I was drowning. The last bubble, my last breath, was out there in front of me. I followed the bubble. I broke through the water and took a deep breath, it was agony as the oxygen dove into my lungs. I dog-paddled to shore and promptly puked when I got there.
The little girl was waiting for me. “Welcome back.”
I tried to answer, but the blue liquid kept spilling out of me for a full minute. My throat was raw and hoarse. Finally, I could speak.
“Thank you.” I stood up. I felt different.
“Wow. What the hell happened to you in there?” She looked at me with incredulous eyes.
I looked down. My body. It was gone. Replaced.
“You’re changed,” she said, “You look like you put on twenty pounds of muscle. You look well fit.”
She was right. My hunger was gone, my body had filled out. My mind felt….
“What did you see in there?” she asked.
“The creator. The one they call the Great Writer,” I told her.
She looked at the empty pool. “In there?”
“Yes, you never saw him?”
She looked again into the pool. “No. That’s some crazy shit.”
I sat down on the top of a rock. She had started a fire and there was something boiling in a stone pot. I was dripping wet, but I needed a second before I put my clothes back on.
“What are you making?”
I looked into the pot. “Where did you find Pig-Bot in the middle of an underground cavern?”
“You don’t want to know.” She handed me my clothes, I began to slip them on. They fit tight, that had not happened in while.
“Please, answer me, what did you see down there?” She asked again.
“You have never seen him?”
“The Creator? In there? No.” I could tell she wanted to say ‘I’m not crazy’ and I was grateful that she chose not to.
“He was at the bottom. He spoke to me, gave me a message.”
She nodded. “What was the message?”
“War is coming. We need to prepare.”
“Mankind. We need to assimilate all the lost remnants of humanity, coalesce them into a single cohesive fighting army, and march to the Himalayas.”
“The Himalays are gone.”
“There is still one mountain left.”
“Chomulunga,” she said.
“Yes. We are to march there.”
I shrugged. “Rebuild.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Rebuild? That’s crazy.”
“I’m telling you the message, that is all.”
“You’re a prophet now?”
“I didn’t say I was a prophet. I said that the Great Writer, the Creator of all, has given me a message to tell the humans of Earth.”
“Exactly, that’s called a prophet. You said war is coming? Against who?”
She did not reply, just looked at the fire. “Why Tombstone?”
“That is where I was told to go. You don’t believe me?”
“No. I do. That is the problem. Tombstone is not exactly a friendly town.”
“I get that. Can I get some stew? I’m hungry.”
She brought out some utensils and spoons, gave me some of the broth. It was good.
“Zildjan. Priest-Slayer. Temple Burner. Hawk Killer. The Wasted Waze Walker. Now, Prophet of the New God?” She said, slurping on her stew, “Now look at you. Tall, powerful, fully healed. A force to be reckoned with. Everyone else is near starving. They will listen to you…though, I don’t know what type of army you can find in a town like Tombstone.”
“We won’t stay long.”
“You don’t understand. Jack will capture you, then rape you in the square. Right in the ass. That’s his mode of punishment.”
“He’s a faggott. A man-raper. He killed my mom, I know he did.” She sniffled.
“How do you know that?”
“She’s dead. I know it, I…just do. He was to blame, I know that to. Maybe not directly, but he put her out there. It’s his fault.”
There was allot of missing information in her statement. But I did not want to get into it at the moment. The time for the truth would come, and I certainly wasn’t going to comment on her mother’s death. Especially considering I was the one whom had decapitated her.
“You’ve heard of Chomulunga.”
“Yes, the Crystal Mountain.”
I looked at her strangely. “What? No. It actually was called Everest, after the Caucasoid man whom claimed it. He was from the Europea, an area called London in the pre-World Wide conflict number one.”
“WW1? They called it the big one. They had no idea,” she laughed.
“Yes. They had no idea. Back then however, they knew little better. The arrogance of the Caucasoids was immense in those early days of technology. Even though the mountain had been called Chomulunga for eons and had stood tall when the Earth was still crawling with dinosaurs, Sir Edmund Hillary decided to discount all that history as rantings from ignorant savages. He renamed it.”
“Yes. We will call it by its ancient name. It will be our home.”
“Something God told me.”
“What was that?”
“Go to the mountain and start a base there- haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying?”
“Sorry. So, Tombstone, then Chomulunga?”
“Yes. Along the way all the human survivors will march with us, until we will represent all the Remnant.”
She looked down into the pool. Not a ripple stirred. She shook her head in disbelief. “O.k Let’s do it then. Fuck it”
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