Things Fall Apart

6. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W

The dense light of the sunshine reflecting on the sand was so bright they had to move with eyes closed by fear of being blinded.

But eyes opened or closed, it didn't matter. They ran on the Wasteland like on their own skin.

For the past few years, the sun had noticeably started to swell, as though it was falling from the sky into the Wasteland. Indeed, the closer it moved from the Earth, the higher the temperatures raised. An oppressing warmth now remained everywhere.

Some said the Wasteland used to be a place where people lived, before the sand flew in. Most people didn't believe in this theory. Jet Star did.

But one thing they all knew for sure was that the Sun was going to be the Death of Humanity.

It would be a hot day, like every other. People in Bat City, in the Wasteland and all over the world would carry on with their ordinary life. Around Midday, the light would become oppressive. People would stare out of their windows, and see it, bigger than they had ever seen, almost as large as the horizon, and red as a fire. Birds would stop singing. But nobody would notice. Their first reaction would be to go outside, but, once out of their fresh conditioned buildings, they would notice the thick warmth, thicker than usual, almost unbearable. No wind. The gum of their shoes would melt on the burning hot macadam. And they would stand there, unable to move, unable to scream, as the Sun crashed on earth like a big star falling out of the sky. The Trash Lords would watch, as silent as ever. There would be blinding light, warmth, and then Nothing.

No more sound.

No more pain.

Poison smiled at the idea. He knew he wouldn't be alive anymore, then. Actually, in matters of life expectancy, he could be. But he knew he wouldn't. He didn't intend to.

Not one of them intended to grow old.

They knew the counterparts of being a Killjoy. Everything could kill you, here. Life in the desert was way shorter than in the city. But way brighter too. Like shooting stars.

He looked at his own shadow spread aside him on the sand like a dark giant, pensively. He didn't like to think too much. He had to act, and quickly, keep his mind busy with flashing lights, bright colours, loud sounds, the adrenaline of danger.

He grunted. Jet Star looked at him.

"Are you okay?"

Poison scoffed. Out of the four of them, Jet Star was the only one who cared.

"We have to do something." He answered darkly. "I want some blood, and I want it now. I want fame. I want people to fear my name. I want them to think "Poison" as soon as they see red. I want to be remembered."

"And so you shall..." Jet Star replied, patting his shoulder "so you shall..."

"Uncle!" They suddenly heard screaming. They flashed around to witness Fun Ghoul, jumping excitingly, pointing at the dunes far in front of him. "I see movement not people, coz ain't nobody the Witch can save. It's worth a shot!"

Poison, who had now acquired the role of leader of the Fabulous Killjoys because of his moral and physical strength, swiftly drew a pair of binocular out of his backpack.

"Yes indeed." He said defiantly, while observing through his binoculars what looked like a faint black spot for his comrades, almost an illusion created by the heat. "I see black and white. I see BL/i."

"I smell fire!" Fun Ghoul exclaimed "I smell Death! I smell a fight! A fight a fight a fight!"

"Shut up!" Poison snapped. "We don't want to draw their attention to us, if they haven't noticed us yet. We gotta take advantage of the surprise effect and our own knowledge of the land. Down! Down! Down!"