Saul
Blistering morning sunlight cut across my face, creeping in through the spiderweb cracks in the ceiling. The thin rays were burning hot and I was left groaning and turning over in my bed. Sitting up slowly, I felt my back peel away from the insubstantial poly fiber sheets. In the heat of midsummer, the sun was the Queen of beautiful banes. She, who provides us the energy for life- ultimately kills us with her deadly radiation- creating our humble organismal entities and then throwing a searing wrench into our delicate system. I love the light, but she is a truly fatal attraction, as are most things in life. I am only mortal.
Fed up with the heat, I managed to roll onto the floor and lay there panting for a minute. Cold fever had taken my body for the past few nights, and I've suspected that I have taken ill due to the broken filter in my mask. Not that it matters too much, I've been wearing the obnoxious thing less and less frequently. Hell, I probably wouldn't get sick so often if I just wore it, but that means replacing the filters more frequently, which by extension means I need to go on more 'excursions' to the East and that'll only happen when pigs fly.
I got up and stretched my aching muscles, and let my gaze wander down to the lush row of vegetables beside the windowsill. Ain't that a sight for sore eyes. The cute greens grew dense and low to the substrate, dark and fresh in their little haven I have been so kind to provide. They wouldn't last a minute out in the sun. But in here, I hoped they would last me my lifetime, I'm sure their patented genome guaranteed it. Beyond the wild cactus, mustard flowers, acorns and walnuts, they were all that I had to eat.
Carefully, I snipped off several leaves for my breakfast. I think this morning would be suiting for some pickled mustard stems and prickly pear pads. As I munched on the fresh leaves, I pried open a jar of preserved beans and plated the pickles. The caustic stench of pepper reminded me that I had gone a little overboard with the seasoning while canning a few months ago.
Smiling to myself I settled down over the worn drawing desk facing the only window in my home. But it is not as if there was much of a view out there, it was an Eastward facing panel of bullet-proof glass that revealed the desolate, terraformed flatlands that spread out for much of the dusty countryside.
The real view was on the concrete ceiling of my home. Cochineal, eucalyptus, lichen, cherry roots and other substances served as dye for the elaborate paintings that adorned the otherwise grey surface above me. The walls crawl with the long extinct life of the forest; fleshy, muscled animals with shining pelage, plumage, and scales. Luscious flowering plants, a rainbow running along with the fat animals' bodies. In the center of the ceiling was a great golden arrow pointing east, and scrawled within it, "To Paradise". The mass of colors and brushstrokes was an oasis in this depraved world, one of understanding, wonderment and content.
But I was not their maker, he was long gone, the fading ochres and dulled memories proved it. He was the one who took me in, who clothed me, who taught me, who truly cared for me. His name was John, and without him I would be little more than a scanty, crumbling skeleton bleaching under the sun.
Speaking of which, I miss the sound of human voice. Of course I could hear my own, but I doubt talking to myself was a worthy expenditure of energy. Everyday, I become less convinced that my own name is what I believe it to be. I feel as if I need some evidence in the form of another human's confirmation. I'm not even sure who I am anymore, there is nobody to tell me otherwise. Enough of the existential crises talk over breakfast, I've got work to do.
The musty stench of water mixing with dust reached my nose as I wiped my plate off with a cloth. Damn it. I looked to the ground and saw that one of my water jugs had sprung a leak, and was now proceeding to spill precious water over the concrete. Grumbling, I patched the leak with some hardening putty, then soaked up the remaining water in a rag and wrung it into the planters.
Everyday it gets more difficult to fight against the natural disorder, and that is life, the organismal struggle against entropy.
Once the daily chores had been completed, I found myself left with the rest of the day to myself. I could read, but I've already read every book in this wretched place, at least twice, including every textbook, guidebook, cook book, fiction, nonfiction and journal. John had taught me how to read, and even enjoy it, though I have to admit the calculus textbooks and dictionary were not nearly as enthralling as the biology or chemistry books or the fiction novels, but when you have time to spend, books are the safest option.
I got together my foraging gear, because today was prime for visiting the forest. It has been quiet for weeks in there, I suspect many of the bigger beasts have gone dormant in the summer heat, but I still chose to bring a weapon with me anyways: a few flash bangs and a large broad sword. I'm not one for guns, they jam and most are simply ineffective against the beasts of the forest, and they run out of ammo too quick in this world, and where would I get more of it? Whereas even if a sword breaks it can be reforged. Bullets are absorbed into the bodies that they pierce, swords cut through and cleave muscle from bone, circuitry from motherboard. Maybe a hundred years ago typical guns would work on these bastards, but nowadays they just laugh at anything smaller than 50mm.
