A Abba's Apocalypse

by Charles E. Butler

  I take my jacket off and hand it to her through the gap I just finished making. I look around through my exhaustion to calculate my next move. My rude shadow now covers her, blocking the penetrating warmth. The only thing preventing me from pulling her out is this darn stupid rebar connecting her prison roof. I wish I had brought my “bolt cutters,” but even that probably would not cut this thick piece of metal. All

  of a sudden I remember something. Randy packed me a present. He told me it might come in handy sometime. It is a

  diamond wire saw from his broken survival knife. I rummage through my sack to find it, as Tiffany finishes her fight to wrap my jacket around herself in her restricted confines.

  My original desire was to be already enroute to “Project Hope” by now. I know the most dangerous time of the day is coming soon. I am also afraid of the realization that I am not real familiar with section of town. The darkness will only make things worse. I push this thought from my mind and focus on cutting this prison bar. While holding the abrasive strand, I feel its abrasive teeth. I reach back into my sack and don my leather rancher gloves. I return to work as I see her youthful innocent smile reassuring her trust in me. She bobbles slightly up and down in her anticipation of her rescue. The coolness kisses her reminding her “Not just yet.”

  I’m so close I just want to yank her out. I wrap the saw around the bar as close as I can to one of the megaliths, and begin pulling the line back and forth. The saw seems to be doing a fairly quick job. I hope I can remove this bar with one cut by using leverage. This is why I decided to leave as much of the bar as possible. Little sparks sprinkle down over Tiffany in the growing darkness. “Honey, would you mind pulling your jacket over your face to protect it from the falling metal filings?” She reluctantly obeys my request acting like a child scared of being left alone in the dark. “I reestablish a lifeline of comfort by explaining everything I’m doing. I figure I am about halfway through the bar now. “Joey, do you think it will take much longer? I’m getting cold and scared.” I ask Tiffany if she would do me a big favor. She replies, “What’s that Joey?” I ask her if she wouldn’t mind holding my flashlight so I can see what I’m doing. “Sure,” she says. I grab my light and hand it down along with another protein bar. I tell her to shine the light horizontally, and warn her not to point it any higher. I think the last thing we want to do is to send any LD directions to this location. “Be careful honey with the light.” I watch her juggle between dinner and her attentiveness to the light. I believe the light will help give her some security too.

  I take a few seconds to relieve the pressure off my hurting neck and back by momentarily stretching backwards. I see it’s completely dark out amidst these thousand twinkling stars. I hurry back to sawing faster. I make it to be about seven pm now. I feel the night air swipe at my cold sweat. My shivering body reminds me it is not fully spring-yet. I continue to harness the heat of my action in sawing Tiffany free. I have just a little bit more to cut away. “So how old are you young lady?” I see her focusing on the spot of light being steadily drilled into the side wall. “Fifteen, well I’ll be fifteen this May.” I notice far off voices drift across this wasteland and pray they stay away. Right now, I am more afraid that Tiffany might hear them. I pull at the saw even faster and harder. I notice her voice slurring, thinking she maybe fighting symptoms of hypothermia. I try and limit her conversation in an attempt to keep in as much of her body heat as possible. So, I take over the conversation while looking around.

  “Do you want to hear a story Tiffany?” Her teeth chatter, “Yes,” while I saw as fast as I can. “Once upon a yesteryear, there was this kind and generous goblin. She would always be willing to help anyone in need. She even had magical powers. Some were to make it rain, or make it sunny, or make the moon shine.” The hot wire saw is pass the point of cutting off circulation in my hands and is beginning to shred my warm leather gloves to pieces. The tan color is being brushed over with pink pain. “In return for her good weather throughout each year the town folk would throw an Autumn harvest festival in her honor. It was their way of saying ‘thank you’ to the kind goblin.” Tiffany’s bobbling seems to have stopped. I hope she is captured by the current story, and rather not becoming catatonic due to the looming cold. “Well, one year the farmers complained that their harvest was not as bountiful as the year before. They attributed this insufficiency to the lack of sunshine and rain. It was really their selfishness and ignorance causing the problem. They tried to grow more

