‘In the city, time was fast. People walking down the street had no time for singularity. Each had his own agenda. Time was daylight for some, others a deadline or important date. Some don’t claim to recognize the time but rather ignore it. Like that one guy that use to walk past here everyday. He use to listen to his music, so loud, that his time seemed to stand still. But he always walked in the same direction. That’s how I know, for sure, he still had a schedule. His hair was long and he had tattoos more than skin. He seemed so care free, yet, still had somewhere to be. I think his name was James, or, maybe that was one of his tattoos. I cant remember now. The past is a blur now. I still see how some things use to be. Like that restaurant over there, but no one could really afford it, which made it that much more appealing. That one time I took… (Screams) Shit, I have to get out of my head. I have my own agenda, Stay Alive.’
The screams came from a former street tunnel, now devouring rusted cars and wind blown garbage. A stocky young man runs from crouching at the street corner, and his thoughts, he throws his under supplied backpack over his shoulder, tazer in hand and the safety off. His agenda, stay alive no matter the cost. Vez, as he was now known, was a teenager that lived in the city his whole life. His black long matted hair and dark skin, even darker in recent days, was his signature look. Always wearing the same hoodie and jeans, not that there were many options. He did have two pairs of shoes; his favorite, the converse, black sole high tops. He had a pair of boots but didn’t feel the need to wear them, plus speed was important, and his reputation. Vincent was his former name, which only he, and a few others left knew. Vez kept to some of his old hobbies. Often he would stop and graffiti V E Z on the side of empty buildings with broken windows. Not that anyone noticed, the city was vacant. Mostly quiet unless the drones flew over to bomb, or someone was being ripped apart. He recognized the streets well, even with the apparent danger, felt more comfortable in the shadow of a city. He’d rather be there than the camp.
Vez ran past 10th avenue, as the sun set on the horizon. Only the camp in view and a blue haze from an incoming storm. As the soles of his shoes kicked up dust and dodged trash. The city was behind him, torn to pieces. The bombs, the drones drop, directed at individual buildings and taking out several floors with every explosion, as to exterminate a nuisance. Once the city had a name, residence, and was prosperous. It was a port city on a bay, 50 miles north of the ocean. One time rich with life, overpopulated, as most cities were. Post war its known as Zone 13. Marked by a large sign, where a half of a bridge hangs by a thread to the streets connecting on each side. The ‘last war’ some called it, nuclear bombs were thrown from country to country. Like a football game where the balls exploded, as each team was offense trying to intercept without care of immanent death, as Vez explained. Hundreds of miles from each impact zone, death and ruin apparent. Most large cities blown to the ground, nothing left but rebar and rubble of concrete. Survivors were few, and most became sick or died. Scientists trying to combat the radiation, came up with a cure. It was temporary and the sick died slower. The so called cure only extended their misery. Infected people once believing in the cure, now roam the dead world. The Last War demolished civilization. Not only did the war have an affect on life, but the weather too became fragile.
The skies and ground inconsistent with every hour. It was sporadic, and one of the biggest dangers. Earthquakes and tornadoes frequented, where people never experienced the disastrous events. Much of the coastal areas were plagued with tidal waves and abnormal tide changes. The water came up to zone 13 several times, only a few inches, more of an annoyance than disaster. Soaking everything on the ground and leaving a horrible mold smell, within a few hours. The surges leaving dead fish, attracting swarms of flies and pests. Storms were strange and several times a day, some carried heavy lightning and ear piercing thunder. Each storm blowing a different direction, and often caused several tornadoes and waterspouts. Some storms, from the impact zones, were full of dust and debris. If a storm did cause rain it was a heavy downpour and water was contaminated with the radiation from the warheads. More often then not it was hot and dry. Clean water was scarce, and food hard to come by. There was no way to prepare. The war sped the decay to an already dissolving world. Everyone knew not to go into the city anymore, yet Vez insisted.
