t be a light there, part 2

Thanks to Martin for permission to use his beautiful image “1_landscape_speedpaint”!

…Continued from Part 1

He hadn’t seen a single person since he reached the northernmost Everglades. It wasn’t that surprising. Since southern Florida had been officially abandoned over fifty years ago, the wildlife had really taken over. He’d kept careful watch to keep above the tide and avoid gators. Even sleeping in an old cypress wasn’t much protection from panthers or pythons though. He’d woken the third morning before dawn to find a fat yellow python coiling around his knees. He’d risked a fire during the day to roast the meat.

It wasn’t till he got around the coast at West Palm Beach that he finally saw the gleam of light flashing on the horizon. He watched it sweep around again and again, mesmerized by its mysterious beauty. What could cast a light this far these days? It wasn’t always wise to go poking into other folks’ business. But Artimus figured it couldn’t hurt to walk on down to Miami and see what he could see.

And here he was, standing in the surf. Abandoned skyscrapers lined the shore, home to nesting birds and vines racing each other up the sides. Still no sign of people. Didn’t mean they weren’t around, though. He’d best be on guard.

Flash. There was the light. Going around the top of the tallest building. Artimus looked up at it for a long time. Bright enough to shine even in the day. No, it didn’t do to be too curious. But he still thought he might climb up and take a look…

                                   

Dogs in house	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing:
October word count:	19,365