Where the Wind Blows

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by RiverNotch, Dec 31, 2013.

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  1. "Best statement to sum up our current situation? Well, now, I don't really know. I could say we're all in hell at the moment, but I'm a religious man (ahem, woman), y'see, and I don't really think hell couldn't be any worse than this. And besides, just saying everything's really horrible or painful or whatever, well, that I think is a bit anticlimactic. Something dramatic, something brooding, something that, at face value, doesn't seem related, but is in fact one real deep exploration of everything; that, I think, will be best to sum up everything. Hmm...

    Oh, wait, I remember this one line I got from this video-game (forgot the title, though), I think it was about something like our he- our situation, something about nukes... something about war...

    Now hey, Lydia, don't look at me like that. I'm not saying I played the videogame. I only know this because of a friend. Johnny, old Johnny? The man who handles the cafe down the road? Why do you look surprised?

    Ha! No, trust me, he was one of the best. Was... was...

    Anyway, here, I remember the line:
    'War. War never changes.'


    You know, come to think of it, I don't think it's anything close to what we're currently experiencing. But relating to the videogame's context, it does kinda fit, right? Oh, good point.

    Speaking of points, I'm feeling something slightly pointy in my chest."

    "How pointy, ma?"

    "Needle-pointy. And my head hurts."

    "It's the heat. I'm pretty sure it's the heat... And lack of goddamn air! I think the air vent to this room's blocked by something."

    "Oh, that'll be bad. And a bit premature. We've still got six months' worth of food left! Hehe..."


    "What? Just because we're in this damned post-nuke-apocalyptic inferno, doesn't mean we can't have a bit of a laugh?:

    "Not that. It... wasn't right."

    "Right? What's right in this world anymore? No one to determine right or wrong now, no mean-spirited to society to control us! We could do pretty much anything we can now; we're free! From the ashes rise the phoenix, you know. No more restrictions, no more boundaries, no more... well, no more anything to, er..."

    "At a loss for words?"

    "I guess. Boy, this heat... this heat feels like hell! Too bad no o- oh, yeah, sorry."

    "Here, a cold pack. And maybe this cracker will help."

    "That feels good... How many of these do we have left? Sixty? Wow, hon's really one generous packer. And food? Oh yeah, six months' worth."

    "For the three of us, I guess. If he were still here, that'd be less. Maybe four? Three? He's a real fat eater, you know, healthy."

    "Would've been the- err..."

    "Yes. Yes." Then Lydia started shaking.

    A slap from Joni. "LYDIA! Now, I told you, just... just don't think about him, alright? Contrary to your father's beliefs, thinking doesn't always help. Now come on..."

    "It's just... I... I think I can hear him! From the rubble, ma, from th-"

    Another slap from Joni. "Stop! STOP! Lydia, LYDIA!" Lydia sobs. "He was my grandson, alright? My blood, maybe not as much my blood as yours, but my blood nevertheless! And do you see me mourning like that? No! No! Lydia, we-me, you, Alyss here-we might be the last ones left! On the whole, whole-" a tear "-who- planet! And we can't lose our heads, not for a moment. No we can't. For... For... For the sake of humanity... I guess. And it's been three, no, four goddamn months since we lost him!" (In truth, only two weeks. And it's been four months since they were trapped in the bomb shelter Joni's husband, Lydia's father, built) "Time to stop. STOP!"

    But Lydia kept on mourning. The sobbing intensified. From a meek mourning to a hysterical crying. "But- my son! my son! my son!" She threw herself onto the pile of rubble that lie next to the group's supply shelves, the one which blocked their exit, and the one (of the three) under which they chose to bury her son, then continued on with her panic.

    "Lydia! Lydia please!" But once again, Joni had not stopped her daughter. Lydia continued on crying, crying, crying...

    Then Alyss woke up.
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  2. The ground was shaking sickeningly under Kate's feet, making her lurch. Blood was pouring out of the forest like a stream as the animals were being mass murdered. Rocks tumbled on top of her, knocking her breath out with each boulder that fell on her. the rumbling ceased and Kate was pinned under a huge boulder, her leg, perhaps broken. She couldn't get it off.

