The Season of Death
William glanced out of the dirt-encrusted windscreen, scanning the horizon for vegetation, any sign of hope along the new frontier. His gaze turned downward to the Rolex. 11.45 it read. A few more hours of sunlight left. He had enough time to seek out some shelter. Anything’s better than the back of the BMW, he pondered. The car was becoming filthier everyday. The collection of blankets and fuel drums certainly detracted from the aesthetic look it once possessed, though the odd cans of coke had added some color to it.
William’s eyes zoned in on some water. It appeared to be clear, free of any problem. He seized this moment of luck, instantly bringing the car to a halt. With the engine still laboring in the background, William walked up to the oasis kneeling by its edge. He cupped his hands, letting it trickle into his open palms. Before he brought this elixir of life into his mouth, he suddenly remembered.
He wandered back to the car, rummaging around through the various tools. He grabbed the object of his concern. The concept of a Geiger Counter still shocked him, as something the future should never have needed. The shrill, static noises emerged from the device, emanating that his luck had ran out. William kicked at the nearest puddle. He couldn’t believe he had sunk this far. Not when he had such a head start.
When the world had started to decay and neighbors deserted the streets in droves, William remained. Locked in his cellar, he had a long time before food and water were an issue. Like everyone else though, he resorted to this nomadic lifestyle. It was either this or death, which was the ultimate cure for starvation.
He still had some drums of fuel left. This is what gave him the edge that he thought was needed for these times. The fuel still gave him his independence , which simultaneously guided his ignorance of its short lifespan, as he accelerated past the odd starving hitchhiker.
William continued on driving. He turned on the CD player, any device to relieve the boredom would suffice. A Self help guru meandered on about personal power ” The future will be bright for you,” What a premonition, William muttered under his breath. The guru continued on, "You must trust in yourself to accomplish goals in life, you have the power to make these things happen...”
William scanned the road and spotted a wire fence. As he drove closer, the fence started to loom large above the car. "You must also trust in the goodwill of others...,” The guru continued to comment as William brought the car to a halt, staggering out. The fence had stood about twelve feet high, with barb-wire protruding from the top.
An object caught his eye in the distance. It appeared to be a decaying carcass, but relatively unrecognizable, large enough to be human, although William’s eyes had already attempted to convince him otherwise.
He drove on, following in a parallel line to the barb-wire fence. Eventually the array of red earth and metal had fused into something more significant. His eyes scanned over the remains of a tin village, a corrugated station that watched over a vast canyon. He stopped the BMW, turning off the engine at last. He walked to the edge of the canyon, cautiously peering over the edge. As his eyes had caught a glimpse of salvation, he realized he was not alone.
“Taking in the view are you, mate?” a voice rang out. William turned back to see a man leveling his gaze at him. While his shabby clothes lacked conviction, the crossbow cradled in his arms contradicted them, offering some collateral for what the man had to say.
" What is this place?” William asked of him.
“It’s not for you, that’s what it is.” The stranger stated.
William could hear shouts from down below, combined with the impact of mattocks and shovels.
“You mean you’ve managed to grow your own supplies?” William continued.
“I suggest you forget what you saw here today. Forget and leave at the same time while you’ve still got the wheels to take you.”
William attempted to move closer to the stranger.
" I could trade for some food...”
“What makes you think we need anything from you, scab?”
" How could you even suggest that I’m a scab. You don’t even know me.”
" I know what I see. Don’t argue scab. While you don’t tell me much, you certainly show it. The BMW for example.”
“This. Why I could have taken it in the season?”
" No one has cars anymore. If you have one which has petrol in it, it means you’re a new scab. One that hid in the season of death while others starved.”
" It was survival of the fittest”. William protested.
" It’s because of phrases like that, and the attitudes that go with it, that I want you to leave right now. There’s a jerry can with water in it inside, you can take some and go.”
" Look honestly, I do have some stuff I can trade.”
“Yeah. Like what?”
" I’ve still got some drums of petrol left?”
" You really are a scab aren’t you? What do we need petrol for? Can you see any cars here? That’s right you can’t. We used them to make shelter. Try again scab.”
" I’ve still got some coca-cola left.”
“That’s useless. We don’t really need early onset diabetes here. Try again.”
William collapsed on the ground, walking on his knees to the stranger. He broke down and started to beg, blubbering at the same time.
" Look I’m begging you..., just give me some food,... I’ll die. I don’t want to die. Please...” William continued to sob.
" You really are pathetic aren’t you? This is what you have become. I’ll tell you what you need to do. You need to forget all that crap you hold so dear. You have to admit your possessions are useless.” William looked past the stranger, as a group walked towards the village, carrying an assortment of garden tools. William focused on a man wearing a business shirt as a bandanna over his head, all torn and shabby, looking very much like William did. The man turned his back on him and walked away.
William didn’t know what to do. He had finally found a place that was the closest thing he could find to salvation. He could wait till dark and scurry around to take some food and water with him. He decided he would do some reconnaissance and figure a way to get something. They had posted guards around the perimeter, but even they would get tired or get stuck into a routine. Time was on his side if he stayed alert.
