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themogulkings · 8 years ago

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A Long Time Gone

I practise my reading and writing every day. Ever since Pa went, I just talks to the animals. It gets lonesome sometimes, but I don’t mind it as much as I used to. I don’t know if they like to listen, but sometimes, it seems as they do.

I talk to the cows every morning. Just after reading a bit with my solar flashlight I go to milk them. I talk to them as I do and when I’m feeding them. There’s only three and a bull, so it doesn’t take long.

After the cows, the hens and roosters are awake and come running to see me. Its probably just the food I bring, but some of them look to listen when I talk. Sometimes I go sits in the run and they cluck and peck the ground around me. I ask them if they miss Ma and Pa. Some of them bob their head, but that’s usually just how chickens are. I talk to them about the weather when I let them out to roam. The ducks usually come from the pond and I feed and talk to them too. They honk and quack right on back.

I go yonder cross the river to the Allaway farm when I’m done, careful than hell not to get wet. I bring along a small sack of mixed hay and alfalfa, careful not to get it wet either. I’m lucky Pa built our farm near a spring or I’d sure be sicker than hell. Or dead.

The Allaway rabbits are usually up and waiting for me when I come across their fence. I divvy their feed up and sow it about as I walk. They follow me around and I talk to them as they do. I ask them sometimes if they miss the Allaways, but they just keep on eating. They must miss the Allaways. They’ve been gone a long time.

When the rabbits are all fed and talked to, and I strewed the last of the feed by their hutches, I go back across the river and home. There’s a hill right behind our house, and I go up to check on the sheep. They don’t need much water and the spring fed pastures keeps them full enough.

Usually by this time midday’s come around. I go down to the fields, checking the spring irrigation as I go. I only grow hay, corn, wheat, and alfalfa as crops. Our fields used to be bigger, but that was a long time ago. When there were more mouths to feed in town than just my own. In spring I spend time sowing and in the fall, I harvest. I’m sure to maintain the garden as well. I grow a few types of legumes, carrots, beets, and potatoes. There’s also tomatoes, and an apple and orange tree. I eat as well as my animals and none of us are hungry really.

Once the tools are sorted and cleaned, I do laundry. Laundry for one never takes more than an hour. When I finish, I check my bike for maintenance troubles. If all is well, I grab my rifle and Rad Suit, whistle for the dogs, and head off down the road.

I go into town every day that the weather is for it. It usually is. The roads are worn and rough, and I had to change my tires to match. By now, the trees were as wild as the grasses. Feral cats moved quietly through, following me around sometimes—they had little dispute with my dogs. They were always fanned out where I went, sniffing out trouble.

On Mondays, I go all the way over to Gale Park. The horses from the boarding stables roamed here and I saw they had enough to eat. I built a channel from our spring into a small pond which soon formed its own creek and bed. It took me nearly two years to connect to Gale. But the horses have clean water now, and many other animals come round to drink too.

On Tuesdays, I visit with the pigs at the Riker’s estate. As pigs go, I didn’t have to much but feed them. I talked to them as well. It wasn’t as far as the Allaway’s, so carrying feed wasn’t too hard. On hot days in the Summer, I would lounge around with them until evening came. I’d make my way home, then, as I did every day to let the chickens back into the run and coops. I’d set the dogs out into the pastures and the perimeters of the barn and runs. In the springs and winters I would bring in firewood as my last chore, as the sun set. In summer I spent this time preserving food.

Every Wednesday, going into town meant the old movie theatre. It took me a month or so to fashion and run cabling for the solar panels. I would sit and watch the movies they had stored there—I even went two towns over to collect more. It took me three weeks worth of trips and almost cost me a leg to a mutant. The speakers were long out of order and I had not the parts to fix them. So I’d watch in silence, imagining what the voices sounded like. Just like when I read, all the voices sounded like mine. I watched many movies—classics and modern, actions and romances, thrillers and comedies. They were all slightly strange without sound. Some of them I had even watched before the Undoing, but it was so long ago I couldn’t remember the sounds. Sometimes I wondered if there were sounds like that left in the world. Probably not. Just the animals and mutants, and the winds and the water.

Every so often, the dogs will set to baying, telling me mutants are around. They like to hunt the cats and prey on the pigs. On Fridays and Saturdays, after the morning chores, I spend the day patrolling town with the dogs. We had quite a cache of arms when Pa was still alive. But I was down to the Kalashnikov. The mutants came in all sizes and shapes, and not a one was friendly. But they were easy enough to deal with. After this long, the dogs knew how to distract them, and I could get a shot on dead target—one for two. They were stronger than most animals, but a rifle bullet in the skull will put down anything.

