Gold Fever (m×m) ✔

I: The Queers of Chaos

Gold runs in our blood.
Virginia Woolf

《 ELIAN PHOENIX 》

We caused the end of the world. Turns out it's easier than you might think it is. All you need is a group of angry anarchists and an ounce of magic, and the world goes down in a poof. The human race has survived ice ages, world wars and pandemics, but not the collapse of an economy.

But who were we to know that the only thing keeping the human race from plummeting into the depths of chaos was money? Who were we to know that stealing away the currency was going to come with side effects?

I mean, come on, people certainly weren't supposed to start turning into gold. I'm not speaking with metaphors such as a heart as pure as gold. I'm talking about actual, cold and tangible metal. One moment you're running across the street, the next you've turned into a statue, frozen in the middle of a movement. Once the most valued metal, is now what everyone fears; a manifestation of our greed.

Before you go condemning us to the 7th circle of Hell, we are also the ones trying to save the world. We are looking for a cure to the illness and a way to bring back the value of the money, but it's so much easier said than done. It's not even that we aren't smart or capable.. actually, cross that, I am definitely not smart or capable. I am a walking catastrophe, fucking things up for breakfast.

I have never been able to keep a job for more than a month, and my parents finally had enough and wrote me off their will after my last conflict with the authorities. Oh, and I also happen to have the magic capability of causing great damage to the economy. I know my way around computers and I'm charismatic enough to make people follow my lead, but never in a million years did I think I could make money disappear from the entire world just by thinking about it.

"Stay still, or I'm going to cut off your ear." Najwa hissed, yanking the buzz cutter further away from me so harshly it made the silver bracelets on her wrist jingle. The machine didn't need to be plugged in, just like none of our other batteries ever seemed to run out of charge. We have all come to the conclusion that it has to do with my magical abilities, so look, I'm not completely useless after all.

All I had wanted to do was to find a reason to keep living my miserable life. A purpose, if you will. So I gathered up a few friends, who shared my thoughts about capitalism and how it was ruining the environment, and we established our eco anarchist group called The Queers of Chaos. It originally had eight members, but in light of having caused the end of the world, it's down to four.

"But I'm starving." I groaned, blowing at my cheek in an effort to get the itchy excess hair off my cheek, while clutching my arms around my rumbling stomach.

There's me, Phoenix, a guy who surfs through periods of severe depression and intense euphoria, ruining every good thing left in my life in the meantime. Then there's my loyal friend, Najwa, the queen of computers and tarot cards. She has no magical abilities, but she can beat anyone in a hand-to-hand compact and even I know not to fuck with her.

"Oh, and whose fault is that?" Rio pointed out from the floor, where they were laying, using their arms as a pillow. They, as well as Rain, who was using Rio's stomach as a pillow, are dating Najwa.

In other words, I am the fourth third wheel in this arrangement. Which wouldn't suck so bad, if there was even one person left in the world who didn't curse my name. As it is, even hate sex is out of the picture, and all I have left is my friends, music and the obligation of having to save the world on my shoulders.

"Thank you, I so needed to be reminded of that, again." I huffed, rolling my eyes. Being hungry made me snappy, and as we were down to two cans of baked beans and half a bag of oat flakes, snappy was my constant state of mind. And yeah, it was my fault that the locals didn't exactly jump with excitement when we came to ask for scraps.

"I could go hunting." Rain offered, his light brown eyes turning to me to ask for permission. I have known him ever since I was six, and he taught me everything there was to know about life, such as how to skate and where to find the best LP records. He's a huge Cigarettes After Sex fan though, and I'm not sure what to think about that. "I saw a groundhog this morning."

"We can't eat a groundhog." I said, grimacing. Before this thing we call The After, I was vegan. I avoided products with palm oil, and boycotted big companies with questionable working ethics. Now I'm just happy if I get something to fill my rumbling stomach with.. unless it's groundhogs, that's where I draw the line.

"Oatmeal and beans it is, then." Rain agreed, but not without a heavy sigh. He lifted his head from Rio's stomach and scrambled up, his movements slow and careful with his injured leg. We all watched as he ignited the camping stove and started measuring water, which we had about a liter and a half left, and oat flakes into a battered saucepan.

"In the meantime, take a bath. You stink like death." Najwa ordered, fanning her nose with her hand. I lifted my arm to sniff my armpit, having no other choice than to agree with her argument. One thing they don't mention in those zombie movies is how terrible you start to smell if you can't shower or use deodorant.

Our latest safe place is an abandoned mall, where the shops have been emptied of anything useful a long time ago and where a big skylight window has given in, letting in the rain and wind. Under that window is a fountain, which we use as a bath. It's far from hygienic, but it'll have to do.

I had to be careful pulling off my once black now gray sleeveless shirt, which was already torn from the seam and sporting more than a dozen holes. My tattered jeans were the next to go, and as soon as those hit the floor, I began pulling off my boxers. My hands halted in the middle of their movement, and I stood still with my ears straining for noises.

You know that tingly feeling at the back of your neck when someone is staring at you? I had that then, for whatever reason.

I knew fair well that none of my Queers of Chaos had interest in taking a peek at my scrawny ass, and there was supposed to be no one else in the mall. After a while, as I couldn't hear anything, I shrugged it off and plopped into the fountain with my faded yellow boxers on. In case someone was watching, they weren't going to get the full show for free.

I scrubbed my shoulders to get rid of the last remaining excess hair. I used an organic, 100 % biodegradable, Fair Trade shampoo - just kidding, all we have left is a bar of soap that smells like toothpaste. To make matters worse, we share it, so we all have oh so lovely minty fresh armpits.

My eyes fell shut as I turned to float on my back, thinking about all the songs waiting for me in my loyal, weathered Walkman. Every night before I fell asleep, I would pick a cassette from my collection. Then, as I rarely got more than four hours of fitful slumber, I would do the same in the morning. I would watch the sunrise, let melodies fill my ears and pretend that everything was AOK and that the world had never come to an end.

"Jesus fuck, seriously." I grumbled, my eyes snapping open. Someone was most definitely staring at me. I knew I wasn't imagining it this time.

Then I saw him.

A crouched silhouette of a person, a man I think, staring down at me by the edge of the sunken skylight window. I opened my mouth to shout at the peeping tom, but he darted away like a freaking ninja, disappearing from my line of sight. It all happened so fast I wasn't certain whether I had imagined the whole thing. That wouldn't be the first time, after all.

I was pissed off for a heartbeat, before I let the anger slip away and shut my eyes again. It was the end of the world. People didn't exactly have that many things to entertain themselves with, so if he whosoever got his kicks out of staring at me, who was I to rip him from his joy?

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Welcome to my first ever fantasy book!