Alone Into The City

City Flowering Tree Los Angeles 3/2012 copyright Caroline Gerardo

“Then he turned his back the way he had come, walking out of step with the others, and headed alone into the city.” Alec Nevala-Lee  The Icon Thief

 Alone After The Radiation

Daniel’s kick step carries him west, on 6^th Street. His feet are bulky and elephant-like. In his grey dome, he marches without fear of ravens, coyotes and badgers. Instinct pulls him left on Bonnie Brae up towards the smoke. Another turtle with a XV3 tattoo painted on his shell scurries down on the steaming pavement. The round figure circles down the hill, away from Daniel.

“Got no problem with you vato-” The teen’s stumpy leg acts as a screen. The sounds of his feet rumble away. The echo makes a thick feeling in Daniel’s core.

Lowering his head into his shell, Daniel says nothing. He avoids being spotted by Lil Cycos lookouts on the top of the remains of The California Hotel. The 18th Street gang has taken over downtown and the westside Los Angeles. The Colombian 18^th Street gang did not burn the hotel to the ground.


Daniel looks like a grey butternut squash lumbering up the grade. With his columnar legs, the enemy does not recognize Daniel as stranger, or homie. Daniel blends with the pavement as if invisible. He is nothing to them. Although it is a month after the first nuclear reactor blew, it is unsafe to be outside for long.

Daniel cannot let go the burning emotion of what occurred in his basement an hour ago. Laura’s blood saturated the beige carpet. The police will never arrive with a black zip up bag.


Gazing ahead, Daniel notices a flowering crab apple has dropped blushing petals on the concrete. He tastes one, testing if it is Indian Magic, Daniel's favorite type of blooming tree. The blossom is bitter and not edible. It is some other hybrid. He spits out the bud on the pavement, and the fuchsia tissue floats in his saliva. There on the pavement the fuchsia tissue of the flower floats in his saliva. It reminds Daniel of his mission.

“Laura, my soul mate, is gone from the earth, murdered by the enemy.” Daniel shakes his head.

Laura and Daniel's original home was two miles away from the radiation spill. After the explosion there was rioting. They had to get away. Together the couple hiked fifty miles away from the San Onofre Coast to find a safer place to live. Daniel felt confident they could hide safely underground for a year if needed. Daniel had not counted on the enemy invading the darkness while he searched for water.

The Gila Monsta gang blocked off most of Pico Union by April 1st. Other gangs ruled the city. Then next the Fire Department refused to enter. By April 9th, the best the police could do was to load human bodies into the makeshift morgue. A wine storage building in Glendale served to hold the dead. By April 11th, the fatality rate was ninety five percent of the population.

“Laura is gone from this earth.”  The only solution Daniel can muster is to battle with the perpetrators.

Daniel witnessed the two enemy ravens escape the crime scene. They left Laura's body bleeding on the floor in his home.

One perpetrator has an extended forehead, as if he abused steroids. This bad guy has a scar running from his left cheek two inches long. The dark skin exposes a pink keloid. The guy has prison-style jagged stitches running drawn in black and blue ink with the words “RIP Sucker” on his shoulder. The other dude Daniel knows as Smiley, a local pusher. Smiley runs some teens out of what once was a donut shop on Bonnie Brae. Smiley’s a little guy with a huge beak for a nose.

The front gate of Smiley’s place is metal-plated,  his nest is topped with barbed wire. Make shift concrete pylons, stolen from the freeway, are bolted to the sidewalk to provide cover. Plastic bottles of drain cleaner, hydrogen peroxide, and muriatic acid litter the curbside. The garbage is tossed out of the windows of Smiley's hideout.

“Hey man need some chunky?” A voice shouts from a vine-covered window.

Daniel does not look up. He steps with more confidence. Then he crosses the street towards the door. Crows are in the parking lot poking at Coke bottles. The soda bottles hold gasoline that was syphoned out of cars. Daniel does not even shrug at them. They nod him towards the door assuming he’s a buyer.

“Some stupid gopher tortoise,” the boys caw.

“What you think ya are Ninja Turtle?” They taunt Daniel, "Haw caw caw."

In normal times, the crows would be darting to passing cars. Today few vehicles can make it through the rubble.