Sundays were my rest days. I would still go into town, but cut visits with the animals short to sit home and read and write. Sometimes I would look at pictures of Ma and Pa, or wander round into the vault in the basement where we had remained sheltered for almost three months. Reading in there made me feel more lonesome than not.

It was a cold spring morning—a Tuesday—when I saw smoke rising from across town. I had just fed and let the chickens out. The only smoke I’d ever seen was from my own chimney. The rabbits would have to wait.

I put my Rad Suit on quick-like, whistled for the dogs, and hopped on my bike. I rode faster than usual—the smoke was coming from the east side, around Gale Park. It was a thin wisp rising into the sky, a wild fire’s beginning I could only guess, though it was the wet weeks of spring. We came down main street about twenty minutes in, yet the smoke’s size stayed the same.

When I came some two hundred metres out, I set my bike up, set the dogs to fan like they’d been taught, and set off, rifle slung over my shoulder. The smoke was coming from just past the Sunwill tunnel, weather worn and overrun by foliage. I could smell the smoke in the tunnel. Dry wood surely. I heard a dog out baying, but from in the tunnel I couldn’t tell where from or how far. I got my gun ready. Out here , mutants creep better than I can.

I took a big breath when I reached the tunnel’s end. I always thought of Ma and Pa at times like this—wondering whether I would soon be going to see them. I cocked my rifle quiet as I could and slipped out into the broken sunlight.

I didn’t see Ma and Pa, or heaven, or anything like that. But I seen the source of the smoke.

There was three of them standing around the fire. I thought I was dreaming, and I’m sure I looked it too.

All four of us were quiet for a moment before one said something and took off the helmet to his Rad Suit. All that reading and writing and I didn’t understand a word. The others took off their helmets and I saw they were two boys and a girl. They were carrying guns, just like I was.

The two boys stepped forward and the girl said something in a loud voice. The dog’s were still baying off somewhere, and I took a step back. They were louder’n usual. I looked around for a quick way out, should I have to help them, or should mutants come creeping on our escape points. They’re sure smart like that. I wouldn’t last a week without those dogs.

I told them best as I could that we should get out of this place where the mutants can easily creep up, but they didn’t look to understand. They said something back, more loudly this time, and I could only catch a few words in my unpracticed ear. The . Drop. Fucking. I can’t quite remember if they were in that order.

A few of the dogs came up to me baying and barking and spitting. They were madder’n hell. Never in my life had I seen a mutant as this. It was bigger’n hell. The biggest damn thing I ever looked at. I put my rifle to my shoulder when I seen it. The dogs stood next to me, snarling and barking, staring off past the three of them.

The people got real scared and real loud with their guns, shouting and pointing them at me. I wasn’t sure if they realised what all was going on. I thought they were aiming at a mutant behind me, like I was them, but they weren’t.

The mutant came bounding forward like some mad ephilant. The dogs snapped forward to meet it, like they’s taught. I raised my rifle, quick as I always do, and got shots—two for two—on target. You can never raise your rifle too fast where’s mutants are involved. It took me a second to realise what happened after and I fell onto my butt. I reached for my rifle, still unsure as to why they shot me, a strange pain in my chest and in my belly and arm. But it was too late for them.

The mutant swiped at one of the boys and he didn’t move again after hitting that tree. The other two opened fire again, all over the mutant’s face. I never seen a mutant scream like that—probably because I kill them dead real quick. I also never seen a mutant tear something up like it did them. The girl and boy screamed and screamed—like a rabbit caught by a fox— and bullets was flying all about. It was real awful.

It didn’t last long and after a few moments it got real quiet. The dogs came back, tails wagging, licking my face, and barking a bit at the mutant, still as stone. At least those of them that made it. There were a few laid quiet with the mutant and its three victims. I scooted myself over to a tree and tried to stand with my rifle as a crutch. My legs felt weak though and I couldn’t do it.

After a few tries I huffed a sigh. I didn’t get over to feed the rabbits. I wondered if they would miss me—if they ever missed the Allaways. I wondered if the cows and the sheep, the chickens and the ducks, the horses and the pigs—if they would miss me. If they’d get on alright without me.

My suit was all red by then and I felt real tired. I asked the dogs if they would miss me, and they sat and wagged and licked at my suit. They probably would. I was gonna be gone a long time.

#short stories #the mogul kings #quentin Chaucer #writing #fiction

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