    Fearing she was about to starve and end her life here, she let out an ear-ripping scream. After a few hours a small puddle formed around her face, composed of her tears. Then, the boulder had shifted and Kate stopped struggling. She looked up, a small twinge of hope flickering in her heart.
    No one.

    It was just the wind.
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  3. (Sorry I took so long to reply, I got sick.)

    Alyss's eyes slowly fluttered open. She could hear Lydia crying again, and Joni telling her, rather roughly, to stop. Alyss slowly sat up, ignoring the thunder in her head, and then stood. "Joni." She said quietly. "Stop being heartless. She's grieving, as a mother should be. Allow her the time to grieve. When we're fighting for survival, then we don't have the luxury loose our heads. But right now we're sitting in a bunker. Let her be, and let her get herself through the grieving process." Alyss sat herself down next to Lydia. She didn't say anything, just sat next to her and tried to let her proximity be a comfort. Lydia knew that Alyss wasn't one for trying to comfort someone with empty words. Saying things like 'it'll get better' and 'He's in a better place' weren't a comfort. They were just empty words that meant nothing. Alyss stared down at her hands. She hadn't heard from her father in four months, but she still had a hope that maybe he was somewhere safe, like this, and she'd find him.

    All they could do was hope.
  4. "Sto ahbfjgebj heartleshb GRievingjfskebgfekhgbkbmother..."

    And Alyss's words flowed through Joni's ears like this, as her hands covered her ears from the shrill cries of her daughter. She, however, understood what Alyss said, and felt a sharp pang of anger diffuse through her heart, anger not at herself but at Alyss's indignation. She was not in any way being insensitive to her daughter, she thought; she was only being sensitive to the situation. For Lydia's hysterics could very well have caused the death of the three, either by collapsing the by then weak and cracked ceiling of their little bunker (Lydia's screams were that loud!), or simply driving them all to insanity.

    But Joni kept her silence.

    Lydia, meanwhile, continued with her loud mourning, ignoring the warm gesture Alyss showed her. She kept crying and crying to God, to the Devil, to her husband, her father, everyone! to bring back her son. She powdered her face with the dust of the burial-rubble, and tore her clothes and hair in a very dramatic fashion. And when she was naked, when her scalp was (once again) bleeding, when her body was completely covered in the muck of the dust and her sweat, she still continued on screaming.

    But eventually, she calmed down.

    "Alright then Alyss, time to clean up. Fetch me the cleaning water and her bath towel. I'll get a fresh set of clothes." Joni looked at her daughter. Lydia's hysterics had never reached this point before. A tear fell down Joni's cheek.
  5. Craig sat against the reinforced concrete wall in his boxers. The rest of his clothes were in a pile on one of the tables in the shelter where they had been for about a week. He desperately hated wearing his clothes for more than a day - a side effect of having spent so long working his ass off on a daily basis and becoming generally filthy - and really didn't want to spent any precious water on something like washing. Granted there were several 55-gallon drums of purified water but who knew how long he would be down here?

    He had already been here for several weeks, occupying himself at the start with trying to dial out with his cell phone - a useless gesture - and entertaining himself by looking at the stash of playboys that had been stored in here. Who knew his great uncle was such a hornball? But porn gets old after awhile, especially when over half the issues were older then he was. There were a number of other novels down there and they were a decent way to pass the time but there was a far more important instrument - the two way radio. He spent several hours fiddling at the knobs tryig to pick up anything but it was in vain.

    Now though, the bombs - which had to be what had been falling - had stopped for awhile. He wasn't an idiot; no way in hell was he going out there to see. Not when he knew there were several months of food in the shelter, especially the way he was rationing them. He knew how many calories were in military MREs. One was more than enough for him per day. Of course just sitting around didn't do jack shit for him. So what else did he do than pass the time doing what he could working out.