Before Daniel knocks, the door swings wide, and a black figure speaking pidgin Spanish backs out. A sweet smell of lime and ammonia follows the raven. It is Smiley. Before Smiley can turn, Daniel wraps Smiley into a choke-hold with a metal shackle.

“Where’s your friend with the RIP scar?” Daniel insists from behind Smiley.

“What ‘ca mean?”

“Where is the RIP guy? You two broke into the basement of my loft on Venice Blvd.”

“You ‘betta let me go, there’s explosives.” Smiley says.


"You murdered my girl."

Daniel pushes Smiley forward. Smiley can barely speak with the chain tight on his throat.

“Last time or I gouge ya.” Daniel shows Smiley the horns on the breast of his shell.

“Second floor, right-”

Smiley's beak trembles. Daniel moves quickly. They struggle climbing the stairway. The slats no longer have a coat of paint. The lack of coating keeps the wood from creaking a warning.

“Open the door.” Daniel orders Smiley firmly.

“I can’t just – they’ll attack without the special knock.”

“Just open it.”

Daniel jerks it open after Smiley turns the knob. A raven is heating chemicals over a Bunson burner welded to carbon steel rods. The black figure reaches for a rifle. RIP raven points the gun but Smiley’s body is in front of Daniel. Daniel in his armor, looks into  RIP's bulging eyes. He throws Smiley towards the RIP, knocking RIP on his back. In one splat, RIP is impaled upon the welding acetylene torch and rebar.

“Crazy reptile, it’ll blow-” Smiley blurts.

Daniel pushes Smiley out the door. Smiley falls pulling a switchblade from the cuff of his feathers. Smiley lunges forward to slash Daniel. Daniel coils inward with a hiss sound. Then Daniel rams Smiley with his violent horns. The blow is not placed well enough to kill Smiley immediately. It only disables Smiley. Daniel scurries away, down the hallway.

“Stop dat guy-” Smiley coughs.

Daniel smashes through the window glass. Shards of iridescence spill towards the dumpster below. Daniel thuds upon the tin. Then he slides down the back alley. A hot ball of fire shoots out at Daniel, narrowly missing him as he lands on the awning, sliding to safety; just as his feet touch the ground, the entire second floor explodes. Daniel walks out alone into the city.


"Gone."

 

Daniel Survives the Apocalypse

Notes:

I tried something out of my norm. Instead of writing a genre story, a thriller as Alec Nevala-Lee's wonderful recent release, I used animals as the characters without revealing this to the reader upfront.  The photograph of the gopher tortoise is a pet turtle that I received from a rescue agency twenty eight years ago. His name is Soup. He was run over by a car (hit and run 29 years ago). An apocalyptic turtle you ask?

Turtles can live for a year without water. They burrow underground for at least half the year and can survive 140 degree temperatures. Their enemies are: ravens, badgers, gila monsters, coyotes and humans. 

Even though they look ancient and strange they are very social and friendly. Soup sleeps with our dogs.

I was thinking that San Onofre's recent leak and how this relates to my life and time. Not certain I trust the power company to tell us how much radiation escaped... Soup will out live me.

References to the 18th Street Gang are fictional the radiation leak is real.

Link to information about San Onofre's leak

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/13/latest-accident-at-san-onofre-nuclear-plant-worries-activists-residents.html

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, daily shorts challenged me with "The following is the last sentence of The Icon Thief by Alec Nevala-Lee. Write a story that begins with this sentence. 'Then he turned back the way he had come, walking out of step with the others, and headed alone into the city.'" and I challenged Sherree with "The Sheriff is at your door to take away your Golden Retriever."

