RECORDING MOMENTS IN TIME

We hustled homeward, empty-handed, navigating obstacles along the trail. Approaching the Well , notice a small group has gathered, applauding? Celebrating our safe return? I did not realize that such a committee existed. Soon realize 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

We follow 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 at night revealing life. Now moving slowly, hoping to be seen, hoping to draw attention to our group. Not wanting to be ambushed. At the bottom of the pathway, Brett turned the wagon about, heading back toward the trailhead, our entrance pointing homeward, and paused. Nearby buildings, possibly filled with debris, alre

Three days of backbreaking work clearing a path wide enough to squeeze a wagon through with ease. Blisters aplenty. Fortunately, we recruited several others to help. Sure, favors implied, a quid pro quo. Still, words you’ll never hear from me: ‘I promise.’ Never commit to anything, ever. From a rooftop, I noticed ‘committee’ members? And folks of the Well observing. Surely wondering what the hell we were up to. Wasting time and energy. Providing nothing for the community. Won

Sunrise. I found Brett already inspecting the wagon. Satisfied, he climbed aboard and looked around. The weather was clear for the moment. Everyone prepared their mount. 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, I spotted a high-powered sniper rifle with a scope resting on a black drag bag. I understood he was an investigator working for anyone willing to hire h

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 these 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 digging, preparing for another victim of the times, lowered for eternity. Lost in my thoughts, a soft voice breaks the moment. “Excuse me, Jesse?” I slowly turn to an unexpected sight. Focusing my attention on a young, petite woman standing nearby. She

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 stood, then 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, unclear. Hoping that in all the chaos, people running for safety, not aware of what just happened. I never looked b

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 severs 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, tangible while a laborer is alive, a doctor, dead, is of no value. People can barter the value of life, which they define as the ‘product’ it can produce and what it can give back. 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 run

Awaken by the warmth of the sun, no rain, cool for now. I could hear movement nearby and felt the whispers. I laid quietly, eyes closed, inhale and exhale, repeat, 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 is not dead. A bad dream. Staring at the blue tarp, I replayed the events, the sounds. He fired, first hitting the roof, then silence. Seconds passed as I pull the trigger, slow, knowing I

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

A chilly night has settled in as the sun slipped behind our mountain range. We live in the rain shadow, supposedly that patch of land that has become a desert because the mountains block much of the rainfall necessary for plant growth, followed by oppressive heat. Summer. Winters 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 suggest

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, armed with 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 mem

As a community, or for now a collective, we occupy a space we call home. Why we ended up at this venue, I know not. Seems we were all searching for a respite. A sanctuary city where we could find temporary relief. I’m thinking 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. Our Founding Fathers concluded our social experiment wou

We are apparently uncaring tenants. Some likely would disagree. Of course, there are always the eternal optimists. Those believing tomorrow all will change, we will revert to what appears to be their fiction. Mother Nature was clearly unimpressed with humanity or its ability to design the next brilliant innovation. 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 s

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 meet an old friend and wonder silently, wow; they have not aged well. It just happens, entropy, we see it, we rationalize “singular” events, and act surprised when they repeat. Conceived long after the Milky Way formed, we will eventually return to stardust. Today is but a tick on the eternal clock. “Joe” d