I had to ride the bus that day. It was really frustrating because my truck had just been given a clean bill of health after spending weeks in the shop with problems that I didn’t even know how to spell. Trouble was, I’d forgotten to get the stupid emissions tested. So, that morning at five thirty I woke up to the sound of incessant beeping and a snippet of a song came to me as I reached over to end the terrible noise. Alarm clock screaming monsters coming my way… What was it from? I couldn’t remember at the time, so I flung myself out of bed, tired and a little irritated, knowing that it would bother me all day until I remembered.
My tiny apartment was abysmally gray that morning, since the sun hadn’t come up and only one lamp had a bulb that worked. I was so broke. I ate my cereal by the light of my single working lamp and ruminated on what an uneventful day I had ahead of me. How was I to know that the world was going to change that morning? I was planning on going to see Mom because Dad was out of town, and I hated to see her have to deal with my younger siblings all by herself. But before that I had work. And before work came the dreaded stench of public transportation.
So there I was on the bus again. I hate the bus. Kids, drunks, and old fat ladies all crammed together in one claustrophobic metallic tube. I felt filthy when I was on it. But on this particular day, I only shared the bus with three other people, including the driver; all of whom kept their distance, for which I was very grateful.
I fell asleep with my head leaning against the window. What woke me up-what woke the whole world up-made the ground shake and the bus driver slam on the brakes. I, along with the two other helpless passengers, went flying forward into whatever sat in front of us. I was lucky enough to be sitting in a seat that had a guardrail directly in front of it. Otherwise I probably would have gone through the windshield. The rail hit me in the sternum, knocking the wind out of me. I crumpled and fell to the ground.
A balding middle aged man was in the aisle next to me sporting a newly broken and bloodied nose caused by his recent crash to the floor. He regained his feet and then extended his hand to help me. Once we were up he spoke. “Are you alright?” I looked down at my stomach, wincing at the pain, but replied with “Yeah, you?” anyway. “Ah, I’ll be fine.” But he didn’t look fine. Then my eyes fell on the other passenger.
The man with the broken nose walked past me toward the front of the bus, but I barely noticed him. The other passenger was a woman. A pregnant woman. She was pretty far along from what I could tell. Tears were streaming down her face. She had herself propped up against one of the seats and was holding her stomach. I walked towards her, and as I got closer I heard her whispering, “Oh God, please God, Oh…” I crouched down beside her. Her long brown hair had fallen into her face as she sat rocking back and forth looking down at her belly.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?” She was startled at the sound of my voice, but she regained some of her composure and said through choked sobs, “He’s dead, I know he is, he’s gone, Oh God!” She latched on to me and just wept into my shoulder. I tried my best to console her, tried to ask her how she had landed, but she just wailed into my shirt. I took her by the shoulders and literally yanked her off of me and looked into her face. “Hey! It’s gonna be okay… you don’t know that. Now tell me how you fell.” She seemed shocked, but she didn’t start up again. Instead she answered that she had been thrown into the back of the seat in front of her, her stomach taking most of the blow.
“I’m telling you, I’ve lost my son! I shouldn’t even be on this stupid bus! I want to go home! I just… I… I just can’t…” Her words started to trail off into little moans, and I took her hand and helped her to her feet. When I turned I noticed that the driver and the other man were no longer on the bus. I started forward, the pregnant woman in tow, her hand clutching mine in a death grip.
I led her off the bus, into the crowded street. I found the man who had helped me up and I laid my hand on his shoulder. He turned. His face had gone very pale. The driver was close, but he was turned away from me. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” He didn’t respond. Perhaps couldn’t. He simply turned. My gaze followed his past the driver. Off in the distance, the sky had gone dark. Very dark. It was like staring into nothingness. The sun should have been up; but the darkness was coming from the east.
I managed to tear my eyes from it when I started to feel pins and needles in my left hand. The pregnant woman was still holding on, so tightly that she had cut off my circulation. Her face was blank and motionless, staring into the dark. I pulled my hand free but she didn’t seem to care. She just kept staring into the blackness. I approached the bus driver. “Excuse me. Sir? Hello?” He finally looked down at me, his eyes still glassy and horrified. “What happened? Did you see it?”
