End Times

End Times

or

The Old Man and the Goddess.

(A short story about a post apocalyptic world)

In the post apocalyptic world of 2024 the United States no longer existed.  In it’s place existed a multitude of warring factions who fought for control of the ruined mass once called America.  Everything had all changed in a flash.  Some group with a cause had exploded a dirty bomb in Washington D.C. on a warm summer day in early September while Americans went about their everyday lives.  Until then Americans had happily went through the routines of life mindless of the world around them.  In a split second the bomb shattered all their illusions hurling them into an abyss of earth shattering destruction.  Nothing would ever be the same for them again as the world they knew was gone forever.  For the people of earth there would be no happy endings.

            The nations of the world collapsed as all the safeguards so firmly held in place to prevent global annihilation by nuclear weapons failed.  The missile crews in North Dakota completed all their tasks without flaw. In minutes twenty megaton warheads slammed into Moscow and Beijing.  Moscow and Beijing responded in kind striking all their predetermined targets with deadly accuracy.  There was no time to think and no time to stop the rain of fire from falling all over the globe.  In a matter of hours the earth was a burning heap.  In the destruction all semblance of order vanished and humankind turned on itself scratching and clawing to survive.

            In those terrible days some men prayed for deliverance screaming for mercy and begging God for forgiveness.  Some men looked for those responsible for bringing judgment down on their heads.  Others looked to survive by any means possible.  Survivalists rose up from their bunkers looking to secure their fantasy of safety while predators rejoiced in their good fortune.  Soon all law was replaced by survival of the fittest.  The people of earth did what was right in their own eyes as the life that they had known quickly died.

            Millions died in the pestilence that followed.  The young, the old, and the weak savaged by man and disease died first while starvation cut their numbers even more.  Intense heat replaced the warm sun as the ozone layer weakened.  Man and beast were slowly cooked as radiation washed the wounds of humanity quickly bringing death to millions.  In the nuclear winter that followed scores of the dwindling masses froze as the earth became a wintery wasteland.

            Perhaps the greatest loss mankind suffered was the solace of routine.   The routine of a glass of water, a cup of coffee, or a bite to eat disappeared.  All creature comforts vanished in an instant.  Television, computers, radio, and automobiles ceased to be a part of everyday life.  All these seemingly necessary things of human existence were blasted away by electromagnetic pulses and cyber attacks.

            In the years that followed tormented bands of survivors went through the tortured land stripping it bare lurching about in mass for safety's sake dying as they went.  The ruined land devoured some, the corrupted elements devoured others, and many, far too many, were murdered by marauding bandits for a bit of food, a weapon or for some insignificant trinket.  After a while there was nothing left for them to take from the land so the bands turned on each other.

            As the years passed by it became horribly clear that the earth would not return to her original state.  She was far too damaged for that.  The grass did not grow but sprang up and died.  The clouds no longer brought refreshing rain but oily drops of goo that stuck to the skin burning the flesh.  The four seasons disappeared and were replaced with a super heated summer and a sub-arctic winter.

Pain, fear, and worry were all the people of earth could count on in the post apocalyptical world of 2024.  Yet there was one thing left in mankind that hadn't been lost.  Hope.  This hope sprang from a deep desire to find something remaining in man that was good and comforting.  For this hope the people of earth tirelessly wandered the scorched landscape searching for something to believe in.  Not everyone had hope.  Many had given up on hope and just wanted to live one day to the next in whatever comforts they could find.  Those people were called Survivors.  "Live and let live." they liked to say. The Survivors were easy prey for predators who roamed the earth robbing, raping and murdering.  Those predators were called Dogs because like dogs they ran in packs using their strength in numbers to overcome the pathetic resistance put up by their victims.  The few who held out hope were called Travelers as they were always traveling searching for a piece of the old civilization.  The Travelers were scorned by both the Survivors and the Dogs. The Travelers were held to be foolish risk takers by the Survivors. They believed that the Travelers in their wanderings would bring the Dogs to them and they were right.  The Dogs saw the Travelers as dead men who just didn't know it yet.  Both Travelers and Survivors feared the Dogs choosing to do without their desires to avoid the killing hordes.  Together these groups wandered the scarred earth fighting each other to survive.  In their fight to live another day many among them would find a quick and painful death in the killing fields of the new planet Earth.

