Notes from the End of the World

The Deal

"Do not slow me down!" The Postman shouted to the girls some yards behind him on the road.

"But we're tired!" One of them yelled.

"And hungry!" Said another.

"So eat walking, and in silence. We still have some miles to go today. I won't sleep in the woods one more night because of you." The Postman grumbled. Immediately after he said that, eight men came out from behind the trees and surrounded them on the dirt road.

"Well, well, well. Look at this." One of them said, clearly the leader of the group. He was holding a shotgun. "Are they yours?" He asked the Postman, pointing at the girls.

"Yes. They're mine." He said, but the men laughed at his answer.

"Not anymore, pal. They're ours now." The man with the shotgun said.

"Will you steal a Postman's property?" He asked him. "Do you know the consequences of it?"

"There'll be no consequences if no one finds that out, right?" He pointed the shotgun to the Postman's chest.

"Much of a better option; stealing and killing a Collector's Guild envoy. I'm taking those kids to the Jew, and he is not renowned for being a merciful fellow. He'd skin and boil you alive and eat your heart. But I'm only guessing, because he probably has a much more fertile imagination on how to punish those that cross his way."

The man with the shotgun stepped back.

"I see..." He mumbled.

"On the other way," the Postman rubbed his chin "I could sell them to you."

The girls shrieked and grabbed his legs.

"Please, don't!"

"Uhm ... Now we're talking." The man with the shotgun said. "What do you want? We have some gold and diamonds with us."

"Don't be ridiculous. You know very well that this is worthless shit. It could be valuable during your time, old man, but they have no use for me."

"So what do you want?"

"How many shells do you have for the gun?"

"Fifteen." He said.

"Gimme the shotgun and all the cartridges, then you can have the girls."

"No! Have mercy on us!" They were still at his feet, crying.

The man with the shotgun pondered.

"No girls in this world are worthy a loaded shotgun."

"Aren't they? Take a closer look at their soft skins, their blue eyes, their pink lips." The Postman held one of them by the hair and pulled her up. "Aren't they worthy?"

"I can give you fourteen shells for them."

"Are you fucking dumb? What use shells and no gun will have for me?" The Postman said, releasing the girl's hair.

The man with the shotgun looked at his companions, who were nodding at him. You could perceive the lust in their eyes.

"Well, I suppose you have a deal. Take it." And the man handed the shotgun to the Postman, and reached for the cartridges in his rucksack. "Get the girls!" He ordered his men, who quickly took hold of the children.

"See you guys around." The Postman said, and walked away, resting the shotgun on his shoulder.

"What about the Jew?" The group leader asked him.

"What about what?" The Postman asked, without looking back.

"Won't he miss the girls?"

"No."

The Postman walked for a quarter of a mile, then sat down by the side of the road. He checked the shotgun. It was a well-kept weapon.

He started to sob. Those girls would have a hideous fate. He knew very well what the men would do to them, how they would rape them over and over and over for years to come. He's seen that. He's been there.

But something was very different this time. They trusted him. He was supposed to protect them. The same way that his duty was to collect the memories of a dead world, it was also his duty to keep those three girls safe until they get to Frankfurt.

And that's what he would do.

The Postman stood up and headed back on the dirt road.