Paper Mache

Dreamt in April '06 Part of my Dream Journal

         An ascending knock at the storefront door jarred me into alertness. Nearly fifty other people were sitting lazily about the room, lost in their own desolation, and did not bother to so much as look up. For a fleeting moment I continued to sit on top of my red stool, nervously watching the door vibrate with motion. Jumping up, I rushed to the front and lifted the scraps of fabric draping the glass wall of the store. I peaked out at the person, a stranger. His clothing was in worse condition then ours. Digging into my pocket I fingered my gun, and cautiously opened the door to greet him.

         “Please help me,” he begged before I managed to speak. With deep and labored breaths he continued, “My wife is dead. I cannot feed my children. Please, do you have any food?” Those huge, black eyes of his were bloodshot and yellowing with disease.

         I mutely eyed the man before me, considering his question over and over in my mind. My food is far too low, I thought. It was the terror of knowing somebody living here might very well die if I pass our supply around that held me back. Still, I thought of the stranger’s children. Finally my words came to me. “We can’t spare any,” I told him with care. Optimistically I added, “Though, in my van I have some things you can take. You can sell them for food.”

         “Sell them?” he asked with a hint of anger in his voice. “Why don’t you sell them! My children cannot eat whatever it is in your van. They are only babies. How many babies do you have, miss?” The man shook his head in frustration.

         “I, I’m sorry,” I stammered. “We have already taken in many strangers. We cannot feed one more, or else we’ll all die!” After taking some time to calm down, I continued, “Please, sir, take a look. It’s scrap metal; you will get at least a day’s worth of food for three people from what you can carry. It’s too dangerous for any of us to take it to that part of town. It is better than nothing, please take it.”

         The man seemed to think it over and then as his last resort replied, “Fine. Show me.” Following his agitated arm gesture, I strolled towards my van whilst bringing my hand out from my pocket. I was annoyed with his attitude, but despite the feeling I kept those innocent children in mind. I slipped the keys from my shirt pocket and turned them in the side door of the vehicle. While it began to slide open an eye full of metal increasingly gleamed at the two of us.

         “Take what you must,” I offered, standing aside to allow him to reach inside. At the front of the pile was a perfect silver rim from an abandoned car we had scavenged. At one point in time this would have been very valuable, I mused, thinking of how quickly the world can change.

         I watched as the man reached for the rim. He paused without saying a word, and I began to wonder why he was taking so long glaring at such an unimportant object. Holding it in both hands, he sighed in a drawn out tone.

         There was something creepy in the sound of his voice and mystery in his stance. Suddenly he dropped one hand, swinging the rim directly into my face. Falling backwards with the side of my face throbbing, I tried my best to maintain my balance. The keys hit the ground with a crash that echoed in my sore ear. My arm closest to the van flew backward and connected with its surface, breaking my descent to the cracked pavement. As an animal instinct I reached down for the closest weapon I could find and took it into my hand. I hardly noticed that it was a chip of pavement. I cupped the free hand over the other and held on for my life. My palms became warm from blood as the jagged chip cut into my flesh.

         Instead of facing me, the man circled around the tip of the van towards the driver’s door, keys in hand. “Who the fuck do you think you are!” I attempted to scream, although it came out more as a whimper. My eyebrows furrowed and I could feel the heat coming from my eyeballs. I went after him deliriously; thrusting the chip into his arm as I came up next to him halfway crawled into the front seat. I removed one hand from the chip and used it to grasp his hand on the wheel. He resisted, but autopilot took me over, and with a strength I never knew I had I was finally able to pull him out.

         His hand grabbed my face and tightened over my features while his body fell to the road. Mine went down along with his from the tightness of his grip. The chip was pulled out only to be plunged right back into him. His heart. The hand covering my face dropped, and the stranger laid still.

         Pulling back from him I allowed myself to fall flat to the ground beside him. I lay there void of emotions for some time before the reality set in. It then came to the forefront of my mind, “What about the children? What have I done? Oh god…” It only took one glance at the deceased man to trigger an eruption of tears.


         My heavy eyes scanned the other lifeless, yet breathing, bodies in the store. Discussions were made within groups consisting of only a handful of people who had previously known each other. As I wondered why nobody was willing to speak of what happened, I also wondered why I could not. I sorely wished someone would bring it up.

         The only one in the store I had known before the disaster was my sister, who lay in the backroom with the other sick. It would be a miracle if she were even aware of what had happened to the country. We were the strong ones, I thought. Looking down I licked my lips considering how easily America had fallen, how easily anarchy and crime took us over. In place of government were roaming bands of thieves and murderers. We were trapped inside, too afraid to venture out.

         Thus, I was left waiting for my love to return; he had gone out days before to raid a small, unknown gun store he had always been fond of. The owner kept his business a secret to the general public for illegal reasons. The gangs had raided every weapon store besides that one. In fact, all stores in general were now empty. Today was when he was due home, and so I continued to wait in silence.

         “Momo,” a weak voice called out. Glancing over my shoulder I caught view of my sister standing in the doorway. She looked too frail with radiation poisoning to move her small body any further. Looking at her in that state was reminiscent of a skeleton with half rotten flesh clinging to its dirty bones.

