The Search for Ortha

This is my second Reddit Writing Prompt and I am pretty pleased with the result. It’s a nice writing exercise for me. I am still not sure how it all works but if you use Reddit, please upvote!

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/jj7rs0/wp_humans_are_a_species_of_great_interest_to_the/gadcyqi?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

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Almost 3,660 hypersleep days had gone by before the revive protocol had kicked in and Temor "awoke" from his suspended animation state. A few injections were all it took to shake the grogginess and sum up enough strength to see what all the fuss was about.

A quick systems diagnostics run and the server message Unidentified Life Force popped up on the screen.

Finally, something possibly worth remaining animated for a little while, at least.

Temor walked down the long corridor to living quarter B to manually start the revive protocol in order to reanimate Dard and properly start the investigation. It had been a while since the last reanimation and Temor was excited to see what had been found.

He walked leisurely back down the long corridor, this time past living quarter A, the comms. room, the surgery bay, and the bio lab, until he stood in front of the door to the bridge. He provided a DNA scan just before the massive opaque sliding door opened in front of him letting in a flood of natural light temporarily blinding him as he instinctively shielded his face.

His eyesight slowly adjusted as he sauntered towards the very front of the vessel on the bridge overlooking what now lay in front of him. As his eyesight levelled out he found himself fixedly staring.

"What do you think of it, sir?" Dard asked Temor as he joined his side, both gazing wondrously at the floating aqueous orb in front of them. Appearing only as a glint in their pairs of eyes.

"Well... I think we'll have to report this to the council. It's not showing up on Gala." Temor gazed down at the holographic star map in front of him with a calm but perplexed look on his face.

"I'll make the call, sir" Dard turned on his feet and walked briskly across the bridge towards the comms. system.

"Wait! Maybe we should do some investigation first... and then report back to the counsel with our findings..?" Temor spoke abruptly almost fishing for affirmation.

"As you wish, sir." Dard rescinded his hand and peered back over his shoulder looking out of the bridge window. Waiting.

"Oh, and will you wake Lira. She'll want to be a part of this."

"Of course, sir."

"Let's prepare for landing... Oh, and Dard?"

"Sir?"

"You don't have to call me sir. I'm not like the other Admirals you've served with." Temor gestured a half-smile and turned to sit at the edge of the bridge peering back out into space.

"Yes, si... uh... Temor" Dard looked down at his feet and started toward the living quarters to wake Lira, all the while wearing a smirk on his adolescent looking face, just happy to finally be part of something so special.

Temor sat there meditating on the stories he heard as a kid about Ortha and the beings that lived there called Homans. The lush landscapes wide open, unoccupied by people and covered in sustenance that grew wild or sometimes cultivated by the Homans themselves. Alimans used as an alternate food source that grazed the unending landscapes. Water as far as the eye could see and yet sometimes not seen at all. Years of quests now culminated to this one moment.

A soft hand fell across Temor's neck above his right shoulder and he gazed up to his left catching a pair of red glossy eyes.

"Good wake, Lira" Temor exclaimed with a passionate look in his eyes, "I think we've found it!"

"Found what?" Lira yawned, looking a little dishevelled. As if she may still be dreaming.

"We've found Ortha!"

No More Room At The Inn

Jake decided to set up camp after the last 15-mile hike of the day. 29 days down and only one more long and strenuous last day until he would reach Bethlehem, at least that’s what the map said. About 2 days into his solo hike and camp through the desert Jake’s phone went dead. Being an Eagle Scout and having taken numerous orienteering classes he was not phased as to how to get to his destination via map, compass, and the sun. The hard part was not having anyone to share his time with and to talk to.

Like clockwork, Jake went about his nightly routine of setting up the tent, unravelling his sleeping bag, and starting a fire for warmth and to cook dinner. It would be rehydrated Spaghetti Bolognese. Again. But, he wasn’t too phased by the monotony of the food. Jake was simple in that he didn’t need much to survive. He found the spice of life in other ways. He was creative yet content and almost always looked at the brighter side of life. He found peace by taking in the world around him and every new experience that presented itself.

As he sat there stirring the pot round and round methodically he couldn’t help but think about the life he had left before heading out on this solo world trip. He left because he couldn’t deal with the mundanity of it all. His 9 to 5 office job with 10 vacation days and no promise of a promotion anytime soon. What was the point? He thought to himself constantly while living inside that world. He needed to run away and do something that he always wanted to do. See the world. Not in one or two week spurts. Open-ended with almost no agenda. That was truly living. Not knowing what was around the corner; what was going to happen next. Sure, he missed his family and friends. He missed the notion of his ex-girlfriend and the comfort she could provide during lonely times… But, this was bigger than that. It must be.

