Assault Party

The radio cracked dismissively with invisible beads of static and haze. Dixie had been waiting weeks for this transmission: a genuine radio report, from CSPAN. Cities were finally getting back on their care-worn feet, though some inhabitants would never walk again. The cure hadn’t done much, but it had flushed the putrid stench of death from the air, and the risk of cause-of-death contamination. She pulled her cracked and chapped lips into a giddy smile, at the sound of a voice carrying over the all-encompassing static.

“Life has been thrown into chaos, but many willed humans have been striving to correct this. North Korea has turned Midwest America into a radioactive waste land, but Kim Il-sung has been assassinated, and left North Korea with no ruler. Nuclear force will no longer be used against the fallen governments of North America.”

Dixie’s eyes lifted, excitement rising in her chest like bile at the finale of the bombardment. She had been worried about the possibility of dying that way herself.

“The cure has spread worldwide and cities are finally safe to re-enter. The official date for the entire removal of corpses from cities is: November 22, 2012, just in time for Christmas!”

She had been keeping count of the days: today was the tenth. Companies had been working non-stop to remove the bodies and all chances of contagion.

“The newly rising Better living industries, headed by the scientist turned hero, the concocter of the cure, has made a significant pledge to remove the suffering of…”

She ignored the blathering newscaster, in lieu of watching the fairly large lizard that had just crawled onto the dusty hood of Jewel. The Ford had not been running, but it definitely helped with cooking; on a bad day, animals fell onto the metal casting and were fried. This lizard was tough, though, and the days were getting slightly cooler; Dixie would have to kill it herself. Just as she was about to pull out her hand-crafted (in other words: crap) sling, she finally took notice of the lizard’s prominent markings.

It’s too colorful to be safe, probably poisonous.

She cautiously cranked her window upwards, noting that it was clogged with grains of sand, which made crunching sounds as they impeded her safety. After the window finally closed with a noisy and gravelly sigh, the venomous lizard ran off quickly into the heatedly beating heart of the desert.

Sighing in belated relief, she let comfort wash over her once rigid body. Dixie let the building tension fall out of her lower back, rolling her shoulders, disturbing the radio perched on her lap. After a hasty listen to see if any more vital information was to be given off from her radio, she shut it off.

So now she faced the decision: go back to Los Angeles and risk staring death in the face, or stay here until all the bodies were cleared out. She had never been a coward, but the parched thoughts of insanity ever haunted her, and she still couldn’t shake the precipice of her troubling reoccurring nightmare.

Sleeping on it was not an option: she would only talk herself out of it with the bang-flash of a creepy nightmare. It was now or later and later, and eventually never. Obviously she would have to leg it most of the way, Jewel could be retrieved later, but relying on an old, or ‘vintage,’ and desert worn car wasn’t the smartest thing ever. It probably wouldn’t even work, should she turn the ignition or try and run it again.

She pulled out her crinkled and partially torn map. Dixie had already found her now-steadfast location, it was one of the first things she did after acclimating to the new climate and situation. Los Angeles was farther away than she had thought. Sacramento was significantly closer, due to her flight’s plighted direction. Either way, it was desert.

It did make more sense to go to Los Angeles, though, because there was probably no way for her to get to LA from Sacramento. There weren’t any working air fields anymore, as such. No one really needed them, as there were so few people in the world. The ever-growing 308 million population of the United States had been decimated and annihilated down to a meek and measly 3 million. It seemed that countries with better health care were even more susceptible to the virus, as third world countries were still strong against the virus. That only meant that this was something they had seen before and were immune to. It was assumed that the big wigs knew that, though.

So, trek for ten days, hopefully the bodies will be removed by then? It sounded like a plausible plan to her. She could always stay on the outskirts of town until the twenty-second anyways…

___

A shudder crawls over her back, stuttering slightly on the rigid vertebrae of her spine. The dusty night air fights its way down her throat, and exits just as roughly upwards. The chill of the night air was nothing compared to the pain in her feet. Slipping over the not-so-solid and shifting dunes was not good on her ankles and bones. It felt as if her heels ground against bare skin, it hurt so much.

