There Aint No Such Thing As a Free Lunch

January 7th, year 2



   Woke up, drank the last of my water, ate the last twinkie, packed up what was left of my supplies including the MP5 and the M16, left the shotgun. Didn't care where I went, just anywhere other than this damn hospital. The stench of decay lingers, and blood stains the floor. While cleaning up yesterday I found out the grayish white stuff was indeed a piece of Grim's shattered elbow.

   I stepped outside and scanned the sky for any plumes of smoke, hoping that maybe it might be some meat on the grill. No such luck. I was going to have to work for a meal. I walked towards what I thought was West, and kept going. I came upon an enormous clearing... Central Park, actually. There were maybe six trees left standing, the rest gone, I turned my eyes towards a large crater to my left, wondering what could have cause it. Then I realized it was actually the Conservatory Pond, dried up from thermal radiation..... fishing was out of the question. What were once lakes were now craters or long trenches.

   I went North from there following 5th Avenue. I walked for about two blocks, then stopped. I could hear laughter maybe 9 yards away. I hugged a nearby wall and slowly inched my way towards the laughter. I carefully looked around the corner and saw two men sitting around a fire. The fire is against a building covered by a sheet of metal, the smoke is vented inside the building, so it can't be seen. Smart bastards. On the fire I can see what looks like three rats, skewered, slowly cooking. My stomach began to grumble, yearning for food, commanding me to just jump out shoot the two men and take the food. But that would be stupid and I probably would've gotten myself killed. No, instead I waited.

   Darkness was falling, it would give me a chance to sneak up on the two men and hopefully knock them out. One of the guys got up and went inside the building, the other man watched the fire, his back towards me. It was now or never. I picked up a heavy 2x4, set the duffel bag down, and began to approach the man, careful of the debris that would give me away if stepped on. I stopped within 5 inches of him and swung. The 2x4 connected with his head at full force, with a loud THUNK. He crashed to the ground with a thud, too big of a thud actually, cause not a second later his buddy comes out from the building with a rifle in hand. I panic and throw the 2x4 at him, it smacks his arm as he pulls the trigger. The bullet misses me by a mile. I quickly tackle him, slamming him against the building. He lets out a huff, and drops the rifle, as I knock the wind out of him. Sadly it still doesn't knock the fight out of him, because he knees me in the stomach, I stumble back and he follows up with a fist to my temple. My head immediately begins to throb in pain. He laughs, and I kick his groin. He leans over in pain, I pick up the 2x4 I had thrown, and bring it crashing down on the back of his head. He falls and all is quiet. I take the cooked rats, pick up my duffel bag and run East.

   I've taken shelter in the ruins of a coffee shop, far from the two men, if they choose to come after me. I better stop and eat the rats before they get cold.

Deal Gone Wrong

Deals go wrong all the time in business.  Usually you just lose some money.  Here, you lose your life.

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January 3rd, year 2



Jesus, I've barely stopped the bleeding. That bastard Tim shot me, ME of all people! He's dead now though, Grim's lackey made sure of that. Brought Tim to his knees with a swift kick to the pubic bone completely popping it out of place. Before Tim could even scream he was lying on the ground paralyzed, crying like a baby. He begged for mercy, saying "Don't kill me, don't kill me, please don't, I promise I won't cross Grim again please god, no don't!"

A loud bang and Tim had a new hole. Grim's lackey shot him point blank with a 12 gauge shotgun. No coming back from that I suppose.

It all started this morning, Tim woke me up saying he knows a guy who could hook us up with a supply of ammo and food. He shoved some clothes into my arms and told me to get dressed. A black and grey plaid hoodie, a pair of briefs, a pair of black cargo pants with god knows how many pockets, and some steel work boots, all necessities in this new world I guess. After I got dressed, I went up to the main floor and found Tim going through a bag.

"Here we go." he said as he handed me a Berreta and 3 extra clips of .22s

"What's this for?" I asked

"My friend it's a brutal new world we live in, which means we have to have new insurance to cover our ass when things go south, if you catch my drift" He said pointing at the Beretta.

We walked through nameless streets, and stopped at a sewer entrance.

