500 words a day

654 words - 19th august 2009

He walked across the desert towards the ruined oil fields. He could just make out the derricks, like giant birds poised to peck at the land, but frozen, to peck no more. He wondered if he’d make it to the bunker before the sun came fully up, already it was starting to edge over the horizon behind him and although it was only 6 in the morning he could feel the slight burning sensation on the back of his neck,, which was foolishly exposed. He’d used his neck cover to make a sail for Jordi’s boat, despite Herman’s protestations – you’ll die without that if you get stuck in the sun, you now that, or at the very least you’ll get severe burns. When will you ever let this sink in Kern?


He didn’t want to let it sink in that was the truth. He wanted to pretend he was still a kid and could run naked in the sun and although he’d get told off by his Mum and she’d smother him with sun block and make him wear a hat and tell him to over up, it was all fun and he didn’t risk dying, at least not quickly, not like today, if he didn’t get to the bunker in the next hour he would be dead, simple. The sun would burn through his skin, particularly round the neck area, and they had no medical facilities apart from some old antibiotics which was probably more harm than good now, and a few bandages. Nothing to deal with such high levels of burning.





He knew all this but he still left it too late, well hopefully not but he feared it would be. He was stuck now in the middle of an area with no shade no shelter and nowhere to go but forward, at least 3 miles to the bunker in the already considerable heat on his weakened legs.


They all had weakened legs with the crappy diet they were on, very little protein, mainly tinned vegetables and dry pasta that they occasionally risked using up some fuel to cook. They were weak and withering and although 5 years ago he would have been able to cover the distance in half an hour if he really wanted o, he could run for ages then – now he’d barely be able to make it. He tried to jog but he couldn’t sustain it, it made him feel exhausted so he just kept walking as fast as he could, stumbling often and swearing as he went.


The heat was already unbearable now. It baled the road and he could feel it reflecting back at him as he walked. He kept his hand over the exposed neck as much as possible, the hand that was covered in thick leather gloves, hideously warm but unlikely to burn at this time of the morning, The rest of his gear was similarly inappropriate seeming for such hot weather. A thick shirt covered with a tick jacket and trousers with big tough leather boots,. The bots, unfortunately didn’t fit, they were the found by one of the seekers and he needed some boots, all right most of  the time but now, when he had to walk fast they started t rub on hi mangy feet and he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow if he was alive. He remembered, all of a sudden, Angie. The way she’d looked at him that time when he said NO, he wasn’t going to g to Europe, this was a bullshit paranoid scaremongering bit of nonsense, there was no danger and he wanted to stay here where he lived, in beautiful green and verdant New England.


Sadly, it looked a lot more like Arizona now, without the beautiful mountain, just desert and dust and cracked muddy roads, virtually no plant life except after the rain, which last fell 6 months ago.








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Steve Wybourn





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