Sunday, January 18, 2009
It Is Well In The Wastelands
This is a story that I've had inside me for at least two years now, maybe more. It comes out in little spurts, and I think of it often. But now I need to translate the images in my mind into words, because I think this story is one that the whole world can appreciate. And if not the whole world, then at least my friends and family.
The premise is fairly simple. The United States is attacked and government and social order completely falls apart. The story focuses on how a group of survivors cope with the new world they've been thrust into.
The main character (and her family) is loosely based on my own nature and family. There are several characters that come into the story that you may recognize if you know me well.
I will post some excerpts here, as I finish them and am satisfied with the results. But a lot of it will need to be revised and edited and read over many many times before I can do anything serious with it.
I hope you enjoy what you read, and please give me feedback. I would really appreciate it.
Look for another piece of the story soon.
-Nicole
The premise is fairly simple. The United States is attacked and government and social order completely falls apart. The story focuses on how a group of survivors cope with the new world they've been thrust into.
The main character (and her family) is loosely based on my own nature and family. There are several characters that come into the story that you may recognize if you know me well.
I will post some excerpts here, as I finish them and am satisfied with the results. But a lot of it will need to be revised and edited and read over many many times before I can do anything serious with it.
I hope you enjoy what you read, and please give me feedback. I would really appreciate it.
Look for another piece of the story soon.
-Nicole
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Discordia
Discordia
January 2008, it was raining. Hard.
It was just a simple supply run- nothing particularly special about it. We needed more drugs for my mother, because the sickness was eating away at her. It wouldn’t be long now. I knew it, and so did David. We didn’t want to go, because the storm was close and growing louder by the minute. I remember climbing into my pickup, laying the shotgun on the seat next to me and thinking that it was a bad idea to leave her alone.
But I was afraid to go by myself. I had done it once before and failed to bring anything home but a broken rib. So Dave got into the passenger seat, his right hand tightly gripping Dad’s Beretta, and said, “We make this as fast as possible. We go in, we get the meds, we get out. Do not get separated. Got it?” I nodded. I was terrified.
I started the truck and turned on the wipers. The rain was pounding now. I drove down the road towards the store. Something was wrong. I could hear ticking. It was like a watch, counting down the days, hours, and minutes I had left. Or maybe that someone else had left. I thought of Mom again. Something was off. Too late to turn back. I suppose I was afraid of what I might be forced to do. I had never killed anyone before. David had, to save me, to take care of our family he had done what he needed to do. I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do it.
As we rode through the desolation that was once a fairly normal neighborhood I saw a boy bash a dog’s head in with a stone. He looked hungry. I felt myself almost lose it again. It’s hard to fathom if you pause for more than an instant to think about it. The explosions in the distance, the sirens, and the weather… all of it seemed so unreal, so impossible. In that instant I just knew that I would wake up in a padded room. That it was all some terrible hoax. But the boy was still kneeling beside the corpse in the rain, and I was still driving. And just like that, I was back again.
We were almost there when it happened- another event that would alter my life completely. Only this time it wasn’t a nuclear attack. It was right there. There in the rain.
I didn’t see it happen. I only heard David yell and then there was pain and blood. I lost control of the truck. I didn’t fully lose consciousness, but I became disoriented. It all happened so fast. I was being dragged backward and upward, through the window and out of the truck, the glass ripping into my clothes and scraping the skin beneath.
Concrete. The truck was still rolling forward. Away from me. David had to keep going. That was the only vehicle we had, and transportation was one of our most valuable assets. I just knew that he had taken the wheel and gotten into the driver’s seat. I hoped that he had. Hoped that he would go home to mom, take care of her, and not worry about me. I was a goner. I knew that. I could feel warm blood on my cheeks. My blood. Leaving me behind was the right thing to do. A part of me, as terrified as I was, wanted him to leave me. I was ready to die.
