Shelter
'Humans are extinct. The last died in peace, surrounded by their loved ones, us.
'Their natural evolution.
Thwomp!
Vrwooosh!
'Good genes' the title we started with when the mutations began.
'Mutants ran further, worked longer, got smarter, more skilled.
'We 'talented' few, with our 'Good g-"
Thwomp!
Vrwoooosh!
Sssssssss!
"Nati!"
'Then came the Final Crash. It wasn't our fault. If there'd been more of us, we might have saved humanity.
'Instead, billions died to war, famine, climate.
'We adapted, evolved but our core was human. DNA adds, never removes.
"Dammit girl!"
'Humans, new and old, will always group.
'But how?
'Blood
Vhroosh!
'Blood revealed our roots.
'We couldn't let it go. We grouped, which is very different from uniting.
"Nati! I swear!"
Nati's sledgehammer lifted and rested on her shoulder.
A flickering image of a masked, towering, figure vanished. The talking cut, a multi coloured Heads-Up-Display winked out. A living visor became a sheet of baby blue sunglasses.
"Nati!"
"I hear you! I'm coming!"
She gave one last swing and the wall she'd been working burst as if hit by C4.
Rot flew out, dense enough to force her back.
A hand over her face, Nati pulled a metal cube stuck to the wall and stuffed it inside a heavy white fur coat.
She stepped out the shadow of a cave into a world of the purest of white light. Raw heat washed over her, the fur recoiled, and relented, smoke billowed, and sand burned after her every step.
In a silver coat, bouncing the light, waited Raditz, the last of the borderless Dutch White Heart tribe.
Bronzed skin, pale pink lost to the sun. Blonde dreads, long silvered, were pushed away from his face and warm green eyes fell upon her.
She joyfully tossed the sledgehammer, the cinderblock sized slab of metal spun awkwardly, making him jump back.
Thwomp!
A dense ripple bounced sand and rock, it spread out of sight.
"What is it Old man?" She complained.
"We got a hit." He grumbled.
"Meat or mineral?"
"Both, starting with your pocket." He said smirking.
Brown eyes glared, he kept smirking. She relented, pulling out the metal box.
"What do you smell?" He asked.
She sniffed it.
"Gold," She said, hoping.
YOU ARE READING
Bludgeon Ball: Genesis
Teen FictionYou never lose anything. That which shatters finds itself whole. They say some can never be whole but that is not the truth. All becomes whole simply because it changes. The meltdown of a single nation blew apart the house of cards which made the w...
