The Afterdom (part 4)

Five miles is not that far. 

Before my parents got their second car - if I wanted to go anywhere, I would have to walk. I walked to school, to the movie theatre, to the mall. I hoofed it over to the park across from Rave's house every Saturday; Rave and I would play basketball from sun up to sun down. Ok, we weren't actually allowed to play cause all the real ballers owned the court, but we stood around outside of the fence hoping that maybe a couple of cute girls would catch us dribbling a basketball and presume that we were ballers too. 

Now I know better. Walking is the worst. My feet ache constantly, and there's no relief in sight. The terrain is so horribly uneven and stupidly dangerous. Every couple of feet, we hear each other winching in pain after twisting our ankles or scrapping our hands and knees from tripping for the millionth time. 

We lost the road entirely a mile or so back when we came to a dead-end. At first we thought it was a cul-de-sac, but then Rave noticed a massive hundred foot drop off just beyond the guard railing. We stood there with our mouths gapped open wide like coy fish waiting for a free handout at the local chinese restaurant. Then I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the sidewalk took a drastic swing to the right.  It lead us fifty feet up a steep incline and into some poor lost soul's backyard. Who knows where the house ended up, but Patty saw the mangled remains of a playhouse similar to the one she had when she was a little girl. So we let our imaginations fill in the blanks - coming to the consensus that that area must have been a backyard in its previous life. It could have just as easily been a day care center, a school, a toys-r-us, or a landfill. Who cares, right?

After another five or six hundred yards, we stepped off the last block of sidewalk and into more of the unknown. I know we are past the halfway point, but beyond that... I haven't got a clue.

The Afterdom (part 3)

We watch the last drop of acid rain drip from the crinkled shell of what is left of the silverado. Rave's chest continues to peak and valley as he gasps for breath. Not wanting to heighten an already tense situation, Patty tries to deliver a message to me in code pig-latin.

"Av-Re t-cant k-make' it uch'ma onger-le."

Thank God the Russians aren't invading the mother land. We wouldn't stand a chance.

"I know, Patty." That was not encoded. She gives me a steely look to silently scold me for not playing along.

"What are we going to do?"

"I'm thinking," I say as frankly as possible. Why do you tend to overthink things when the pressures on.  I mean any other time,  if your shoelace comes untied, you just bend down and tie it. But when you fall off your bike and scrape your knee, then your brain seems to bleed out of your leg too. At last, the answer jumps into my throat.

Whupped - Guest Post by Jesse Heikkila

The first time I remember getting a nose bleed was also the first time I remember getting into a fight. Neither of these firsts would be the last but they will be the ones I'll never forget. I was young. I had a very large nose and an even bigger attitude. I was an easy target for both picking on and punching so I mostly stayed to myself and tried to keep my mouth from getting me into the situations I knew my body wasn't capable of getting me out of. But it wasn't easy.

School was almost out for the year and everyone had the jitters. Even the teachers were on edge. The very air was ripe with the tension. There was no shortage of brawls. Eraser wars, food fights, stapler ambushing and even school bus sabotage. Recess always seemed to be full of anxiety about who was going to punch who and start what new war. I tried my best to stay in the shadows. But a kid can't hide forever.

This day seemed different. This particular hollow box on the calendar seemed destined to be my reckoning. Recess was in full swing and I was thirsty. I wandered over to the soda machine right outside the shop department exit. I accidentally dropped a quarter trying desperately to get it swallowed by the coin slot without it veering its own way down into the change return mechanism. It was one of those brand new shiny quarters I was having trouble with. In frustration, I tried to slam it into the slot but it ricocheted off the side and missed. That bright metallic 25 cent piece went soaring and then bouncing away from me. Because my eyes were following the money I didn't even see what was waiting for me when I went after it. A lost quarter and a dry mouth would the least of my worries.

The Afterdom - part 2

I don't know how many times I have yelled at the darkness, demanding to know why this happened. 

"Not again!" Rave yells as drops of acid rain begin to burn beebee sized wholes in his leather jacket. 

We all take cover under the hollowed out shell of an old silverado. 

"This looks like grandpa's truck," Patty says - a tear trickling down her cheek. I hate it when she cries. Such a waste of the only good water left on the planet.

"That's ridiculous. Grandpa's been dead for almost ten years," I grumble back. "Even if it was his, he would have never left it parked on this side of town."

"Like you have a clue where we are!" she retorts.

"I know exactly where we are."

Rave tosses in his two cents. "Right.... We've been wandering around this wasteland for weeks because you know exactly where we are."

"I'm trying to keep us alive!... I would love to lie out on a beach just soaking up the radiation, but I'd rather not shrivel up and die from dehydration."