As the name suggest this is just a taste of a post apocalyptic story I started writing, I may or may not post more as it's own book. Thanks readers :)
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Introduction
"June 3rd, 2046, 9:00 pm. We found water today, me and the other poisons, it is so rare these days," Chuckle, "Not rare as in hard to find, rare as in, hard to find in drinking conditions. We took baths together, had to preserve it soooo........ No privacy." Taps fingers rhythmically on wooden desk. "It was good though, luckily, since it was 'n oasis we got to fill up our bottles and tankards. Hell, Hank jokinly suggested we fill up one of our car trunks. Shit woul've been tainted on contact." Looks away from the camera. "I miss Derek. He was a good man. He always sung this song," looks at the camera for a second, a faint smile appears, then slowly fades. "It went something like, oh my baby, let me cleeeaanse you. Let me washhh you. Let me drown you... in my warm love. Let you find you... Let me knowww you... Let me have you as my own." Foot steps echo outside, the speaker's head jolts to look behind. Then looks back forward as they pass. "Sorry, I get paranoid whenever I hear..... Anything.... Anywhere." Five minutes of silence pass. the speaker's eyes shift, looking around the old dusty room. "Sometimes I don't even know why I make these things. I guess they just give me hope. That one day this will all be over, and people can look back. See wha' it was like for us. I remember movies, like Avatar. The guy on their did it, guess that's where I got the idea from. I miss that old DVD player, and the tv. Now the only thing entertaining us is... Us. That wouldn't be so bad, if everybody wasn't either traumatized, depressed, or tweaked out whenever we have free time. Only a hand full of folks actually have real friends.... Derek was mine..." A lone tear marches down the Speaker's right cheek. "I remember when we first found that DVD player and TV. Me and Derek stayed up all night, watching movies, granted we only had two. And only Avatar played all the way through. The other one, Lilo and Stich, stopped halfway through. It's funny, from the way the old folks talk, you would rarely catch a manly man like Derek watching Lilo and stitch. Guess things change. Anybody would watch anything positive now." Two taps on the door alerted the speaker. "Our shif'," a raspy voice with a country twang said somberly. "Alrigh', be there in a minute."
"Alrigh'."
"Well, guess I'll talk to you tomorrow," Her hand, the speaker's, reached to the side of the 10" monitor/camera and pressed a button, stopping the recording. She named it by date, and placed it in a file with all her other logs. She had ones spanning two weeks back. Sometimes she did three in the same day, about different subjects always. She stood up, fixed her dark green tank top so it covered the belt loops of her dusty jeans. The belt loops had a black leather belt running through it, it was clasped at the second hole to keep a loose fit, without the pants falling off. She slipped on her combat boots, a raggedy pair her grandmother used to wear. They had seen a lot, and were still holding on. The girl would get them fixed up every now and then, whenever she and the rest of her gang would enter a town she'd make sure to find some way of repairing the boots. Wether it was by sowing the seams together, giving them a shining, or sewing on a new part all together. Originally they were black, but now had patches of red, purple, and a little blue as well. Surprisingly, it was all still leather. Well, leather and twine.
She put her other belt on, a brown leather one that acted solely as a gun holster for her revolver. It was a pulse gun. A type of weapon that shot condensed energy instead of bullets. Very rare, rare as in hard to find in working condition. They took a lot of maintenance, but she had a gift for keeping things together. she even modified it to make it shoot regular bullets and pulse bullets. However, it was always her last resort weapon, because it was Derek and her shared gun. Her main defenses were a machete she had in a holster across her back, a machine pistol and a desert eagle both carried in shoulder holsters that fit tightly to her body with lockable buckles. The ammo in both replicated. So she didn't need to have other mags for any of her guns, just needed to switch between them to give enough time for the ammo to reprint in the empty mags. It usually happened pretty quickly, and she was such a good shot that she rarely had to run for time to reset.
Her camouflage bandana kept her black hair in a neat pony tail, and as she stepped out of the old dusty, dirty, one bed, one dresser having room she turned off the light.
YOU ARE READING
My strange and beautifully disorganized mind
CasualeRead me, description inside haha.