Jake stopped stirring and took the pot off the fire as the spaghetti smelled like it might be burning. It was time to fill up with as much food as possible in preparation for the long journey ahead the next morning. Whenever he ate a meal that made him full he could not help but think of all the people in the world who didn’t have that luxury. The luxury to have food or clean water on a daily basis. It was something that he would like to do more to help with. Not necessarily ending world hunger, but helping people who actually needed it and didn’t have the means to receive it. He went to bed that night with a full stomach and his usual content attitude hoping for sweet dreams before the big day that lay ahead of him. It would be a very big day indeed.

…

6 am, sunrise, Jake woke from a very pleasant sleep. He did dream but when trying to remember the details they quickly left his mind. He hated when that happened. First was first, the last of the coffee grounds strategically rationed to brew a nice final cup of coffee. It was probably the most important thing he had besides water. His coffee. The sun shone across what he knew was miles and miles of sand dunes. He enjoyed those sunrises but was getting tired of the light brown featureless landscape more and more as the days went on. That was his cue to pack up and ship out. He took one more look back to where he came from when a huge rush of accomplishment came over him. Immediately giving him goosebumps and that not-often-but-familiar shiver down his back. One more day of hiking was nothing. He could do anything he put his mind to.

Jake couldn’t help but slip into a daydream about the first home-cooked meal he would have and the large soft bed he would treat himself to in a decent hotel once he reached the city. Although, content with roughing it for a while, everyone likes to be pampered every now and then. And what a sweet treat that would be after 30 days of strenuous and continuous desert life. So, he thought it over and decided on a massive Shawarma and an endless supply of hummus. That’s what he pictured in all its glory on top of a single square wooden table with a clean white tablecloth draped over the top. His mouth was literally dripping with saliva and his pace was picking up without even realizing it. He would take a single room in a moderately priced hotel. An upgrade from the usual 20 dollar-a-night hostels where he would normally lay his head. It was these small things that would make a world of difference in terms of his mental well-being and physical comfort.

Then, he continued to walk, head down, nervously biting his nails as more and more thoughts of getting back to ‘reality’ crept into his mind. He hadn’t talked to another human being in 30 days! Well, despite the non-English speaking goat herders he crossed paths with a few times on his journey. But, all they did was point him to water or share their own for a small price. He appreciated the sentiments and the transactions didn’t come with the same angst as with having a conversation with someone in a ‘normal’ setting. ‘Reality’ sucked. Why do people put themselves through it? Stop that! He argued with himself. There was no lack of inner speech going on during his travels. Getting back to civilization would level him out. Just keep walking.

And that’s what he did. He trudged along finally finding his zen state. In between not thinking and thinking. Being aware and unaware. On he went for hours until finally shaking it off in order to pull out the map. Coming back to stasis. Using his Boy Scouts skillset he reckoned he had about 2 hours until he would hit the edge of Bethlehem if he kept the same pace. Then it should be about a 40-minute walk to the city centre where he would find the hotel and the meal he’d been waiting for. He folded the map back up, put it back in his pack, took in a full landscaped view, and proceeded on the journey. Head down.

It wasn’t long before he started seeing life again. And a road. The main road, from the looks of it, that led into town. He saw only one plain-clothed person walking in the distance, a few cars that drove past him from the city, and a few more military vehicles going every which way, which wasn’t uncommon for where he was in the world. But, a lot less activity than he expected leading up to a major city. After a while, he started seeing signs of a cityscape. Shops, restaurants, multilevel buildings with eloquent facades. But, no people anywhere outside. Where was everyone? Maybe it’s Shabbat or Ramadan? He finally saw a woman about to close her large glass shop doors and crossed the street to see if he could get an answer for the lack of activity in the city. As soon as he crossed the centre line on the road they made eye contact. She quickly stepped inside fumbling with the lock when Jake approached and she began waving her finger at him. “Excuse me miss?” Jake hurriedly asked as he stepped up onto the curb. She stepped back with the door now locked and waved her finger saying, “no, no, no…”

“Slicha,” he said in his best Hebrew. Not even knowing if that was the right thing to say. “No, no, no…,” She said again while waving her finger as she backed up out of view. Perplexed, Jake walked further into the heart of the city dying to find a hotel and take a rest. The sun would set any minute now. He must have picked the wrong day to arrive because it was like a ghost town. There were only a few cars on the road as the day quickly ascended into darkness and not a soul roamed the streets. Am I missing something here?

He finally strolled up to the Diamond Hotel where he figured he would ask for his first price so he could compare the area. Nothing higher than $50 he decided for his one night stay. He grabbed the large brass handle and yanked expecting the door to swing open. When it didn’t, he pushed. And when that didn’t work he looked for a doorbell, pressed it, and peered through the small pane of glass on the door. A woman appeared in plain clothes from a side-door and gave a concerned look when she spotted his face. She stopped about a foot from the door and said, “go away” in a worried tone probably deducing that he spoke English. He responded, “why?” now very unsure as to why everyone was treating him like he was a leper. She motioned him back and Jake complied, backing down the steps to the sidewalk. The woman unlocked the door and only opened it enough to stick her head out. “What are you doing here? All foreigners must go,” she said in a hushed tone.

