Fall, Rise, Repeat

by Matthew Schneider

  His eyes stared blankly at the clock as he watched the physical measurement of time tick past. His ears had stopped hearing the noises around him, his mouth began to hang open, his muscles relaxed.

  His mind wandered to a land that no longer existed. His thoughts carried him away to an imaginary place. Somewhere over the rainbow and away from the disintegrating society he lived in. Wonderful.

  He sat in a yard. Beneath him was soft grass, mostly shamrock green but with thicker tuffs of emerald. His legs were stretched out in front of him, absorbing the summer heat.

  He was leaning back, his hands behind and supporting him. His fingers rested against the relaxing earth, feeling the warm dirt. He wore his favorite casual outfit: a baby blue polo shirt that matched the eyes of his son, and white khaki shorts. His brown belt contrasted his clothing. It was the modern style, everyone wore it.

  His eyes followed a scarlet car that sped down the road. It was metallic and reflected the sun with power. It shone bright like a beautiful cherry when the light hit it perfectly. He could see his wife in the driver’s seat. She was a beautiful woman: chocolate hair with strands of gingerbread. Her cheekbones were a touch of God; her face was a form of unimaginable beauty. Her lips were full and kissable, wearing a light-pink lipgloss.

  He smiled to himself, his charcoal hair dancing lightly with the wind. He turned his head to face his son, who lay aside him, his head against the ground.

  “Mommy’s home,” Thor spoke softly, and his son’s eyes glimmered in the daylight. Thor felt the warmth of his loving son, although no words were spoken and no hands were held.

  “Adam, come on, stand up, let’s greet your mother.”

  Adam’s face turned to Thor and he sat up. His corduroy trousers had mint grass stains on them. Thor placed his hands around Adam and assisted him to his feet. He looked in his son’s eyes, admiring their sharp beauty. A good son, he would be. A lady’s man, too.

  The red car was stopped a block away at the intersection. Thor held Adam’s hand and they walked to the curb. There was a bit of a pull at Thor’s hand, the usual unrest of a three-year-old.

  The day was the perfect July experience. The smell of flowers, who knows what kind, filled the air, forming a heavenly scent that could only be beaten by the Garden of Eden. Not a cloud in the sky. A roaring sun, but not too hot that it was uncomfortable.

  Thor thought to himself, admiring the view, why can’t perfect things stay forever? But engraved in the back of his mind was the common phrase: good times create weak men. Weak men create hard times – undoubtedly this was a good time, and it was true that society was becoming rather fidgety recently – particularly in its partisanship – but Thor felt unaffected by the world around him.

  He stood, knowing he was living the most perfect life, even if he was not the richest man. He just needed to ease himself of burdens. He felt a release of tension as a small hand let go of his. He breathed in, thinking of his son, his wife, his parents, and every person who helped him stand in this place. The future had many things to offer; where would he be in a decade's time? Owning a business would be a treasure.

  His son would be grown, 13, a blossoming adult. He would be off on his own journey, exploring the wonders of life for himself. Memories to be made. One day he might find someone and continue the bloodline.

  Thor cleared his mind of his thoughts and the glow of red caught his attention. It was meters away, traveling rather fast. Then he saw his son take a step onto the road.

  Adam moved forward, and the scarlet car did not brake.

  “AMELIA!” Thor gasped, as his heart stopped. In a second, the car and Adam met, and an ear-splitting cry and a loud THUD—

  The door to Thor’s office swung open and slammed against the door-stopper. A group of men walked in, dressed in an assortment of combat gear.

  “Sir, we’ve rallied our men for the supply run. We are ready at your command,” spoke the group leader, a tall man dressed in mismatched police gear.

  “Where did you get your...attire?” Thor asked, eyeing him up.

  “We had this from the last raid on the base when the officer fell from the watchtower, you know, after getting in that fistfight with Ronald.”

  Thor paused for a moment, slightly thrown off by the answer. “I don’t remember that,” he replied, his eyes darting to the clock and around the room.

