The Pole Shift

Sean Can't be Bothered

"Wake up, you must wake up now." Sean's mind rose through delirium, his first thought was of the wall of death and its audience of bodies. He preferred to return to his own death, be his own audience, not caring that he was a survivor. He fiddled at his ear, wanting to tear the crystal out. Then there came a whine, he opened his eyes, he knew the tone.  At the door, not daring to come in because she had not been invited was Tess. He looked behind her but the chocolate Labrador was alone. wounded, cut and stricken but with her ears flaccid and smiling her dog smile.

            "Tess." Sean went to her, cupped her muzzle, kissed her oily fur. She beat her tail weakly, she smelt like the wall but he didn't care. He went to the cellar and brought bottles of water and fed her beef jerky, then they both slept and when he woke she beat her tail at him again and looked at the beef jerky. Sean said to her:

            "What happened to you, are they dead?" He thought of the children - make him eat it! Throw water on him! He pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to hold court on himself. It was hot, there was a tropical feel to the air, and the smell from decaying bodies was rank. He walked to the top of the island and looked down on the dark wall, on the other side a sea worked shadowy waters, adding and taking away, a sofa here, another couple of bodies there. The current was fierce and swirling. Shipping containers cruised by at pace and the sea ferried enormous clumps of matter. Gulls whirled around it all, and crows had found the wall.

            "Eat the lot!" He screamed and Tess sat on his foot, pressing up against him. He found himself wishing for another Pole Shift, to wash all the shit away. Prophet spoke:

            "Get busy Sean, it might be years before you see someone again." Sean sneered, not liking the tone in Prophet's voice, even though it was programmed to be neutral.

            "How many people survived?"

            "The figure is very fluid, decreasing, about two thousand."

            "In the World?" There was no answer, perhaps his question was stupid and he mumbled, "Shut up Prophet."

            Amongst the ruin of the chicken coop he found a living chicken. It had been pecking at the dead, and was zombie like. He took it out of the fallen debris and put it on the lawn saying, "No need for chicken coops now." He scattered pellets for it, but it sat there with barely a cluck. Tess sniffed it, perhaps understanding the birds plight. The man and dog walked around and around the island, occasionally Sean would kick something. The incredible mess defeated him at every turn, and lifting things up and looking under them was the extent of his action.

            He began to eat baked beans, he had hundreds of tins, and he lit a bonfire in the middle of the lawn and heated the English Recipe cans one after another. On the third day Prophet spoke again:

            "Get busy Sean."

            "I am getting busy." He said, looking through the terrible wall at a rising sun, he had been up all night eating and drinking, throwing wood onto the bonfire. "I'm burning off!" He sniggered like a brat. There was a pause then Prophet said:

            "Drain the cellar, use a bucket. Disease will entrench there. drain and disinfect the cellar." Sean fed Tess a handful of beans. Prophet went silent.

            "I really can't be bothered." Sean lay back on the lawn, it crunched with dried mud. He said, "I wish it would rain." Then fell asleep.