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Post by mai on Apr 3, 2012 22:21:10 GMT -5
A WANDERING MISSIONARY. IT SEEMED AS though years passed since the modern world fell, since she had to adjust to this new lifestyle. It was not something she minded too terribly, though. She travelled frequently and well and was welcomed in several of the establishments out here in the hell that was the sand, the sun, and the heat. As unwelcoming as their people could be, there were a surprising number who welcomed the nun into their settlements. Perhaps it was because they wanted to do what she was trying to desperately to; the hope of a God, that something out there might be watching over them for the better was appealing, especially with all the trouble afoot. So many new creatures had sprung up and so many were scared. It wasn't just the humans, though. There was the odd time when a vampyre or a demon would listen to her lectures. For fun or for faith purposes she knew not, but she did enjoy her sermons with the otherworldly folk.
Today was the day she was crossing the desert into an unnamed settlement. Most of the establishment was of the weaker variety: women and children and elderly. The men that were there were very protecting of their people. Jessica often wondering if they had been a singular family or if they were a group of people whose families all grew up together. She knew not, but the men were well in taking care of their people. They always had a decent supply of medicine, food, and water. The women even purified the water for all it was worth, using evaporation to get rid of the salt and then putting the water through carbon system to take out impurities. Their water was the most delicious that she'd found and since salt water was a relatively cheap import, they profited quite heavily from those who bought a bottle of purified water. With that, they bought more supplies. A smart community.
As Jessica approached the doors, she remembered the first time she'd come here. At first they were afraid and curious of her, guns pointed while her hands were raised. She offered them some jerky that she often brought into the desert. As they grew accustomed to her, they allowed her into the community with the women and the children and the elderly. Eventually, she held a monthly sermon in this community and was welcomed without a second thought. She was no threat to these people. If anything, she brought them a slimmer of hope. Hope was all that remained on the hot sands.
Knock, knock. She rapped on the door, a makeshift panel of junk metal that was sturdier than it looked, in the pattern assigned to her to tell them of her coming. Three second wait, then the doors opened. That's how it worked each month she came out here. As they opened, children poured out to give her a welcome of hugs and laughter and she greeted each of them by name. Those children escorted her to the back of the colony and into the shade of the makeshift chapel they had built to double as a school room. With whatever little material they could, they were trying to build a home here and restore whatever they could of the old world. It was more than a comfort to the nineteen year old nun. In these times, she could probably call this place home.
The sermon took about two hours and she left with a pack full of water and the colony-favorite snack: skewed scorpion. They weren't scorpions as one thought of, no, but where radiated mutants that roamed the desert. Their meat was also amplified and was delicious in small quantities and Jessica had developed a taste for the succulent arachnid.
She arrived into the colony tired and beaten. Her sermon always gave her strength, and she ventured back out into the desert toward the next colony that would allow her to trade the word of God for supplies.
word count: 671
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Post by PAVO JURIĆ on Apr 5, 2012 9:08:19 GMT -5
Dry quicksand, also called fech fech, is something like very very fine dirt or sand. It's called dry quicksand because it's often hidden beneath a thin crust, making it something of a surprise to fall into. It'd make for an ideal bullet trap for the shooting range Pavo was quietly planning. He'd started gathering the stuff early morning yesterday and his mission was now, for all intents and purposes, complete.
Lead's too hard to come by, he reminded himself, Chicago in his sights. By now I should have enough of this stuff for a decent bullet trap, I'll be able to keep practicing my aim he said, as his legs twitched, and still be able to collect the lead and very suddenly both his legs felt very tense in hopes that I'll be able to cast my own his legs were buckling now, the pain hit him hard rounds, someday...
Focus. Heat cramps.
No worries. Not only had he expected his body to react like this to the desert, he'd anticipated it and prepared for it. Maybe I prepared too much, carrying all this shit around is half the problem...
Strapped together via ropes, he towed eight one-gallon jugs. He'd set out carrying ten, all full of water, on his back, but the total pack weighed half as much as he did, and for now he was dragging what remained along like fish on a line. Three of them were still full of water, and five of them with very fine sand (though he wasn't sure it was fech fech, it would work well enough).
He'd set out with ten full of water, but the other two were being used in solar stills now effectively abandoned. They were set up in case of emergency, to slowly reclaim the water from the jugs he'd had to empty, as well as from his urine - Pavo was repulsed by the idea but recognized the necessity of it, however sick and uncouth it made him feel.