But there was never any real hope for that. Only a fool’s hope. David loved me more than anything in this world, and I really don’t think that he could survive long without me. He was strong, yes, but he needed me. Just like I needed him. Like Mom needed him. I guess he wasn’t thinking about that when he threw himself out of the car.
I hadn’t even processed that the truck had stopped when I heard gunfire. He was running towards me, towards the man who grabbed me, and shooting like crazy. He unloaded an entire clip. Before I knew it he was beside me telling me to get back in the truck. I didn’t get a chance to tell him I didn’t think I could drive before he pulled me up off the ground with such force that I nearly lost my balance and went down again. I started to stagger towards the smudge of red and gray I assumed was the truck. The world had taken on a kind of deafening silence, and that feeling of unreality gripped me again. Nevertheless, he was behind me, ushering me forward, toward safety.
For a brief moment, I thought everything was alright. That it had been a close call, but that we would be fine. We’d go home to Mom, find that she was actually feeling much better now, and go back for supplies later. I was three parking spaces away from the truck when I heard the shot. It rang out in the silence and brought with it all the sensation of sound and sight I had temporarily lost. At first, I didn’t know where it had come from. David was only a few paces behind me, and I assumed at first that it was him who fired the shot. But when I turned, I saw it.
A tall, lank figure of a man stood holding a revolver out in front of him. He was dark and had to have been at least six and a half feet tall. He had a grin on his face. I’ll never forget it for as long as I live. He was grinning. The barrel of his gun had a little wisp of smoke curling out of its end. My eyes fell on my brother, still standing, holding the Beretta limply in his right hand. His left hand was clapped over his forehead, like a man who has just remembered something very important. I didn’t see the blood sneaking out between his fingers at first. Maybe I didn’t want to. He slid to his knees, and then went down on his back. That’s when I saw it. That’s when I saw the hole the bullet had made. I nearly lost it again. There was that feeling of unreality, that there was no way this could be happening. But the rain beat down on us, and he lay there, dying.
When I reached his side he was murmuring something I couldn’t make out. Even when I bent closer to hear I couldn’t tell what he was trying to say. I still wonder what he was trying to tell me to this day. But there were no final words that passed between us. No dying sentiment about how much he loved me. No message to give Mom. No words. Just… spasms. Spasms caused by the bullet that scrambled his brains. I started to weep. It wasn’t just tears; it was everything. Everything inside just came pouring out. I tried to form words, thinking that maybe I could tell him something. The best I could manage was “It’s gonna be okay.” It was the biggest lie in the world, yet for some reason I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My eyes were hot with tears. I reached behind his head and felt his blood pouring out into the parking lot.
That’s when the ticking stopped. David stopped. No more jittering, no more spasms. Just me and my brother’s corpse together in the parking lot of the local market. He’d run away red through my fingers. It was all lost. Everything. I heard the man chuckle, and looked up as he started forward, toward my truck. I was lost in rage. Before I knew it I was up and running at the truck. He picked up speed and tried to grab me. I had reached the cab and gotten halfway in when he caught the back of my shirt. I reached for the shotgun and shoved the barrel into my assailant’s gut. I squeezed the trigger. He fell backward onto the wet pavement. He was coughing up blood and looking up at me, all the while with a stunned look on his face. As if he couldn’t believe that I had done it.
I cocked the gun and shot again. That shot took off his head. Through all of the blinding emotions I remember thinking it was odd that he hadn’t shot me like he shot David. I looked down at the body, bent over and pulled the revolver out of its holster. I opened it up to find no bullets. He’d spent his last shot on my brother. Sorrow came flooding back, replacing rage and draining me of all the adrenaline I’d just used to kill someone. He was gone. And so was I.
By Nicole Thomas
January 2008, it was raining. Hard.
It was just a simple supply run- nothing particularly special about it. We needed more drugs for my mother, because the sickness was eating away at her. It wouldn’t be long now. I knew it, and so did David. We didn’t want to go, because the storm was close and growing louder by the minute. I remember climbing into my pickup, laying the shotgun on the seat next to me and thinking that it was a bad idea to leave her alone.