"In you go!" Tim said pushing me towards the manhole

"You're kidding right?" I sneered back

"Don't worry, there's no crap in there other than Grim and his lackey" he said assuringly

Tim went in first murmuring how I was a girl scout. Soon after, I went in also. As I reached the bottom I gagged and puked.

"What the fuck is that smell!" I managed to sputter

"Rats, corpses, crap, I don't know. these sewers haven't been used even before the fallout, so the smell is new" Tim casually said

We began to walk again heading west down the sewer system. I stayed silent not wanting to breath in the filth of the air. We walked on for what seemed like hours until we reached what seemed like a storage room for maintenance supplies, but instead of tools it was filled with guns, ammo, food and... Grim.

"Hey there Grim! Your offer still stands right?" Tim was shaking as he said this. So far in this new world I'd seen Tim as a badass but in Grim's presence he seemed to squirm like the insects crawling around our feet, not noticeable until squished and even then seen as just a another piece of crap in this fallout.

"Yes it does, and I take it this man is your chip to bargain?" he nudges his head towards me

It's a trap. Fucking Tim saved my life only so he can trade me for some twinkies and a couple rounds of .22s. I elbowed Tim in the face stunning him. Pulled out the Beretta in a flash, took aim at Grim, pulled the trigger and..



"click"



Close but no cigar. Tim didn't load my gun and I'm just as easy to blame for not checking it.

"Shit, you asshole!" Tim screams, as blood pours from his nose

"This deal has gone sour, Tim" Grim smiles and I haul ass. No sooner do I hear the deafening bang of a gunshot and I crumple in pain to the floor I crawl behind a wall and watch as Tim is executed. I've covered myself with garbage and I pray no one will find me. I've lost a lot of blood got to rest.

Consistency

I've realized now that to keep consistent viewers I must set up a schedule of when I'll be posting my stories.  From this point on all stories will be posted every friday.

alternate prologue

December 25th, 2014; 3:12 P.M.

Warehouse Somewhere in Ary-Mas Forest, Russia



It was his dream, it had always been his dream. So why couldn't he control the dream like he always could. These thoughts stirred in Dimitri's mind as he sat in the helicopter asleep. The loud rattling of the helicopter's rotors spinning round and round acting as a lullaby for him. Dimitri shifts in his seat, his face now directed outside.

The dream always begins with a memory. Dimitri is thirteen years old. It's his sister's birthday and he's bought her a blue ribbon. Dimitri arrives home to find the front door open. Dimitri knows he'll find his family dead. Stab wounds covering their bodies. So he tries dreams that his family is alive. That his sister adores the blue ribbon. Instead, the memory continues on. He opens the door and finds his family dead.

Dirt and snow swirl around the helicopter as it lands with a thud. Dimitri is jolted awake, the dream nothing but fog in his mind now. He unbuckles the seat belt and steps out. A ten yards away stands a warehouse. Dimitri begins to make his way towards the warehouse. Maybe the dream is a warning. He thinks to himself. Dimitri reaches the warehouse doors only to find them frozen shut with ice.

Dimitri sighs, "You've got to be kidding me."

He takes a few steps back and kicks the door. The ice shatters from his kick and the doors swing open. Suddenly two men are in his face with AK-47's. The two men force him back outside.

"Who are you!" one shouts.

"Dimitri! My name is Dimitri!" Dimitri replies. His hands above his head.

The men lower their and begin to apologize, "Sorry, Dimitri. We were just startled. Please follow us."

They lead Dimitri to a small room in a corner of the warehouse. One of the men opens the door and says, "Sir, Dimitri is here."

"Good, good. Have him come in," an elderly man beckons. The small room is lit by a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. A table and two chairs occupy the room, casting their shadows onto the concrete floor. In one of the chairs sits the old man. Moments later Dimitri enters the room and sits in the other chair.

"I bring good news comrade," Dimitri begins, "The setup was a success. Russia is now seen as the innocent victim. In addition, we also have the American soldiers in our custody as evidence. We will declare war in about thirty minutes."

"Well done Dimitri!" the elderly man exclaims, shaking Dimitri's hand, "I expected no more or no less from you." He suddenly becomes quiet and asks, "How many comrades did we lose to the American soldiers?"

Dimitri looks down, "Eighty-four were killed along with twenty more wounded," he whispers mournfully.

