The Prophecy (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 3

III

“Logan, pass me the crumbs” Lozada struggled to talk, ever since day 1 the air had been deteriorating rapidly. Logan obediently passed him the crumbs signifying a mutual fight for friendship.

“Cheers, this has got to be the nicest piece of crumb I’ve ever tasted…sure you don’t want any Blake? Tyson?”

“Nahh” they said in unison, fighting with the ever-present scream of the sandstorm above.

“Lozada you’ll be turning twenty-seven on day 94 won’t ya?” said Blake, suddenly realising there was nothing to get the poor man.

“Yeah what you gonna get me then? Anything nice?” Lozada asked sarcastically.

“Well, maybe another Jaffa cake if we can scavenge one… Doubt it but imagine the moist burst of orangey flavour” Tyson exclaimed excited at the joyful thought of it.

“Listen guys, the Frenzy will be here tomorrow morning so we best set off and find somewhere new, the damn bastards are always on our tail.”

“Sure thing boss. Aye, you ‘eard anything about the prophecy?” Tyson asked; he spoke in a reassuring Ray Winstone accent.  

“Prophecy?!” Lozada’s mood enhanced and he tried to restrain his emotive body language; he peered up with his mouth gaping.

“Yeah aint you ‘eard? I was talking to some guy near the ruins of the RAH and he said something able this prophecy near Ali Pali?”

“Go on” said the curious but attentive Blake.

“Well, he said that an ancient remnant of ancestral knowledge created by ‘The Masters’; a book that would eventually steer civilisation from a crazy frantic world to a new phase of existence, had been located.”

“Bloody hell! Who are these ‘Master’ characters?” Exclaimed Lozada.

“Yeah tell us some more” said Logan, curious and apprehensive about the massive news.

“Well supposedly these masters were like the olden day Mayans, ya ‘know, ‘predictors’? Well, yeah, they made us, the remainder of civilisation, an age old book. In this book is the key to survival and a way out of this final judgement of man.”

“Right we gotta find this prophecy before it gets into the hands of the Collective! They’ll destroy it! Or use it as a weapon of power! Where’s Ali Pali from here Logan?” Lozada said; he was always planning ahead. He was a born leader and had to command this specialist team else it could mean the end of everything.

“North-North East; few days walk” Logan said in a deeply cheerless tone.

Of course, every journey was at least quintupled because of the fierce storms and the nasty collective; and they didn’t even have a real map. Logan, in ’96, when he was working, had got his hands on a map of the capital, however times had changed and only skeleton buildings and embarrassed, destroyed landmarks were left. It was nigh-impossible for anybody, or group for that matter to get anywhere these days. But these people were not your average Joes.

“You heard the man; we go north-north east from here, it’s going to be a very testing journey so pack light but only pack essentially. What resources do we have left?” The leader asked.

“Errrmm… a potato and a few Rolos, squeeze of orange juice if we are lucky?” Blake said whilst scratching his temple.

“Well we’ll pick up some food or drink at our resting stops if we’re fortunate; okay tonight, we move.”