But I was afraid to go by myself. I had done it once before and failed to bring anything home but a broken rib. So Dave got into the passenger seat, his right hand tightly gripping Dad’s Beretta, and said, “We make this as fast as possible. We go in, we get the meds, we get out. Do not get separated. Got it?” I nodded. I was terrified.
I started the truck and turned on the wipers. The rain was pounding now. I drove down the road towards the store. Something was wrong. I could hear ticking. It was like a watch, counting down the days, hours, and minutes I had left. Or maybe that someone else had left. I thought of Mom again. Something was off. Too late to turn back. I suppose I was afraid of what I might be forced to do. I had never killed anyone before. David had, to save me, to take care of our family he had done what he needed to do. I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do it.
As we rode through the desolation that was once a fairly normal neighborhood I saw a boy bash a dog’s head in with a stone. He looked hungry. I felt myself almost lose it again. It’s hard to fathom if you pause for more than an instant to think about it. The explosions in the distance, the sirens, and the weather… all of it seemed so unreal, so impossible. In that instant I just knew that I would wake up in a padded room. That it was all some terrible hoax. But the boy was still kneeling beside the corpse in the rain, and I was still driving. And just like that, I was back again.
We were almost there when it happened- another event that would alter my life completely. Only this time it wasn’t a nuclear attack. It was right there. There in the rain.
I didn’t see it happen. I only heard David yell and then there was pain and blood. I lost control of the truck. I didn’t fully lose consciousness, but I became disoriented. It all happened so fast. I was being dragged backward and upward, through the window and out of the truck, the glass ripping into my clothes and scraping the skin beneath.
Concrete. The truck was still rolling forward. Away from me. David had to keep going. That was the only vehicle we had, and transportation was one of our most valuable assets. I just knew that he had taken the wheel and gotten into the driver’s seat. I hoped that he had. Hoped that he would go home to mom, take care of her, and not worry about me. I was a goner. I knew that. I could feel warm blood on my cheeks. My blood. Leaving me behind was the right thing to do. A part of me, as terrified as I was, wanted him to leave me. I was ready to die.
But there was never any real hope for that. Only a fool’s hope. David loved me more than anything in this world, and I really don’t think that he could survive long without me. He was strong, yes, but he needed me. Just like I needed him. Like Mom needed him. I guess he wasn’t thinking about that when he threw himself out of the car.
I hadn’t even processed that the truck had stopped when I heard gunfire. He was running towards me, towards the man who grabbed me, and shooting like crazy. He unloaded an entire clip. Before I knew it he was beside me telling me to get back in the truck. I didn’t get a chance to tell him I didn’t think I could drive before he pulled me up off the ground with such force that I nearly lost my balance and went down again. I started to stagger towards the smudge of red and gray I assumed was the truck. The world had taken on a kind of deafening silence, and that feeling of unreality gripped me again. Nevertheless, he was behind me, ushering me forward, toward safety.
For a brief moment, I thought everything was alright. That it had been a close call, but that we would be fine. We’d go home to Mom, find that she was actually feeling much better now, and go back for supplies later. I was three parking spaces away from the truck when I heard the shot. It rang out in the silence and brought with it all the sensation of sound and sight I had temporarily lost. At first, I didn’t know where it had come from. David was only a few paces behind me, and I assumed at first that it was him who fired the shot. But when I turned, I saw it.
A tall, lank figure of a man stood holding a revolver out in front of him. He was dark and had to have been at least six and a half feet tall. He had a grin on his face. I’ll never forget it for as long as I live. He was grinning. The barrel of his gun had a little wisp of smoke curling out of its end. My eyes fell on my brother, still standing, holding the Beretta limply in his right hand. His left hand was clapped over his forehead, like a man who has just remembered something very important. I didn’t see the blood sneaking out between his fingers at first. Maybe I didn’t want to. He slid to his knees, and then went down on his back. That’s when I saw it. That’s when I saw the hole the bullet had made. I nearly lost it again. There was that feeling of unreality, that there was no way this could be happening. But the rain beat down on us, and he lay there, dying.