"A fair price to pay for what's to come I suppose," the elderly man solemnly replies. He slowly rises up from his chair and begins to circle the room with his hands behind his back. He stops behind Dimitri and inquires, "Did the American pigs who call themselves leaders hold up to their end of the bargain?"

Dimitri turns around in his chair, looks up and smiles at him. "As agreed the American president ordered the shutdown of the internet and has censored all media outlets in his country. He's also completely shut off the supply of all electricity to his country. The Americans are in the dark ages and will have no idea what's to come. As we speak there are already riots breaking out as mass panic consumes the country. In about an hour my men will meet with the president and his lackeys to deliver the nine-trillion Euros. Sadly for the president, the cases that hold the Euros are rigged with explosives. After they leave my men will detonate the explosives."

"Marvelous Dimitri! Simply marvelous!" the elderly man chuckles. "How about our stocks?" he asks continuing to circle the room.

"We sold them off and bought all the gold we could afford." Dimitri replies.

"Wonderful!" the elderly man laughs, clapping his hands together. He turns to Dimitri and takes out a cell phone. "Excuse me Dimitri. I must tell them to proceed with the project. My men will escort you to the chopper outside. I'll meet you out there in a second."

"Of course." Dimitri replies walking out the door.

The two men from before escort him outside as the elderly man had said. Chilling winds nip at Dimitri's nose. As they reach the helicopter Dimitri suddenly feels a sharp pain in his back. One of the men escorting him had stuck a knife into his back. Dimitri stumbles and falls to his knees onto the snow. He slowly reaches for his back and lets out a grunt as he pulls out the knife. He tries to get back up to attack the escorts, but one of them kicks him to the ground. He falls face first into the snow. His breathing becomes shallow and weak as blood begins to pool around him, staining the snow red. Dimitri looks up to find the elderly man standing before him, pistol in hand.

"Comrade, why?" He groans.

"I'm sorry Dimitri, but there must be no evidence. You were a good soldier but you know too much." The elderly man explains leveling a pistol at Dimitri's head.

Dimitri swears in Russian and closes his eyes. A loud bang echoes across the frozen landscape seconds later.

The elderly man takes out his cell phone, dials a number and mutters, "It's done. Project Horsemen is a go. Launch the attack in twenty minutes." He hangs up and enters the helicopter with the two escorts following him. Moments later after the helicopter takes off the elderly man detonates charges planted around the warehouse. The warehouse explodes in a huge ball of flames. All evidence of the old man's presence is incinerated in seconds. Except for Dimitri, who's body laid sprawled out in a puddle blood.

Prologue: The End of The Beginning

   Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  This was how the new world started.  A flash of light and all of man's creations was turned to nothingness, emptiness, just an abyss of grey ash that crunches under my boots.  Just that single moment, that microscopic second, started a new era.  Not B.C., or A.D., but a completely new cycle, once again setting back those thousands of years back to simply "year one".  To think all those scientific breakthroughs, the mechanization of our so called mega cities, the supposedly greatest works of literature and art, turned to dust that, with every step I take, I simply with no thought at all, exhale and inhale slowly.

   As I write these words, I now walk through hollow steel skeletons of what was and will never be New York.  What used to be a bustling street of thousands of people, is now an asylum of ash, where only the insane would hope to find anything here in this wasteland.  Am I insane as well?  What was it I hoped to accomplish here.  The apartments I hoped to find my family in were demolished in the initial blast.  The caravan that took me in as a son, that was home to my dear love Sofia, now dead from radiation, which I too will slowly wither and die from its effects as well.  So what am I doing here in this abyss, digging my own grave, hoping to find a white light fall from the skies with a godly hand descending to give me hope and salvation?  Maybe I came to redeem myself so when I die I can pass on my knowledge in this journal to another generation.  Maybe I came in hope that someone will find this journal and will read of the hardships and how it all began, how "year one" began and eventually ended.  Maybe I came here to be....remembered.  Not to be forgotten like the paradise I call my past.

   It's December 31st... I think. Tomorrow is a new year, in a new world. If you find this, remember my story, remember "year one", take this journal knowing you hold one of the last remnants of humanity, and fill it with what will soon be another year.


Whether it be salvation or the end. It's now your story