Welcome! (again) I'm still trying to find a sign on phrase. I'm starting to think welcome (again) is actually pretty good. It's no "How's it going bros" Though.
I've hit 150 pageviews! yaaaaayyy! It's been such a long... three day journey. Like I promised, I'll post some writing on here for everyone to read. This time, i'll give you the first few pages of a new short story "event" That I'm working on. Sophisticated, am I right? The idea is it's four short stories that carry on from each other, and when you put them together, it makes a very, very short book. It's called Red zone. Fun fact: I originally named it dead zone, but I have been informed that Dead zone is a Stephen King novel. That guy is always stealing my ideas....
The story is set on another world, and about a teenage boy called Milo, who grows up generations after a cataclysmic event that threw civilization back centuries. He's left his "Hometown" (hinting at something with the quotes there) to go on a pilgrimage across the country, but to get where he needs to go, he must pass through the "Red zone," which isn't exactly a holiday resort. What was once a giant metropolis, is now a place full of warring factions, ash storms and collapsing buildings. Have fun!
Just a footnote: When I said "Goes on a pilgrimage" earlier, it may sound like it's a massive plot hole I can't be bothered to patch, but the idea is you find out where he's going later on. Anyway, enjoy!
RED ZONE: DO NOT ENTER… Reads
the sign standing on the side of the road.
I stare at it, squinting through the ash flying through the air. It’s a rusty old sign. The message on it has been painted over some
directions that the sign had originally been used for, by the looks of it. It’s scrawled in red paint. One of the only memories I have of my dad, my
real dad, was a piece of wisdom he gave me.
If something is written in red
paint, listen to it. But I can’t
this time. If I ever want to see him
again, I can’t. I take my rusty old
hunting rifle from the bonnet of the car that I had put it on and continue down
the highway, as I have for an hour or two now.
It’s raised up on a bridge and it leads right into the city. Below me is just wasteland. I tried walking down there, and I almost sunk
in the ash. Of course, there’s still ash
up here on the highway, but not as much.
The road is littered with abandoned cars that are rusted down to the
core. Dust covers all of them like a
blanket. I weave in and out of them
quickly, expertly jumping over debris and navigating parts of the bridge which
have fallen down. I walk for another
half an hour or so, trying not to think about the dangers that lie ahead, but
also not being able to stop thinking about it.
In the ten years I lived in Lawson, I heard stories about the dead zone. I heard stories of monsters that lurked in
the sewers and came out at night for food.
I heard rumours of savages who lived inside, of people who ripped each
other to shreds with their bare hands.
Of course, I dismissed all of them, but now, it seems pretty hard to do
that. There’s something about this
place. It’s quiet, like everywhere in
the world, but for some reason, it seems like it shouldn’t be quiet. I tell myself it’s just nerves and carry on.
About an hour later I spot a truck down the road. More of a large van than truck. It sits sideways in the road, two other cars
jammed into its side, denting the metal.
I decide that it might be a good idea to take a look on the top of it,
see where I am. At the moment I can only
see a few meters in front of me. There’s
an ash storm raging. I climb up onto the
bonnet and place my hands on the roof of the cabin, lifting myself up right
onto the roof. I thought that maybe from
up here I could see further, But it’s not much different. The ash flies much quicker from up here
though. I pull the cloth wrapped around
my neck further up my face so that I don’t inhale any. The soft, dust like particles blow into my
eyes though. I don’t have any
sunglasses, so I have to wipe my stinging eyes every few seconds. I stand up there for a few minutes, trying to
see what’s up ahead, how long I have to go.
I want to find shelter by night.
Then, in the background, I begin to hear something. Like a mechanical purring. Then in gets louder, beginning to form a roaring
sound. Then, I hear crashing and
metallic scraping. Panic begins to rise
inside me. I grab the strap of my
hunting rifle and pull it so the gun swings from my bag, resting on my chunky
pack, to my front, where I grab it and hold it tightly. My mind goes through all the different myths
I heard. Maybe it was one of the
automated metal flying machines that I heard about at the marketplace a year or
so ago. I suddenly catch myself thinking
about all the stories and almost pass out from the fear. It’s getting closer. I see lights appear on the road. I have to move. I run across the top of the truck and fall to
my butt as I near the edge, sliding right off the edge. I’m about to roll as I fall to the ground but
my muscles won’t work with me, and I land flat on my face. I know I don’t have any time to inspect how
hurt I got from the fall. I’m on the
very left side of the highway, a few meters away from the barrier that separates
me from the wasteland. For a second I
think about jumping over, but instead I pull myself behind a car. I try to stay strong as I hide in cover,
trying to fight the “Why did I do this” thoughts.