The plague, the reason I have to wear that mask, manifests itself within the bodies of those tortured demons. The plague haunts them day and night, for an eternity until somebody is merciful and armed enough to put them to rest. The plague was once a madman's solution to mortality. The plague was good, for about thirty years. The plague did not kill humans straightaway, but it slowly, day by day, turned them into something else, something worse than human. The plague filled not only the lungs of humans, but many beasts as well, creating hellions that rivaled our own. The plague made their flesh into metal, and computers turned out to be more cruel than their creators. The plague was a means to end the end, for some, but definitely not all.
I am not one to be stopped by thoughts of death anymore, if it is my time, it is my time. Might as well live the rest of whatever this life is by living it to its fullest, even if that means terminating ahead of schedule. The decaying depths of the forest hold many lucrative finds, from tools to trinkets of the past world to animal parts and edible fungus. But if I were really lucky, I would find a book or a tape, where within I could absorb myself in the wanders of others. It is not as if I want to live this life, nor should anybody want to, even if it has its liberties. I've got freedom, heat and death.
I had to hike for about a quarter mile downhill to get to the forest. The crumbling hillsides and cholla made the trek slow and arduous, not to mention the constant screaming of metallic cicadas. At the edge of the forest, the land is bright and dry, the ground light tan and mottled with patches of bleached and mildewed grey grasses and mustard, sticking out like tufts of fur on a mangy hide, often disturbed by slight breezes of lost washes of air. Yet, In the woods, the air lies still, as if the whole world has stopped, holding its breath for a moment. Minuscule dust motes drift down from narrow, mottle shafts of golden light. And so, I don my mask, breathing in the caustic air through purifying, rattling filters.
Most, if not all of the trees for miles and miles around are dead, moldy and black with toxic rot. The insects in the putrid soil had long ago stopped decomposing the acrid tree waste, they lacked the appetite for the fallen leaves and tree limbs, for now they lusted after nutrient rich flesh, adding to the entropy. The trees, without the vast majority of their decomposers, began to wither away and die. The effects of pollution and radiation as well as the competition for nitrogen was simply too much for the great trees. Poisoned and starved, the trees dropped their leaves, which fell to the lower branches, along with the twigs and even dead animals, to form a rancid, black lattice-work of decay on the lowermost branches. The entire chaotic, intricate, delicate complex would be brought down with a strong wind, rainfall or earthquake. It was all a repulsing scene of musty death.
Calm emanating through my being, I triggered my parasympathetic response by slowing my breaths. You can never get anything done right while nervous. Deeper into the forest I walked, systematically following the luminescent markers I had painted on the grey tree-trunks. I passed a deep red 'x' reminding me of the troubles to the West. Luckily, I never had the honor of meeting those monstrosities that dwell in the swamp lands and coastal end of the forest, but I know they are big. A few weeks ago I had heard the beasts clashing in the nights, their howls and bellows carrying for miles all the way to my home. I got no sleep that night, I was scared as hell.
Silence, save for my boots treading through squelching detritus, filled the air. The darkness was thick, and I was heading into the center of the forest which was on the western-most territory of most land dwelling beasts. My solar powered lamp finally buzzed on, illuminating the grayish air and gaunt trees.
Cataract filled eyes stared back at me dumbly from the darkness. I did not fear them, though their numbers were great, the small creatures of the forest would never attack first, their place was scavenging the kills of the beast lords that ruled this land. I felt them follow my every movement through the ever more tangled depths of the earth. Possums the size of children flanked me, their long tails dragging through the leaf litter. That was not good.
I stopped in my tracks and shined my light on the hairy creatures. Their decaying hides barely clung to the dully shining metal skeleton from which within their blackened organs pulsated and swelled as I watched them. I took a step toward the animals, but they backed away into the shadows. They meant no trouble, but they acted as if...
"Mrrrrr..."
Ice flowed through my arteries as a pair of brilliant scarlet pupils fixed themselves on me. From the forest floor, they glowed like fist-sized lumps of coal, and they rose quickly, high into the air. I lifted my lamp to behold an elk, the size of two stacked buses, standing over me. As if suspended by marionette strings, his gargantuan body swayed drunkenly, and chunks of flesh and wiring fell from him to the ground. All of the animals that had been following me suddenly vanished. I backed away slowly, but the elk was only too amused.
"You are flesh and blood. Lovely, lovely meat..." The abomination growled.
