A gust of air blew in through the small crack in the window, a low whistle signifying its presence within the quick moving car. The air circulated through the car slowly, reaching the noses of the three passengers at separate times. The passenger in the front coughed first, his lungs rejecting the air immediately, and the rest followed soon after.

“Shut the damn window, Lex. You should know by now not to breath the air ‘round a place like this.”

The make-shift cemetery lining the road was gloomy, despite the cloudless sky and bright sun. Hundreds of hedge stones lined the ground in no particular pattern, the ground raised where piles of loose dirt covered bodies. The chain link fence surrounding the death-yard was damaged in several places, showing signs of wear and tear at the top where the reckless would break in. There was no sign of grass, even in the surrounding area of the cemetery; where trees and shrubs once grew now rest the bodies of the lucky.

“Couldja get us away from here a bit quicker, Dennis. You know these places creep me the hell out.”

“What’s wrong Lexxy, ‘fraid of the cemetery?”

“Keep talkin’ Gerry, and you’ll be joining them in their dirt naps.”

“Both of you shut up. I ain’t too happy to be drivin’ this close to one as it is, ‘n your bickerin’ just makes things worse.”

Dennis put more weight on the gas pedal, pushing the car forward a few miles faster. As the last of the cemetery past by his window, the muscles in his body loosened themselves and the car dropped in speed. There was an altogether sigh of relief as the three passengers watched the empty road split off into opposite directions. A red sign hung loosely upon a wooden post, the green lettering on it showing signs of wear from the impure air:

Dennis pulled the wheel to the right gently, following the curve of the road and the direction of the sign. He sped the car up around the curve slightly, anxious to reach the destination quickly.

“What the hells with the ‘save point’. I don’t get it.” Lex bit into a fingernail and nibbled on it nervously.

“’Got me. Makes it sound like we’re in some sorta video game or somethin’.” Gerry laughed to herself as she tapped her fingers against her thigh.

As the road straightened out once again, the car was faced with an obstacle of a ten foot high stone wall made of cement blocks and a wooden gate that started to pull upwards as the vehicle approached. Dennis glanced out the top of the windshield, up at the two watch towers and their inhabitants on either side of the gate

“Welcome back, travelers!” One of the men called out, while the other just gave a brief wave.

As the car pulled through the small defense system, the wooden gate lowered slowly. As the bottom of the gate pressed back down against the ground, the two men watching over the wall sat back in the folding chairs set up in their towers and continued on with a game of chess.

---------------------------------------

“Well, look who made it back in one freaking piece.” Dennis’ door was approached by an enthusiastic man, his right hand occupied with a shovel. Dennis eyed the shovel’s handle and spade-shaped head briefly and took note of the red splotches covering it.

“Rough time while we were gone?” Dennis popped open the door and stepped out, the sound of Lex and Gerry closing their doors following.

“One of those idiot tourists ventured too far past our boundaries. As he was collecting some wood for his, well, guess it’s a statue collection or something, he was picked off. Building those things kept him busy, I assume; kept his mind off the things it should be on.”

“So, if they got to him, why’s your shovel bloodied?” Lex nodded to tool in the man’s hand and spit at the ground.

“They kept him alive.” The man paused and rethought his answer. “Rather alive enough so that he’d change.”

“They attack him for food?” Dennis’ brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side.

“Oh, they ate him, that much can’t be argued. When they fulfilled their hunger and ran off, he barely had enough muscle left on him to crawl back to the wall.” The man with the shovel spun the tool in his hand and dug the spade-head into the dirt. “Damn tourist.”

Gerry fiddled the dirt with her foot as she nervously chewed at her fingernails. When the others had fallen silent, she looked up, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “’Ey Mitch, why d’you call him a tourist?”

“Because if you’re willing to travel outside of here alone,” Mitch twisted the shovel in the dirt, “than you’re a tourist to the world we now live in.”

Gerry bowed her head silently as Lex reached a hand out to her shoulder to comfort her. She kicked the dirt one last time before letting out a soft sigh. She touched Lex’s hand with her own and gave off a pseudo smile before breaking away from the group. She turned herself towards a small dirt path which broke through a spot of foliage. Past the small line of hand-grown shrubbery that stretched several feet high, the dirt path opened up into an open plain.

“Fit to be the set of the next western.” Gerry spoke to herself sardonically as she gazed out into the encampment that made the empty plain its home. Her eyes shifted from each broken down, man-made shelter to the inhabitants that tried desperately to improve upon their homes with the very little they had. As she stared out onto her new world, a tear dripped from her eye. “We’re all gonna die here.”

1/18/2006 3:09:34 AM

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