The young city kid approached the back gate to Zone 13 camp. Before the war, caution camps were set up, in preperation of a nuclear war. Holding only healthy survivors, each having their place and purpose. Promised safety and as long as they stayed withing the facility and worked one shift each day. But people seemed to vanish as time went on. Less and less camp residents every year, and no one questioned their disappearance. Vez slipped on his vest with the patch that read 134WPT, water purifier technician number one hundred and thirty four. He pressed on buttons on large containers, set up to purify water, and watched for temperature changes. He was used for his build to carry the cartons to the delivery cart. The camps were set up with advanced technology for hundreds to survive for years. Powered by walls of solar panels and rows of wind turbines. Vez hid patiently behind an broken half brick wall, remnants of an entire suburban neighborhood. He was waiting for the security drones to pass. Drones were used for everything in camp. Large robotic hovers would come from Central Supply, dropping large containers of dried food and supplies. No one knows who is in charge or if there is a government left. Everyone works and stays alive, nobody messes with the system. The two flying drones, lined with two red stripes and security written on the side, pass each other, now was his chance. Vez sprinted toward the wall and slid on the ground. It looked as if he was going to hit the wall, the drones would notice and sound an alarm. He’d be detained or worse if they found him outside of the camp. Sliding towards the wall, Vez spotted his entrance, he rolled and dropped beneath the wall.
The clever kid left a hologram of the wall, in a spot he dug under the sensor areas. The fortress was layers of concrete with metal siding and bullet proof glass ceiling. The walls had sensors two feet up around the entire encampment. Before the war, it was a football stadium, now a fortress for the survivors. They shut off and doubled security one hour every night for testing and repairs. Vez forged a tunnel with tools from the water purifying warehouse. It took him months to dig, one hour every night. Each resident was allowed to use a personal hologram device. Used to watch previously recorded entertainment and keep an update of daily life, the teen thought it was a useless distraction to how miserable life of survival in a camp really was. Well almost useless, he thought. Intelligently he took a picture of the wall and projected it up when he exited. Pulling a layer of the wall behind him. He didn’t need entertainment anyway, the old city had enough exciting adventure. Though Vez was growing tired of running and hiding, carrying water crates for a shift of 5 whole hours. He longed to leave the camp and live a real life, like when he was kid. He laid in the small crevice peering behind the hologram, looking past the crumbled brick walls and to the skeleton of city on the horizon. Saying to himself ” Once upon a time, I had a life there. Now even time itself is lost.” Vez felt like a prisoner, and wanted to escape. “I will leave this world I know, soon enough” he proclaimed.
Laying and reflecting on the past, and dreaming of the future, Vez watched an opposing storm to the one he saw earlier was approaching over the city. He remembered going through testing facilities to gain entry to Zone 13’s camp. How the doctors and Emergency Police turned so many people away. Hundreds left crying and injured, no place in the world to go. The drones flew back by, and stopped right in front of him. Alarms sounded like a territorial elephant. Vez froze. The flying robots turned towards a brick pile where a house once stood, a family once lived. A dwindling female figure sprung out from the red stones. She ignored the howling drones and stared directly at boy. How, he thought, its at least 30 yards out and there is a hologram in front of me, impossible. The woman was infected from the radiation. The almost hairless being stood naked, screaming and rolling her head. She was obviously malnourished, her breasts hanging to the ribs which were protruding above her caved stomach. Her vocal chords gone from the chemicals. Her eyes bulging from her thin fading face, staring at the young man. She was starving, and smelled food, Vez her next prey.
It must have followed from the tunnel, he thought. The infected woman looked at the drones as to understand what they were. Uncaring, she jolted past them and at the wall where the trembling piece of meat laid. A bright light, The security drones fired at the infected hunter. She evaporated a few feet from Vez’s face, skin and dust sprayed through the hologram. Disgusted he inched back, almost setting off the sensors. An earthquake caused from the two storms enclosing, shook the dirt and walls. The security drones dropped to the ground and the sensor lights turned off. Vez crawled out and repositioned his hologram. Still shaken from the exploding infected. He stared at the wall. The sensors turned on and the lights gleamed red on the dusty figure. Vez looked up through the glass ceiling panes, and into the colliding forces of clouds and electricity and urged, “soon world”
Soon World 