Stephen Drivick's Blog - Posts Tagged "band"
Another Facebook Story
Just a little something I put on Facebook. It was a writing prompt from the Band of Dystopian Authors and Fans....
It had been years since I had seen another human. The face that disappeared from the upstairs window as I approached my house told me that was about to change.
I broke into a run. My supplies...the sonofabitch is in my bedroom, I thought as I hit the porch. Checking out the door revealed it dented and broken. I ran my hand over the splintered wood. “Dammit to hell!” I said to myself. Something else to fix. I pulled my trusty shotgun out. Nobody broke into my house and took my supplies.
I pushed the door open, and burst into the living room. A dark shape was hunched over a pile of stolen items. My stuff. My entrance startled the thief, and they tried to get up and run. The interloper tripped over their own boots, and fell hard to the ground.
Shuffling forward, my mind raced. I debated shooting the intruder. The thief sat up against the wall, faced me, and fumbled under their clothes. I was soon staring at a huge revolver. “Stop! I'll kill you,” the supply thief yelled in a feminine tone.
It was a girl. She couldn't be more than twenty years old. She was wearing a tattered dress covered by a large jacket. She was just a wisp, a ghost...all hollow cheeks and pale skin. Her gun shook as she pointed it at my heart.
The ghost girl pulled the hammer back. “I mean it. I'll kill you.”
She had just been a baby when the war came. I wasn't going to kill her. I couldn't kill a kid. Putting the shotgun down, I reached into my pocket, and pulled out a granola bar. Maybe the last granola bar on the whole planet.
The girl put her head down. She placed the gun in my hand, taking the granola bar at the same time. She sank to the floor and began to cry. I kneeled down to comfort her.
She was too weak to open the granola bar. I did it for her. Looking up with watery eyes, she said, “I'm sick. I think I'm dying...the radiation...”
I put my arm around her. “You're not sick...just hungry.” As she ate, I checked out her gun. Rusty and covered in mold, it was not operable.
“I wouldn't have killed you. Even if the gun worked,” she said.
“I know.” I placed her weapon on the nearest table. It joined a pile of other rusty and moldy guns.
It had been years since I had seen another human. The face that disappeared from the upstairs window as I approached my house told me that was about to change.
I broke into a run. My supplies...the sonofabitch is in my bedroom, I thought as I hit the porch. Checking out the door revealed it dented and broken. I ran my hand over the splintered wood. “Dammit to hell!” I said to myself. Something else to fix. I pulled my trusty shotgun out. Nobody broke into my house and took my supplies.
I pushed the door open, and burst into the living room. A dark shape was hunched over a pile of stolen items. My stuff. My entrance startled the thief, and they tried to get up and run. The interloper tripped over their own boots, and fell hard to the ground.
Shuffling forward, my mind raced. I debated shooting the intruder. The thief sat up against the wall, faced me, and fumbled under their clothes. I was soon staring at a huge revolver. “Stop! I'll kill you,” the supply thief yelled in a feminine tone.
It was a girl. She couldn't be more than twenty years old. She was wearing a tattered dress covered by a large jacket. She was just a wisp, a ghost...all hollow cheeks and pale skin. Her gun shook as she pointed it at my heart.
The ghost girl pulled the hammer back. “I mean it. I'll kill you.”
She had just been a baby when the war came. I wasn't going to kill her. I couldn't kill a kid. Putting the shotgun down, I reached into my pocket, and pulled out a granola bar. Maybe the last granola bar on the whole planet.
The girl put her head down. She placed the gun in my hand, taking the granola bar at the same time. She sank to the floor and began to cry. I kneeled down to comfort her.
She was too weak to open the granola bar. I did it for her. Looking up with watery eyes, she said, “I'm sick. I think I'm dying...the radiation...”
I put my arm around her. “You're not sick...just hungry.” As she ate, I checked out her gun. Rusty and covered in mold, it was not operable.
“I wouldn't have killed you. Even if the gun worked,” she said.
“I know.” I placed her weapon on the nearest table. It joined a pile of other rusty and moldy guns.
A Little Something from Facebook...
From time to time, the Facebook group - Band of Dystopian Authors and Fans - posts an apocalyptic or science fiction photo and asks for a 300 word story. Here's one that I posted a couple of weeks ago. It was about 340 words...still working on my editing skills. :)
“The signal is gone,” the mechanical voice reported.
“Find it,” Maize said. “We can’t lose another one.”
RUNNER, Model number 231 waited for headquarters to get things straightened out. It needed that signal to get to the evac vehicle some distance away from the bunker.
A humongous machine shook the ground nearby. RUNNER shrank back, trying to be as small as possible. The whole area vibrated as the enemy robot ambled by. Humans called them Stompers, and they had a simple job. Lock onto human life signs, and stomp them.
RUNNER had a job, too. Get the delicate babies to the evac vehicle, and get them away from here. Humans were too slow. They built RUNNERS to get their most precious resource to safety. RUNNER was fast. Faster than the Stompers that patrolled the area.
“I can't find it. It's blocked.”
“Dammit!” Maize said. “RUNNER 231 you have to move.”
“Roger.”
The robot burst out of the hiding spot at full speed. The Stompers had all moved on. RUNNER found the evac vehicles heat signature. It waited ahead, perched on the remains of a building.
A Stomper came out of the haze, and blocked the road. The enemy machine raised up one of its giant feet to flatten RUNNER and its human cargo. With a horrible squeal, the foot moved downward.
RUNNER was too fast. It ran right under the beast machine and out the other side. It cradled the baby in his arms. Almost as good as a human mother. Almost, but not quite the same.
The Stomper flipped over onto its back, legs flailing in the air. The hero robot ran to the evac vehicle, and handed the baby to the human hanging out of the door.
“Thanks,” the human said. “Good job.”
“You are welcome,” RUNNER said.
The robot turned back towards the bunker. The job wasn't done. More vehicles were on the way, and there were many babies to save.
“The signal is gone,” the mechanical voice reported.
“Find it,” Maize said. “We can’t lose another one.”
RUNNER, Model number 231 waited for headquarters to get things straightened out. It needed that signal to get to the evac vehicle some distance away from the bunker.
A humongous machine shook the ground nearby. RUNNER shrank back, trying to be as small as possible. The whole area vibrated as the enemy robot ambled by. Humans called them Stompers, and they had a simple job. Lock onto human life signs, and stomp them.
RUNNER had a job, too. Get the delicate babies to the evac vehicle, and get them away from here. Humans were too slow. They built RUNNERS to get their most precious resource to safety. RUNNER was fast. Faster than the Stompers that patrolled the area.
“I can't find it. It's blocked.”
“Dammit!” Maize said. “RUNNER 231 you have to move.”
“Roger.”
The robot burst out of the hiding spot at full speed. The Stompers had all moved on. RUNNER found the evac vehicles heat signature. It waited ahead, perched on the remains of a building.
A Stomper came out of the haze, and blocked the road. The enemy machine raised up one of its giant feet to flatten RUNNER and its human cargo. With a horrible squeal, the foot moved downward.
RUNNER was too fast. It ran right under the beast machine and out the other side. It cradled the baby in his arms. Almost as good as a human mother. Almost, but not quite the same.
The Stomper flipped over onto its back, legs flailing in the air. The hero robot ran to the evac vehicle, and handed the baby to the human hanging out of the door.
“Thanks,” the human said. “Good job.”
“You are welcome,” RUNNER said.
The robot turned back towards the bunker. The job wasn't done. More vehicles were on the way, and there were many babies to save.
