Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Tess and Lidda: Teens facing the apocalypse part 1



**Warning: Foul Language and Graphic Violence**


“But this is my home!” The words came angrily from the mouth of the fourteen-year-old girl standing in front of me.
“I know, but you knew this was bound to happen. We don’t have a choice. This isn’t easy for me either, but we’re out of time. We’ve got to go, now.”
I hated playing “Mom” to her. I was little more than a child myself at eighteen, but you grew up a lot faster in the new world. We all remembered what it had been like, but those memories were fading fast as we faced more new dangers each day. Besides, I would have been considered an adult at eighteen even by the old standards.
“Ugh! I know why we have to. I just don’t want to, alright? I’ll get my things,” she huffed, trudging off.
“I’ll help,” I announced, looking around the room for supplies.
We began gathering the essentials. We both kept a backpack stocked just in case, but there were always keepsakes and other things you realized you needed at the last minute.
“Grab the picture,” Lidda pointed behind me.
I snatched the small frame from the countertop. I looked at the picture of Lidda as a happy nine-year-old with her smiling parents, and circled around the bar to the kitchen cabinets. I grabbed as many cans of food as I thought she could comfortably carry in her backpack and found the can opener. I noticed a small knife in the drawer as well, and I picked it up, wrapping it in a towel for safe transport in Lidda’s bag. I hoped she wouldn’t need it, but it was more likely that she would.
I rushed to meet her by the door. She was pulling the straps over her shoulders as I unzipped the bag, hastily stuffing the items inside and zipping it back up. We were ready.
Without another word, we were out the door, flying down the peeling-wallpapered hallway, and taking the dilapidated stairs two-steps at a time. It was hard to see the steps in total darkness, but we had done it a million times, so we knew where to step to keep from falling.
My heart beat faster with each level we passed. We had already wasted too much time. It felt like a week had gone by when we finally saw sunlight peeking in around the exit door. We were momentarily blinded by daylight as we burst out into the open street. We took off in a run to reach the safety of a nearby alley. I didn’t like being out in the open, not with headhunters after us.
Headhunters didn’t care if you were already dead or still alive when they took your head, as long as they got paid.  I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure who had sent them, but I had a good idea. It didn’t matter right then anyway. All that mattered was getting as far away from there as possible.
We took a moment to catch our breath, and they were on us before we had a chance to even scream.
“Run, Lidda!” I shouted as the first man came around the corner, but it was too late. He already had her by the backpack, and another one had backed me against the wall; his big grubby hands wrapped tightly around a rusty machete as he grimaced toothlessly. Yuck.
I crouched down against the wall, trying my best to look helpless. When he came close enough, I rammed my homemade shiv into his dick as hard as I could. His pants kept most of the blood in, but it was still all over my hands. His machete dropped to the ground with a clatter as he fell. I picked it up and darted across the alleyway to help Lidda.
The other one was still busy fighting with Lidda, and he had his back to me. He couldn’t have made this any easier. He was about a foot taller than me, but the machete made up the difference. I slammed it down in the curve of his grimy neck. The rusty blade was dull and I wasn’t strong enough to kill him right away, but he let go of Lidda and dropped to his knees. She kicked him in the face so hard she broke his front teeth. He spit blood.
“You little bitches will pay for that,” he gurgled.
“Too bad you won’t live to see it then,” Lidda’s voice was acidic as she kicked him again.
I didn’t want to stay and play. There were sure to be more of them coming. I reared back with the machete and finished him off.
The other one was trying to crawl quietly away, but I heard his muffled groan as I looked up from Lidda’s attacker. I rushed over and straddled his back, wrapping my hands around his throat.
“Who sent you, fucker?” I asked, holding his neck up from the cement.
“Fuck you,” he groaned.
I slammed his head into the concrete with all my weight. I felt his nose crunch with the impact.
“Come again?”
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”
I slammed his face into the ground again, only slightly more gently this time. I didn’t want to render him incapable of responding. Lidda was standing in front of me, watching with a strange look on her face. I gritted my teeth in disgust at my own deed. It had to be done if we wanted to survive. I needed to know who else I was going to have to kill.