  The man in police gear shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now.” He stepped forward and leaned on the desk. “Ready to go?”

  “I don’t…” Thor sat up straight in his chair and drummed his fingers against the wood. “I’m not going. I’ll stay. You go without me,” he ordered.

  “You said the same thing three times. But we still need a plan, none of us know what you have in mind,” said another man, to the side of the man in the police gear.

  Thor nodded his head reluctantly, still in a daze. He stood up and pointed his finger towards the man in the police gear. “There’s what, twelve of you, maybe? Well, I want you to split into four groups. Divide accordingly. Start in the center of the town, don’t even bother scavenging on the way there. Then, in your four groups, move out into four quadrants, until you reach your four corners of the town. Here’s exactly how you’ll go about it:

  “Many people have left their homes. First, you’ll knock on the door. If nobody answers, break it down. Search the house, the garage, the attic, the basement, and grab whatever you need. There are wagons somewhere in the junkyard to assist you. If someone comes to the door, you’ll say to them, ‘Hello, we’re part of the Outlaws, join us and give a generous donation. You’ll receive benefits such as protection! If you do not comply you will probably die,” cooed Thor, smirking for a moment, then frowning.

  “That was some goofy shit, I’m gonna tell you that,” spoke a voice from the group.

  “Yeah, say whatever the hell you want, but they’ve either gotta join us and give up their possessions or be left to the Knights.” Thor shrugged his shoulders and bit his top lip.

  There was an awkward silence in the room, so Thor motioned with his hands for the men to leave and get to work with a slight flick of the wrist.

  The man in police gear was the last out of the room. Just before he left, Thor grunted and raised his hand. “Try not to kill anyone, Ace.”

  Ace bobbed his head and turned away. He took a long step forward comically, then stood with his feet together, and jogged to meet up with the group.

  Ace had medium-length, wavy, brown hair. It wasn’t quite a mess, but it couldn’t be described as well-groomed. He was built like a man in the military, or maybe the police force, but he never served. He was simply an athletic man.

  He followed the group out the doors of the junkyard building and down the rows of junk.

  “Look for anything that can hold items. Oh, and wheels! That way we can roll it. But not just wheels, make sure it can hold items,” he yelled, making sure everyone heard him. He smirked to himself and stood in place.

  He stood awkwardly, swinging his arms back and forth, waiting until the others returned. He paced in circles, then did squats, pushups, and random exercises to pass the time.

  After a few minutes, the first people returned from their search with an assortment of tools to make scavenging easier and a combination of wagons and baskets.

  “Good! We’re all ready to set out. Now, you heard the plan, we’re going to start in the center of the town and move outwards. And, now, I know he didn’t say this, but I don’t want anybody bringing weapons. We are going to avoid casualties – especially civilian – at all costs! If you come across someone who does not comply, simply write down or remember their names so that we can take care of them later.” Ace folded his arms and puckered his lips. “Yeah, that’s all.”

  Ace turned around and walked to the opening in the junkyard gate. The group followed, and once Ace saw, he led them out and into the town.

  They turned the corner. Ace stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes gazed upon t
he rotting corpse of the young Knight. Despite the Knights’ eager attempt to recoup their men, they had left this one body. The group divided in two and walked around the body as though it was just another obstacle, but Ace stood still.

  His cheery mood turned sorrowful for a moment. He took a deep breath in and gagged, inhaling the stench of burnt and decaying flesh.

  He clenched his fists and moved around the body.

  Following the path of destruction that Zav created when entering, they paused in the parking lot, waiting for Ace to catch up. They spotted him over the hedges, jogging easily towards them.

  Ace entered the parking lot and wiped sweat off his face. “Damn. I was just here last week. Well, you know the drill. Get to work. I’ll stick with Bravo, since you guys only have two men.”

  A couple of the Outlaws looked at each other. One spoke up: “Bravo, sir?”

  “Oh, I just meant everyone heading northeast. I’ll go with you.”

