The Future Ain't So Bulletproof

Light poured in through the glassless window and onto the dusty, termite damaged wooden floor. This light crawled across the floor and onto an old and faded blanket, where it kept climbing until it hit a face. The light poked sharply at my eyelids and I slowly opened my eyes, draping my arm over my face to protect my delicate retinas from the dazzling sunlight.

Turning my head to my left, I saw my cheap, battery powered digital alarm clock sitting just out of the reach of my moth damaged sheet. The flickering red digits read 06:07. Six o'clock in the morning and the sun was already blazing way overhead, baking everything in it's reach, including my skin.

The sweat from my forehead was dripping down onto the cracked, sunburnt skin of my nose. The salty water stung and my eyes began to water. Damn this barren desert.

Today was my one hundred and forty seventh day in the Zones of the Californian desert. One hundred and forty seven days of running and hiding and barely surviving. It was a waste of a life, I know, but I had to keep managing because I knew, somewhere, there was a better life, and I would keep running until found it.

Almost one hundred and fifty days ago, I fled my home state of Washington after coming home from work and finding my house deserted and burning, along with the rest of my street. Children were crying and people were shouting and running through the streets, desperation and fear gripping every fibre of their beings. Better Living Industries had arrived, and they were burning the town and destroying those who 'did not cooperate'. Families were ripped apart that night, including my own. After finding the dead remains of my parents, and seeing nothing of my brother, I ran.

As I ran, I saw destruction everywhere. I crossed America without seeing a single human being like me. I was the only one left with my own mind, the only one who was not under the control of BLi and the only one who had anything to fear.

I stood up off the floorboards and snatched up my faded blue duffle bag and one of the shards of the mirror that once hung on the wall above my 'bed'. The flaking gold paint of it's frame shimmered in the desert sunshine.

I stepped across the small hut I resided in and placed my bag and mirror shard on the splintered shelf near the lopsided chipboard door to the outside. Sunlight streaming in through the bullet holes in the wooden walls illuminated my pale face and red nose. My tired amber eyes scrutinised my appearance, from their almond shaped frames to the dry, dead ends of my auburn hair.

Rummaging through my bag, I pulled out an almost empty tube of toothpaste, a very used toothbrush and a half full bottle of water. I squeezed the tube as hard as I could and managed to wipe a tiny drop of paste onto the bristles.

After brushing my teeth, I threw my minimal amount of toiletries back in my bag and pushed on the chipboard, revealing the never-changing scenery of this wasteland. In the distance, I saw a few sandstone cliffs and a dilapidated building that had been abandoned for many years. 

California was where it all started; Battery City was formed when the US government fell after the fires of 2012. The country was in disarray with people running riot. Murder and looting were commonplace after most of the cities were destroyed or beyond repair.

Korse took control and started to wipe out the misfits and trouble causers; there was no place for them in his new, peaceful, civilised society. He used any way he could to gain control of people's minds - the media, the water supply...he even tricked them into taking his 'happiness drugs', removing every emotion from their minds, with the exception of contentedness. He captured and brainwashed the rebellious, transforming them into his own police force to obliterate the defiant and keep the brainwashed zombies in his control. These minions were Christened Draculoids. Above the Draculoids were the SCARECROW. I didn't really know much about them, I'd only heard stories back in Washington. Apparently they worked within Battery City, and if that was the case I never wanted to meet them.

Between the charred, barely standing building and the cliff, two tiny white dots appeared, shimmering in the haze and heat waves. Being as small as I was (four foot ten), I had to climb onto the bonnet of the car I had stolen a couple of weeks ago to get a good look at these new additions to the landscape before planning my next move. As I thought, the dots were moving, growing larger with every moment. They were coming towards me, and I had to get away from them, out of here.

Jumping off the car bonnet, I rushed back into the crude wooden shack to grab my belongings. My bag, still resting on the broken shelf, was already all packed. I plucked it from it's resting place and stooped down to grab the blanket thrown carelessly on the floor and the clock next to it. Stuffing them into my bag, I scrambled back outside to see the white dots, now bigger and human shaped.

I ran to the back of the car and flung my only possessions inside, slammed the door shut and threw myself into the driver's seat. My driving wasn't the best, but it didn't need to be precise, just fast - there was nothing to hit out in the desert except Dracs and lumps of rock.

Stabbing the key in the ignition, I turned my hand and the car shuddered unhealthily to life. I pressed my foot down as far as it would go and, after spinning a couple of times, the wheels took me away from the shack and away from my pursuers.

This was my life out in the Zones; run, survive, but never belong.