            This is the story of two Travelers and their search for something worth living for in the post apocalyptic world of 2024.  Theirs is a story of courage, courage against the odds and courage to sacrifice.  But will their story be one of triumph of the human will?  Time will only tell.

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On a hot August night Bryan Griffin sat in the park staring into the darkness while   overhead the stars shimmered.   A parching wind swirled across the scorched ground blowing dust and ash across his face.  While he watched Bryan listened for sounds that might warn him that the Dogs were near.  Bryan had heard of an especially vicious band of Dogs moving through the area.  So for three tense nights now Bryan had kept watch in the park while the rest of the group busied themselves with building up their camp’s defenses.

“This is no life for old man.” Bryan thought as he stood to stretch his worn out body.  At sixty-five Bryan was a freak of nature in this post apocalyptic world.  In pre-bomb years he would be two hundred years old or so he guessed.  A once heavy set man Bryan was now a one hundred and forty-five pound skeleton his body battered from illness and fighting.  How he had survived this long was a mystery to him and to everyone else for that matter.  His face bore the scars of ten years of living in the nightmare that was earth since the bomb.  Radiation burns and cuts trailed across his dried out skin like a road map while his hands were little more than claws.  Bryan had lost two fingers on his right hand in a fight and his left hand had become a knotted stump after being broken once too often.  As the result of a fall from an overpass Bryan stumbled about on one good leg.  As if his features weren’t bad enough, his once brown hair had fallen out leaving him bald.

Bryan sat back down drained from his short walk around the park bench.   Feeling chilled Bryan pulled his stained military issue jacket closer to him and he tightened the strings to his tattered hoody.  He was cold even on this hot night, “Cold, Always cold.”  Beneath his dark coveralls Bryan wore two flannel shirts, a pair of Carhartt pants, and long underwear.  On his feet Bryan wore a pair of insulated boots.

Behind him Bryan heard soft footsteps of the Goddess and wondered how she had gotten so close to him without him hearing her.  “It’s not the end of the world.  It just feels like it.” The Goddess whispered.  This was code among the group to let each other know that they were alone and safe.

“Good thing I wasn’t a Dog.  I would have bit you.”

“Good thing.”  Bryan snarled.  He had little patience for people these days.  He had become a cranky old bastard in his old age.

“Is everything ready?”

“Why of course.” The Goddess cracked.  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Bryan wanted to reply with some witty comeback but his mind couldn’t make the effort.  “I’ll be back around sunrise.”  He offered instead rising with effort to begin the walk back to the camp.

“Why don’t you sleep in for a change?”

With her question Bryan was taken back to the days before the bomb when his wife would ask him the same thing.  Even after ten years it still hurt to think of her.  Laurie was never far from his thoughts.  Like a ghost she haunted his dreams as did his children and his granddaughter.  But there was no use thinking about all that just now. There was still too much work to do.  Bryan dared not leave them alone for too long.  The group was weak made up of seven man-boys, a basket case woman and a teenage killing machine.  Josh the musician, Mac the Knife, A guy called Faith, Danny Boy, Mellow, Johnny, Brooks and Sheba.  The names said it all.  A want to be singer, a guy named after a song, a religious nut, an Irishman, an African American hipster, a guy named after a shoe brand and a woman who thought she was a queen.  None of them were willing to stick their neck out and all of them were lazy and like Bryan they shouldn’t be alive.  The only one with any promise was the Goddess.  She worked hard and showed no fear.  “And a child shall lead them.” Bryan thought laughing to himself.

As Bryan walked through what had once been soft green soccer fields ashy dust swirled around his feet.  This had once been a place to play, fly kites, and waste time.  Now only a sign remained that said "Martin Recreation Complex".