  Three men inched their way forward. “That’s us. We have three people. I think all of the groups have three people. Ace, I think you’re the odd one out.”

  Ace put his hands on his hips. “Ain’t that awkward. Well. I don’t know then. Just go do your jobs, I’ll be here doing whatever,” he said, smiling to himself, and then ushering the men off with hand gestures.

  The group split into four and they moved out in their respective directions. Ace watched each of them and then turned to the church. He eyed up the large doors and contemplated going inside.

  He tapped his foot and looked around. Everybody had moved out and had mostly disappeared, except for one person who he could see walking through a neighbor’s yard.

  He bit his lip and walked down the sidewalk. Would taking a couple things hurt? Probably not. And, if the Outlaws needed to expand their grip on the town, the church was a good, neutral place to start.

  He hopped onto the decorative cinder blocks outlining the garden and followed them to the set of double doors. He gripped the rectangular handles and gave a forceful pull, but the metal clattered and stayed shut.

  “Damnit! Maybe it’s a sign!” he chuckled to himself and turned around. He really had no idea what to do. He glanced around, but most of his view was obstructed by a brick building in front of him.

  Ace paced right and followed the sidewalk until it ended. He stepped over the grass and into the road. It was an intersection, so he stood confused once again. A white building caught his attention and he made way for it. There were three vending machines outside, and he eyed each one up.

  They were all off, but he went up to one anyway.

  Ace was not one to steal; it would also be impossible, because these vending machines did not have the glass front. He instinctively pushed the coin-return button, hoping for a quarter or two.

  Money had no value anymore. Yet, the world was so revolved around this basic currency that it lasted days into the apocalypse.

  Ace chuckled to himself and backed up. He rubbed his hands together and stretched his legs. He leaned back for the proper posture for his move, then leaped a foot into the air, his body spinning, executing a shabby karate kick.

  Nothing happened. Ace shook out his leg and then peered inside the doors of the food market. It was dark inside, and to no surprise, it appeared that most of the food was taken off the shelves.

  Stolen, maybe? Ace squinted, his eyes darting for clues. Then he saw slight movement, maybe a shadow. The figure seemed to move through the shelves as though it wasn’t even inside the store – like a weird, humanoid projection.

  Ace became suspicious. He was awestruck by the jerky yet indescribable movements of whatever was becoming larger. It was coming closer – it had to be, thought Ace. In fact, if he could open the door, he might be able to touch it…

  Ace was grabbed around the neck, and he froze. He was pulled back with such momentum that his head whipped back and he grimaced at the pain. His legs were swept off the ground, his feet dangling a near-inch from the concrete.

  The strong hands adjusted their grip and lifted Ace up. Everything was moving so fast. He closed his eyes, afraid of where he was going.

  He was thrown into the market door, his head partially smashing through, the glass sticking into his skull. His body hung, only supported by the few shards of glass still attached to the door. His police gear served him well, protecting his body.

  The glass began to crack and weaken, letting go of Ace’s head as his body pulled him to the ground. The Knight pushed Ace to the side using his foot, then kicked the glass door. It exploded into a million tiny shards, and the Knight stepped through.

  Ace opened his eyes but could not see anything. His crown of glass made his head bleed profusely, and it had seeped into his eyes. He choked and attempted to move but he could feel himself becoming weaker every second that blood spilled from his open wounds.

  The Knight squatted and climbed through the door with a basket full of food. He tucked it under his arm and sprinted down the street, turning behind the brick building.

  Ace closed his eyes.

  Three Outlaws turned the corner from Mulberry Street to Washington. “I swear to God I heard something over here!”

  The three men ran as they saw the blood. One of the men, a shorter guy with blond hair, jumped over Ace’s body and skidded as though he was sliding to a base, and lay next to Ace. He put his ear to Ace’s mouth to listen for breathing.

  One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

  The blond looked up at the two Outlaws. “He’s dead,” he whispered, and went to his knees. He turned his hands over and stared at his palms.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I barely even knew him! But when you’ve got another man’s blood on your hands...it’s like you’re sitting in his very soul,” the blond said.