"Stay away!" I screamed, fixing my hands on the handle of my sword to steady them. The elk staggered toward me, limping on three legs, the fourth of which was nowhere in sight. Damn- he's not the only big bastard out here- there's someone else big enough to take him on. I backed away, holding up the blade for the monstrosity to see as I attempted to escape while still appearing to be threatening. The elk laughed at me, his jagged cackle echoing off of the shivering trees.
No chance- I bolted- trailing my sword and spirals of mildew in the air behind me as I sprinted through the darkness. Thoughtlessly, I moved forward, hearing little more than the crushing of trees under the hooves of the berserk elk. Damn it... Damn it where was I going? Ahead of me was a steep drop into the forest basin. I looked back for a second, to see that he was practically on top of me. And so, I leapt into the thin air before me, landing on some boulders, and leaping from one to the next.
When I had gained a sufficient amount of ground on the beast, I looked back to see that he had gone away from the rim of the gorge. I held still for a moment, catching my breath against a flaking rock face. Thunder filled my ears and I crouched down to the earth, seeking shelter under the grimy boulder. To my horror- the elk came sailing over the edge of the drop off- landing right above me, showering my crumpled body in stones.
He fixed me with a blood-red stare, his filaments flaring out from his nostrils and slightly agape maw as he took in heaving breathes. I pressed myself between the boulders in a pathetic attempt to hide from the flickering glare of the hungry animal. Heaving, dark fluid spilled from his mouth as he lowered his head to my level. I could smell the acrid saliva as it dripped around me, sizzling as it touched the rock. He was close to death, but I was closer. And yet fighting for it was worth a try. Long, thin capillary tendrils shot out from his face and I beat them away with my sword, which by some miracle I had managed to hold onto. Like metallic spiderlegs, the thready veins grabbed into me, piercing skin and flesh. An indulgent roar filled the throat of the damned beast as I furiously scraped at my skin with my gauntlets, pulling out not only his tendrils but my flesh as well. I wanted to cry out, but the wires tightened around my neck, and I could feel my eyes popping out of terror.
The elk's wide pupils dilated further as my blood ran down his winding coils. I couldn't feel my legs- I couldn't breathe. He brought me up to his stinking jaws, and I could see the skulls and bones lodged between his molars. I can't die- I can't die- not until I find Paradise. Furiously, I drove my feet into his pallet, which went straight through the decayed layers of tissue.
"Go to hell!" I gasped as I shattered part of his lower jaw. Shrieking, the elk dropped me, rearing backwards and shaking his head, spraying black blood into the air.
"That's it... You runt!"
He roared and I ran for cover as he charged, his antlers low to the ground. His prongs lodged themselves into the wood of a molding oak, and the impact threw me off of the ground. Through the sinking leaf litter I scrambled as the elk threw his hoofs down into the earth in frenzied attempts to free himself.
Before me, his throat was stretched out, fleeting glimmers of metal peeking out from holes in his rotted hide. Without a second thought, I cleaved his head from his struggling body. A long, high whine emitted from the independent body as it keeled over and plummeted into the earth. I crouched low to the ground for a few moments, slowly the light went from his carmine pupils and only then I was left alone in the cold rays of the tree filtered light.
I found myself laughing uncontrollably beside the corpse of the elk lord. When I got up, all of the small forest beasts that had approached to scavenge my kill backed away. I smirked at them, pathetic freeloaders, I know that if I turn my back on them they'll have my hide for seconds. But there was no sweeter moment at that time, even if I was stripped of my own skin, it was not my life.
Quickly I bandaged my arms, crouching amongst the scavengers who were all too concerned with the corpse of the elk. I pulled my hand away from the boulder I had been leaning against, leaving a single bloody handprint.
I cast my glance down upon the fallen giant. As I moved toward him, the animals melted from my shadow, burrowing into the cavities of flesh, or trickling down into the crevices of the earth. From my I kill I procured two femurs, after a few minutes of digging around with a dagger, I managed to free them completely of muscles, tendons and ligaments.
With a bit of rope I slung them together and dragged them behind me as I crawled out of the basin, back up to the surface. My business was done.
Back at home I managed to keep my sanity by furiously gnawing down on some dry willow branches. I wasn't about to waste any of my stronger stuff on a flesh wound. It was already late evening, and the sun was just beginning to set. Fat thunderheads bore down from the Northwest, with them roaring winds rushed all around.
With the elk femurs, after several grueling hours, I managed to hone them down to twin bastard swords. Their texture was rather interesting due to the grain of the bones, but they were surprisingly flexible at the thickness I got them to. I suppose that the mind numbing work scrubbed worries from my brain, but as soon as I set the blades down a rush of exhaustion washed over me.
I settled in for slumber, and navy night crept upon the land with velveted paws. I said sweet goodnight to the damned world.