When I reached his side he was murmuring something I couldn’t make out. Even when I bent closer to hear I couldn’t tell what he was trying to say. I still wonder what he was trying to tell me to this day. But there were no final words that passed between us. No dying sentiment about how much he loved me. No message to give Mom. No words. Just… spasms. Spasms caused by the bullet that scrambled his brains. I started to weep. It wasn’t just tears; it was everything. Everything inside just came pouring out. I tried to form words, thinking that maybe I could tell him something. The best I could manage was “It’s gonna be okay.” It was the biggest lie in the world, yet for some reason I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My eyes were hot with tears. I reached behind his head and felt his blood pouring out into the parking lot.
That’s when the ticking stopped. David stopped. No more jittering, no more spasms. Just me and my brother’s corpse together in the parking lot of the local market. He’d run away red through my fingers. It was all lost. Everything. I heard the man chuckle, and looked up as he started forward, toward my truck. I was lost in rage. Before I knew it I was up and running at the truck. He picked up speed and tried to grab me. I had reached the cab and gotten halfway in when he caught the back of my shirt. I reached for the shotgun and shoved the barrel into my assailant’s gut. I squeezed the trigger. He fell backward onto the wet pavement. He was coughing up blood and looking up at me, all the while with a stunned look on his face. As if he couldn’t believe that I had done it.
I cocked the gun and shot again. That shot took off his head. Through all of the blinding emotions I remember thinking it was odd that he hadn’t shot me like he shot David. I looked down at the body, bent over and pulled the revolver out of its holster. I opened it up to find no bullets. He’d spent his last shot on my brother. Sorrow came flooding back, replacing rage and draining me of all the adrenaline I’d just used to kill someone. He was gone. And so was I.
By Nicole Thomas
Friday, January 16, 2009
Nicole has a blog now...
Hey world, it's me, Nicole. NicoletheRedHead actually. You may know me from my super popular YouTube channel... okay, it's really not that popular...yet. But you should check it out if you haven't yet. You should. You REALLY should.
http://www.youtube.com/Nicoletheredhead
Nicole in HD!
I suppose I should more properly introduce myself. My name is Nicole. I'm attending college in Dayton, TN. Bryan College- Christ Above All! I grew up in and still call Nashville my home. And, obviously, being from Nashville, I'm a musician. I'm a music major, vocal performance to be specific. I love movies, books, TV, musical theater, and pretty much all forms of media.
I LOVE COMIC BOOKS. I'm totally loyal to MARVEL comics, although I will admit that I did stoop to read Watchmen, which is published by DC, the sworn enemy of MARVEL. Anyway, while I'm on the subject of MARVEL comics, I might as well divulge that my favorite super hero and comic book character of all time is Wolverine. He is a fascinating character and he is brought to life brilliantly by one of my favorite actors and the Sexiest Man Alive, Hugh Jackman.
My first vehicle was a truck, and his name was LEONIDAS. That's right, Leonidas. And he was awesome. Until he was destroyed by a drunk Mexican.
I will post an excerpt from the book I'm "writing" soon.
Okay, I think you've learned enough about me for one post.
http://www.youtube.com/Nicoletheredhead
Nicole in HD!
I suppose I should more properly introduce myself. My name is Nicole. I'm attending college in Dayton, TN. Bryan College- Christ Above All! I grew up in and still call Nashville my home. And, obviously, being from Nashville, I'm a musician. I'm a music major, vocal performance to be specific. I love movies, books, TV, musical theater, and pretty much all forms of media.
I LOVE COMIC BOOKS. I'm totally loyal to MARVEL comics, although I will admit that I did stoop to read Watchmen, which is published by DC, the sworn enemy of MARVEL. Anyway, while I'm on the subject of MARVEL comics, I might as well divulge that my favorite super hero and comic book character of all time is Wolverine. He is a fascinating character and he is brought to life brilliantly by one of my favorite actors and the Sexiest Man Alive, Hugh Jackman.
My first vehicle was a truck, and his name was LEONIDAS. That's right, Leonidas. And he was awesome. Until he was destroyed by a drunk Mexican.
I will post an excerpt from the book I'm "writing" soon.
Okay, I think you've learned enough about me for one post.
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