“Tell me and I’ll go ahead and kill you. You’re making this harder on yourself than it has to be, dumbass.”
“No.”
I smashed his face again.
“Then just say yes if I get it right. K?”
He groaned.
“I’ll take that as you understanding. Was it Jefferson?”
He shook his head from left to right, and his breathing was coming shallower now. I had to hurry for more reasons than one.
“Was it Coyote?”
He nodded.
“Shit,” Lidda’s voice startled me and I remembered she was standing there.
I took another shiv from my boot and used it to slit his throat, standing up as I let go of his shoulder. He didn’t move anymore after that. I went and picked up the machete, wiped it off, and wrapped it in a strap on my backpack for easy access.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said to Lidda.                         
She fell in step behind me as we crept close to the wall. Jefferson, I felt like we could have handled, but Coyote was another story. He started out as a low-level scavenger when the world first went bad, but when we learned about the clingers and then the see-thrus, he had turned into a full-on psychopath.  
“Tess, why do you think Coyote is after us?” Lidda whispered.
I bit my lip. I wasn’t exactly sure, and told her as much, but I was keeping something from her. I had stolen something from Coyote a few years back, and it had been so long, I hoped he had given up trying to find it. I guessed he had figured it out. He’d probably killed everyone else it could have been already. Now he was gunning for me, and if he really wanted me, I was screwed. Coyote was relentless. Poor Lidda was guilty by association. Just by knowing me, she was on his kill list. He wouldn’t take the chance I had given it to her. He was a real son of a bitch. There was no way I’d be able to get close enough to Coyote to kill him. Our only option was running.
Deep in thought, I almost stepped out in front of another pair of headhunters. Lidda grabbed me by the backpack, pulling me back just in time. I silently thanked her with a look and we backed out the way we had come. The streets were probably swarming with them. I knew what we had to do, I just really didn’t want to, kind of like Lidda didn’t want to leave her apartment earlier.
I begrudgingly turned to Lidda and told her what we were about to do.
“But that’s suicide!”
“Keep your voice down, Lidda! They’re everywhere. There’s no way we can make it out of the city unless we take the sewers.”
“Did that asshole hit you in the head or something? You’ve lost your goddamned mind. I’m not going down there.”
“Well let’s think about this Lidda. Stay up top and get our heads sliced off by headhunters, or take the sewers, fight off a couple clingers, and make it out of here alive. I like our odds in the sewers better than up top.”
“Either way, we’re fucked, Tess. This really blows.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“Well if we’re going to do this, now’s as good a time as any,” she said, pointing at the manhole we were standing over.
“Fuck,” I eloquently proclaimed.
“Yep, my thoughts, exactly.”
“Ok Lidda, I’ll go first just in case there’s a clinger down here. Help me lift this,” I said, as we both grunted with the effort of lifting the manhole lid.
We stood at the top, listening for a moment, then I took my backpack off and sat it on the ground. It was the same backpack I had been toting around since I started high school. It had been a deep purple at some point, but now it was so dirty you almost couldn’t tell. There were still a few legible patches and the monogram my Mom had commissioned before my first day of ninth grade. It read, “TJM” from front to back, but my last name’s initial was large and in the middle. I never understood why they did it that way. I always read it wrong. It seemed silly to put the last name in the middle. Oh well, I didn’t think modern society called for much embroidery, so it didn’t really matter.
I pulled a pair of flashlights from my bag and clicked them both on, making sure the batteries were still good. I handed one to Lidda and re-zipped the backpack, putting it back on as I stood up. I took the first steps into the hole.
“Cross your fingers,” I said, slowly sinking into the darkness. It was pitch black down there, even with the flashlight because the light above was so bright. I couldn’t see anything accept Lidda’s worried face, haloed by the light above. This was a bad fucking idea. I was nearing the bottom, I hoped, because I’d been descending for like forever, when I missed a rung and went flailing into the abyss. I covered my mouth with my hands to keep from screaming, but the splash would be enough to attract clingers from all over the sewer. Forgoing silence, I shouted up to Lidda to get the fuck down there fast.
I couldn’t see her, but I could hear Lidda’s heavy breathing coming down the ladder. She fell into the water like I did, and I felt for her, helping her to her feet. I clipped my flashlight to the strap of my backpack and helped Lidda with hers.