  crops than the land could sustain. Well, the farmers decided they could not spare any of their harvest to have the annual autumn festival. They believed they had only enough food from their crops to sustain them through the upcoming winter. This angered the kind goblin.” I finally cut through the thick bar and feel great relief. As I catch my breath I notice my bloody hands dripping down on top Tiffany. The release of the saw’s pressure, and constant heat cauterizing my wounds, causes a bloody trickle down affect. I grab the hot bar near the cut and prop my body in position to bend it up. I knock some loose debris on top her leather roof provoking Tiffany to ask me, “What’s going on?” I want her to concentrate on the story and not on my progress. So, I start where I left off. “That winter the goblin hid the Sun and made the daytime short. It got so very cold all that winter. She then sent the rain.” I ask Tiffany, “Do you know what happens to rain when it freezes.” I see the jacket bounce slightly as she responds to my question. “Yes, everyone knows it turns to snow.” I continue with, “Well, it snowed and snowed, and buried the village. Many children got real sick because of the cold. And, the townsfolk also got real sick; that is sick and tired of the evil goblin.” I finish taking position and then pull the bar with all my might. I pray, “Dear Lord help me!”

  I feel the bar slowly bending, and not a second too soon. The far off voices conversing seem to be drawing closer. I faintly whisper, “Well, spring finally came. One day the angry goblin overheard children singing wicked songs about her from her hill top hideaway. They skipped and danced to songs of hatred as they played; all except one little girl. She refused to hate the goblin.” The stress of the bar bending or my supernatural willpower causes the bar to snap off, finally allowing me to free Tiffany. I kiss the saw and toss it back in

  my sack as I grab my rope. I see Tiffany’s leather roof shaking the dust and mixing with my drizzles of blood. I begin unrolling enough rope while searching for the best possible position around t hole for leverage purposes. “That Fall, the

  townsfolk had the harvest festival as the poor old goblin pouted and cried all alone in her hide away. She cried so loud, and so many tears, it caused it to rain on the party. And, the rain sounded like this.” I lower down the end of my rope and tap Tiffany’s leather roof several times. She immediately slides the jacket from off her head revealing her joyous smile filled with gratitude. I tell her to quickly tie this around her belly as she hands me the flashlight. I shine it down into the hole as she fumbles in her cold numbness to secure the rope. I figure I’ll continue the story in an attempt to warm Tiffany another way. “The kind little girl heard the goblin’s sadness and decided she’d go visit her. When she got to her hideaway she called out ‘oh kind wonderful goblin won’t you let me in’?” I see Tiffany finish tying the knot in front of her. I ask her if she’s ready to get out of the hole. “Please” she responds. I pull her slow and steadily up. The noise we’re making causes me to alert Tiffany to be as quiet as possible. I give a soft, “Shhh,” to her as she gets closer to me. She reaches her arms up and clutches around my neck clinging to me like she’ll never let go. I stand and swing her to the safety of my side while I embrace her with my warm hug.

  She begins crying and refusing to let go. I give her a few seconds to enjoy the heat of the moment, as I observe where the approaching voices might have gone. Tiffany whispers, “Will you please finish the story?” My concern is to get us to the confines of safety as soon as possible. I think the security of the alleyway might
be a good start. “Sure honey, but it will have to wait till later.” I set her down, and then don my rucksack. I hold Tiffany’s hand and lead her swiftly away.