“I need a room for the night. I’ve been hiking and camping around the desert for a month. What do you mean all foreigners must go?” He was truly puzzled by this whole situation. He hadn’t had an ounce of conflict in over a month and walked into this. It was frustrating.

“You do not know what is happening?” The woman said very surprisedly and again concerned.

“Happening?” He said. Jake was very lost and the woman now understood.

“Oh my… There is a virus, the Corona Virus, that has spread around the world infecting many and killing many others. Bethlehem is on full lockdown. The world is on lockdown. You must go. I can’t help you.” She quickly closed and bolted the door before running back through the side door.

Jake ran up and feverishly rang the doorbell over and over but no one came back. He sat down on the top of the front steps, crossed his arms, and tried to piece together what he had just heard. “What the fuck?” He sighed under his breath to himself. He began to breathe heavily as thoughts, every thought, began to run through his mind. He didn’t know where to begin and these thoughts raced for just a moment. He then remembered to breathe, to think clearly again. And to plan his next move. He shot straight up and peered around for any sign of a police station. Get to a police station. He picked a direction and began to walk briskly.

Only a few feet away Jake heard that now familiar woman’s voice once more. He turned around as she yelled from the small crack in the door, “Get to Tel Aviv, it’s the only way home!” And she quickly shut the door again. Why Tel Aviv? Jake had to get back to his original plan. Find a police station. As the darkest hours of the night crept closer Jake felt his hopes fleeting. He had walked past 3 police stations. All closed with yellow signs on the doors referring to the virus. This was real. This was serious. He had been through many stressful situations before but this seemed out of his control. Out of control. He was getting increasingly worried but then couldn’t help but think of the irony of that day. He showed up in Bethlehem as a weary traveller, looking for a room at the ‘Inn’, but was refused everywhere he went. Haha. Was his old friend upstairs trying to tell him something?

Next steps. He tried to blank his mind once again and focus on the task at hand. He opened up his map while sitting under a lone street lamp. He might as well take the only advice that was given to him. Get to Tel Aviv. For what reason, he had no idea. But, it might be better than where he currently sat out of options. Looking at the map Jake deduced that it would take him about 15 hours walking. Being extremely tired he came up with the plan to walk as long as he could and set up camp somewhere along the main road when he couldn’t walk anymore. To give himself enough energy for the rest of the journey after his rest. He had enough water but he ate his last bit of food at lunch. It didn’t matter. He just wanted to get there. To get some answers.

With some direction, Jake began his familiar head down one foot in front of the other march but now on his way to Tel Aviv. He tried to block the culmination of thoughts as he went along and couldn’t help but feel completely alone. 5 hours past in an instant as tiredness quickly came upon him. Through him. Jake picked a random spot on the side of the road, went through the motions, and crawled into his sleeping bag within his tent. As sleep took a firm grasp on Jake that night, somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, he couldn’t help but dream of the warm embrace of his ex-girlfriend, Jane.

…

Jake woke to the sound of trucks, big trucks, zooming by. He jumped out of his tent and ran to the road to watch a convoy of military vehicles speed past him picking up sand creating a small dust storm directly all around him. He waved his hands and jumped up screaming for someone to stop. Either they didn’t see him, didn’t hear him, or had no intention of stopping because they quickly passed without a change in speed or direction. It was 6 am and Jake knew he could make it to Tel Aviv by at least 4 pm if he hustled. He quickly gathered his things and began to walk once again.

Almost 5 hours in and Jake couldn’t help but wish his phone was working. He didn’t know if it was broken or just needed a charge. But, either way, it would be really helpful at that exact point in time. The original intent was to prove to himself that he could do it all without technology. He could still live his life. After all, it was a refreshing feeling in the beginning. But, like any good survivalist, he should have prepped for the worst-case scenario. Even though he thought this didn’t count as a worst-case scenario, he was alive; having his phone working could prevent a further worst-case scenario. As he beat himself up over the next few minutes he could start to hear the sound of an engine in the distance behind him. He turned around and could make out what looked like a commuter vehicle and started to jump, and yell, and wave his hands once more. This time the vehicle stopped. Thank God.