At first, I don’t dare to look up,
thinking that whatever this hulking thing is, is going to see me and I’ll be
dead before I can run. But I have to
know what it is. Riddled with fear, I
raise my shaky head and look through the glass-less windows of the car out to
the road. And there, pushing a car in
front of it, it comes into view.
It’s a truck. Not like the one I was
just standing on. A hulking, giant
truck. It’s about 20 meters long, the
metal it’s made of rusted. Flags with
symbols scrawled across them in red paint hang from the side windows. The carriage the truck is pulling behind it
is painted in some places with black and red paint. Attached to the front is an ash plough that
goes all the way up to the windows of the cabin. Stuck on the front of it is a wreck of a car,
making a horrible scraping noise as it gets pushed along the highway with the
slow moving truck. Then I spot something
I can’t believe I didn’t see in the first place. There are people sitting on the top of the
truck, legs dangling over the edge.
They’re all armed with rifles, machine guns, pistols and machetes. They start shouting to what I think is each
other, until I see there are more of them on the ground. Just feet away from me. Patrolling the highway. I suddenly feel unsafe in my hiding space,
but don’t dare to move. I keep watching
to see what’s going to happen as they get nearer to the van blocking the
way. The truck keeps plodding along the
highway at about five miles an hour, smashing anything in its path until it
gets close to the truck. Then there’s a
sinister hissing followed by a gut-wrenching screech and the truck rolls to a
stop. The engine randomly cuts out and
the men begin to climb down, shouting as they do. I listen carefully to what they’re saying.
“I don’t care how, just find a way through!” The man driving the truck shouts
to his friends. I see there are five
from the truck and four more on the road.
“We could use the explosives, but that could mess up the whole bridge.”
“Boss, can’t you just push it out of the way.”
Calls out a voice dangerously close.
I realize he’s right on the other side of the car I’m behind. I reflexively duck down, but still listen to
what they’re saying.
“I don’t think that’s gonna work, bro.
There’s a whole pile up on the other side of this truck.” One more,
distant voice replies. My heart sinks in
dread when I hear they’ll be stuck next to me.
I have no idea how to evade them without them seeing me. I think for a second that I could always just
reveal myself from hiding and hope they won’t attack me, but my hopes of doing
that are dashed when the man in the cabin shouts, “If you find anyone, you know
the drill. Leave ‘em, or shoot ‘em!”
I try to fight the idea that this is it.
That my journey’s over before it’s even started. I just sit behind the car. Listening to see what’s going to happen
next. In my head, I’m trying to plan what
I’m going to do, thinking so hard, going over all the scenarios. I’m thinking so hard that I hardly notice
when one of the men comes over to where I’m hiding. I see him just in time. He’s just about to
round the corner of the car and see me, but I react quickly. I fall to the floor and roll under the car,
ripping my long overcoat on shards of glass on the tarmac as I do. I silently watch the man’s feet as he walks
past the car from under it, fear constricting my muscles and my breath. I wait a good minute or so before I even dare
to breathe again. My hands are pressed
up against the bottom of the car.
There’s so little space under here my nose touches it. I compose myself and come up with a
plan. I’m going to get back out and find
out just how many of them there are.
With any luck, they’re moving the truck and they’ll be out of the
way. I begin to shimmy out from under
the car, making sure I don’t even make the slightest noise. I reach the edge and peek my head out,
praying the men are gone. It’s clear
down the side of the road. I roll out
and pull my pack with me. Now I’m
sitting on the side of the road, head down and rifle clutched in my hands.
I can hear sounds coming from behind me, and I see that all the men except the
driver of the truck are behind the van, trying to move the piled-up cars next
to it. I begin to survey the road ahead
of me, noticing the ash storm has died down a bit. This allows me to see a site which puts a
shred of hope back inside me. About 100
meters ahead, I spot the outlines of buildings which hulk over the highway, all
lined up against a road cutting through the one I’m on. It’s the outskirts of the city. I’m trying to remember the map I bought from
the market in Lawson, fearing that if I try and retrieve it from my pack, I’ll
make noise and be seen. I know that a
few miles from here, the actual city starts.
I summon courage from the sight.
I know that I can make it out alive.
If I make a run for it down the highway and find a way down, I might be
able to outrun these guys. I take a
minute to plan my route through the cars, knowing I just have to get out of the
driver man’s range of hearing and I’m clear.
Then, I take a deep breath, spring into a crouch, and swing my rifle
onto my back. I stay in that position
for a few seconds, thinking I’m going to go but not actually moving my
muscles. Then, at a complete random
time, I put my hands in front of me and forward roll from the car, landing
behind the next one. I check that driver
hasn’t seen me, my body pumping with adrenaline, and break into a silent run,
going up the highway. I vault over the
bonnet of the next car and spin away from the one after that, that’s parked
sideways on the road. I reach a point on
the road where the bridge it’s supported by has split into two. It looks like the part I’m on disconnected
from the next part, as the road is a meter or so higher than it is on
mine. To get up, I have to scale a
concrete ledge that was once attached to my road. I don’t even plan my jump. I spin left, swiftly pull myself up onto a
car bonnet that’s pressed up against the jump and leap across, swiftly rolling
on the hard ground and landing in a crouch.