“Come on, we’ve got to run now. Every clinger in the sewer’s going to be headed our way,” I said, pulling her by the hand in the direction of the suburbs.
“This is fucking disgusting,” she complained.
“Yep. Let’s try to make this quick then,” I said, then I stopped, “Wait,” I paused, putting my finger over my mouth to silence her. Our eyes were adjusting to the light, but it was still difficult to see anything but the brown water and the curved walls of the tunnel.
“I can hear something coming,” I whispered, “Take off your bag and feel for the towel. I wrapped a knife in there. You’re going to need it, so get it out and keep it in your hand. OK?”
She dug around in the bag, then announced that she’d found it. I already had the machete in the hand that wasn’t holding on to hers like a vice. We crept slowly, trying not to make much noise in the knee-deep water. The smell was enough to make me vomit, but my nerves were about to send me over the edge. I swallowed down my own bile and a shiver went through my body as I suppressed the need to purge. Lidda seemed fine with all of it. She was way more calm than any fourteen year old should be in this situation. I needed to give her more credit. She was pretty fantastic in a crisis.
A loud splashing echoed off the walls of the tunnel. The first clingers were nearing. This was going to suck balls.
They were attracted to the light, but we needed it to see the fuckers, so we left the flashlights on. Without hesitation, a clinger was running at me full-speed. A dry groan creaked out of its decaying mouth, and I could see the grayish color of its flesh reflecting in the light. It already had its arms out to wrap me in the death grip from which its name was derived. Once a clinger got a hold of you, they squeezed the life out of you as they sucked you dry. I always thought leeches would be a better name for them, but that made them sound too much like vampires. I mean, I guess that’s kind of what they were, but everything else about them was zombie. I used to watch a lot of TV before the world went bad. I didn’t really miss it, since there was so much worse shit in real life than anything I had ever seen on TV.
Then the news became the new horror movie just before the TV’s went down.
Fucking clingers, man. This bitch was fast. It had been a while since I’d killed one, and I was out of practice. She had me in a hold before I could get a good swing at her with the machete. The clinger bit down on my shoulder and started the horrible sucking. It fucking hurt.
Lidda had her knife out and was trying to saw the clinger’s neck off while she was busy trying to drain me. 
“She’s tough as a fucking log!” Lidda shouted in frustration, but she kept digging. Finally, she had the bitch’s head off, but the damn thing still wasn’t dead. She’d never be dead. That was the thing, nobody died anymore, not really anyway. The ones that managed to leave their bodies turned into see-thrus, and the ones that stayed, turned into clingers. It wasn’t much of a choice if you asked me, but it was all we had now. Nobody knew why it started or how, but Mom had been working with the team that was trying to figure it all out when she died. The whole group had died. Some asshole had gone in and shot them all up and stole their research, equipment, everything.
I knew Mom hadn’t come back as a clinger. I assumed she was some wandering spirit now, but thinking about it made me sad, and I had to focus.
The clinger’s grip was loosening with the loss of its head, but I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I shook her rotten body off of me, and set off in a run with Lidda in tow. I knew it was dangerous to run with a rusty machete in my hand, but I wasn’t about to put it away. We came to the end of the tunnel and had to choose left or right.
I chose left. It seemed like the right direction, and I could see some light up ahead. Clingers didn’t really like the light. They seemed to develop a sensitivity too it when they turned. That’s why the tunnels were such a bad idea, but they were the only way out.
Sunlight was a good thing, so we picked up speed as our morale lifted, only to have it shattered when we realized we couldn’t reach the opening.
“Fuck,” said Lidda.
I didn’t need to say anything. I was just as disappointed. We kept going down the tunnel, a little slower than before, until we came to a wall of debris.
“Can we get through it somehow?” Lidda asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to climb up and see.”
I began the ascent. It only took me a few moments, since the broken bits made a sort of jagged staircase. Once at the top, I could see an opening just big enough for us to fit through.
“We can get through!” I exclaimed, but there was no response from below. Lidda wasn’t looking up at me, she was looking down the tunnel. Then I heard it, loud erratic splashing and chalky dry groans.