Jake ran up to the open passenger window out of breath and just blurted out, “Tel Aviv?” The moustachioed man with a huge smile on his face and a big thumbs up cleared off the passenger seat with one fell swoop and replied, “Tel Aviv,” in an affirming manner. Jake, acting as if this was a normal every-day event jumped in the front seat, threw his backpack in the back and said, “thanks man, you have no idea how much you are helping me out. What’s going on with this virus?” The man replied again with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, “Tel Aviv!” Jake, quickly understanding the situation looked over at the man, gave him a big thumbs up and smiled and replied, “Tel Aviv,” assuringly. They spent the next 40 minutes unable to communicate while Palestinian music blasted on the radio, a warm breeze coming through the open windows, as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

They pulled up to a border checkpoint which would’ve taken him upwards of 5 hours had he continued to walk. The driver tapped him on the shoulder pointed towards the armed guards and said, “Tel Aviv.” Taking the hint, Jake exited the vehicle and gave the man a handshake and smile saying “Thank you” which he hoped he understood. The man pulled a U-turn and headed back in the direction they came from. He wasn’t even going to Tel Aviv. He was just being a really nice guy. His faith in humanity was once more restored. Jake walked up to the check-point finally finding someone who spoke enough English to let him in on what was happening in the world. It was worse than he had envisioned. This Coronavirus, which originated in Wuhan, China spread across the world and the number of cases and death tolls had risen steadily in the past month to incite a global lockdown. It was as real as a heart attack. After a lot of questioning and apprehension, the border patrol let him through and said that he would need to repatriate back to the United States within 24 hours. He was to contact the U.S. Embassy via phone in order to organize his departure.

Walking into town Jake finally came across a guesthouse that was willing to let him stay. It was in a bustling, mostly African, neighbourhood near the central train station. It was like no one there had any idea or didn’t care what was going on in the world around them. The only reason he chose that area was that it was close to the train station so he could eventually get to the airport and it was the first place to not close their doors on him.

Jake got up to his room and immediately collapsed on the hard, most likely unwashed, bed. He didn’t mind. He was spent. He was anxious. He was sure to plug his phone in. The battery symbol popped up, immediately indicating that the phone wasn’t broken after all. Just out of battery. He laid there rhythmically watching the blades of the ceiling fan swing around and around. Trying to keep his eye on one and then quickly losing it until his eyes picked it up again. His eyelids started to get heavier and heavier. A loud ping came from his phone indicating it was on and also bringing him back to life. What seemed like hundreds of notifications started popping up on his phone. He scrolled through dozens of texts from mom and dad and sister and brother. Some friends it looked like. All probably worried sick. He scrolled until he came across the one name that really tugged at his heartstrings. Jane. He took a deep breath and turned on his side, clutching his phone in the fetal position. He clicked open the message and read five of the most meaningful words he had read in a long time. I need you right now. He was filled with emotion. Excitement, sadness, and relief all at the same time. Forgetting about everyone else who was trying to get in touch with him, forgetting about contacting the U.S. Embassy, and forgetting about the global pandemic happening all around him Jake, realizing he couldn’t get through this messed up world by himself any longer, responded back to Jane saying, I need you too. He stared longingly as three dots appeared on his screen.

You Are Special - Chapter 1

[WP] You’re sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by strangers but then it dawns on you that these were the same “strangers” who were in the restaurant where you had dinner last night. You head to the beach and realise again that the people around you are once more the same.

It felt so good to wake up not hungover on a Sunday. Dry January was giving me the feeling that anything was possible. This was the third productive weekend in a row. The mind was clear, the anxiety levels were low, and I think I was on my way to discovering the meaning to life! But, first, always first, it was time for a cup of coffee. Well, a mocha from Jerry’s diner to be more specific. It was a special treat to myself for being so good to my body these last 3 weeks.

I was freshly showered and clothed so I grabbed my hat, gloves, and coat for the brisk walk. It was just a short stroll through Roosevelt Park where I always admired the natural beauty in an otherwise grim city setting. Then, it was through the gates and a quick left for another 8 minutes or so. I have done this walk a million times before but always tried to notice differences, intricacies. Ever since I could remember I have been prideful of my observation skills. I am a very socially aware individual but no one seemed to understand the advantages of this. Namely, it was my ability to assess a situation and specifically the people in the first 2 minutes of being somewhere. Then I could form a plan of action for myself. Too many people take everything for face value. It might work for them but, not for me.

As I walked I couldn’t help but think about work the next morning. I left a lot on the plate Friday for Monday morning Charlie to deal with. At least the head would be clear enough to take everything in stride. I then began ridding myself of that anxiety by daydreaming of the cup of coffee that I was about to sit down and enjoy. I was just past the post office so it would only be a few doors up on the left. Finally, I stood right under the massive “Jerry’s Diner” sign that hung overhead the old creaky door entrance. I took a step into the warm and cozy enclosure and pulled off my hat and gloves before approaching the counter where I always sat in my spot closest to the register. I looked up and an all too familiar feeling came over me, I’ve seen this before…

‘What can I get ya, Charlie?” Sheila asked as she laid a menu in front of me.

‘Huh?’ I replied a little flustered.

‘Everything ok?’ the concerned Sheila prompted again.

‘Oh… Yeah… Have you ever had deja vu?’ I asked as I looked hurriedly around the room?

‘Oh yeah, every day working here I have deja vu… The same thing over and over, blah, blah, blah. So, the usual then?’ Sheila nonchalantly stated as she walked towards the espresso machine with her back to me.

