posted on Apr, 20 2013 @ 06:44 PM
Author's Note: All member names used in this story have been granted permission for use by their respective owners. While crafting this story,
I have tried to stay as close as possible to the member's true nature, but given artistic freedom, I have drifted sightly in some places, and in no
way do any of the events depicted herein reflect upon real events, nor would I expect you to believe any of the members would behave in such a
fashion. This is a work of fiction.
VOICEOVER: A slight breeze ripples across the field, cool enough to cause the hunched over figure to stand upright in the sunlight, and look around.
As she works out a kink in her back, she squints, her keen eyesight detecting movement in the woods at the edge of the field. Calmly, she reaches
down to the whistle attached to the necklace around her neck.
*A whistle blows, four times, quickly.*
VOICEOVER: Danger. *pause* All the workers in the field stand upright, and look around. There is a flurry of activity at the camp at the other end
of the field, a mere fifty yards away. The gates open, and several armed men run out.
Destinyone: Over there, in the northwest corner. *points*
Soldier #1: *out of breath* Could you tell what it was, ma'am?
Destinyone: It looked like a group of five.
Soldier #2: We'll go investigate. We'll need the Nets.
VOICEOVER: One of the men holds another whistle to his mouth, and we hear two blows, long. After a few moments, another group of four are expelled
from the gates, holding between them what appears to be some roughly fabricated netting, rolled up, with weights at the end. They soon arrive at the
group standing in the field. One of them speaks.
TinkerHaus: Another hunt today, Des?
Destinyone: Has to be better than working the fields.
TinkerHaus: Hey, I'll get my turn next week. What did you see?
Destinyone: It looked to me like another feral group. Five total. Three were small, probably young teens. Gender's hard to determine at this
distance, as you know. *pause* Just be careful, Tinker, Ok? You know how vicious they can be once they turn.
TinkerHaus: Gotcha. Nothing new there. See you at dinner.
VOICEOVER: The group of soldiers collectively move off towards the indicated direction, while the workers in the field bend back to their labors.
Sunlight eventually fades, and one long whistle blow is heard. The workers in the field head back to the gates.
VOICEOVER: Inside the camp is a flurry of activity, as always, and we notice many of the camp members filing slowly into the log cabin style dining
hall for the evening meal. Casual chatter permeates the room, but we narrow in on a conversation taking place at the Council Table.
TinkerHaus: We couldn't save the fifth one. Too much radiation damage.
FissionSurplus: But you at least saved four....
TinkerHaus: And those are still quite feral. We have them in the holding pen. Druid is going out later to work with them.
FissionSurplus: I'll be joining him for the assessment.
Beezzer: I think your team did the best it could Tinker. Any lives saved, and returned, only helps the community to grow stronger, and expand. We
need more hands around here.
Druid42: I agree. As our population increases, we need more able bodies. It's not the rehabilitation that's the problem. People have little
problem regaining their humanity once in the presence of others. It's slow, but permanent.
Beezzer: Right. The radiation is our biggest concern. The feral groups wander too much, into hot zones, and the damage....
Destinyone: Is often permanent. Poor stupid Zombies.
Beezzer: Have the patrols got all the signs up yet?
TinkerHaus: Up to a ten mile radius. Thanks to the Geiger counters, we have signs posted into every 10 roentgen or higher zone. It's not like they
FissionSurplus: Hunger is a horrible thing. It's what caused them to devolve in the first place. Once they begin eating irradiated food,
Destinyone: The signs work, beez. The incidences of fatal radiation exposure have decreased. There is humanity left in the survivors.
Druid42: I agree. Beyond extreme hunger which causes the devolution, their cognitive abilities are only repressed. I recommend another series of
FissionSurplus: Can we afford that?
Beezzer: I think so. Let me go over the latest production numbers. Our birthrate is only 1.5%, so we could really use the infusion.
Fissionsurplus: Meaning most of us are sterile.
Destinyone: We've all been exposed to radiation, at some point.
Druid42: We are all getting older, as well. Too old to safely procreate, then add the radiation exposure.
TinkerHaus: Agreed. I know I've had my share.
Beezzer: So then it's settled. We'll adapt to the additional mouths to feed. *sighs* As Council Leader, are there any objections?
Beezzer: Then we'll schedule another Hunt for one week from now. *pause* You do know guys, that I can't wait for my term to be over.
*all around laughter*
FissionSurplus: Hey, we all take our turn. You only have what.....
Beezzer: Three more months till the next election.
FissionSurplus: That's all? *laughingly* It seems like just yesterday we elected you.
Destinyone: Well, time does fly with a good leader.
Beezzer: Oh stop. This job is not easy.
*In Unison* We know!
VOICEOVER: Life goes on in our little camp of survivors, and a week passes quickly. What we find is that humanity is never lost, only repressed,
We discover our survivors with an entourage of twenty, hiking miles a day, camping at night, on a Hunt for others like them, fellow humans who have
mis-placed their humanity.
Due to extreme hunger, and the collapse of society, many people died within weeks. Many setup communities. The rest turned into Zombies, feral
humans with no dignity, reduced to eating food from dumpsters and drinking stagnant water. They retain nothing of civilization, living wild, often
with sparse clothing, in sparse groups.
The Zombies have survived the past few years, and also our characters. We meet two of them walking down a path, during the Hunt.
Destinyone: Want conversation?
FissionSurplus: Sure. This walk could use some flavor.
Destinyone: What's up with Druid? He seems like he's miles away. Like, he's living in times long ago. Why does he get all the Zombies to turn?
I'm not saying he's out of touch, but there's something with him lately that's been bothering me.
FissionSurplus: Like what?
Destinyone: Like how he relates to the Zombies. Like he spends all his spare time with them.
FissionSurplus: Those Zombies are humans. Right?
Destinyone: Yes. Sorta. *pause* No. Not really.
Destinyone: Humans act normally. Those things don't. One of those things killed my son.
FissionSurplus: Old wounds run deep.....
Destinyone: I guess so.
FissionSurplus: So do you want to save them, or not? Or not find out at all?
*the two exchange glances, and a pause in the conversation ensues.*
FissionSurplus: I thought so.
Destinyone: Your thoughts?
FissionSurplus: Druid is an old soul, quite out of place but full of useful knowledge.