Monday, July 22, 2013

Octonauts, A Poem

Something to lighten up the page...
 
 
 In our undersea lab, 
We breathe and live,
Life is not drab,
So much to give.
 

 

My friends and I,
Are furry pals,
Who really try,
To save animals.
 

A lobster’s son,
May need some help,
Leg number one,
Is wrapped in the kelp.
 
Some will come,
And go with the tide,
Others will stay,
Along for the ride.
 
 

A critter or two,
May give us the slip,
But Kwazii is who,
Is fast as a whip.
 
Peso is there,
To bandage and cure,
He knows where,
To apply pressure.
 
Southern and furry,
Tweak is a bunny,
She’ll fix in a hurry,
Because she’s no dummy.
 
Captain Barnacles,
Sounds the Octo-Alert,
Usually while,
The ship is inert.
 

Dashi’s cam lens,
Goes “Snap, Snap, Snap,”
At the sound of sirens,
“I’m on it, Cap!”
 
A pink octopus,
Professor Inkling,
Founded Octonauts, thus,
He’s like a sea king,
 
The Vegimals are,
A fun little posse,
Their words are bizarre,
Their temperments, saucy.
 
“Jumping Jellyfish!”
“Fascinating!”
Dr. Shellington,
Is pretty amazing.
 
 
Now that you know,
Them all by their name,
Maybe you’ll go,
And never be the same.
 
Animals need saving,
At sea and on land,
Let’s all do something,
Let’s give them a hand.
 
It would be easy,
To stop all the hurt,
Don’t be uneasy,
Just be alert!
 
Love all your pets,
And animals who aren’t,
Their unspoken thanks,
Is a wonderful present.
Image Credits:
 

Monday, July 15, 2013

The Mother

The young mother lovingly laid her infant in its crib. She kissed her hand and placed it against the child’s cheek, pausing for one last smiling glance at the sleeping baby. She hated walking away, but knew it was best for the baby to sleep on its own, without her own selfish need for the comfort of the warm child against her bosom. The mother gently closed the door behind her as she stepped into the brightly lit hallway. Her husband wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, so she figured that she could fold some of the laundry that had been piling up while she caught up on some of her favorite tv shows. She grabbed a diet soda out of the refrigerator and sat down on the comfortably worn old couch- putting a coaster carefully under her soda can. She reached for the remotes and the basket of laundry at the same time, pulling the basket into her lap and turning on the tv. As she flicked through the channels she took a sip of her soda. One of three small dogs that she had rescued from the pound (years before even thinking of having a child) jumped into her lap, knocking over the basket of clothing. She scolded the small animal, but picked up the basket and called the creature back into her lap. Scratching the dog’s ears added one more thing to keep her hands busy. She always stayed busy these days. Between feedings, diaper changes, naps, dog walks, cooking meals, cleaning up after meals, and various other household chores that required regular maintenance, these few moments for herself were hard to come by. Secretly, she enjoyed these tedious labors of love. This wasn’t the life she had originally chosen for herself, but she felt more than fulfilled. Sure, she yearned for her youthful figure and a sense of accomplishment that one would get from a full time job, but the happiness she felt when she thought of her young daughter and kind husband were all that she needed these days. She remembered suddenly to turn on the baby monitor that she kept near her at all times. She could hear the lull of waves coming from the sound machine in the baby’s room. It kept the baby from waking at every little bump and thud that was made throughout the house. It also made it hard to hear the baby crying unless the monitor was on. The young mother relaxed into her routine, knowing that she could hear anything that might happen in the child’s room. It relieved her of some of the worry that comes with having your first child, but never relieved her of all of it. She folded a onesie in her lap and put it in a stack of like items to the side. She turned up the volume on the tv and reached for another article to fold.