  Chapter 10: Return to Hope

  I hear the voices following behind us. It sounds like there maybe three or four LD out there. I’m getting that eerie feeling again, sensing is a Demon close by. We walk rapidly through, and over the darken debris, eventually making it to the street. We have about a half block to go before we reach the protection of the alleyway system. I let go of Tiffany’s hand in my attempt to gain speed. I tell Tiffany to stay real close and follow every move I make. What’s behind me does not worry me as much as what may be ahead. I believe the evil group has discovered the spot I rescued Tiffany from. I can’t make out their words, but they sound angry. I hear lumber slapping from the direction we just exited, as if it’s being tossed in a fit of rage. I think they might be upset. We probably left some evidence at the site telling them who we are, maybe its footprints or a wrapper. It might even be my blood. There is something we left that they found to make them react so aggressively. Tiffany must hear the commotion they’re making by now. I look over my shoulder watching her concentrate on me though. “She’s a smart soldier,” I think. She’s turning her fear into something useful-determination. We hustle into the alley and “double time” it. I want to expand our lead and put as much distance between them and us as promptly as possible.

  We make it to the end of the alley and turn right. I want to move over one entire block and reenter the adjacent alley. This “zigzagging” should confuse any LD following us to our exact whereabouts. Tiffany and I are breathing pretty hard now. We make it to the intersection and dash across it. I don’t stop to look, but I give a passing stare in both directions. I do not notice anybody. We continue running till we’re well in the confines of the next alley. We slow to a fast pace walk as I listen for possible footsteps following us. All seems quiet. “Stay with me just a little longer,” I tell Tiffany. I determine this quick pace should keep us “on track” of putting optimal

  distance between us and them, while giving us a chance to catch our breaths. I don’t want to stop just yet. I want to be at least five blocks away from them, with as much random trail covering our tracks as possible.

  We again turn right at the end of this alley and chance going two blocks down this time. I keep Tiffany at my side as we move along in a duck, cover and observe maneuver. I whisper as we approach the intersection, “We’ll rest as soon as we make it to the next alley.” Tiffany has been really great keeping up and following everything I’ve done. We stop momentarily at the intersection and hide next to a utility pole. I see it’s been snapped in half with the other part dangling ten feet to our right. I don’t see anything in this direction except some small craters in the street. I look left and see movement that startles me. It takes my mind a second to distinguish that it is the shadow cast be the swinging utility pole. I grab Tiffany’s hand and move across the intersection. My heart’s still racing by the sudden scare.

  As we near Tiffany begins to steer me into the alley. I whisper to her, “No honey, we have one more block.” I see the exhaustion on her face and the drops of cold sweat streaming down her face. I reinforce her fortitude with a “thumbs up” and a quirky smile. Her pace hastens in her determination to keep up with me. She looks at me as if she wants to ask me something important. Instead of acknowledging her urgent request, I instead give her the “shhh” sign with my finger over my lips warning her to be extremely quiet. The reason is that we’re approaching the next intersection. She bites her lip and ducks with me next to a covered heap of something. I peek out past it to observe my right flank, while getting a good whiff of the pungent remains under the tarp. This section of street seems clear, so I look left. All I see are just more craters and debris. I pull Tiffany away, and try to leave the smell behind. I have a good idea what is under the tarp rotting, but I block the thought from my mind for now. Tiffany is breathing heavy again as we make to the alleyway. I immediately begin

  looking for the closes cover for us to rest.

  I find a big dead bush that has a gap between it and a stack of discarded bathtubs. We scoot in between them and sit. I can barely see anything except our dark figures. I take my rucksack off and use it as a pillow for Tiffany to lean against. She continues to breathe hard and fast, so I use my controlled breathing technique to slow it down. My hand proceeds to slide into my sack and fidget for the canteen while I ask her what she was trying to tell me earlier. She is still too out of breath to talk. She leans slightly forward and unties her shoe, and then removes it while pointing to the answer to my question. I hear her responds as she dumps her shoe out. Several fairly large pebbles bounce off the asphalt as Tiffany nods her head up and down in the dark. I tell her, “What a trooper,” while feeling guilty for the pain I put her through. I decide we’ll take one more minute to rest. In the meantime, I do some calculations while Tiffany catches her breath.

