***COMPLETED***So get this... We've been living in a dystopian nightmare for 10 years now. Grandpa Alfred says it's the older generation's fault--well duh! To make matters worse, Bell, my twin sister, contracted "The Wasting." No doubt she caught it...
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Gingerly, Alfred walked down the center of a dusty, deserted highway. He was surprised to see open space where traffic jams were once inevitable. He had not left Brooklyn Heights in many years due to imposed curfews and a lack of public transportation. He noticed the roads were in dire straits and potholes were more like sinkholes!
Roadway maintenance was a thing of the past. As more and more tax dollars went to weapons, blue-collar workers were laid off into nonexistence. Much of his trail was nothing more than rotten rubber, rubble and rusty relics.
As Alfred Sat on the hood of a neglected, mint green, Toyota Prius. Ancient plastic grocery bags swirled around his head. He opened the cap to his dependable, rusty thermos and took a gulp of water rations. Drinking, he remembered the sounds of cars beeping and the annoyance of sitting in traffic jams. How he longed for them now!
Exhausted resources had left most of society without private transportation. After the EMP retaliations only the government managed to get cars operating. In order to run, any vehicles had to have been made before computers. The government confiscated all working vehicles from its citizens. The police would drive around in classic mustangs. (As if they weren't high and mighty before.) The rest of the cars were rendered useless and lay strewn about like dead bodies after a battle.
"How long have I been walking?" Alfred wondered wishing he still had his watch. He knew time was no longer an essential element in today's society. He also knew Bell didn't have much of it.
Alfred beckoned, "Oh King Rophe, I implore you to please lead me to a copy of The Book. And please keep my precious Bell alive until--" As Alfred was ending his plea, a ruddy boy of fifteen rode by on a useful bicycle practically running into the back of the Prius. "Hey watch where you're going young man! Get out of the middle of the road!"
Compelled to stop, the boy turned his bike around and rode back to Alfred. While straddling his faded red bicycle he asked sarcastically, "What road? I don't see any roads here old man."
"First of all, "Alfred objected, "I am not old and secondly what you are standing on happens to be what's left of the Long Island Expressway."
"So it is... so it is..." the boy agreed holding out his hand. "The names Leon."
Shaking his hand Alfred engaged in the pleasantry, "I'm Alfred Quest. Pleased to meet you Leon."
"Where you heading Mr. Quest? I'd be happy to give you a lift on my piece of junk." Leon said, patting his corroded, trusty companion.
"I'm heading back to where I grew up. Mr. Leon. And you should be grateful you have wheels, such as they are."
"Oh I am sir, I am... but if you don't mind me saying... There ain't no going back. Hop on. I can take you as far as Woodsburgh."
Incredulous Alfred exclaimed, "Imagine that!" As he climbed on the back of the bike he added, "Woodsburgh is precisely where I grew up."
"Imagine that," Leon smirked knowingly as he delivered Alfred to his destination.
