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One Last Breath-Part Two [2013]

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posted on Dec, 4 2012 @ 11:49 PM
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He dreamed of times past, when he was young, and carefree, but his dream edged toward a grim reality of careless government spending, and a "fiscal cliff" that was used as a ruse to manipulate the masses. He twitched sharply during his dream turned nightmare, as he re-played the events in his mind.

The cliff came, and everyone went over. The economy collapsed, and everyone who wasn't prepared panicked, and those who were had to fight off the hoards of people turned zombies. Zombies sans viral infection, zombies born from the loss of everything normal. Crazy people, once functioning members of society, turned wild and rampant by lack of order, by a government no longer functioning.

He was wakened by a cool cloth on his forehead, and he parted his eyes to see his daughter tending to him. Her brow was furrowed with worry, as she took the rag back and wrung it out once again in the bowl nearby.

His fever consumed him, and he knew his body was trying vainly to fight off the infections of his wounds. They had no antibiotics now, but the dressings his daughter had applied were at least clean. He shivered suddenly, from the fever ravishing his body.

"Hey," he said weakly, looking at his daughter, "Thanks."

His daughter was wispy, tears near the pouring point, as she wiped his head once again.

"Aw, Dad. Just chill."

He coughed a few times, his body lurching in pain, but he settled back after a few moments.

"Glad you could make it." He managed a weak smile.

"We're gonna hide here until you're better again. It's far enough from town to avoid the mobs."

He noticed then the shelter she had made, a lean-to covering over a depression in the ground, more than likely an old forgotten culvert path.

"Nice place. You do the decorating?" he said, then paid for it with another series of hacking coughs.

His breath was painful, and he imagined he may have a punctured lung, rent by broken ribs resulting from the beating he got from the previous town. He focused on shallow breaths.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, "Just take it easy. I got you on this."

He smiled, and drifted back away. The pain was unbearable.

The dreams overtook him again, a Congress that voted against raising the debt ceiling, and the subsequent stock market drop. Obama on TV, explaining the crisis, while rioting began in all the major cities. The chaos took over afterwards, and he gathered his family to depart the city, but the violence took his wife and two sons. He watched them die, consumed by the raging mobs that insanity brings, a failure helpless against a world gone awry. He pulled his daughter with him, and left with but a few remaining supplies.

He tossed again against the cold ground, the blanket he was wrapped in containing his own heat, but in the chilly winter air, it wasn't much to keep him warm. He snapped back awake.

"You back, Dad?"

"I think so."

"You've been mumbling in your sleep, mashing about. I was really worried about you."

He resolved to show strength, for her sake.

"I was having nightmares. My fever. Thanks for taking care of me."

"Like, who else will, Dad? Really."

"I know."

He motioned her forward, and held out his arms, and they had a quick embrace, as if to resolve the bond. He coughed roughly in fits once more.

"That doesn't sound good, Dad. Are you ok?"

"I guess so", he lied. "Been better, actually."

"Do you think it'd be safe to start a fire?"

"Sure", he lied again, knowing his daughter was freezing and that they both needed the warmth to fight off the cold February chill. The fire was worth the risk. It was dusk, and a calculated risk that their fire wouldn't be spotted from town, and if it was, that they were remote enough not to attract undue attention.

She had a fire going soon next to their vantage in the low culvert ditch, well-masked in the fading light, and he was proud. He could feel the warmth, and she huddled close, feeding timber, trying to get warm.

"Dad?"

"Yeah Belle?"

"Are you going to leave me here alone?"

He paused, choking on his words, not knowing how to answer.

"I can't go on without you," she said, fear rising in her voice.

"I'll be here, Belle. Mark my words. Until we both take our last breath. I'm not leaving you. We'll get through this."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

The night encroached upon them while they huddled in their ditch, a brief respite from the horrors behind them, and a haven against the horrors ahead.




posted on Dec, 4 2012 @ 11:54 PM
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reply to post by Druid42
 


You really should make this into a book.



I am impressed with your skills, tremendously.

In a few weeks, could this really be our future?


S&F



posted on Dec, 5 2012 @ 12:06 AM
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reply to post by sonnny1
 


Thanks for the flag! Much appreciated, and I am humbled by the fact that you like my words. It's a story, conjured to evoke emotion, but nothing more or less.

The future is unknown. Only time will tell the outcome.




posted on Dec, 5 2012 @ 04:00 PM
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off-topic post removed to prevent thread-drift


 



posted on Dec, 5 2012 @ 04:04 PM
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reply to post by Druid42
 


You had me at "hello".

Please continue. From one writer to another, you've struck gold.




posted on Dec, 5 2012 @ 04:30 PM
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reply to post by Druid42
 


riveting


next 'episode' Please



posted on Dec, 5 2012 @ 04:48 PM
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Talent.....you've got it. In spades.



posted on Dec, 5 2012 @ 08:55 PM
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I gave everyone a star for their post, but the gesture pales in comparison to the appreciation felt by your comments.


i believe I will do part three. Feedback is the best motivation.



posted on Dec, 9 2012 @ 08:25 PM
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reply to post by Druid42
 


I am really impressed with your writing, Druid !!!

Really impressed ! S&F !!!





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