Post Collapse II

[Continued from previous post...]

The scene outside was, unfortunately, similar to what he had envisioned; the truck was in the process of turning around, Tim in the driver's seat. Seven others were dispersed around the area in a haphazard semicircle, facing away from the cave's entrance, weapons drawn and firing. Except for the truck's high-beams and superheated gas exploding from the muzzles of weapons, the night was pitch-black. Michael ran to the Chevy pickup as Tim whipped the tail around, throwing his pack into the truck bed as he passed it. He raised his gun and ran toward his shouting, shooting comrades.

"On the left!"
"Two more coming from two o'clock! Riley, pop 'em!"
"Mike, help me out here!" yelled a woman on the right.

Michael turned and was able to barely make out the figure of Alissa, AR-15 pressed tightly to her right shoulder, looking down the steep rocky slope ahead of her. He rushed to her side and looked down the grade, straining his eyes for targets. Shadowy humanoid figures were climbing awkwardly, yet swiftly up the rocks. Something in the way they moved was... wrong. Michael had already known what he would find outside the cave, but seeing those things still somehow made it worse. He aimed his pistol and opened fire as Alissa reloaded her rifle. He had practiced moving target acquisition at length, even before the "Day of Reckoning", but shooting at moving targets during the day was significantly different from shooting down a dark slope with the imminent threat of death gnawing at the back of his skull. It made it almost impossible to focus.

The slide locked on his Beretta. Seventeen shots already. Three targets incapacitated. Dozens more still coming from the looks of it. He released the magazine with his right thumb, pulling a full one from his belt. He thumbed the slide release, and flipped his laser sight on at the same time. As he brought the pistol back up, though, a humanoid shadow launched itself up onto level ground, howling and snarling. Michael took a step back and fired at its head; he missed. 'Stupid!' he thought, 'Never aim for the head first, always the center of mass.' Alissa jumped back and opened fire. The thing advanced a few more steps before collapsing in a gurgling heap, not three feet from Michael. He saw motion from his right and heard quick, uneven footfalls. Three more assailants were running wildly toward them from the road, arms flailing, foaming at the mouth, screaming and roaring incoherently; apparently the traps they had set weren't enough to deter the bastards from taking the obvious route into the camp.

About the same time he spotted the new threat, Michael heard the roar of the truck engine. The big Chevy hit the three runners doing at least 25 miles per hour, sending them flying off the side of the steep hill. He barely heard Tim's voice over the engine and the gunfire:

"We're all set, let's get the hell out of here!"

Michael motioned to Alissa and immediately bolted for their second vehicle: an unmarked white van. Before the disasters that had befallen their civilization, it might have been used by a small school, or perhaps an airport. Now it was used to high-tail it out of trouble, and hopefully live another day. He reached the van, found the keys in the ignition, and started it up as Alissa opened the side doors. Michael laid on the horn for a full 10 seconds, followed by short, percussive honks. The others began backing away from the edge of the clearing toward the van. As they loaded up, he saw shadowy figures climbing up onto the level ground and running toward them. The door slammed shut, and he floored it, steering toward the road that Tim and the truck were already tearing down.

Post Collapse

Michael knew he had been dreaming, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall anything about the dream. He sat up suddenly, already searching for whatever potential threat had awakened him. Light was pouring onto the cramped, oblong patch of rock on which he had placed his sleeping bag and his pack. Blindingly bright twin beams of light were emanating from the mouth of the cave. He heard the whining blare of a car horn coming from the same direction as the light, masking the quieter rumbling of a Duramax diesel engine. They had started the truck; something was wrong. Michael shot a quick glance around the small cave two more sleeping areas were still laid out along the other wall; two sleeping bags, two pillows, a book, a small lantern. No weapons. He felt adrenaline surge into his system. He didn't hear gunfire, and reasoned that they couldn't be under attack yet. Someone certainly seemed to have reason to believe they would be shortly, though.

Michael hurriedly felt around for his own weapon, a Beretta 92 pistol chambered for 9mm rounds. He found it near his pack, and grabbed them both, berating himself for forgetting one of his cardinal rules: never leave anything essential unloaded from the truck unless you're using it. The pack might not be very heavy, but had the situation required him to leave the cave in any more of a hurry, he would have lost most of his wordly belongings. It could also weigh him down if he had to run a long distance, and he knew very well that being too slow or fatigued could mean his death. The horn stopped suddenly, leaving an echo in Michael's ears. The truck's high beams still glared ominously at him. He heard voices speaking loudly and sounding harried. The loud crack of gunfire split the night, drowning out the voices. Michael slung the pack over his left shoulder and made sure the right strap was tucked between his side and his elbow; secure, but free enough to be tossed aside at will. He flicked the Beretta's safety off, took a deep breath, and jogged out into the unknown.

To be continued...

Among the living

OPPD's new Energy Management System arrives early next week. Holy crap. We're gonna be so busy! I smell a few 10-12 hour shifts heading my way.

Oh, by the way, I'm still alive. I tend to just randomly stop updating this blog every so often, but I always come back to it eventually; usually it's because I'm doing something else unrelated on my computer, get bored, and then remember that this page exists. That's definitely what happened this time.