-----

The Goddess, 13 year old Naomi Griffin, settled onto the park bench and looked at her watch.  "Midnight."  Four hours to go before her shift was done and the camp would move to shelter and rest during the white hot day.  "The Old Man was punctual if nothing else." she thought.  Naomi gazed thoughtfully at her Mickey Mouse watch and tried again to remember where it had come from.  The glass covering had long since been removed and replaced with a piece of tape.  From her blue jean jacket Naomi took out a whet stone and from its sheath on her waist a knife.  As she sharpened the blade Naomi thought about the old man.  She liked the old man even if he was grumpy and stank.  She was his unofficial second in command of this group of Travelers.  Together Bryan and Naomi held the group together by their survival skills and resourcefulness.  It also helped that they were merciless killers of evil doers.    Naomi had first killed when she was seven.  During an attack by a band of Dogs one of them had snatched her up from the group she was traveling with and thrown her over his shoulder.  Naomi screamed and kicked while the smelly Dog laughed, "It will be alright in just a minute honey."  It was then Naomi saw the six inch hunting knife on his waist.  Most of what happened next was a blur.  There was Blood.  Then the shocked face of the Dog as blood gushed from the wound in his throat.  Then she was running with the knife.  Behind her she had heard others running and laughing, "She was all over him like a fat boy over a pie.” someone said.  That had been three years ago.  That is when this group had formed.  The newly formed group had wandered for a year before they met the old man on a road outside of Paris Tennessee.  From the start he brought them all together with hard work and rewards.  He drove them hard and praised them often giving out what meager benefits he could provide.    "Simple psychology really" Naomi thought.  Sadly, the others saw his efforts as a weakness to be exploited and did as little as possible to help him.  Naomi had become his second after she displayed her willingness to work and her talents as assassin.  The others used her hard work as an excuse to be lazy while her willingness to kill caused them to listen to her orders out of fear.

Since her first kill she had killed many Dogs.  Like Billy the Kid her youth and size put bad people off their guard.  Many Dogs had made the mistake of taking Naomi for granted.    She looked like your average teenager.  She was tall for her age and skinny which gave a predator an image of easy prey.  Her uniform was a jean jacket over a pink shirt, a flower pattern skirt over jeans and black combat boots.  Her long brown hair was done in braids and held in place with pink barrettes.  Naomi’s “going to the mall” appearance had caused many a Dog to take her as easy prey.  That had been a fatal mistake.  If her looks didn’t work Naomi would lure them in close with her charm and then strike them down ruthlessly.  None of the other travelers were as willing or able to dispatch Dogs like she was.  Because of her ability to mete out justice Bryan had named her the Goddess for the Indian goddess Vishnu.

Naomi had learned early to live with uncertainty in her life.  Her parents, whom she could not remember, were long dead.  She had no family that she had ever known.  She had learned not to become attached to anyone as too many people died or just disappeared. Groups of Travelers that she had known fell apart quickly so for a time she had traveled alone but then it had become too dangerous.  Her watch and her knife were the only things that gave her any certainty in life.

Naomi's thoughts were broken by a sound.  Hearing the pounding of feet on the rock hard ground Naomi quickly jumped to the ground.  As there was more than one intruder she decided against staying and claiming another kill.  "Another day." she thought and slipped away into the dark to warn the others.

-----

As Bryan approached the darkened camp he heard the muffled sounds of activity as the group labored to move.  Every night ended the same with the group packing up and moving to somewhere safe for the day.  Day was the time when sleep could be had without the threat of Dogs cutting your throat.  The Dogs moved mostly at night when the killing was easy.

