(SXWC) Backyard

The steel door slammed heavy behind him. The Screw told him to wait against the wall, he did as he was told, for six years he did as he was told. The Screw behind the Plexiglas window handed him a manila envelope bulging with his worldly possessions. Ripping it open, he confirmed; one belt (which he no longer needed), wallet, a watch and a school football championship ring, along with those test results that told him he had a extra gene, stuff he didn't understand but got him out of work detail for two months. Signing a paper which he didn't bother to read, he then was led through the chain link door which chinked close behind him. Not looking back he walked straight ahead to a familiar face waiting for him in the parking lot. His sister was crying, and he promised himself never to make her cry again; he was going to change. They hugged and exchanged strained conversation on the ride "home"; her home, now his. She was married for twelve years to Henry and they had made a home for him too.

His room was in the basement and it was huge, after six years in a 10ft by 6ft cage, it was too big. He was told supper was at six and with that he was alone again, so he sat with his back against the wall and waited. Waiting was easy; he had had six years to get good at waiting. After supper he was told the rules, which really were no rules; smoking outside was the only one he had to get used too. Outside in the backyard, after his second rollie, he noticed the carved pumpkins on the neighbours stoop. Made sense, he thought, it was November 3rd; before now the days had no meaning. Sitting down and looking up, on his 3rd smoke, he saw shooting stars; seemed like a lot of them but what did he know. Shortly after waking up at six o'clock, he poured a coffee down his throat and went outside to a waiting Henry. Henry had a small construction business and kept a job waiting for him.

Weeks passed and he was starting to feel like he was part of something again. Henry was pleased with his natural skills at work and his sister was smiling all the time. Things were good. He loved his job and made a lot of money; nothing to spend it on really, and most of all he loved his nights smoking in the backyard. Peaceful. Quiet. Gazing at the shooting stars overhead. There seemed to be a lot more of them lately but that was alright, because they twinkled like tiny holes to heaven. Henry had a birthday the next day, December 15th, and they were going to celebrate at a Chinese buffet.

The restaurant was big and crammed full of people, fat people, but what worried him was his sisters strange behavior. Henry took no notice, but if you are to survive inside, you learned to read people and stay alert. He was right; she wasn't well. She was acting reserved - uncommon for her - and at home said she would take some tylenol and go to bed. Outside in the backyard he rolled a cig, lit it, and looked up at the glossy stars. They seemed different tonight, they seemed to have a Orangy glow and there were more than ever. It was kind of eerie and took his mind off his sister. After his morning coffee, he went outside to find Henry there waiting in his housecoat. He was going to stay home and take care of his sister, she was still not well and now seemed frail.

On his way to work, he noticed the roads seemed somehow "lighter". Traffic was a breeze and he made good time. Work went well and in what seemed like no time he was home again. The house was empty and untouched, save a note quickly scribbled and pinned on the door informing him of a trip to the doctors office. Dinner would have to be sandwiches tonight; his sister went straight from the car to her bed. Henry told him it was a flu or something, that the Doctors office was full of people with the same thing.

Not two days later, his sister had succumb to her mysterious illness. It all happened so fast. The bodies weren't being picked up anymore; how could they keep up. The news were reporting mass deaths due to dehydration; peoples bodies were somehow rejecting water. You could drink till full, but it would pass through. The news was on 24 hours a day and he watched non-stop. All around the world people were dying in large numbers, and fast. Henry and he barely spoke anymore, they just watched. Henry joined him in the backyard, staring at what was now an Orangy sky. And then Henry got sick. The next day, Henry stayed in his room - he never left the room - he was dead. Alone now, he stared a thousand mile stare, transfixed on the sole channel still broadcasting and reporting the End Of Days. After awhile, he realized he was watching a telecast playing over and over. Leaving the house he walked. Nowhere, just walked; alone. He saw a Newspaper dated December 20th, with three grim words etched on the front page; "END OF DAYS".

Walking for what seemed hours, he had seen maybe thirty people, all men, doing the same; walking in what seemed like a submissive haze. It seemed so surreal, the birds were still singing, a dog was barking off in the distance, but things had changed. Day became night, night became an Orange sky. Complete Orange. Going to the one place he felt safe, he went home, and cried. Sitting on his bed, thoughts of suicide came flooding in. Reaching for his one prized possession, his school football ring, he opened the manila envelope and the contents scattered on the bed. Putting on the ring, he went over ways of killing himself in his head, went he noticed his medical records from prison laying there, as pristine as the day he had recieved them quickly discarded under the mattress. Reading over them for the first time and digesting what they said, he realized it had been a Genetic test. Apparently he had the "convict" genes. He had a extra gene; he was XYY.

Sitting with his back to the wall, he had decided to let death come to him; he was good at waiting after all. December 21th came and he was still alive. He decided to spend the rest of the day in the backyard, waiting for the dark and certain death. Night fell, but it was different; the Orange sky was gone as well as all the falling stars. The End Of Days had passed and the survivor that saw him through six years of prison was going to see him through this. He reached in his pocket for his tobacco, rolled a cig , and had a smoke.

[edit on 7-4-2009 by Seany]

I enjoyed that my friend, a very good story. I hope you do well in the contest.

wupy

reply to post by mrwupy


Thx for your help

and the comments , i enjoy scribbling words

Words that fire the imagination or warm the heart, wake the soul or simply make one sit and think, are not scribbling my friend.

They are the magic that make us grow.

reply to post by Seany


very nice read

i hope there will be a second part, i would like to see how this guy survives

reply to post by Saytun


thxx for the comments, used to write a lot in my younger clothes, maybe Ill start jotting down thoughts again, 2nd part might be a start

A Beautiful story, sad but with real emotion and a direction that kept me wondering how it was going to turn out.

Nice! I'd like a second chapter as well. Kind of has a feel of "The Stand" by King.

If you choose not to write a second chapter, that is understandable too as we just have to imagine what this once caged character does now with the whole world his to freely roam. Another jail cell or sancuary found?

Enjoyable read!

reply to post by Seany


I agree there has to be a second chapter Seany.

Great story!

YYC... the survivor gene.

The story is remarkable in that the instincts honed in prison are what allow the man to easily accept his fate. The world around him becomes as devoid of people as his 6 by 10 prison cell ever was and now the world has become a limitless prison as well, but a prison all the same.

Cold and resigned to solitude.