Indie Ink Writing Challenge

I used the prompt to add a part of Chapter to a novel I am already writing. The emptiness and tedium of the sound of the word prompt was tempting. Ugh has both positive and negative uses
My subject matter is not G rated. If you are under the age of eighteen, I advise you do not to read as the fictional characters talk about drugs.
“Ugh.” is my prompt. 
***
   “Do you want to make some real money Seth?” Joe stands in a black jacket with padded shoulders.
   “Ugh?”
   “I have this buddy who pays for delivery. It is a drive to Miami. Tell your parents you are going on a school field trip or one of those fancy away swim competitions.”
   “My parents don’t care what I do, as long as I don’t talk to them.” Seth answers.
   “Being uninterested is better than a Mom who screams all the time.”
   “Mine just fight with each other.”
   “Can you leave tonight? “
   “No problem. What are we transporting? What is my cut?”
   “Hash. You can have a piece of the action.” Joe puts his palm down from his extended arm. The hand curves as in the statue of Poseidon. The gesture tells Seth not to ask.
   “How are we doing this?” Seth presses him.
   “ I know this guy who is a longshoreman at the docks. Some other people smuggle it into containers.”
   “Where?”
   “It is Broussard Port Everglades, South Florida, where the cruise and cargo ships come in. It is a long drive, one thousand two hundred miles. I can fill you in along the way.”
   Seth walks behind Joe his upper body strutting. Seth occupies more space than before.
   “When do we leave?”
   “Soon. Come on let’s go in here, I need something.” Joe puffs his jacket. He points to the door of a hardware store. “Let’s split up.”
   Seth sees a pair of steel-toed boots sitting on top of stacks of cardboard boxes. The leather is soggy red brown with a notched storm welt. They are size ten, “perfect.” Seth speaks quietly. He looks over his shoulder. Seth puts the boots under his jacket. He steps first with his left foot. Outside the glass double doors, he feels cooling air on his skin. He waits for Joe. His back leans on the unreinforced masonry. He admires the water resistance and electrical shock-proof boots by spitting on the soles. Seth Christens the pair for fortune.
   “Why did you lift those ugly shoes?” Joe startles Seth with a poke.
   “I ‘dunno, just seemed like a good idea at the time.”
   “Look what I got, a .32 short.” The gun still has a price tag on the revolver. Joe opens the barrel. He looks down the solid tunnel. “Didn’t get any ammo, the sales clerk was watching.”
   At 3:00 AM Joe shuts the car’s engine off. He coasts his Impala onto Seth’s driveway. He does not to disturb the family. The sky is indigo. The bitter air seeps into Joe’s bones. He shrugs. Seth walks in the new boots kicking from his hips, toes east and west. His collar is up to hide the cystic boil on the back of his neck. Seth did not have time to lance it with one of the stainless diabetes lances. In his pocket wrapped in sterile foil is a metal sword. The pointed piece of surgical steel encased in plastic is usually used to puncture the skin on one’s finger to take a blood sample. This lancet Seth will use to make a small incision, to drain the acne cyst later. He took a box from his father, the Doctor’s office.
   “I brought some Quaaludes for the trip.”
   “I have some speed and pot. That should do. All we need is some girls.”
   “What do we need girls for Joe?”
   “Entertainment. This is a boring drive. A chick might end your virginity.”
   “I’m no virgin.”
   “Right. Sing it.”
   “I know what you mean about uninteresting, my whole life is dull.”
   They head out on South 476 and on to I-95 south towards Baltimore. Seth watches the moon waning from his leather passenger seat. They are silent. Seth moves the electric window down. He lets his hair spin in the wind. At their first stop for gas, they spot three teen girls waiting outside. They are trying to score some alcohol.
   “Can you buy us some vodka?” The heavy set one asks.
   “I’m only seventeen, no I.D.” Joe’s lips part. He gives the fat girl his row of white teeth.
   She is charmed by the tall V shaped Joe. She giggles. She turns to her two friends. They reapply chap-stick and huddle towards him.
   “But I can get you some anyways.” Joe goes into the station. He takes the hand of the big boned teenager tenderly. He nabs a bottle of Popov, “you beautiful ladies ‘been partying last night?”
   She puts her big toe curled inward as a coryphée might circle behind, “yeah we are supposed to be at a religious camp for the weekend. We snuck out. We can’t find anything to do.”
   “Come on with us to Miami.”
   “Why are you going there?” She looks into Joe’s sapphire eyes.
   “Dropping sonny boy at college.” Joe lies.
   Some gasoline spills on Seth’s hands. He wipes his fingers in the rain on the passenger window. He swiftly pulls the aldehydes through his nostrils.  Seth opens the door for the plump girl to take shotgun.
***
copyright Caroline Gerardo May 15 2011
Indie Ink Writing Challenge