As Bryan approached the camp he heard Naomi running towards him.  "Dogs coming." she whispered as she ran past.  After the alarm was sounded all was quiet in the camp and the group was moving.  Together they all ran to a burnt house nearby to hide and watch the Dogs.  When the Dogs arrived they were loud and angry knowing they had just missed their prey.  As they waited a voice shouted into the wilderness.  "I know you’re out there.  Come on out we just want to talk."  Bryan knew that It was just a matter of waiting the Dogs out but then someone coughed.  That was all it took for the Dogs to begin howling and moving in for the kill.  Bryan pulled his 44 Magnum from his holster as the others readied their weapons for the attack.  Behind the group new sounds emerged from the woods.  "We got you trapped whoever you are.  You might as well come out and get it over with." said a voice full of menace.  Bryan could hear a whimper from one of the group.  It sounded like Sheba.  Sheba was the most fragile of the group as she had had the misfortune of being tortured and raped by a group of Dogs.  As if on cue she stood up and ran.  The Dogs behind them heard her and began to chase Sheba.  Now the group had no choice but to move.  Gun fire erupted as Bryan ran to Sheba's screams but it was too late.  A single shot sounded the end of Sheba.  The rest of the group kept moving as behind them the Dogs cursed and kicked Sheba's body.  For now it was enough of a distraction for the group to find a creek bed and follow it to the highway.  In the distance the sounds of the marauders searching for them could be heard so Bryan knew that they only had a few minutes.

Josh the musician found Bryan and asked, "Do you wanna talk to the monkey or the organ grinder?"  The monkey was Josh's name for his 12 gauge shotgun while the organ grinder was his Mac10 machine gun.  "We'll need both."  Hold the rear while we cross the road."

"Aye. Aye. Captain." was Josh's reply as he moved into position.  Mac the Knife found Bryan.  "What we do now?" he asked in a less than confident tone.  "With any luck we cross the road and find some cover." Bryan answered   "Fruck luck." was Mac's reply.  This was his pet saying for all situations.  Fruck this and fruck that was an annoyance in normal situations but now it just pissed Bryan off.  "Alright wise ass just get over there and cover us on the side."  Mac would be able to put some fire power into the Dogs with his M4 rifle.

Bryan called out to the group "  The rest of you sound off!"

"Faith here!"

"Danny here!"

"Mellow here!"

"Brooks here!"

“Johnny here!”

"Naomi here!"

At Bryan's command the group moved across the road and lay down in the ditch on the other side.  Bryan was out of breath from all the running his heart pounding in his chest and   spots were moving before his eyes.  He was certain that he was having a heart attack.  "Think. Think."  Bryan commanded his brain.

"What do we do now old man?" Mellow snarled into his ear.

"I'm thinking."  Bryan gasped.

“You all right?”

"Do I look alright."  Bryan hissed.

"Old man what are we going to do?" Mellow whimpered sounding more like a little girl than a man.

"You're going to pull yourself together and get a weapon."

"Weapon?  From where?"

"I don't know.  Now move. "

Brooks fell down next to Mellow and said "What's the plan?"

"I don't know.  Ask the old man."

Suddenly the old man's brain was tortured with pain as he grasped for air. "Help me God."  the Old Man thought as he passed into darkness.  "Old man!  Old man!" Naomi cried.

When Bryan came to his face was burning.  He opened his eyes to the blazing sun.  It was silent now and everyone was gone.  Bryan turned his head and saw a blanket next to him.  "Naomi." he thought.  He felt for his weapons but they were gone.  He tried to move but his body failed him.  The he began to cough.  Choking coughs.  Coughs speckled with blood.

"Old man.  You all right?"  Naomi's voice was a comfort.

"Yea.  Help me up."  Bryan felt the world spinning.  When he was up on his feet his heart was began pounding again.  Pain was crawling up his left arm and sweat poured down his face.  "My bag. Where's my bag?"

"Right here."  In the post apocalyptic world of 2024 all that the Old Man valued were his pen and his journal. He felt for his knife and his gun but they were gone.  Bryan opened the bag to make sure both his pen and his journal were still there.  "My pen, my journal and this child is all that I have left." he thought.

"Where are the others?” he asked knowing the answer.

"They are gone."  Naomi said with disgust.

Why hadn't the dogs found them?  The heat was making it hard to breathe and think.  He swayed with dizziness.

"Old man.  You should take it easy."

Ignoring her comment Bryan said "We need cover and we need it soon."

"I know old man but where?"  Naomi's words trailed off in a whimper.  The harden warrior child was showing signs of breaking.  Bryan had never seen her cry or show weakness and this scared him.  Suddenly she was a young teenager in his eyes.  He had to try to hang on just a little longer.

"Help me walk." he commanded Naomi.

"Walk?  To where? ”

"Just get me walking damn it!" he snapped.