‘Yes, please!’ I shouted. Still in a confused but intrigued way about this whole situation.

I looked around the room at every detail but couldn’t grasp the familiarity I felt. I hadn’t been in this exact situation before but it sure felt like it. Humph, I sounded to myself but then half shrugged it off as my mocha and maple and brown sugar oatmeal appeared in front of my blank face.

‘Ah, thanks Sheila!’ I yelled again as she replied with a ‘yep!’ her back turned, on to helping another customer.

I picked up the paper and flipped to the crossword, feeling around my pockets for a pen. Up, down, left, right, nothing there. I turned around and politely asked the table behind me if they might have a spare pen to use for just a little while. An old man turned his face to me and exclaimed, “Yes, of course” as he placed a black ball point pen in the palm of my hand while staring into my eyes with a slight smile on his face. The feeling was back, but now intensified. I had seen this man… Last night at dinner… and the woman across the table he was sitting with as well. “Who…?” I mumbled as I turned to look further in the distance near the window and then around the diner. Every person at every table was now looking at me with a slight smile on their face. Warm but really creepy. I recognized each and every one of them from the restaurant last night. I mumbled again, “Whaaa…?” After a moment I swung my head around to face the counter and yelled out, “Sheila, what’s going on!?”

The side dishwasher’s door was swinging, bacon and eggs were sizzling on the grill with no cook at the helm, and Sheila’s pen and pad dropped to the diner floor. The workers were nowhere in sight. It was like they had vanished just before I looked. I turned back to everyone, mouth opened wide, when a young man around my age rose from his seat in the center of the diner with his hand outstretched towards me and quietly said, “No need to be scared Charlie, it will only take a few minutes to explain. You are a very special person you know!”

I stood and backed up quickly, stumbling over the diner stool bolted to the ground beneath me. I backpedaled fervently, away from the man’s outstretched arm. My hand reached for my jacket on the coat rack behind me. I yanked at it, turned on the heels of my feet and bolted out of the old squeaky door, not looking back. I stumbled again on the sidewalk ice patches below my feet but caught my footing and built up a sprint to get as far away as possible from the diner and whatever that scene was inside. I ran down the main road towards the small city beach next to the university where I knew a lot of cops patrolled. I needed help. I needed an explanation.

As my mind was racing and my breath was getting short I began to realize that I was uninterrupted as I ran. There were no cars on the road, no people in the shops, and no one on their usual Sunday stroll. I looked back and no one was following me. What the fuck was happening? I thought to myself. But, I knew one thing at the moment. I needed to get to the beach to find a policeman and explain the situation. It was only another quarter mile to the lake. I knew my body was in proper form from the last few weeks so I picked up speed as if coming around the last bend during my old track running days.

I reached the beach entrance and ran onto the sand hoping to see a police officer patrolling for underage drinkers or junkies. There wasn’t a soul in site and after my heavy breathing slowed, not even a sound. No planes in the sky, sirens, birds… Just the gentle breeze of the wind and the waves rolling in and out as I gazed in every direction. I was lost in every sense of the word. I couldn’t come up with an answer. Just as I lowered my head a familiar voice came from the street at the end of the beach behind me.

‘Charlie, I know this doesn’t make any sense right now. We are here to explain,’ said the same man from the diner followed by all of the others that I recognized from the diner and the previous night.

‘Wh… Who are you? Wha… What is going on!?’ I asked in total disbelief.

‘This is going to sound unbelievable to you right now, but please just trust my words. We are what humans refer to as Plucidians. We come from a planet not unlike yours in a solar system at a distance and time unfathomable to the human mind. The reason we have come is that we finally need your help, Charlie.’

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/eqfnca/wp_youre_sitting_in_a_coffee_shop_surrounded_by/ff69jn5/

Pitter Patter

I shut the door abruptly trying to keep all of the wet, the cold, and the darkness outside and out of mind. My hands and face were numb from the 30-minute cycle home from work. But, the effort was worth it to now be back in a warm home. I was absolutely done with the day and I didn’t want to exude any further strenuous activity.

I dropped my bike and bag at the front door and sauntered upstairs and B-lined it to my room. I proceeded to take off every piece of clothing soaked with the day’s work sweats and freezing rain. I stood there naked and content before I reached for the dry clothes that I knew would make me feel even better. First, I slipped on my underwear that immediately made me feel a sense of newness and power. Then, I pulled up sweat pants leg by leg that brought back memories of my youth and comfort as a child. Finally, I put on an extra-soft cotton shirt that gave me visions of lavender and thus began the chemical process in my brain of rest and relaxation. Melatonin was starting to flow through my brain.

