After The End

90 years a.t.e (After the End) Some things never change, and war is the only constant. Why are we still here?

    I wake up hurting.
    It's nothing new, I'm no one special. We are all hurting. It's the only thing we all have in common. Be it the air in our lungs or the sun on our backs, the world is trying to kill us. Life, is trying to kill us.
    About 90 years ago, we were poisoned. Not us humans, exactly, but everything around us. Mother Nature got fed up with our constant reaches for "new energy sources", and all the "strategic research" we used as an excuse for effing with the planet. Key word here: Nuclear. And then every hippie with a cardboard sign and a two inch joint got patted on the back. Plus, a basket of malicious tumors. The universe doesn't pick favorites. If it did, I wouldn't be hurting, I'd be dead.
    So, the world went boom and most of us went bye-bye. The sun started to kick the bucket, but not without a bang. I'm talking solar flares, weather disruptions, mass blackouts and complete  darkness. Half the population on this pathetic mud-ball is freezing to death, and the rest of us are burning alive. Pick a side. We are all hurting.
    Maybe I get a lick of pity though, I'm in more pain than I consider my daily average. I'm very literally tied to a cactus, surrounded by scorching sand dunes and a handful of tall menacing plants. There is about, what, 76 spines in my back right now? Maybe I'm wrong, I've never even seen a cactus in real life. Those are the tall ones that look like green fingers, covered in unholy little spikes, right? Acupuncture will be a joke after this.
    Nikolai got tied to a green devil finger too. He's on my left, and he does not look good. He's 54, so I'm not shocked. Most of us die at about 65 anyway, but he's my commanding officer- it's my job to give a crap. Sorry old man.
    Leif is behind me on my right, I can see one of his legs and his military-army-given-better-than-yours boots. Obviously only one leg. The other one is gone, gnawed off by a Licker when he was 17. The one-legged soldier is awake at least.
    “Rino, Rino, where the hell are we? Is Nikolai breathing? They took my- my leg- I”, He's breathless, obviously freaked out. I can sympathize.
    “Niko is still kicking, I can hear him groaning. And we are obviously in the South. Heathen territory.”, I'm secretly proud of how steady my voice is, while by back and arms and hands and wrists are shouting ouchouchouchouchouch. “They took your prosthetic, I get that, 'm betting you metal legs fetch good prices- What about your back? Mine is gone.”
    Just to be clear, we don't have prosthetic backs. In the North, we plan for everything. All troops on outgoing missions are equipped with three basic weapons. Short-range of choice, long-range of choice, and, of course, our back-knife. It sounds menacing for a reason, it's a 3 inch wide, 10 inch long curved blade. It's the last resort. It's the 'I lost everything else and am about to get stabbed' knife. I used mine for a sandwich once and got a week of probation. I really needed to make a sandwich though, but that's Niko for you.
    This feels like an 'about to get stabbed' situation.
    “Nope, my case is empty. They took my shirt too, they took everything.” Man, that's low.
    “Well, in that case, it's time to get creative.” I try pulling away from the spines, which only causes my bound wrists to slide closer together, pushing the cactus farther into my arms. For the 27th time, I realize, I am not the smart one in this group. Niko needs to find his 54 year-old consciousness and wake up. I look at the older man as I try to shimmy up the evil plant. I make it a foot before I feel cool liquid on my lower back. What?
    “Leif”, I whisper, suddenly aware that we aren't dead for a reason, that Heathens have reasons, selfish reasons, for everything. Everything, and I don't have enough moisture in my body to spit in their faces. “Leif, what's behind us? Where are they?” Another foot upwards. Needles dragging through my skin like a slab of meat. I know what the slickness is now. I wonder how hot your skin has to be in order for your blood to feel cool on it?
    “There's, a- a tent. 'Bout 30 feet away. They're sleeping, the guard too.” Somehow, I imagine I can hear him swallow, even over the wind and the sizzles of my blood on the hard-packed sand. 'Gulp'. “Rino, your back. You need to-”