"Alright you old bastard.  Give me a second."

"Now." he snarled knowing that the minutes were passing too fast for him.

In the distance he saw a burned out church.  Maybe it was too far for him to walk but he had to try.  With every step his heart pounded as ever so slowly they moved across the field.  Naomi threw the blanket over them even to protect them from the sun even though it heated the air they breathed.

"Just a little further."  Naomi said the whimper was still in her voice as fear continued to work on the young warrior.

Finally they made it to the church and crawled into the shade.  Bryan fell into heap certain that he was going to die any minute.  As he gasped for air Naomi began to wander around the ruins muttering through her tears.  "Well.  We'll just build a shelter, find some wood for a fire and then find some food and water.  “Where?,” she said almost moaning.

"Get it together little girl" Bryan chided using the name he knew Naomi hated most.

"Shut up." she screamed.  "Shut up you old fool."  Then she fell to her knees crying her body shaking as she sobbed.  Bryan left her alone to cry because there was nothing else he could do.  With effort he opened the bag and took out the journal and the pen.

"I need some water."

"They took it."

"The selfish bastards," he thought.  They left an old man and a kid.  The weak ones,” His anger flared for a moment as he thought of the group’s callous disregard for them.  With the flush of anger he felt better for a moment.  Bryan opened the journal and began to write.    The black cover of the journal was scratched and worn with heavy grade paper inside.  Bryan had kept journals for the ten years since the bomb. Bryan had many books hidden in different places.  In these books he had written down every good thing that he could remember.  These journals were his link to sanity.  The things he wrote about reminded him that there was something good left in man.  Bryan had to have something good or else he would completely fall apart.  Writing something nice gave kept him alive.                                  

Naomi could not believe that he was writing at a time like this. “What is that your last will and testament.” she said angrily.

Bryan was too tired to argue.  So he wrote.  He wrote about a new blade of grass he had seen as they had struggled across the dusty field.  It was green and fresh.  The new blade of grass would be dead by noon but for now it was fresh and alive.  Another bit of hope in a hopeless world.  Bryan sat the pen down feeling the pounding returning to heart.  "Dear God.  I want to live.  Even in this cesspool of a world.”  Bryan started laughing.  This caused the Goddess to stand up with a start.

"Old man don't." she said pleading.

"Come here." he said. "Sit down."

"No!" she said backing away.  She had seen hundreds of people die but she wasn't ready to watch the old man die.  She couldn't bear to live without him.  Bryan looked at her with a pleading, fearful look that caused her to sit down.

"The book." he gasped.  "It’s yours to keep."

"I don't want it." she whimpered knowing that the old man was dying.

"Listen. You brat." he said causing her anger to rise up again.

"Read." Bryan said.

Naomi opened the book to the first page.  "We are saved by hope."  Romans 8:24.  "What is Romans?"

"Read." he snapped.

Naomi turned the page and began.  "There was a girl named Esther..."  Naomi read of a young woman who had been a queen in a far away land.  "If I perish, I perish...," she read on until she heard the old man's breathing become slower as he fell asleep.  Naomi read on of good deed s done, a piece of bread shared with a child, a day when the rain fell clean.  She read until she too fell asleep.

Naomi woke up the next day to find the old man gone.  "Oh No." she thought fearing that he had left her to die.  "Where did you go old man?"  She searched the ruins for him not finding him.  Then she saw the little bits of paper and string left for her to follow.  Naomi gathered up her things and began to follow the trail Bryan had left for her.  The trail led her back across the highway and then through the shattered woods near the creek.  At the edge of the woods the trail turned to a corner lot towards the ruins of a house.  The yard was dust.  The trees once tall and green were stumps.  A pool with stagnant water was behind the house.  Behind it was a pile of debris.  As she neared the pile she saw the old man's feet sticking out from underneath the pile. "Just like an old dog he crawled up under something and died." she thought.  The she began to sob.  "He died alone."  She would have screamed but she was too afraid.  She sat for a while remembering him.  This man who had came into their camp one day a few years ago.  Barely able to walk or breathe.  He had led them when they were falling apart.  Every day he was watching out for them and every night on guard.

