The Rift
The Story (#1)
Before The War had come and ruined every inch of the continent, I had lived a more-or-less peaceful life with my wife and two sons. We were never rich, but I earned enough as an auto mechanic, and my wife was always helping out by working at super markets or gas stations. At the time life didn't seem easy, but I guess that's exactly what it was.
We got married in our mid-twenties and one year later we were living in a nice little cottage just out of town -- River Rock, section number five of of the Daywood area; that was our town. The people were mostly good folks, which isn't the norm in most small villages -- let me tell ya -- and there were these deep forests with wide open fields like I have never seen anywhere else.
There were these healthy pink wildflowers that grew in giant clumps everywhere: in the woods, along the riverbanks, and even up the sides of most the houses. I swear that place had something about it... It's always like most places on the planet, you see different forms of life struggling with each other; one species will usually dominate a place, or else you got a bunch of different animals all competing for territory or food. In River Rock it wasn't like that, though. I mean, we hunted -- of course we did -- but all the animals seemed to stay healthy every year, and we had to worry about droughts or anything, cause we always got plenty of rain and the crops grew better than the average every single year. There was something there that seemed to make all forms of life thrive.
The Floor was like the complete opposite. By the time we got to Hut B1, I had puked twice. My body just couldn't handle the air. There were about a hundred other guys with us, not the including the dirt-soldiers, and Carson was the only one I saw who looked like he might be okay.
Once we got inside the hut, it was a little better -- quite a bit, in fact, but it was still bad. The interior of the place was divided into a hallway lined with lots of little metal doors, and there was wall at the far end diving our side on the right from the left side, and it didn't look like there was any way to get past it. We weren't cramped at all, but I was still surprised since I had been expecting a big, open area.
The rat-voiced man (his name happened to be Wally Hornby) had us all divided into little clusters of about five guys and then assigned a dirt-soldier to every group. Me and Carson hadn't been picked for the same one, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little bit vulnerable without him around. It's kinda funny how leaders can grow on you.
"Alright!" he said, making everyone quiet down immediately. I swear, he sounded like his throat was caked with grease or something. "Listen up! All you fine folks are gonna be taken into your common room by the official assigned to your group. You're gonna change into the cloths given to you, you're gonna get yourselves looking halfway respectable, and then you're gonna come back out and wait to be led over to Hut B2. You try any funny shit, and you get shot. Any questions?"
There weren't any.
The soldier led us through the small door and into a shitty little capsule of a room. It had two desks, a light switch, and two panels in the wall with beds in them. On the side opposite from the entrance was another door which led to the bathroom.
The soldier who led us inside was a little guy, and he was more normal-looking than the two others, but he was still a dick. He ordered us into the bathroom one at a time (told us to be fucking quick about our business) and waited while we came out. I was the first guy ordered in.
The four other guys stood looking at me nervously and I tried not to stare at them, or the little prick standing there with his rifle pointed down in his arms and I went to the door and opened it. Instead of a knob it had a long silvery handle on the outside and nothing on the inside, so I couldn't close it myself and it had to creak shut behind me.
Inside the bathroom it was kind of a cramped up little space, with just room for a toilet, a shiny metal sink (it wasn't porcelain, of course), and a curtained shower with a rusty floor area of about two square feet. It wasn't terrible, though -- it didn't smell like shit or anything.
On the sink there were these five gray uniforms folded in a neat stack and I grabbed mine off the top. It was a one-piece suit... It was sort of ragged too -- some of the fabric was hanging of the cuffs in strips -- but it was also kind of funny because it reminded me so much of my old mechanics' uniform back home; hell, these suits here probably had been used by mechanics a little earlier in their history. I changed into mine and threw my other cloths on the floor (I didn't know what else to do with them) and then came out.
When the four others were done changing, the little prick took us back outside the room where there were already some guys waiting beside the doors.
A couple minutes later, when everyone was back in the hallway, old Wally Hornby walked down to the far wall again and told everyone to get ready -- we were going to meet The Boss.
