AWOL's Opus

A short story that will be expanded upon.

Communication. The birds sang melodies that no one had heard before. First in groups, then one at a time. The clouds had an odd shine to them that day. It was as if the rain was coming, but the sun was pushing it away. 

“Sugar Dust cigarettes! Desert weather got you down? Forest gloom becoming too…natural? Puff on this! Sugar Dust cigarettes will take you away from these dystopian discomforts and fix your mood to the point of you feelin’ aaaaalllright! We’re positive you’ll love them! Don’t believe us? Just rob the next person you see on the road and if they don’t have a pack on them, well, your next ones on us! Happy trails road warriors, Sugar Dust will make everything aaaaalrright.”

 A dirty woman with bony fingers and dark, ratty hair turned the pirated radio dial to another station. Sissy’s radio was found after they were all confiscated. The static waved in as she tried to find something that suited her welding work. 

She pulled her hands free from her heavy gloves with her teeth and tied her hair up with an old hair tie that she had saved for years. On her left wrist, there was a permanent, circular indent were she wore it. 

The pirate stations were getting worse and worse, but she never ignored the music. While re-situating her helmet and putting her gloves back on, a car screeched in the distance. She got back to work on a reinforced front bumper for her truck, making sure her Colt revolver sat on the table above her, right where she left it. As she reached for another large piece of sheet metal and realized that it was the last one. Gasoline needed to be found as well, so Sissy mentally scheduled a run would be made later in the week. She lite the metal inert gas gun and the radio station cut out. 

On the foliage tunneled road in front of a hidden house, the thick heat hazed off the black, cracked asphalt. The old yellow lines that indicated a no passing zone were irrelevant. And then there was an engine roaring in panic. The bass rattled her speakers. It wasn't pirate radio, only someones personal taste. Her accelerator revved to the point when black smoke seeped from under the hood. Though anxiety was an emotion unfamiliar to AWOL, he couldn’t help but notice his heart rate increasing. As he sped along the road, the Z4 Roadster convertible, Carmen, shook when AWOL pressed his foot the floor. He noticed a gap in the forest. Gripping the emergency break, AWOL let off the gas, and yanked it upwards. He spun the wheel to the left and Carmen drifted to the side, aligning perfectly with the gravel driveway that presented itself. The screeching scared the birds from the trees. AWOL knew that she was a terrible off road vehicle, but he was out of options. The CD skipped on AWOL's favorite song. 

Sissy heard the screeching tires and cut off the gas gun. She lifted her helmet and listen for the car again. The bass rattled her sheds windows. The static from her radio got louder. She yanked her helmet off and threw it to the table, knocking the radio on it's back. She gripped her revolver and stuck it into the back of her pants as she peered out the window of her work shed. She could hear an engine, horribly damaged, coming up her gravel driveway. 

AWOL slide into Sissy’s front yard after experiencing the long bumpy driveway that lead him. Rocks flung up under Carmen and clanked throughout. She approached the front of the house, shredding through the dead, dry grass. AWOL pulled himself up by the windshield and glanced behind him, becoming more panicked. He froze and listened for a full minute. He didn't hear anything behind him. Slowly, he lowered himself down and removed the keys from the ignition. AWOL's hand shook as he took the key and locked his glove box on the passenger side of the car. He put the key into his pocket and opened up the middle console to retrieve his .45. He has slide in between a house and a shed. 

Sissy held her revolver tight with her finger slightly touching to trigger. Starring at the wall under the window, her heart pounded in her ears. She was afraid the intruder would hear it. It's been almost a year since anyone has found Sissy. 

This person has a good eye.

She sat down against the wall and watched the door. She cocked the revolver, pointed it, and waited. 

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Well done. I've been on this site for years, and I think this is the first post-apocalypse, Mad-max type of writing I've seen. (Please forgive me if I've got the genre wrong) Your writing is very good throughout, and the cliff hanger is a nice touch. One very small nit--I believe you misspelled "lit".