Naomi decided to bury him.  As she moved the trash off of him she noticed that his arms were stretched out as if pointing.  She dug around his hands to find a picture ID of a middle-aged woman. "Laurie Griffin."  Naomi realized that this was a grave.  Laurie's grave.  Underneath the other hand was another card.  A teenage girl named Naomi Griffin.  His daughter.” She thought.  "Wait! That’s my name!"  Bryan had told her that was her name when she had confessed to him that she didn't know her name.  He had made up the story about her name.  "Why?"

As Naomi pulled the old man's body out of the pile she saw another mound.  Digging she found a green canvas bag filled with food and water and more journals.  Naomi devoured the food and water eating her fill for the first time in months.  After she had rested a while Naomi opened the journal and found that like in the book she had read before the first page read “We are saved by hope.”

"Hope?” “What is there to hope for?” She thought.  The next page was dated September 28th 2014. “Something terrible has happened.” It began.  Naomi read on about the days after the bomb and all the horror that followed.   At the end of the first entry Bryan had written, “I found a nest of baby birds today.  They are alive.”  Naomi closed the book and buried the old man.  Later Naomi looked through the bag again and found a map.  The map was of West Tennessee with towns circled in red.  Also in red were the routes Bryan had taken.  “Ripley. Covington. Memphis. Jackson. Nashville. Paris. Martin.  One big circle,” Attached to the map was a letter in which the old man had detailed his travels.  He had also written down locations and markers where Naomi would find more supplies and journals.  The last thing Naomi found in the bag was a bottle of Bollinger’s Special Cuvee champagne with a note taped to the bottle which read, “A bottle of Bollinger’s would come in handy now but you will have to wait until you have finished your journey.”

“What journey?”

After she had rested for a while Naomi buried the old man.  She stood silent looking down at his grave tears streaming down her face.  “Have faith old friend.”  Naomi didn’t know why she said that.  It just seemed like the right thing to say at a time like this.  She had never really thought of the old man as her friend but he was.  In fact, he was friend, father and brother al rolled in one.  He had been everything to her.  Then it occurred to her that she had never hugged him or told him she loved him.  That didn’t seem like something people did in the post apocalyptic world of 2024.  Maybe that was what he was talking about when he wrote of hope. The blazing sun was setting when Naomi finished packing.  It was time to find somewhere out of sight for the night.  The Dogs would be out soon.

The next day Naomi read the journal again while she ate breakfast.  The sun was baking her before she knew it.  Naomi had let time get away from her.  Just as she closed the journal Naomi noticed Bryan’s last entry.  “31 August 2024.  It is said that we never get what we deserve we get what we get.  I say that we never get what we deserve. We get what more than we deserve.  This is a blessing from above. Or we get less than we deserve.  This is mercy from above.  There is a Goddess and she is good.  Goddess this is the end for me.  I have lived many good years.  The past ten years have been good while they were the worst days of my life.  I lost everything.  Knowing you helped me get back some of what was lost.  You came into my life when I was at my lowest.  I had given up hope.  You remind me of my Naomi.  She would have been twenty- three this November.  Like her you are a diamond in the rough.  You will find other books and supplies if you go to the places I’ve marked on the map.  You have a mission now that I am gone.  That is to find hope.  You will find more journals and supplies in the places I marked out for you.  The champagne is for the day you find a reason to hope.  Alcohol is the source and solution to all of our problems.  So be careful with the Bollinger’s.  You need to move on now.  Yours is the difficult task helping rebuild all that has been lost.  You will want to give up at times but you must never give up.  If you give up everyone dies.  Good bye my friend.  Keep the faith.

The tears flowed for some time.  Naomi felt as if her heart was breaking.  “How do I keep going?”  Naomi left that day not sure what she would find out on the road.  Somehow this felt like a new beginning not just for herself but for humanity.  She hoped that there would be better days ahead.  As Naomi started walking down the road a butterfly flew past.  “How can that be?” Naomi thought.  Then the words “Hope saves those who hope.” came into her head like some unexpected guest.  Laughing to herself she took out journal and began to write.