I lifted up the covers to my bed and slid my legs down under to cover my toes. It was so much warmer compared to the surrounding room temperature. It was pouring rain outside and extremely windy but I was now snuggled up toasty and warm. I focused my listening to the rough sounds just outside the window. The whistle of the wind as it forced itself through ever crevice surrounding the house. The gentle rainfall and then a short burst of droplets bashing against the window every half minute or so. I was thinking of all of the people still stuck out there right at the moment and how miserable they must be. I felt great, but also a little guilty about the fact. I quickly forgot and thought deeply about the rain and the wind and the comfort it was causing as I slowly drifted to sleep.

Plagued

As I trudged along the worn-down dirt path in front of me I remembered the feelings I had as a child leaving my little league baseball games. I always had a sense of accomplishment no matter whether I won or lost. But, the strongest feeling that came over me was relief. I worried a lot as a kid. I felt the constant pressure to do the best even though no one else demanded it from me. I had strong bouts of anxiety regarding the littlest of things like whether the shirt I was wearing was going to affect my performance or, if at the last turn, I made the right decision. I could relax when it was all over, zone out. Those feelings are so fresh in my memory yet miles away from how I feel today. I now understand that those worries never mattered and will never matter. Not only because they are petty but also because the world I once knew as a child has forever changed. 

I have another 5-mile journey down this dirt path on the outskirts of what was once Des Moines, Iowa. Now desolate flatland with no existing government infrastructure. I will pass those baseball fields of my youth, now deserted as well as the abandoned petrol stations, elementary schools, and just about everything else bar a few inhabited camps here and there. There is nothing left to worry about because there is hardly anything left at all.

I’ve taken this same walk more or less every day for the last 6 years. Not because I have to only because it keeps me somewhat sane.  I try to remember as much of life before ‘The Plague‘ as a form of entertainment. I do this in increments of 20 minutes and then the rest of the time I follow the path in front of me, letting my mind wander. I don’t dare divert from the path for fear of contracting a new form of the virus from the small camps around me that will surly kill me slowly and painfully. But then again, that might be better than this. I think human will plays a large part in that debate.

About a mile from my dwelling I see a man… or a woman… in the distance. It’s best to stay about a half a mile away from each camp. Therefore, it is tough to know what you are looking at. I wonder what they are thinking and how they are feeling. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.  It’s been about 5 years since my last contact. When my brother died. He was the last of my 5 siblings to fade away. He would make the walk with me and we would have lots of fun together. We would make up games and dream together. I was more creative and happy with him. But, I’ve learned it’s best not to dwell on the past because it’s done and over with.

I arrive back to my dwelling just as the sun dips below the horizon. I throw a log onto the dying embers and wait for the fire to start again so I will be warm while I sleep. Tomorrow, I will make the walk again.

Sunday

We left church early that day because he became ill. He needed to vomit so I rushed him into the toilets near the side of the basilica. I had tears in my eyes because I knew he was in so much pain. I imagined that it felt like having the worst flu of your life, every day. In Constant agony.

I ran to the side doors of the church, peaked my head in and motioned to mom that I was taking him home. I guided his frail body outside into the crisp winter air. His muscles didn't tense as I would have imagined. They must not have been strong enough to react to the piercing cold. But I can tell in his face that it was brutal. I took him slowly step-by-step along the sidewalk towards the car. He stopped every now and then to reorientate and assess his situation. 

I helped him into the car and he made wincing motions with his face. I knew that he was getting shooting pains in his hips, stomach, and chest as he contorted his body to get into the front seat. I didn't speak on the drive home because he told me he wanted quiet. Any sound at all was irritating and added to the pain. It was only a short drive home, just a few blocks. But he knew that didn't make a difference. The pain would still be there, following him wherever he went.

Again he winced as I helped him exit the car to get out of the cold and back into the house. It was straight to the toilet where I heard horrible sounds as he heaved and then moaned at the sharp pains spiking through his abdomen. I asked him what I could do, but he assured me nothing. I think he just wanted to be alone with his mind and his body as people often do when they become ill.

I sat there thinking; thinking about the situation he was in and what I was witnessing. There was my light shining bright and full. I could sense his, dim and fading. I cried to myself thinking about the pain he was enduring and the thoughts racing through his mind about his life up until that moment. Once, so invincible and now years later cowering down to a sickness overtaking his body. Trying to fight but getting knocked down at every chance. 

New Chicago

20 years ago the big one hit California, which caused immediate devastation and panic. The massive earthquake combined with previous years of rapidly rising sea levels caused the state to “sink” along with Oregon, the Northwestern coast of Mexico, and sections of Nevada and Arizona. This drove millions of people that survived inland seeking refugee wherever they could. That’s when terror struck the East Coast. It was the perfect time for Russia to strike while the iron was hot. New York down to the Southern Tip of Florida was barraged with nuclear armaments wiping out much of the populations in all of the major cities. A once bustling New York City lay in ruins just minutes after the full scale attacks. Those that survived were kept at bay in contamination zones that were set up further inland and the remainder of the United States was kept on lockdown, mandatory curfews were enforced, and a no-travel ordinance was issued. The greatest war of Earth’s history was in full effect.