         With a sigh I rose from the red stool and head towards the teenage girl. “Oh, Nina, go back to bed. You can’t take this.”

         Her puppy like eyes rose to mine as I approached, her head slightly pointed downward. “I’m lonely,” she whispered. “And I think that old woman on the cot next to mine is dead. Please check, Mo...” Her voice trailed off as she paused to catch her wavering breath, resting her hand on the doorframe to steady herself. Jet-black hair fell in waves covering the majority of her ivory face.

         “I will, now come.” Taking hold of her upper arm, I led Nina back into the room. We had made it as comfortable as we could afford to for those afflicted with the disease. My eyes scanned the dimly lit room for her cot and I sat her down with ease. Other teenage girls occupied both cots next to hers. There was no old woman, save for one in the back who was sitting up reading a book. I shook my head as I urged my sister to get some sleep.

         While I begun to turn and leave her cot I heard the door at the storefront open, followed by mumbles from the masses in the main room. Overcome with excitement I rushed in, seeing my boyfriend ahead of me when I arrived at the backroom’s door. He placed the guns and assorted weapons he had acquired on an empty table I had prepared for him. We walked towards each other, and I was relieved that he had returned safely. I savored the feeling of his arms sinking into my skin as he hugged me so tightly I nearly lost my breath.


         A mannequin stared at us listlessly as three of us headed for the door. Before the attack this was a fashionable clothing boutique, and although we used the clothing as various things such as the makeshift curtains, the decorations were left to remind us of how life had been. It was my idea, but now the vacant eyes of those plastic people frightened me. “I’m losing my mind!” I thought with my eyes interlocked with the mannequin. As I passed I turned her away from the people, to face the masked window. That’s better, I thought decisively.

         The three of us consisted of my boyfriend Billy, a girl roughly my age named Tobie who had volunteered, and of course myself. Our supply of food was now dangerously low; I had gone without the night before to make sure there would be enough to feed the others in the morning. Since Billy had returned we felt safe enough to take some of the metal to sell for scrap, for food. Initially he was going on his own, but had found neither my van nor his truck would start any longer. We could only take what we could carry, and would have to venture out every day for the next week. He did not want me to come, but I wouldn’t hear of it. In my heart I was certain that even the men living with us were not to be trusted on this trip. Insistently I pleaded with Billy that the men would kill him and take the money for their own families, leaving the rest of the group to starve.

         It was daytime, yet these days you could never tell. Nearly every day and night the sky was covered with dark mists and low clouds. The streets we walked were empty, unless you counted the sea of bodies littering the ground. Some had progressed to nothing more than piles of bone. We were very lucky to have shoes. The other two wore pairs with the bottoms almost worn completely off, but my combat boots had survived and reached up to my knees. I was not as concerned as they were about stepping on the dead, although I wished I did not have to out of respect for the departed.

         “Where are you going?” an unknown and intimidating voice asked. The three of us looked about, eyes landing on two gang members emerging from a dilapidated house. I felt the air shift behind me, and before I could spin around I was grabbed and pulled backward.

         “Run, Tobie!” I shouted at the other girl as Billy rushed the man who had a hold of my body. One of the two men from the house tackled Billy before he could reach me. I lifted my feet off the ground and kicked in vain at his thick legs.

         The other girl’s feet shuffled for a moment, apparently undecided upon what to do. “I’m not leaving you two,” she finally responded as she pulled out her handgun. Despite being armed, she looked thoroughly terrified. “I…”

         “Shut up!” I barked at Tobie, interrupting her. “Don’t be stupid, GO!” Her handgun shook in front of her. Her lips opened and closed several times in an attempt to speak.

         One of my arms was wrestled free from his grasp. I pulled it off to the side of the gang member and swung my elbow backward into his nose with enough force that I was dropped to the ground. While I rose to my feet I stumbled forward with my back remaining to him. Spinning around to face him I swiftly drew my own handgun and pointed it directly at him as he recovered from the hit. He scowled as he daringly came to me. “You’re a crumb,” I asserted, angling the barrel of my gun toward his legs. Judging by the sneer on his face, he didn’t believe I would shoot and probably thought I would just stand there shaking as badly as Tobie. Without another word my finger hugged the trigger and snapped itself back.

         With the bullet entering below his knee and likely into a vein or blood vessel, the gang member dropped down. A mass amount of blood sprayed from the wound, painting the ground beside him. I heard another shot, then another, and yet another. I assumed it was Billy shooting the rest of the gang when I heard his voice yelling at Tobie to snap out of her trance. I looked to her and it was apparent that the girl had been through a lot since the country fell. My gaze shifted back to the man below me. My feet moved to him, into the bloody grass. His eyes ran up my body and to my face. “He looks as if he’s reduced to a wounded animal,” I thought, moving my lips in parts.

         My mouth opened and it screamed at him, although I could not recognize my own words. I lifted my right leg and kicked his face as hard as I could with my boot. I pressed my lips tightly in between words. By now I could not stop; mindlessly I continued kicking him in the head while hoarsely spitting out incoherent phrases. As I kept at this my pant leg became so soaked with blood it stuck to that one boot like paper mache.


Yay! 2nd Place in:
"Kit's Higher Ratings Contest"