RECORDING MOMENTS IN TIME

We hustled homeward, empty-handed, while avoiding obstacles along the trail. Approaching, I noticed a small group had gathered, applauding? Celebrating our safe return? I did not realize a welcome committee existed. Soon realized there was a great interest in the failure of, or success of, a team’s return. They were about to be disappointed. We all made it out alive, although it came at the cost of death and suffering for others. Frank, still looking back, watching from a dis

We followed our semi-cleared pathway north toward several buildings, maybe a mile away, that appeared occupied. An occasional puff of smoke or a flicker of light revealing life. Now moving slowly, hoping to be seen, hoping to draw attention to our group. Should we need to leave, posthaste? At the bottom of the pathway, Brett turned the wagon about, heading back toward the trailhead, our entrance point homeward, and paused. Nearby buildings, possibly filled with debris, alread

Three days of backbreaking work clearing a path wide enough to squeeze a wagon through freely. Fortunately, we recruited several others to help. A favor implies expecting something in return, a quid pro quo. Words you will never hear: “I promise...” Never commit to anything, ever. We gathered the next day, midmorning, each anxiously considering our task. Except Frank, verbose as usual, entertaining himself with endless noise. So much knowledge — having been here and there, do

At sunrise, I found Brett already inspecting the wagon. Eventually satisfied, he climbed aboard and looked around. The weather was clear for the moment. Everyone prepared their mounts. Brett confirmed, “I’ll handle the wagon.” Brett seemed a tad older, weathered, on the tall side, confident, armed with a shoulder holster. On the wagon seat beside him, I spotted a high-powered sniper rifle with a scope, resting on a black drag bag. I understood he was an investigator working f

My plan: to hide. Stay in my cubicle. Get to the kitchen early, get my job done, never make eye contact, ignore everyone, then back to my nook. Be invisible. Lead a team, me? No way. Hell, there was a long list of jobs I'd rather do than lead. Scooping poop, doing dishes, digging ditches, hiding behind an apron, taking orders, following mundane directions — all fine by me. All right, stop. Focus. The truth: A reputation I never earned chased me. Take charge? No, I'd rather st

I’ve heard about Scout Teams, selected men and women sent out to steal anything not nailed down by any means necessary. Once outside the fence, you are vulnerable, facing roving bands of thieves competing for control of territory, hunting for materials, sellable supplies, and wood. And bounty hunters, crude wanted posters with attached rewards. Dead or alive. An unspoken reason for assigning individuals to these units, they are freaks, thrill-seekers, often unpredictable or e

My head was pounding and my stomach ached as if someone had punched me repeatedly. I stood on the roof, bent over the retaining wall, vividly recalling last night's incident. So confident he was. Below, beyond the wall, workers dug, preparing another grave — one more victim of the times, lowered for eternity. Lost in my thoughts, a soft voice broke the moment. "Excuse me, Jesse?" I slowly turned to an unexpected sight. I focused my attention on a young, petite woman standing

Heart racing as I attempt to catch my breath. A single shot echoed in my ears. Was I hit? Dying or already dead? Words now whispered from behind, “Leave.” The voice was familiar, soft. Pushed gently. I quickly and carefully stepped over the body and blood as I walked out the door, my revolver still holstered. Still hidden by my coat. Recent events were a blur. Hoping that in all the chaos, people running for safety, not aware of what just happened. I never looked back, never

As the weeks crawl by, a few, usually unattached males, in various stages of wear, gather at the main entrance, all in need of whatever we offer. What we will offer for a price. Clearly, we have little, but will exchange or trade when it serves our community. How they gained their tradable “treasures” is of no interest to us, only that they possess a fungible quality. They arrive and announce, “I’ve got a bundle of wood.” Or some groceries, or silver rounds; a few had gold.

The value of life, quantifiable, acknowledged but never spoken, hidden, perhaps. Human capital is tangible while a laborer is alive; a dead doctor is of no value. The value of life defined as the ‘product’ it can produce, what it can give back, can be bartered. Max the gunsmith. Mr. Maddox’s ability to construct and offer security. Ms. Bishop’s culinary skills. Emily… a warm body. Me? Me, willing to do what I’m told without complaint. Kitchen helper, errand runner, dole out f

AAwakened by the warmth of the sun, realized the recent rain shower had subsided. Chilly for now. I could hear movement nearby and felt the whispers. I lay quietly, eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling, repeating, replaying last night’s events. “Crap, what did I do?” My life was about to change, and not for the better. I’m screwed. Maybe he’s not dead. A bad dream. Staring at the blue tarp, I replayed the facts, the sounds. He fired, first hitting the roof, then, silence. Secon

“She’s coming with me,” he demanded. Emily broke away, stumbling to the ground in disarray, still pleading between sobs. Blood oozed from her lip. Earl bent forwards squinting, focusing, cussing. Considering his options, still responding to the adrenaline flowing through his veins. A small crowd was now forming. With him a step closer, I considered my future while watching Emily in my peripheral vision. Then, an unexpected memory of an exposed, beaten woman flashed in my thou

A chilly night has settled in as the sun slipped behind our mountain range. We live in a rain shadow spot, a place that has turned into a desert. The mountains collect most of the rain that plants need. Summer is just unbearably hot. Winter’s a different story. It is easier keeping warm than getting warm once chilled. Hats and socks are a must, and outerwear layered, kept clean and in good repair. As nightfall approaches, here’s a suggestion: grab a warm body. We are without

Appears for now enough talent and muscle on site. Men and women prepared to share their specialized skills in the establishment of a robust operation. I arrived late to the game, as an ex-teacher, a competent cook, carrying a tragic story, willing to follow directions. Evidently, there was some discussion about my added value to the community. My acceptance was not unanimous. I’m in and plan to remain under the radar, do what I’m told while avoiding scrutiny from select membe

As a community, or for now a collective, we occupy a space we call home. Why we ended up at this locale, I know not. Seems we were all searching for a respite. A sanctuary city where we could find temporary relief. Maybe a more permanent home? Unlikely. Those are stories for a later date. All I know about the world: it is in a state of disintegration. The rule of law that once kept humanity afloat has broken. Some of our Founding Fathers feared the social experiment would cru

We are uncaring tenants. Some would disagree. Of course, there are always the eternal optimists. Those who believe tomorrow all will change, we will revert to what appears to be their fiction. Mother Nature was unimpressed with humanity — or its desire to correct its own damage. She waits. All the while, we project an arrogant facade. Convinced we can correct any recent ecological, technological blunder. She is fully aware time is on Her side. She is unbeatable. I exist, for

They warned us. Again and again and again. But here we are, living on a planet in distress. It’s like aging. I pass a mirror and wonder, when the hell did that happen? I met an old friend and wondered silently, wow; they have not aged well. It just happens — entropy. We see it, we rationalize “singular” events, and act surprised when they repeat. Our future predetermined. Born long after the Milky Way formed, we will eventually return to stardust. But for now, we battle daily