The years that followed brought forth much change in the way American’s lived. We were cut off from the rest of the world. All other nations were either involved in war, lay in ruins, or were in the process of being taken over by provisional governments popping up everywhere. We no longer had identities to feel connected and loved. It was every man, woman, and child for themselves. 

I was 9 years old when it all started and now vaguely remember the carefree days before this existence. It now seemed that everyone I saw had a permanent worried look on there face wherever I went. Most of it was due to the fact that you now needed to prove your identity to government corrections officers at every checkpoint set up around the city. Nothing and no one was trusted. No more expectation of free will.  If caught out of place then it was a mark on your permanent record. I've been good in getting around this because I didn't want to end up in the Second Tier along with the sick and dying. I'd rather be far away from this utilitarian hell hole.

I've only been staying somewhat sane by sticking to the escape plan that I have been preparing for the past year. I have been woking with a few of my acquaintances to gather the right tools to get the job done. They're not friends because that term doesn't exist anymore. They are only people who offer physical goods or services in exchange for other desired goods or services. There was no point in building friendships because they weren't beneficial to living. In a few days I would be on my way to a life where I am not trapped in a bubble of discontent. I would be free.

My plan was pretty simple but required items that weren't readily available. I would have an improvised motor-bike waiting for me just outside the second tier on the West side of the wall. Finishing touches were being made on my vehicle and I had collected fuel over the past few months. I had the proper survival gear to last me a month outside of the city until I found enough resources where I could survive on my own indefinitely. I had one more day to gather my supply of government issued MREs.

My plan was to head Northwest away from the contamination zones towards what was left of Washington. I've heard stories of people living undisturbed outside of contamination zones and government sanctioned cities. Places where you could live off the land, free, like the Native Americans once did. I remember reading about the Native Americans and how the white settlers drove them from their land, their homes, freedom. I fell asleep that night dreaming of living next to a river, tending to my crops, and hunting wild animals. I would build my own furniture, tools, and weapons and explore the wilderness.

The next day I checked in with one of my contacts to make sure the bike was ready. She assured me it was and would be waiting for me in section C just outside the West wall of the Second Tier in between the two large rain collection barrels, well hidden. I had been stashing away 2 MREs every month for the past year and hiding them behind my neighbors dwelling. I packed them in one of two large bags along with the rest of my survival gear. It was finally coming together. I would head out tomorrow morning around 4am. This was the best time as security detail was most vulnerable. 

I had another contact update my security clearance so I could gain access to the Second Tier. I would have temporary access listed as a night shift waste collector. This would give me good cover as I would be wearing a hazmat suit to protect me from the disease stricken people around me and have the ability to lead my bags through without suspicion. I decided to get a little sleep to prepare me for the journey ahead.

I woke from an anxious dream. Anxious in a good way. I was running, not away from anyone or anything, just running freely with nature surrounding me. I looked over a map of the United States that I had kept in my bedroom over the years. I knew every inch of this country or whats left of it. Only an hour until go time and I was ready to take on anything in my way. I walked through my neighborhood zone one last time just to remember everything I hated about this dismal place. An arm grabbed me stiffly and as I turned I could make out the reflection of my face in a silver visor, a corrections officer.

"Identification immediately" he grunted.

I showed him my details.

"What are you doing out of zone?"

I gave him a look of confusion.

"I am in zone, this is my neighborhood!" I pleaded.

"Parameters were changed effective 00:00 today, come with me." He tightened his grip.

"You can't do that, it only came into effect three hours ago, I was unaware, please!" I pleaded.

He loosened his grip and told me to report to my local zone station by 12:00 or I would be marked. I freed my arm and ran hastily towards my dwelling without looking back. 

There was now a fire in my belly and adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I had one goal in mind and it was to get to that bike. I grabbed my two bags, the hazmat suit, and headed towards Section C. Just before the Second Tier I walked down an alley way and put on the suit. Right outside of the entrance I dumped my bags on the waste cart. At an easy pace I walked up to the Section C gate and presented my identification and held my breath. Access Granted flashed on the translucent screen in front of me and the doors crept open. 

I made my way through the sea of shanties and filth. Sickly people were attempting to get my attention but I had a one track mind at that moment. It was only about a 30 minute walk to the wall. I reached the wall with no problems and started to take off the suit and remove my bags from the cart. I waited for the right moment and made the climb, my two bags dangling from my back. I was on the other side and heard no alarms in the distance. The final stretch was upon me. I just needed to locate the rain barrels. From my crudely drawn map it should only be a few 100 meters away. I stealthily walked towards what I believed to be the right direction.

My navigation skills rewarded me and I reached the Two large rain barrels within minutes. There she was under a large collection of burlap material, my ticket out of here. I quickly secured my precious cargo to the bike, ignited the engine, and waited until the coast seemed clear. I took one last look at my compass and found Northwest, my intended direction of travel. A final check to see if everything was secure and I sped off with an ear-to-ear grin on my face. My moment had arrived, so it goes.