I scarper over to another car to get cover and then stay there for a few
seconds. Now that I stop I can’t believe
what’s happening. There are men a few
seconds away from me who want to kill me.
I’ve never been so vulnerable in my life. At this second I begin to question what I’m
doing. Why did I ever want to leave
Lawson in the first place? I remember hating it there, but now, Thoughts of
that huge town just bring feelings of regret.
Regret that I ever left.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost scream when I hear someone call out to
me. A shiver leaps from my feet and
jumps through me. I pull myself together
and nervously look around the edge of the car.
I can’t believe my eyes when I see more.
More men.
They look like they’re from the same group of people before. They’re talking to the driver, who’s coming
towards them. I don’t bother to listen
to their words. I’m panicking so bad I
can’t even come up with a plan. There
are even more than before. There closest
one is a mere ten meters away from me.
In about ten seconds he’s coming to run right into me. My head frantically spins around, looking for
a way out. A pile up of cars 5 meters
away. A gap in the barricade a ways down the line. I’ll never make it there. I have to keep looking. Nothing; no way out. Wait… there’s a power line running along
beside the highway. The poles just about
reach above the road. Except a little
bit down the line, the electric wire must have snapped. It’s dangling down like a rope, and It leads
straight onto the road below. I check to
see where the other men are. I only have
a few seconds. My mind assesses what
will happen, but at some point, my body takes over again. I don’t even think about stealth. Half crouching, I stumble across the road. I’m too scared to look behind me, I just
go. And then, just as I think I’m clear,
it all goes wrong. Pain shoots through
my ankle and I go tumbling to the floor, my head smashing into a car door as I
descend. The pain in my head is
indescribable, and my eyesight can’t line up.
There’s two duplicates of everything, and there’s no way to know which
one is real.
I’m screwed now. I think to myself. Tears well up in my eyes. It was too quick. I thought I could at least make it into the
city first-
“Hey, there’s someone here!” A slurred voice announces. Three looming figures appear in front of me,
one of them real. He has a gun in his
hands. And when I see that, I conjure up
some sort of defiance inside of me. I
have to try and do something.
I think of the rifle and shiver. But I
know I have to. I have to do it. My trembling hands go behind my back. My eyesight’s regaining now. I see three people standing over me. Two have their rifles aimed at me. The others have their weapons holstered. I can’t believe they haven’t shot me yet-
I clasp the rifle on my back. I can’t believe what I’m doing. I don’t know how I’m going to escape even if
I do use it. One shot loaded. Four men in front of me. But my hands still pull begin to pull the
rifle in front of me. I do it slowly, so
they don’t see what I’m doing, but then, as I reveal what’s on my back, it
happens so fast.
One shouts in alarm. I’m already pulling
the bolt back. The men holding their
rifle bring their fingers to their trigger, but they don’t shoot. It’s like they can’t. I’m simultaneously standing and aiming the
gun. At my hip, I line it up with the
rifle man on the left. Bring my finger
down to the trigger, hold it there for a second as the gun shakes violently in
my hand, and then-
BANG.
What have I done? Utter horror consumes
me as the man looks down to his stomach, where blood is spraying everywhere,
and collapse to the ground. His eyes so
empty. The others begin to kick into
action, and before I know it, I scramble over the bonnet of the car and sprint
to the wire. Behind me, A hundred tiny
explosions erupt. Bullets smash into
rusted metal around me.
What the hell have I done what have I
done what have I done-
I blindly dodge the tiny metal cylinders that come screaming towards me and
just run as fast as I can. I don’t know
how I’m ever going to outrun those men.
There’s an entire army of them. I
reach the end of the highway and jump up onto the thick barrier. I don’t even have time to plan my jump. I close my eyes, crouch, and propel myself
off the side. But as I jump panic causes
me to seize up. My feet slip. I falter.
And then I fall. It’s a jump that
barely lasts a second, and I don’t know how it even occurs to me in that second
to stick my hands out in front of me. I
feel something. The line. I force my hands to tighten and my whole body
goes from falling head first to clinging to the wire. I involuntarily zip down it and land at an
extremely high speed onto the ash.
The short stories will be going on the website wattpad, where people can upload their writing and others can see it. I hope you enjoyed these first few pages. I'll bring you updates on how i'm doing with the story and tell you when It comes onto wattpad.
For now, Stay frosty.
-Joe
(Good news, I have a sign off phrase!)
Nice stories
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