Before The War had come and ruined every inch of the continent, I had lived a more-or-less peaceful life with my wife and two sons. We were never rich, but I earned enough as an auto mechanic, and my wife was always helping out by working at super markets or gas stations. At the time life didn't seem easy, but I guess that's exactly what it was.
We got married in our mid-twenties and one year later we were living in a nice little cottage just out of town -- River Rock, section number five of of the Daywood area; that was our town. The people were mostly good folks, which isn't the norm in most small villages -- let me tell ya -- and there were these deep forests with wide open fields like I have never seen anywhere else.
There were these healthy pink wildflowers that grew in giant clumps everywhere: in the woods, along the riverbanks, and even up the sides of most the houses. I swear that place had something about it... It's always like most places on the planet, you see different forms of life struggling with each other; one species will usually dominate a place, or else you got a bunch of different animals all competing for territory or food. In River Rock it wasn't like that, though. I mean, we hunted -- of course we did -- but all the animals seemed to stay healthy every year, and we had to worry about droughts or anything, cause we always got plenty of rain and the crops grew better than the average every single year. There was something there that seemed to make all forms of life thrive.
The Floor was like the complete opposite. By the time we got to Hut B1, I had puked twice. My body just couldn't handle the air. There were about a hundred other guys with us, not the including the dirt-soldiers, and Carson was the only one I saw who looked like he might be okay.
Once we got inside the hut, it was a little better -- quite a bit, in fact, but it was still bad. The interior of the place was divided into a hallway lined with lots of little metal doors, and there was wall at the far end diving our side on the right from the left side, and it didn't look like there was any way to get past it. We weren't cramped at all, but I was still surprised since I had been expecting a big, open area.
The rat-voiced man (his name happened to be Wally Hornby) had us all divided into little clusters of about five guys and then assigned a dirt-soldier to every group. Me and Carson hadn't been picked for the same one, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little bit vulnerable without him around. It's kinda funny how leaders can grow on you.
"Alright!" he said, making everyone quiet down immediately. I swear, he sounded like his throat was caked with grease or something. "Listen up! All you fine folks are gonna be taken into your common room by the official assigned to your group. You're gonna change into the cloths given to you, you're gonna get yourselves looking halfway respectable, and then you're gonna come back out and wait to be led over to Hut B2. You try any funny shit, and you get shot. Any questions?"
There weren't any.
The soldier led us through the small door and into a shitty little capsule of a room. It had two desks, a light switch, and two panels in the wall with beds in them. On the side opposite from the entrance was another door which led to the bathroom.
The soldier who led us inside was a little guy, and he was more normal-looking than the two others, but he was still a dick. He ordered us into the bathroom one at a time (told us to be fucking quick about our business) and waited while we came out. I was the first guy ordered in.
The four other guys stood looking at me nervously and I tried not to stare at them, or the little prick standing there with his rifle pointed down in his arms and I went to the door and opened it. Instead of a knob it had a long silvery handle on the outside and nothing on the inside, so I couldn't close it myself and it had to creak shut behind me.
Inside the bathroom it was kind of a cramped up little space, with just room for a toilet, a shiny metal sink (it wasn't porcelain, of course), and a curtained shower with a rusty floor area of about two square feet. It wasn't terrible, though -- it didn't smell like shit or anything.
On the sink there were these five gray uniforms folded in a neat stack and I grabbed mine off the top. It was a one-piece suit... It was sort of ragged too -- some of the fabric was hanging of the cuffs in strips -- but it was also kind of funny because it reminded me so much of my old mechanics' uniform back home; hell, these suits here probably had been used by mechanics a little earlier in their history. I changed into mine and threw my other cloths on the floor (I didn't know what else to do with them) and then came out.
When the four others were done changing, the little prick took us back outside the room where there were already some guys waiting beside the doors.
A couple minutes later, when everyone was back in the hallway, old Wally Hornby walked down to the far wall again and told everyone to get ready -- we were going to meet The Boss.