  The two Outlaws looked at each other, then away from the scene.

  “Best we be going. We’ll tell Thor what happened and it can be his decision what happens next. I’d bet my life this was the Knights,” he said.

  “Christopher, let’s go!” the Outlaw ordered the blond, pointing his finger.

  Christopher stood up, his hands shaking. He stepped over Ace and met with the two Outlaws. They turned their backs to the dead man.

  The three walked towards the church. “We can either wait for the rest to return, or head back to the junkyard and inform Thor – that’s probably best. We need to make sure we don’t waste another day with those dogs running around.”

  The other Outlaw spoke. “Ya know, none of this would’ve happened if Ace let us bring weapons.”

  Christopher slowed his walk and looked down. “Yeah, but it’s Ace we’re talking about here. And the fact that he was killed while unarmed makes him even more innocent. That’s a straight-up murder.”

  “I’m not going to agree with the Knights, but that new kid technically murdered one of their members.”

  “But it’s different! That was an accident! And the Knights are bad people...so it doesn’t mean the same thing when you kill one of them,” Christopher explained, increasing his pace to keep up with the other two.

  “It’s not something I want to discuss. It’s over. It happened. Let’s head back and Thor will decide.”

  Chapter 4

  The three Outlaws rushed to Thor’s office, barging through the door. They panted in the doorway, faces dripping with sweat. Thor sat up straight and raised his eyebrows, confused by their eagerness to return.

  “What’s going on?” Thor questioned, placing his elbows on the desk with his hands together. He shifted his weight forward and cocked his head.

  Christopher cringed and put his face in his hands, breathing unsteadily. He shook his head and walked out of the office in a hurry. Thor looked to the other two Outlaws. “McConnell, James, what the hell happened out there?!”

  James bit his tongue and looked at his partner. “The three of us were out doing our supply raid, following the orders, and we heard g
lass shatter. A lot. Obviously, the plan was not to cause any trouble, so whatever was happening was not according to plan. We turned back and made our way towards the noise…”

  McConnell, a man with short, blond hair, and a neatly groomed moustache, placed his hand on James’ shoulder and stepped forward to take over. “Ace had his head sliced open. He was drowning in a pool of his own blood when we got to him.”

  Thor stood up abruptly and pushed his chair back. His eyes locked with McConnell. “And did you do a damn thing to save him?”

  “Christopher did. But Ace wasn’t breathing. He was dead, sir,” McConnell concluded, dropping his chin and returning to his place.

  Thor rubbed his chin and turned his back to the men. His eyes darted around the wall filled with pictures. He closed his eyes, hoping to return to his happy place; the serenity would not come.

  “We don’t know what to do,” James said.

  Thor did not turn to look at him. He opened his eyes and rubbed the moisture away with his sleeve. He took a deep breath in and opened his mouth, not saying anything.

  James and McConnell looked at each other and then to the ground. Thor twisted his head to his right, looking at the clock, and spoke: “There’s only one thing to do. Kill, or be killed. And our enemies have chosen for us. Rally the men. We’re going to war.”

  James exited the room. McConnell followed. They marched into the lounge, one behind the other. James stood up straight and cleared his throat.

  The lounge was packed, minus the few people still out scavenging for supplies. Despite the chaos, nobody was interested in busywork. James scanned the room and waited for the noise to drop.

  He paused a moment, and with his most powerful voice, he yelled with great fury: “MEN! LISTEN UP!” The chatter in the room came to an immediate halt. James took in a breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline and power flowing through his veins. “By the order of Thor, we have declared war against the Knights! At dawn, tomorrow, we will fight those bastards! Now, more than ever, we must be a collected community, powerful, and represent the strength and courage of the Outlaws! We are a family! Today, we lost Ace. Yesterday, we lost three men. That’s four too goddamn many. Now, ignorant of rank or age, we must all be one on the battlefield!”