Hunger

 

Gillard rummaged through the conical pile in front of him, his hands moving furiously and knowingly, indicating that this was not an action all too unfamiliar. The pile was one of many, composed of metal objects from a previous era, with little rotating dials and shiny buttons. Most of them had little worth, but there were a few items that always managed to provide some gold. Today he was looking for a radio, working on a tip handed to him by Milton. And although he knew the chances were slim, even the smallest hope of finding something was enough to convince him to perform the search.

 

But Milton had lied, and it was only after an hour's worth of effort in the sharp, cutting wind amidst the chaos did the thought cross his mind. He was motionless, and his stationary frame was oddly relevant to the ghostly, metallic plane. A cry of frustration escaped him, the sound of it echoing through the colossal disposal unit he was in. The unfruitful search would mean he would grow hungry for another day.

 

He exited the facility, his shoulders sagging and his back burdened with the weight of disappointment and despair. Fatigue and hunger were second to these feelings, and in this world - the word in the most basic sense possible -  he inhabited, these got to you  before starvation did. A man's appetite could be quelled every now and then, but there was no cure for hopelessness. It slowly chipped away at your sanity  and mocked your attempts at resistance. Gillard had seen these individuals, and it was his greatest fear that he becomes one of them.

 

They were untamed, unnatural and devilish beings. Some were savage carnivores that would consume anything that they could manage to overpower. It was not unusual for them to attack each other. Others were soulless and devoid of any trait human. No emotion. No concern for their well being. Just an individual with a beating heart and a dead brain. They would wander til they their bodies resigned or the beasts got them. They were a regular on the menu of the savage and wild animals. It must be said that there is a balance in this world too, even if that thought was not comforting to the sane.

 

On his way out, Gillard glanced at the others digging hopelessly through the large collection of junk. They had the same desperation in their eyes - and the same emptiness in their stomachs. He took solace in the fact that none of them were likely to find anything either. If one did - and they had to be very lucky indeed - there would be a mad scuffle and a violent game of rugby after the discovery. Inevitably, there would be a breakdown or a quarrel amongst the crowd. It was not uncommon for blood to be spilled. Cannibals would skim the border of the facility, ever hopeful for a death. At night, it would be their turn to  hunt for treasure. Gillard decided it was best if he left as soon as possible.

 

The roads that lay outside were no more a pleasant site. The grass was afflicted with large chunks of weed and the bodies of birds that could not tolerate the poisoned atmosphere covered the surface. All manners of creatures could be seen feasting on their flesh. This was their favourite haunt, but they had to be quick lest they wished to find themselves in the stomachs of humans. With the exception of the strong wind, the occasional sound of ripped flesh and the gnashing of teeth that accompanied animals fighting each other, there was a grim, perverse silence.

 

Gillard walked past this scene with the utmost indifference - it was a picture he had seen a thousand times before. He knew which animals preferred the evening. He knew which ones were likely to die. He knew that in the event of a decrement in their numbers, it always return to their original quantity the next day. Another identical creature with a limited lifespan.

 

In his mind, he was formulating a plan, one to appease his hunger. But the shame of being deceived was stirring a terrible anger. Milton would suffer. Gillard had heard stories of how others were victims of his amusement. But it was a different case now - now he cared.

 

But first, he would have to find some food.  

Author's Note

I understand there might be a few technical issues, but having written this in the dead of night, I ask to be excused.

I would appreciate all comments and thoughts, but specifically on the storytelling technique and the descriptive nature.

This was intended to be a chapter of a book, but for some reason I wasn't allowed to create a book. Hence I've had to put it under the story category.