    “-Get home, yeah, I know.” I am not going to die here. I might have up to 40 years left, and that sounds like so much when you're about to die. Aren't we always about to die, though? Ugh, not now, shut up. I'm standing straight up, trying to lift up my arms. Now is the time to know if this plan was as dumb as I thought.
    “How tall is the cactus?” If I die here because I'm short- I will literally-
    “20 more inches, maybe.” Crap. I do not have 20 more inches left to give.
    “Is there a car?”
    “What?”
    “A car, a transport? Anything? We aren't going to make it on two and a half pairs of feet.”
    Silence. Too soon? Come on, he lost the leg like 6 years ago. I've lost more since then.
    “Two trucks.” Yes! Now comes the really bad part of my bad plan.
    Plants are naturally weaker the farther from the root you go. Trunks get thinner, leaves get smaller. Trust me, I'm a farmer. Was, anyway. It's hard to get revenge with potatoes.
    Now, I don't know jack about cacti, but I'm hoping for the best. Taking a breath, bracing my slab-of-meat-back, I jerk my whole body sharply to the left. With a wet 'snap', those 20 inches of cactus come down, along with my sun-burned, half-naked body.
    Whoo-hoo. Freedom.
    With my bound hands now in front my me, I quickly go to Leif and untie him. I don't care that I have no shirt, and he doesn't either. B***s exist, and will keep existing, not dependent on if we survive.
    I motion for him to go to the closest truck as I go to wake Nikolai. My dog-tags jingle against my clavicle as I shake him awake. 'Zefirino Winterfast, 1289-ZW'. Numbers get new meaning in war. How many you have, you've killed, you've won. How much time you have left.
    Things are starting to blur. Niko is awake. I can't stop thinking, 'that was easy'. Easy. I'm already thinking about my family, about the North. Home. I'm thinking and thinking but my mind is starting to empty. It's so full of nothing. Just sand. Sand and tall green devil fingers.
    We're starting the truck. No. Leif is. I'm just watching. I can feel my heartbeat in my shoulder blades. I wonder if it is beating faster than Leif's, than Niko's? Then the engine is on and it's too loud. Way too loud. Loud like my shoulder blades.
    Heathens start to shout like animals. They are. Their fur-clad bodies streaming out from the tent. There are 6 of them. How fast do their hearts beat?
    Niko and Leif are both completely in the car. I have one leg in, the same amount as Leif. The problem is, my other leg now has two bullets in it. Another ouch, but mostly from the gunfire ringing in my burning ears. One of the Heathens is holding the gun, Niko's gun. Thieves. Always thieves. Always Heathens.
    That's when I remember that the universe doesn't play favorites. But I do.
    One of them, a woman with dark red-brown skin and a bone through her cheek grabs me. She snarls like an animal, but it suits her. The long nails, digging into my blood soaked back, they suit her too.
    We all know I'm not going home. There is a short moment, that stretches into a forever, when I'm looking a Niko and I'm shouting. I'm yelling that he has a job. He has a job like I had a job.  Had, because we all know that I'm dead now. And we want to believe that the dead get peace, not more of this. 'You protect my family.', I'm screaming. In that moment I am an animal too. The claws in my back might as well be mine, the growls of the engine are coming from my lungs- and then- then Niko is nodding. The moment is over. He understands.
    And they're gone. There is a cloud of dust and a pool of blood and, somehow, both came from me. I'm part of the desert, I'm part of the universe, and I got to play my favorites.
    The woman is just another cactus digging into my back. I want to laugh, but I am human, and I am hurting. Just like everyone else. I blackout instead.

                    -Zefirino Winterfast, 1289-ZW, 90yrs a.t.e.

Author's Note

This is still a bit rough, and only the beginning. I would really appreciate all critical/constructive criticism, I'm here to improve my writing :). Hope you enjoyed it!

Reviews

[Warrior]

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