Dixie stopped for a quick break, but knew she would have no rest. It was far too dangerous to sleep on the ground; she’d probably wake up dead! The sun flew downwards, casting its light about it like a prism, and shattering the horizon. Night was upon the desert, and things would quickly cool to drastically cold temperatures. She needed to continue, so that she would not freeze to death. This was almost the last leg of her journey. The girl that had left the city and turned woman stared in disbelief at the sight. Bodies, piled as far away from the city as they could be transported easily: shallow graves with no more than slips of paper to mark passing.

Was this really where she grew up? Did people really have the audacity to throw out thousands of people like their memories, trapped inside their bodies, were trash? A few small children met her eyes, a woman clutching the pale edifice of her stomach, which was clearly imbued with a fetus. That boy or girl had not even received a name or taken a breath outside of the woman’s fluid, her sustenance. It would have been earth shattering to a father, were the clear father not clutching onto her body, dead hands cool against her, just as cold, shoulders.

Blood was soiling the ground, its putrid, metallic stench stinging her nose. She ran from here, no longer willing to see this… this… atrocity. Dixie covered her mouth with her scarf, tears leaking into it as she saw more clammy hands, reaching out, never to be met. She jogged after this, the odor still embroiled in her mind like a brand, but out of sight of the actual horror. Despite being close to the city, only about a mile away, it felt as if she were not home, but in some foreign place where the human spirit had no value and was only judged upon weather it took up space or not.

As she finally entered the bustling bounds of the city, she expected everyone to be somber, dying from the inside out. Instead she found the citizens to be gaily chattering away about nonsensical things, such as the weather, or random facts they heard on a new television channel. Graffiti was being painted off by city workers, and homeless people were offered food by random passersby. She looked around blankly at the people around her, until someone came up to her, a chipper smile encompassing their pretty features.

“You must be a newcomer! Where are you from?” The portly woman greeted, handing Dixie a monotone pamphlet, which she slowly accepted, not bothering to look it through.

“Here. I wasn’t in town for the… cause of death.” She gulped out, still shocked at the demeanor of people around her.

“Shh! We don’t say that anymore here! Thank goodness you’re back though; some pretty weird things can happen where civilization hasn’t caught up yet.” The woman took Dixie’s hands in hers, as if they were old pals.

“What do you mean?” Dixie asked, worried at what answer she might get.

“Well, in truth, LA is pretty much the only city left on the grid, and it’s big enough for most of what’s left of the population, anyways. Thank goodness the repopulation groups are starting next year, bless Better Living.” The bimbo put her hand over her heart, letting go of hers. Outrage gripped her; they all acted as if nothing were wrong with them, nothing wrong with death at their gates!

“Why is everyone so happy? Everyone else is dead!” Dixie shouted, receiving glares from people around her, who continued swarming with happiness right after.

“You haven’t gone home yet have you?” She nodded a negative, “Well, when you get there, there will be a care package, since they finished the body removal early. There will be pills inside to regulate immune systems, they also calm people down; maybe you should take them.” She skipped off, after handing Dixie another pamphlet, which was covered by a map.

Like she needed a map.

Walking briskly, she found the apartment that had been her home for all of her life. It was spotlessly clean as she entered the unlocked door, but it wasn’t her home anymore. The once-cherry walls were painted bright white, and all of her furniture was upholstered with bleached white fabric. A white plastic package stood alone at the head of her countertop. It was adorned with a black, false, smile. Ripping it open, she found the pill bottle. There were enough capsules to last at least a couple months or enough to kill her dead instantaneously. Overdose didn’t seem like a good way to die, but nothing was alive anymore, nothing felt anymore.

I should just try one first, just in case…