And so, off we go... I've been working on narrowing my interests down since last post. I tend to keep my computer-related endeavors at work. For example, I'm writing a Wordpress plugin for OPPD right now, and the last thing I really want to do when I get home is do more web programming. That's a double-edged sword, though, because I have a computer sitting behind me that's in pieces and needs to be fixed for a friend. I need a digital multimeter to figure out what exactly is wrong with it, though, so I haven't been in a huge rush to fix it thus far.

I guess not much has changed in my life the past month or two, and I'm thrilled about that! I went to Ames for the Iowa/Iowa State game and tailgated with some people. That was a great time. I've also been to a Husker game (I went and watched them play Washington with my dad last weekend), so I can feel like a true fan for another season. Outside of that, same-old same-old. Leigh Ann and I are going to River Riot at Westfair this Friday. I think it's going to be a great show, and we're both really looking forward to it.

I've begun to refine some opinions on some very sensitive and complex issues, such as theism vs. atheism and the state of the United States' democracy. If I'm feeling particularly strongly about anything in the coming weeks, I may share a few of them. I've also got an idea for a new story that I want to write. I think it has the potential to be pretty good, but I'm going to break away from my usual habit of just starting to write with no preparation, and actually lay everything out in my mind before beginning it.

I guess that's all I've got for now, I'll be sure and update sooner this time.

Hobbies

I have too many, and I don't devote enough time to any of them. I thought I'd make a list of things that I'm interested in and do at least once every two weeks.

-Guitar
-Writing
-Automating tasks on computers
-Web programming
-Magic the Gathering
-Video Games
-Hookah
-Running
-Lifting
-Casual social/political debate
-Taking apart electronics and messing with them
-Reading
-Collecting music, trading cards, and other random things (like hobbies, for instance...)
-Cooking (new)
-Marksmanship (new)

Whew. I think I need to pick a few and REALLY focus on them. If I did that then I would probably be better at them and feel more fulfilled. Then again, maybe my favorite hobby is collecting hobbies.

Story teaser

A man in a black bomber jacket and jeans leaned against the outer wall of the old midtown bank, looking as though he belonged there; it was as if he had leaned against that exact cement every day of his life, with not a care in the world besides the weather. In reality, it was Jason Arbent's first time in Pittsburgh, and therefore his first time using the "Majestic Midtown Bank" as a backrest. On this day, though, he could not look like a tourist. To look out of place, lost, or too interested in his surroundings would be suicide. He shifted his weight slightly to take a little of the pressure from his jeans off his left pocket. He pulled out a cigarette from that pocket, and put it in his mouth. Part of him cringed a little every time he placed one of the harmless-looking white cylinders to his lips; he was not a smoker normally, but nicotine did an excellent job of calming his nerves and steadying his hand.

Jason shifted his weight again, reaching into his right pocket this time, and retrieving... nothing. The casual observer would have thought he had just grabbed a lighter, but he didn't even own one. As far as he could remember, he had never had any use for them. For the sake of appearances, though, he raised his closed right fist, and cupped his left hand around the end of the cigarette. He even pretended to flick a nonexistent flint on his invisible lighter. 'I deserve an Oscar,' he thought to himself, as he focused his mind on the end of the cigarette. He felt a gentle pull throughout his body; so subtle that he never would have felt it if he hadn't been waiting for it. He could feel every molecule in the air between his hands and the cigarette. He could feel the tip of the cigarette growing hotter as the tugging sensation continued. The moment it ignited, he released his focus and took a deep drag. The slightly unsettling sensation of smoke filling his lungs was quickly replaced by the calm produced by the chemical cocktail in the cigarette.

He stood and smoked, staring around at the people walking down the street, doing their shopping, taking their lunch breaks. A few of them were old enough to be retired; probably just walking around and enjoying the spring weather. Jason envied those strangers the most. Despite his manufactured appearance, he could only imagine what it was like to have nowhere to be and an entire day to get there. His thoughts were cut short, however, when a man in a gray, well-cut suit bustled by. Maybe Armani, he thought. Whatever it was, it made Jason's outfit look like a bad joke. It was a shame, he thought, that his target had such a nice suit on. There probably wouldn't be much left of it by the time he was finished. Jason pulled a small hand-held device out of his pocket and pressed a quick sequence of numbers into the virtual keypad on the touch screen. He took one last quick pull from the cigarette, and then dropped it to the pavement. The lit end hit first, showering sparks into the air. They followed Jason's boot for a moment as he stepped into the sidewalk and hurried after the man in the gray suit.


[To be continued(?) ...]

What I feel right this second

Happy. The week was stressful, but I got through it alive, just as I always have. When I saw Leigh Ann tonight, all that stress, frustration and exhaustion melted away. I don't really think I need to post any more for now. I have been trying to come up with an idea for a new short story, though. If I do, then it will show up here first. G'night!

Random expression of angst

For some reason, when I woke up this morning I was immediately annoyed. I must have had a dream about someone or something I don't like. I have no idea, since I very seldom remember my dreams. All I know is that I'm still pissed, and since I'm not sure what's causing it, my normal anger management methods are useless.

By the way, unrelated, you're probably going to start seeing a lot more short stories out of me in the near future. I may be collaborating on a project with a friend, for which creative writing skills will be very useful. I need practice.

Bye for now.