The baby breathed heavily with the peace only an infant’s innocence will allow. It was the kind of sleep that most adults wish they could have, if only for one night. Across the room, the window slowly and quietly slid up and open. A man’s large gloved hand pressed against the window sill. The man pulled himself into the room and landed quietly on the floor. He paused, listening to be sure that no one was coming. He had been planning this for a long time, and knew what it would mean to get caught. He would have to kill the mother, and that could mean a struggle and evidence left behind. No, this would be much easier if he could sneak in and out undetected. He licked his lips in anticipation as he looked into the crib. His eyes widened, and he stuck his hand down into his pants- the excitement was nearly more than he could bear. After a few moments, he stopped himself and continued his task. There would be plenty of time for that and more, later. He stepped forward, reaching into the crib, and looked down to see a dark stain expanding across the carpet below. His own hands grasped his throat where the blood poured out uncontrollably. Within seconds, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. The baby slept on, blissfully unaware of the gruesome scene that had taken place beside her.

The mother looked down at the body of the man that had tried to harm her child. She gripped a large kitchen knife in her right hand. She held the knife so tightly that her palm began to ache from the pressure. She used her foot to turn the man over. He was a white male, someone she didn’t recognize, but she would later find out that he lived only a few houses away. She spit in his face as she watched the last flicker of life go out of his eyes. This wasn’t her first taste of death. She’d lost her first child within the first few months of pregnancy, but where she felt love and regret at the loss of her baby, she felt a sense of relief and pride looking at the empty shell that lay before her now.

The sound of the television had nearly kept her from hearing the alarm chirp that alerts her when a door had been opened in the secluded house. In fact, it was the television that had kept the man from hearing his own error chime throughout the living room. The alarm panel let her know what window was open and it took her seconds to realize that someone had come in through the baby’s room. It took her a few more seconds to turn up the volume on the baby monitor and place it to her ear, listening to every creek and thud the man made as he lurked near the crib. After that, the hardest part had been deciding whether to use the hammer or the knife. She decided on the knife because it would be quicker and cleaner if she snuck up undetected. With all the practice at being quiet around her sleeping child, sneaking had been the easy part. She left the tv on, but turned out all of the other lights so that opening the door wouldn’t cause a stream of light to pour into the baby’s room upon entry. She slowly turned the knob, pulling the door towards her as she did it so that it wouldn’t click. She gently pushed it open, watching the man pull his hand out of his pants. Her eyes narrowed in disgust and everything inside her told her to scream and run at this monster in the dark. She controlled her emotions and kept silent as she crept across the room. The peaceful sound of waves continued as she gained on the man. Luckily he wasn’t too tall for her to reach. Sweat beaded on her breasts, centimeters from the midpoint of the man’s black hooded jacket. She took a slow, silent breath. As he leaned towards her child, she reached around the man with her knife-wielding right hand and delivered a slow, precise slice from left to right. His skin was tougher than she imagined it to be, but her knives weren’t as sharp as they should be either. She clenched her jaw as she cut through his jugular, letting a little smile flick across her face as she watched his knees give out. After she had been standing there a moment, sure that the monster was dead, she reared back and kicked his skull as hard as she could. Her toe hurt afterwards, but she reveled in the pain. She smiled again, with a sense of victory and again, pride. Her eyes bulged with a wild gleam in the dark. Somewhere deep inside, she was grateful she had not set the alarm, because it would not have allowed her the pleasure of killing the man who intended to harm her sleeping infant.