Our hero also carried a large, thin, light blanket, some plastic wrap, five long PVC pipes, bandages, a revolver, two bags of Skittles, some packets of salt, sugar, and pepper, and a few MREs. Enough vegetable lasagna for the walk back, at least. Pavo set about saving his life as outlined in the survivalist book he'd stolen:
First, shade. Pipes + blanket = tent. Far easier said than done, as his legs were almost entirely uncooperative. He'd have to figure something else out. He stripped down to his boxer shorts, didn't even bother trying to get his socks off, put effort into ignoring the agony in his legs, and laid flat on the spiteful sand, covering his body loosely with the blanket. Fuck, good enough.
Next, salt. He opened one of the burger-chain salt packets and dumped it into his mouth, wanting to vomit from the taste, before pulling himself up for a mouthful of water. He swirled and swallowed and laid there. He thought better of shouting for help, knowing there was some sort of gated colony nearby, instead he talked to himself, aloud, a bit hoarse: "This is shitty, but you'll be alright." He listened to the sound of himself breathing under the blanket, decided that he hated it, and threw the blanket off his face, but kept covered from the neck down.
Pavo scanned the horizon, one hand on his revolver. He couldn't tell whether or not he saw anything, which scared him. He waited a long time, thinking about his friends from school, trying to ignore his cramping legs. "Okay. One more."
Pavo took another dose of salt water, then a few slow swigs from the jug. He avoided thinking about his situation - it felt like he was dying, or already dead. Some survivalist he was, lying on his back, helpless, a real pathetic sight, nearly naked underneath a cheap fitted sheet with the elastic torn out.
He sighed. That'll do it. Just gotta wait it out now. He rolled his head to one side, squinting in the sun. Really I'm lucky to have made it this far without any problems. I'm lucky for this to be the worst of it. No, I'll live. I'll live.
In a state that could almost be called comfortable, Pavo, taking another sidelong glance at the horizon, spotted something - no, someone. I could maybe even shoot them from here... no. You're being needlessly paranoid and aggressive. Just because you don't need anything doesn't mean help wouldn't be nice, yeah. So. If they don't see you yet they will, just relax, and try to show that you mean them - her? - no harm.
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Post by mai on Apr 10, 2012 12:32:45 GMT -5
THE DESERT'S HEAT RAYS WERE VISIBLE AS THEY radiated against the sand, adding to the incredible heat that was already there. Someone might look at the modern nun oddly, as she dressed in layers when she went desert walking. The colonists of the town she just left had taught her this technique, pulling from the nomadic peoples of the Sahara. It was counter intuitive, but it provided shade and protection for her body. Her outfit, being mostly blue, was a bit warmer than the other outfits of the people who lived in this hell, but it did the job. Rarely did she ever go back to the city with a burn.
She pulled out a small bit of scorpion and began to slowly munch on it, admiring the taste and savoring every minute of it. If anything, if she never did sermons again, she would go back to the unnamed colony simple for this dish. People had gotten pretty creative in the dead world and new dishes emerged that sounded and looked horrible, but had the best taste to the tongue. There were a lot of things they didn't have anymore, mostly plants that helped to make other ingredients like noodles, herbs, and breads. Soon, though, the greenhouse in the city promised that these plants would be brought back and that a regular diet would be able to be maintained. could they say that? These odd dishes were their regular diet. Things from the past would probably stay there or be brought back with original flare. It was the way of the world.
Jessica thought about this while devouring the last parcel of scorpion when there appeared something out on the horizon. At this distance, she couldn't tell what it was. Caution was the best tactic and often served her well. The spear at her back with her trekking pack stayed there--if she didn't have to fight, she didn't touch it. There was no need. She was a crappy fighter anyway, and the weapon was really just there for show. These days, people took advantage of the people who were too trusting. The spear gave the illusion that she didn't trust anyone, though her appearance was obviously that in sync with the modern day religious devotees.
As she walked closer, the something turned out to be a someone and that someone turned out to be a him. From what she could see, they were.. what were they doing? She'd never seen such an act. From her distance, it looked as though they were sleeping on the sand. Such an odd technique, though perhaps they were trying to do something that wasn't occurring to her. There was plenty of the colony's saltless water still on her and more than enough scorpion to share. She even had a makeshift tent, though incredibly small, that could provide shade if the stranger needed it. This could all be decided after introductions.
"Ahoy!" she called out when she was roughly thirty meters away, waving her hand to get their attention. She said nothing else and did nothing else until she was three meters away, when she stopped and squatted to look at the man in the sand. "Well is this not the oddest survival technique I've seen. Are you alright, good sir? My name is Jessica and I'm a nun. I have a small tent, pure water, and some really delicious scorpion, though it's a bit radiated. Is there any way that I can be of assistance to you?"
word count: 589
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