My First Reddit Writing Prompt Submittal

[WP] 10 hours ago you were just a normal person trying to buy a cup of coffee. Now you are the most wanted man/woman of your country.

That first cappuccino in the morning is the best part of my work day. Being out of the office, across the street, free of mindless morning conversation about everyone's weekend.

Maybe i'll grab a pain au chocolate and eat it slowly while gazing through the coffee shop window daydreaming about the productive things I will assuredly do after work. By 3 o'clock i'll have changed my mind and be thinking about my bed and what sci-fi movie to fall asleep to. How did I fucking get here? I find myself asking that question every single goddamn day but choose to stay in the confines of my office in a safe job contributing to my strategic 401k so that my non-existent kids can attend state colleges and my thought of a wife who doesn't have to keep a full-time job.

I look down and I haven't touched my pastry. I've literally been staring through the window at the brick wall across the street for the past 5 minutes. I'm not doing this today. I'm going to do something. I'm not going in there.

I stepped out of the shop and turned left, away from work and just started walking. My mind wasn't racing like I thought it would. I just felt a huge weight off of my shoulders. Pure freedom and sense of adventure. The type of feeling you have between the ages of 18 and 25, when you somehow are certain that you have the power to do anything in the world and get away with it.

My first thought was to go straight home and laze around the rest of the day and email my resignation letter to my shit head boss. But that was taking the easy way out. I wanted to fucking live! I needed to feel more power. Guns! I needed to go to the gun range. I had never shot a gun before and have always wanted to. What better way to start this adventure than by exercising my god given right as an American...

I searched google and found a range about 10 miles away and hopped in a cab. I didn't want to speak to the cab driver at all. I just wanted to stare out the window and look deep into my own head for the next 15 minutes before I unloaded on a thin silhouette of what i'd like to think of as a disgustingly evil person.

I was overly surprised at how easy it was to be issued a gun and bullets and fire willingly in the back of what felt like some guy's garage. The feeling of the recoil was pretty much exactly as I expected; which was empowering. I fired round after round with a few guns I knew nothing about before retiring to the gun shop to admire all the detailed workmanship of the firearms. The only thought in my head was "what next?"

I hailed another cab. This time to my house to grab a few outfits, some cash, and a bottle of sunscreen. The only logical thought that came across my mind on that cab ride was to book a flight somewhere warm and wild. I always wanted to go to Tijuana and experience this Mexican playground for Americans. Booze and drugs just sounded so good at that moment.

A flight purchase on my phone, a cab ride, and an airport beer later I was on a Southwest flight to Tijuana. I had no regrets at that moment. I literally did no have a care in the world of who and what I was leaving behind. I let my mind wander again with the help of a few more plane beers and the white noise coming from the in-cabin air conditioning nozzles over head. I slowly drifted off to a deep stress-free sleep.

I was awoken by a very attractive stewardess asking me to put my chair upright and fasten my seatbelt because we were about to land. I complied and complemented her with a sleepy smile, excited to get off of the aircraft into the tropical weather. A smooth landing and an unorganized exit later I was in the airport searching for a cab driver that wouldn't screw me over.

My new friend Pedro was driving me to a Hyatt I found on Orbitz so I could relax, order room service and drink until I couldn't talk anymore. Pedro offered me some weed which I graciously accepted. He then willingly accepted my American money and pointed me to the best strip club in town should I wish to partake. My only plan for the night was to veg out so I could pick up the party tomorrow. After all, I should take my new found freedom and relish in it.

I checked in and did exactly as I planned as well as smoked a few bowls out of one of the room service apples. I was right where I wanted to be without a worry in the world and no thought about the days to come. I drifted off into a deep dream-filled sleep.

I awoke around 10am and immediately walked down to the beach to jump into the ocean. It was amazing to think that only about 24 hours earlier I was as depressed and unfulfilled as I was. Now I was calm and free, letting my mind finally decide what it is I was going to do in order to be happy. And the next thing I wanted to do was eat tacos for breakfast. I strolled up to a small restaurant facing the beach and decided to connect to the wifi to write my boss that resignation letter I'd been putting off.

As soon as I connected my phone was barraged with all types of notifications. My missed calls and text messages were in the double digits and my email inbox was well over 100. The first line that caught my eye was "Work shooting...gunman at large" What the fuck had happened since I had been gone. I opened up the first email to see my name strewn across the news claimed to be the gunman at large. The day i'd left, someone walked into my office building, opened fire killing 7 of my former co-workers. Since I had been uncalled for for a day and a half and was last seen at a gun range I was the most likely suspect.

I was now one of America's most wanted men.

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/67ot7h/wp_10_hours_ago_you_were_just_a_normal_person/dgsl3v0/