Red Robin: Post-Apocalyptic America

by R. B. Tetro

  “You don’t understand. He’s under the rocks. We were hiding there. He was badly injured in the battle, but he was alive. We must go help him. We must go now!” she shouted.

  The rest of the group cringed as her voice echoed off the cool, clammy walls of the cave.

  “Please… we must stay quiet,” Junior interjected firmly.

  The old lady pushed past him and Ruth, hobbling awkwardly toward the cave entrance to go and get her friend.

  “Wait… wait… you can’t go out there, it’s dark,” Junior said as he came around her; blocking her way.

  “We can’t leave him out there… for God’s sake. We have to help him!” she cried as the cave started spinning around and around, and then she fell forward. Junior caught her. Picking her up easily, carrying her back over to her bedroll. Gently, he lay her down and covered her. “I will try to find him at first light.”

  The old lady looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Please… its Poet, man… we have to help him,” she said; feeling drained and tired.

  “I will… you have my word,” Junior promised.

  The old lady looked at him hard; trying to figure out whether or not he was lying. “I’m going to hold you to that,” she called him on his promise, before drifting off to sleep. The rest of the group breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  “Are you really going to look for him?” Ruth asked.

  “I don’t really have a choice. He’s my friend, too.”’ Junior answered her, looking toward the cave entrance.

  “You can’t leave us… we’ll all die,” she whispered; trying not to panic anybody.

  “Like I said…he’s my friend,” Junior said. He stood and walked out of the cave entrance before Ruth could speak. Outside, he stared out into the darkness, feeling helpless as he thought of Poet, stuck under some rock, injured and dying, and worst of all, alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Desperately clinging to life’s fragile, silver cord

  Secretly yearning for the long sleep

  …unforgiving pain, piercing my will to live

  I crawl forward or know nothing in death

  - Poet

  Poet was sitting in a high- backed chair etched in gold leaf at a long oak table, a bountiful feast spread before him. His mouth watered as he stared at the impressive banquet.

  He grabbed a turkey leg the size of his forearm and began to devour it. Next, using his fingers, he scooped a handful of stuffing out of a silver bowl. It was fluffy and moist. The smell of it warmed his stomach and made him feel whole again. He began to look around for a beverage but was unable to find anything to quench his thirst.

  To his right, on the table beside him, he saw a silver bell with a red ribbon tied to the handle. Why not? He smiled and picked the bell up, giving it a good shake before returning it to the table.

  There was a brilliant flash of pure white light. A beautiful woman came out of the light, carrying a clay vessel. The bright light surrounded her, enveloping her in its brilliant glow. As she came closer, his heart leapt in his chest, when he realized it was his wife.

  He cried silently as she neared him. He hadn’t seen her since the lights went out and she’d been brutally attacked by a roaming band of looters. Poet was away from his love at the time, standing in a bread line while she was savagely murdered.

  He’d come home to find her ripped open and bleeding on the floor of their kitchen, her skin cold and clammy, her hands twisted and claw-like. He’d sat with her all night that horrible night, not touching her, just sitting with her, trying to draw strength from her one last time, but there was no strength to be drawn … no words of encouragement, just the frozen look of tortured horror on her face, and the maddening buzzing of the hungry flies as they feasted on the love of his life and his unborn son’s fetus.

  The next morning, after covering them with the kitchen tablecloth, Poet left them lying on the blood smeared kitchen floor and started walking. He’d walked and hidden and walked and hidden for more days than he could remember, until finally reaching the same mountain campsite where he and his wife had conceived their baby.

  It was deserted so he’d stayed there, sleeping sitting up in a port- a- john at night, while the wild animals and mutated monsters scavenged for food around him. During the day he did some scavenging himself and slowly, over a period of about six months, he’d been able to make a decent home for himself, until the roving bands of Blood- eyes started to appear, then everything went to shit in short order.

  She set a crystal goblet ringed in brilliant gold on the table in front of him and filled it from the clay vessel with a honey colored, syrupy liquid that bubbled but was cool to the touch. He stared at her and tried to get her to talk, but she would not or could not speak. She did however smile at him, and it seemed to him that she knew who he was and that she still loved him very much. He smiled back at her, agonizing in his need to touch her; to connect with her on a physical level.

  She looked at him with sympathy in her beautiful green eyes. As if she understood his need for contact and was equally frustrated by it.

  “… our son?” he asked, taking a cautious sip of the frothy, golden liquid. His mouth was instantly electrified with several tastes and textures. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever swallowed.

  She pointed to her belly and then the light smiling at him and nodding as she refilled his empty goblet. They stared into each other’s eyes, both of them crying tears born of cherished memories and dreams unrealized.

  Suddenly, Poet heard screaming such as he’d not thought possible and the brilliant light began to flicker and fade. He reached for his wife’s hand but could not stop her from leaving him alone again. He wanted to follow her into the light but she was gone and he was surrounded by darkness and the terrible gut-wrenching screaming that he suddenly realized was coming from him.