    He still fiddled with the radio though, hoping to find a frequency that someone could hail him from.
  6. Kate's foot was broken, injured, bruised, and aching like hell. She had slowly managed to get the boulder off, at the price of nearly obliterating her left leg. She scurried away as fast as one could with a shattered-as-fuck foot and wrapped it up with a thick roll of emergency gauze kept in her jacket project. This would definitely need more than gauze.

    After limping around for a few hours, all she managed to find was a fresh water source, a fruit tree and a 2-ton metal latch of a bomb shelter. She kept her hand close to the dual Desert Eagles on her waist and replenished her exhausted supplies. She approached the shelter with utmost care and slowly managed to lift the huge latch. "Hello? Anyone in there?" Kate's blood smeared face shone through the small exit of the bomb shelter.
    #6 Katherine, Jan 3, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Jan 3, 2014
  7. Alyss nodded, gathering the things that Joni had requested and bringing them to her. Lydia was silent now and Alyss touched her shoulder gently before stepping back and allowing Joni through to tend for her daughter. Alyss's restless eyes roamed over their tiny bunker again. The supplies, food and water, took up one wall. In a few places the walls had partially caved in, releasing rubble into the tiny room. Their cots were in the middle of the room, in case the walls should cave in more. On a table was a CB radio, but Alyss didn't know how to use it, and she doubted Joni did either. It was on, but for four months, all they'd heard was quiet static. Several times, Alyss had been tempted to pick up the microphone thingy and try to see if someone would answer her, but what would she do if she got no answer?
  8. Joni looked at her daughter. Lydia's hysterics had never reached this point before. A tear fell down Joni's cheek.

    'It's this heat' she thought. 'Yes, it's this heat.' Upon placing the fresh set of clothes she grabbed from the bunker's closet, she went to the bunker's "cockpit", a corner of the bunker where instruments measuring the bunker's conditions were installed. One of the instruments there was a thermometer, and at the time it was measuring a high of 42 degrees Celsius. "It is the heat", she now mentioned to Alyss. "I wonder what's making it feel so hot, though..." As she spoke this, she walked by the air vent, and there felt the cause.

    "Ach! Like a damn fire... Alyss, do you know anything about air vents? It seems this thing's what's been making this place feel like an oven. Maybe it's the cooling system of the vent's filter..."

    She then took the things Alyss brought her and cleaned her daughter.

    Lydia did not react to Joni's actions. She was limp, lifeless; though it made Joni's job much easier, the way by which she was empty disturbed Joni. And when Joni was finished with her, all she did was return to the burial pile, lying upon it as she did before. Not a sound from her for the rest of the day.
  9. At least twenty feet underground Robert awoke to his radio alarm clock, it awoke him with a bombardment of static that was tuned to a prog rock radio station. Along with that radio, there were four others in the bunker, a ham radio in his bedroom sitting on a desk, microphone alert and at the ready, a big battery powered radio with a built in media player in the "main", and three dynamo powered ones that also had built in flashlights, one located in his pack, the other in the bathroom and the final one in the desk. He got up, the digital display of the clock said in red letters "06:30". He took this opportunity to start to stretch.

    His bunker was comprised of 4 different rooms but the entire bunker itself, buried in the earth was the size of a small apartment. The bedroom which he was currently in was full of work-stuffs and stations, as well as books and magazines located in a bookcase. His desk was where he kept most of his writings, he was writing a book at the moment, won't publish it but he does it to add routine. Next was the main room, or living room, it was both a kitchen, a lounge and a games room, complete with a pool table and exercise bench. His kitchen was stocked with non-perishables from lifeboat crackers to powdered eggs. His bathroom consisted of a chemical toilet and various first aid supplies and toiletries, including a water-free wash which he regularly used. The 4th was the decontamination chamber, that was the chamber leading up to his cabin in the woods surrounding the town he grew up in. After his stretches he gets dressed in a pair of shorts that come down to his shins and a Hawaiian shirt. He sits down on his office chair after making himself a cup of coffee and tunes into his ham radio, trying to reach someone.
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