After regaining her composure, the mother remembered her sacred duty was to her child. She looked into the crib to check on the baby. A few drops of blood had spattered the pastel sheets and the back of the child’s pajamas. The mother shook her head in frustration and let air out of her nose slowly. She reached into the crib and pulled out the sleeping infant ever so gently. The child let out a little cry, annoyed that it had been woken up so shortly after being put to bed. The mother draped the baby across her left breast, placing its head on her shoulder. She then gently patted the child’s back as she stepped over the man’s body and towards the closet. She picked a pink footed outfit with a picture of a kitten on the front. The mother made soft shushing noises into the child’s ear as she placed her onto the changing table. She glanced nervously at the corpse behind her to be sure it had not moved, then she proceeded to change the child’s clothes and placed her into a comfortable position in the crook of her arm.

As they left the room, the mother whispered softly into the child’s ear, “I love you more than you’ll ever know,” and closed the door behind her.

Final Moments


A dark start to a brand new blog...

 

 

“Why did you come here? You’ll die,” the words came rushed and angry in the closed space, the sound of the wind outside making them nearly inaudible.

“I would have died if I lost you anyway. I love you, Samantha. I always have, and nothing will keep me from you, not even this storm,” his voice was firm, daring her to argue.

“But why now? We could have had a life together. We wouldn’t be here right now if you had just told me before! Why are you doing this? It’s not fair! I don’t want to lose you now,” she cried.

He softened, dropping his shoulders in resignation, “I know. I’m sorry. I wish I had the courage to tell you sooner. I was afraid. But when I found out you were leaving, and the storm was coming, I knew this would be my last chance. I couldn’t go on without you knowing. I love you, Samantha. I love you!”

He had to shout the last “I love you” over the yowling wind that was picking up outside the small window. That sound and the increased splashing against the window were deafening in the tiny tile room.

“Get in the tub, now!” He commanded.

Samantha did so without hesitation. Just as she crawled into the marble garden tub, she huddled, curling in on herself. Something slammed against the window, cracking the glass with a horrible thud. The glass clinked and popped as a network of cracks spread across it. One more hit, and the window would shatter, letting in all the horrors the wind carried with it. Dom slid into the dry tub behind her, wrapping his arms easily around her.

She knew that Dom had always been a person she could trust to take charge in a tense situation. Now was no different. With the hurricane tearing the island apart outside, there was no one else she would rather be trapped here with. She only wished she had more time, and if anyone could manage to stretch out the final minutes they would live to share, it would be Dom.

“I’m afraid, Dom,” she admitted.

He tightened around Samantha, pulling her closer to him.

“It’s ok, Samantha. We’re going to be alright.”

It was a beautiful lie. She closed her eyes in his embrace, leaning her head back into the crook of his neck while they had a few moments of quiet together. A silent tear slid down her cheek, and then came another from the opposite eye. After that, they continued to slowly roll down her face while Dom held her. He whispered placating words into her ear until the storm became too loud to hear over. When that happened, Dom gently pushed Samantha forward, and turned her chin to face him with his thumb and forefinger.

Samantha noticed that water glistened in the corner of his eyes when he looked at her. His beautiful gray eyes reflected the storm outside with their own inner torment. The life they could have had together played out between them in that shared moment. In a millisecond, the moment was gone, and Dom was kissing her so deeply, it felt like they had become one person.

Crash!

The window broke, raining glass and seawater down on the two of them. Their cheeks pressed together as they clung to each other tightly. Samantha could feel Dom’s heart pounding rapidly inside his chest, a beat that matched her own. Fear gripped her as she realized the end was nearing. With that knowledge came the realization of unspoken words, but the wind was now too loud to for them to be heard.

Samantha reached her outside hand up and across herself, laying it to rest on Dom’s cheek. She turned his head to face her, and he mirrored her motions by placing his own hand on her cheek. They touched foreheads, and looked with shared understanding into each other’s eyes.

“I love you, Dom. I’m sorry,” She mouthed silently. She would not have been able to speak anyway, for her words would have been choked by tears.

“I’m sorry too,” he mouthed back, “I’ll always love you. Always.”

They kissed again, and the roof blew off the building.