  A young snog had found him and was feeding on his ruined face while he dreamed. He frantically groped for his axe, feeling the worn hickory handle. He raised it, slashing down with it in desperation. The snog grunted as the blade from the axe sunk into its neck, drenching the Poet in its blood. He hit it again and again, until it relinquished its hold on his ruined face. Then he was silent and still.

  He laid motionless that way for the rest of the night, desperately clinging to each second of the heavenly dream while missing his beautiful wife and unborn son.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  She was as beautiful as the world around her was ugly. She was blind and had never seen the people that had taken her away from her parents and then left her on her own. They’d left her a small sack of food that was no longer fit to eat and a stick with a rock lashed to it with leather straps. She’d nearly starved to death. She was unable to hunt or scavenge because of her blindness, and she’d been too weak to crawl up and out of the over-turned empty sewage pumping truck, where they’d abandoned her.

  “Jesus, if you can hear me, I’m ready to come to you… if you could just send an angel to help guide the way,” she’d softly prayed. She was not afraid to die. Her life had been lonely beyond description and she relished the chance to experience heaven.

  She had one prized possession that she carried wrapped in an old Mexican blanket… a Bible, written in Brail. She had the word and the word was all that she needed. The word sustained her and gave her the one thing no one should ever live without. The word gave her hope, and hope was all she had.

  As she lay dying that night in the bottom of the overturned truck, the rats surrounded her, sniffing at her, nibbling on her to see if she would put up a fight. She’d screamed and cried. “Please Jesus, help me, it’s Angel, Jesus, please help me!”

  She’d struggled to push the ravenous rats away from her until finally, exhausted, she gave up, curling herself into a tight ball, letting the rats rip and tear tiny pieces of her body away from her while she quietly wept. She remembered thinking… This is what it feels like to die.

  That’s when the truck had beg
un to surge with some sort of powerful energy. The rats scurried away from her and she’d felt herself rising. “I’m ready,” she’d proclaimed bravely, a calm smile on her face.

  She felt herself being lifted, up and out of the filthy truck and away, through the woods, then up, up and still, up some more. She remembered thinking that she must be going up to Heaven. At last, she felt her body come to rest on the ground. It was soft and spongy under her; as if she was lying on damp moss. She could hear a waterfall near to her as she felt herself begin to drift away from lack of food or drink.

  She’d awoken several hours later, recoiling suddenly as she realized she was surrounded by a pack of growling wolves. She covered her mouth, afraid that if she screamed, she would be devoured.

  Well… I’m not in heaven, she thought, as the pack of carnivores took turns smelling her and nudging her while she lay trembling on the moss covered floor of their den. She just knew she was going to die at any moment, but it never happened. There was a soft, glowing, blue light surrounding her. The wolves were enveloped in the strange glow. She could hear them whimpering and she knew that her friend Jesus was still with her and she was no longer afraid.

  The wolves began to howl and yip as the light surrounding her grew brighter. An explosion of concentrated power went off inside of her head. She screamed and put her hands over her dead eyes. They felt like they were burning out from the inside. At last, the pain subsided and she’d realized that she could see. No… that wasn’t exactly right. She realized that she could see what the pack was seeing, and that she could bounce from one wolf to the other, seeing what each of them were seeing.

  She cried salty tears of joy as she saw the trees and the waterfall outside the cave. For the first time since she was a very young girl still living with her parents, she saw, shapes and forms. Angel knew that Jesus had done this. She mind- jumped eagerly from one wolf to the other, finally settling on one that appeared to be the leader.

  |

  She drank in his visual feast as he returned to check on her in the cave. Gasping, she saw herself for the first time through the eyes of the alpha male as he walked around her, making sure she was still alive. She watched, fascinated, as he dropped the carcass of a chubby squirrel at her feet and then returned to the pack.

  Overwhelmed, she saw the earth and sky for the first time through the eyes of the monstrous black wolf. The wolf seemed to understand her need to see, looking at things slowly so she could enjoy each visual delight. She realized that she could see best through his eyes. He didn’t seem to mind her being inside his head. It was as if the animal knew Jesus had giving him the task of taking care of her. A task that the proud wolf had felt honored to do for his master.

  That had been over ten years ago, and the girl had grown into a stunning young

  woman and survived and thrived since then. Now, she was one with the pack and they with her. They’d lived a solitary existence until the night they found the mutilated man, screaming underneath an overhang. That was the night all of their lives changed.

  Now, as she held his injured head in her lap, she spoke soothingly to him while she gave him measured sips of water. His face looked hideous. He must have realized it because he seemed embarrassed by his appearance and condition.

  Poet could not believe how beautiful the young woman was. She was built like a willow, with long raven hair, moonbeam- colored skin and stunning violet eyes. He looked back and forth from her to the giant black wolf; obviously protecting her. The last thing he remembered was her giving him a strong, tea-like drink which almost immediately put him to sleep.

  When he awoke it was daylight. His face had been sewn with hundreds of tiny stitches. She helped him crawl out of the ground into the light. He cried a little when he saw her in the daylight, realizing that she was even more beautiful than he’d first thought, and because he was so happy to be alive and above ground once again.

