AFTER...
Chapter 1: Alone
By
Donald Allan Yenson
Steve Hasse
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Copyright 2014
Prologue:
The history of Mankind is a violent one. A fact that only increased with the advent of the 21st century. World War One was once called "The War To End All Wars", but that didn't prove true until 2020, the year the bombs dropped. Among the few survivors, the question of "Who started it and why?" is no where as important as; finding shelter, food, and others to trust. The majority of survivors are more mindless mutants then human. The remaining "Norms" are dwindling in number, their fight for mere existence is in question.
2035 A.d.
The filthy brown leather trench coat catches a gentle breeze and slips open, revealing a small Japanese wakizashi sword in it's sheath attached to her belt. The coat hangs loosely on her frame, shrunken by expending more calories then taken in. Her jeans, torn in places, grimy and soiled, matching the brown leather corset, clothing that has seen better days. A rhythmical hiss alternates between a sucking and blowing noise from the black rubber gas mask covering the lower half of her face. Her eyes hidden by the heavy goggles protecting her sight from the harsh elements. Large and circular in shape, with leather shields on the sides. Attached to the sides are several makeshift lenses, tools to see further or to magnify anything set before her. A simple swipe of her hand can place any combination of lenses to achieve what ever enhancement that might be needed at any time. The large backpack attached to her shoulders sags mostly empty, swaying side to side in time with her steps. Her right hand plays with the handle of the sword, more from boredom then eager readiness.
She walks down the road, mindlessly but in perfect time, like a soldier. She pulls her hood forward as she lowers her head. Nothing new to look at, not down this country road. The end of her trench as well as the near empty back pack continues to sway with her measured steps, in cadence with her obsessive drive to move forward. The two lane road still in good condition, the kind of road that only gets light use, a secondary way between cities. A way that was once used as a scenic, leisurely way to travel, but now used to avoid the main freeways that are now clogged with endless broken down cars, dead bodies, and worst of all... Muties.
A car sits on the side of the road, mostly intact, solid. If it wasn't for the four flat tires it would have made for a good ride. Most of the cars she's seen in the past few days were either too fucked up to do anything with, or just wouldn't start. She eyes the flats as she passes, sighing. Her slight stagger betraying her exhaustion from covering too many miles on foot. She pulls an old smart phone from her pocket. Hitting the button on the bottom firing the device up. Punching her access code, the security screen disappears. She opens a notebook type app, makes note of the mile marker of the road, takes a quick picture of the vehicle for future reference, a scavengers treasure list. She checks that the power cord to the phone is secured at the bottom as well as to the solar panel that is sewn into the shoulder of her coat. Of course the device can't call anyone (she's tried), the GPS doesn't work (she's tried), and the internet computer thing doesn't exist anymore (She's tried that as well). The thing that her mother called satellites have stopped doing their magic or fell out of the heavens years ago. But it does have it's uses, a journal being one of them, a scavenger inventory list being another.
About 300 yards away, on the other side of the street sits another abandoned vehicle. The tires look intact, but only a closer examination can determine their road worthiness. The Woman's stride quickens slightly. As she approaches, she removes the backpack from her shoulders, unzips the side pocket and removes a cylinder type tool. She places one end over the door lock and presses hard on the metal plunger. The sound of a quick electric buzz, a bit of flash, a whiff of white smoke. All thats left in the lock, after she removes the device, is a piece of raw metal in the keyhole. She turns the makeshift key, opening the door, and hops into the drivers seat. Besides the dust and dirt that has accumulated, everything seems in working order, nothing smashed, broken or burned out. She uses lock tool on the ignition, starting up the vehicle on the first try. Loud music, from a past era, bellows from it's speakers. Panicked, she starts to hit buttons to turn it off. Quick, skittish turns of her head, scanning the surroundings, nothing. She returns to checking the various controls of the vehicle.
A shadow falls across one side of her, unnoticed. A grotesque man looks through the drivers side window. Scared and scabbed over, puss leaking from boils, lips curled back from exposure, repugnant. The drooling mutant pulls his fist back and shatters the the side window. The woman, startled, elbows the semi human in the face, this does very little, but buys her a few seconds. Shifting to the passengers side, on her back, she plants the sole of her boot into the creatures face. Snatching her short sword and thrusting forward, the blade enters the brain by way of the eye. A bellow of pain from the creature, then silence. Blood gushes everywhere, the dashboard, the seat, the woman's mask. One last kick and the Mutie falls back, away from the broken window.
Sliding back into the drivers seat, she puts the car into gear and slams the gas pedal as hard as possible. Dirt spits up into the air, forming cloud as the car swerves back onto the cement road. The Mutie, unmoving, liquids leaking out of his former eye, performs his final twitches before death. A last breath exits the decayed, corrupt corpse.
Speeding down the road she turns the music back on, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. Bobbing her head up and down, she tries to hum along to a song she's never heard before as she swerves past some of the abandoned cars that periodically appear on the road. Right, left, straight down the middle. Looking out the side window at times revels nothing but trees, overgrown farms, and a few decrepit small buildings that used to be stores, gas stations, and fruit-stands.
Falling into thoughts of what was, what will never be again, she doesn't notice the overturned semi jack knifed over most of the road. She slowly turns forward, recognizes the impending collision, instincts take over. Right hand slams the gear shifter into neutral, right foot slams down the brakes, right hand joins the left on the steering wheel, sharp turn to the left. The wheels sputter in skids as the anti lock brake system does it's job. The car moves to the opening on the road in front of the overturned truck, hind end fish tailing. The back end clips the truck throwing the car into a clock wise spin, almost 360 degrees, and stops on the other side, facing the truck.
Head down, on the steering wheel, she takes a second, then pounds her fists several times. She gets out, scans her surroundings, then examines the damage. Back, passenger side quarter panel crushed, but clearing the tire, brake lights broken. Still useable, still good to go. She checks out the cab of the truck, rotted corpse, nothing of real use. Same with the trailer, scavenged long before. This was not a recent accident. She gets back into her car, dashboard panel still lit up and working. She puts the car in gear, turns back in the direction she was going, as fast as possible.
An hour goes by, less looking out the side, more paying attention to what's ahead. Weaving occasionally, but mainly straight. Moving forward to somewhere, to anywhere, to nowhere. The further she travels the less abandon cars and debris on the road. The further from the dead decaying past civilization. Then it happens, the lite dashboard starts to flicker. The sent of fried copper and melting plastic pours through the vents. The car loses power but retains it's forward motion, slowing down. It finally gives up as she pulls it to the side of the roa
d, pounding the steering wheel in anger. Outside the car, she lifts the hood, releasing a plum of white smoke. She looks to the west, noticing the sun on it's race to the horizon. Slamming the hood down, entering the car to retrieve her belongings, she scans the area carefully. Nothing but an empty road and woods on the either side. She enters the forest on the opposite side of the road, disappearing into the green.
The leaves of the trees block the sunlight, making it darker. The smell of decay, good decay, the true circle of life decay fills her nostrils. Memories of childhood run rampant through her head. Times of days past running through the woods without a care in the world. Days, gone forever. Memories best forgotten. Long shadows warn of the coming dusk and starts to limit sight. Not a long time to find shelter, or to scavenge. She carefully wanders through the dense woods on high alert, fleeting thoughts of the past suppressed. Movement ahead stops her dead in her tracks, she starts to pull her sword. A small grey rabbit exits a bush, stares for a second, then takes off in the other direction. she sighs, part relief, part exhaustion. She decides to turn back, retrace her steps, back to the