  He told her about his friend, the old lady and after talking with her wolf friends she told him that she’d been dragged away by a small group of civilized people. He asked her if her friends could track where she’d been taken. She laughed and said yes… that tracking was what her and her friends did and that she already knew were his friend was and that it wasn’t very far away.

  He was delighted and feeling better. He tried not to look at her so much but could not help himself. It made him feel guilty because of his dead wife, but he could not look away. He realized the black wolf she called Onyx was watching him closely. He swallowed hard, realizing he was much lower down on the food chain than the mighty, black hunter.

  “My name’s Angel, what is yours?” she asked, facing him but not looking at him.

  “I’m Poet,” he said softly as he realized for the first time that his rescuer was blind. He was confused… she moved about so easily. Then he noticed her turning and cocking her head exactly how the black wolf was doing.

  “Can you see through his eyes?” he asked without thinking.

  She smiled and touched his ruined face, tracing the soft ridges of the countless stitches with her fingertips. “Yes, they are my eyes... and my family,” she replied. The black wolf walked quietly over to her and sat beside her. She looked tiny beside him. He was massive- the biggest wolf Poet had ever seen.

  “How?” he asked, trying hard not to make any sudden moves.

  “Jesus,” she answered simply, as she rubbed behind the ears of the great wolf.

  “Poet smiled, “Yes… Jesus,” he muttered. It had been quite some time since he’d last heard his name. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “You are welcome,” she said.

  They sat in silence for the rest of the morning, just the three of them, the great wolf, the beautiful Angel, and their new friend, Poet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Pops and Daniel were more than a little skeptical as they followed Scout. He kept looking back at them and laughing while they struggled to keep up with his nimble steps. The terrain was rugged to say the least. It seemed when Scout picked a trail, he went for the “rougher the better” philosophy. They’d been climbing for over an hour when they lost track of him. Pops and Daniel looked around nervously. They would never have chosen this path and neither was sure on how to go back to their camp.

  “I’m up here, can’t you see, follow my steps, and here you will be,” Scout shouted down to them.

  Daniel and Pops looked up. Scout was standing on the highest point of a sheer cliff wall, with his hands on his hips; laughing as per usual.

  “How are we supposed to get up there?” Pop’s asked.

  “Look behind the scrubby little tree, and you will see how to come up here with me,” Scout said, laughing again.

  Daniel and Pops felt their way along the cliff wall, coming finally to a scrubby cedar tree barely two feet high and a garbage can lid sized rock that had been pulled to the side, revealing a hole, barely the width of a man’s shoulders, leading straight into the cliff face.

  Daniel and Pops exchanged doubtful looks. Both of them were broad through the shoulders. Pops held up his index finger and rummaged through his back pack, pulling out a flashlight. He handed it to Daniel, who took it with care, and knelt down, shining the flashlight beam into the hole.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said, straightening up and carefully handing the flashlight back to Pops.

  Pops knelt down and looked into the hole. “Impressive,” he murmured, standing up again. “Be my guest,” he said to Daniel, stepping aside and motioning for Daniel to take the lead.

  “Thanks,” Daniel chuckled sarcastically. He bent down and wriggled himself through the opening and out onto a foot-wide ledge cut out of the cliff that climbed precariously up and up some more, until finally vanishing from sight.

  “It’s okay…come on,” Pops heard Daniels muffled voice.

  “This must have taken years to do,” Pops said, grunting as he pulled his blocky frame through the confining opening. Daniel was already making his way up the
narrow ledge, focusing hard on available handholds to keep from toppling backwards and down into the yawning crevice behind him. Neither spoke, as it took all their strength and concentration to reach the opening leading out onto the ridge top.

  Daniel was never so glad to see the sun in all his life.

  Scout stood with his narrow back to them, arguing with someone in front of him that they could not see. They startled him and he turned around quickly, imploring them to come forward with his hands, waiting for them to look away before hastily snatching his little green friend up and stuffing him back in his back pack. He led them to a large pile of boulders rising above the ridge and started to climb.

  They climbed up after him. When they reached the top, they knelt down beside Scout on a wide flat rock; eyes following his pointing finger. From their lofty vantage point they could see the side of the cave they were going to attack as they were on the back side of the opposite ridge now.

  Scout dug around in his back-pack, pulling out an ancient telescope and handing it to Pops. Pops nodded his thanks, looking curiously at the telescope before extending it carefully and looking at the far ridge. “Shit balls and thundering turds,” he whispered; more to himself than to them. He shook his head, grinning, and handed the telescope to Daniel.

  Daniel looked through the device for a moment, before carefully collapsing it and handing it back to Scout. “I’ll be…thanks, old friend. You saved our lives.”

  Pops grinned as well. “There’s at least a hundred Blood- eyes over there… no telling how many more inside. Thank you,” he said, clapping Scout on his bony shoulder.

  Scout popped up, clapped his hands and spun around; delighted with their appreciation. Above them, the gathering greenish- black clouds thundered ominously. Pops looked up at the sky, it was almost mid- day. That only gave them

  half a day to get their party to shelter before nightfall.

  Scout looked at him and the threatening clouds. “Do not worry, do not fear. I will lead you back to here, with your people, am I clear?” he rhymed.