  I place us around fifteen blocks away from “Project Hope.” The chill is setting in as we cool off. I am getting the shivers and think it’s unusually cold tonight. I check my watch to find it is a little after eight. The current chill at this time of day suggests the temperature is going below freezing tonight. I look at Tiffany and see the waves of body heat floating up. My leather jacket she is wearing is tough and light, but it’s not design to keep the heat in. I try not to let her know just how cold I am without my jacket. After evaluating the situation, I decide there’s no way we’ll be able to make back to “H” before hypothermia sets in. I rise up and immediately start looking for the closes place to bed for the night. I turn and tell Tiffany “It’s time to ‘move out’.”

  A fog is forming. It’s hard to see the fog in the dark, but I can feel the dark dampness floating over me. My soaked undershirt tingles with the thick moisture, and I smell the fresh bite in the air. Tiffany stands and reacts to the cold by wrapping her arms around herself. I conclude this must be a

  fast moving cold front suddenly moving into town. We start walking as I pan the surroundings for LD and a place to stay. I don’t know how long it will take to find suitable cover for the rest of the night, so I keep my intentions a secret. It’s better to keep moving for now. The asphalt is slick with dew that is helping soften the crunching sound of the meteorite fragments.

  We travel two blocks before I see a possible spot. The fog is getting real thick now. Visibility is down to a half a block. I just wish it wasn’t so darn cold. This would make perfect cover to travel in. It’s also a perfect setting to come across an unexpected Demon. We stop then stoop in the alley, as I see a small dwelling through the missing fence slats. “I want you to wait here while I check on something.” Tiffany pulls her knees in and leans her head over her bent legs. She looks like a giant hairball in the dark. I set my rucksack next to Tiffany, and then cautiously step through the gap in the fence. I proceed to very quietly sneak up to the small dwelling. I silently chuckle to realize what the fog disguised as a small building. I bend down to view inside this fairly large doghouse. “What a perfect bed and breakfast,” I whisper. I return to retrieve Tiffany from out of the cold foggy darkness.

  “I found us a place for the night girly.” I grab her cold clammy hand along with my rucksack. I observe and judge how hard this place might be to detect from the alley as we cut our way through the ubiquitous cloud around us. I whisper as we arrive at the doghouse, “Welcome to my humble abode.” I can’t tell if she is shaking her head in disbelief, or if it is due to the chill. I reach inside and turn my flashlight on to see cobwebs, dust, a cloth mat, and a metal dog bowl. I toss my sack towards the back wall and quickly wipe the webs away with my twirling arm and flashlight. “Come on in,” I whisper, “And make yourself at home.” I prop the flashlight so it faces towards the back wall, and then open my rucksack. I tell Tiffany to wait at the entrance, so she’ll block any light from

  escaping. I center the smelly mat in the middle of t
he floor. The wet air brings back the mat’s memories of a wet dog odor. But, it will help keep us warm.

  I reach into my sack and pull out a roll of 30 gallon black plastic trash bags, courtesy of Scotty. I inform Tiffany these things have many purposes. I tear one off the roll and make a door cover to seal in the light and our body heat. With a English accent I state, “I figure the doghouse is six feet long by four feet wide, and,” I raise my hand horizontally to guess a measure, “Four feet high.” I try and keep Tiffany’s mind off the cold using my favorite secret weapon-humor. It has gotten me through many hard times. I hand her the canteen and a protein bar while opening one for myself. “Drink,” I gently command her. I want to make sure she stays hydrated. I place the protein bar in my mouth as I grab the dog bowl. While chewing, I use my other hand to grab a “Tuna” can concoction I made back at “H.” “This, young lady, is our heater for tonight. This is what you call homemade ‘Canned Heat’.” I light the can and set it in the dog bowl in the middle of the floor. I proceed to give her a survival class, while I rip off another trash bag. “The can contains rolled up corrugated cardboard and melted coloring crayons and a dab of vegetable oil. Melted paraffin works best, but candle wax is hard to find now a days. This little baby will burn about four hours, heating this fine establishment in no time.” Tiffany seems amused at my repugnant but eloquent English humor.

  The light from the “Canned Heat” allows me to save the battery life in my flashlight. I tear three holes in the bag, and then quietly shake it open. I watch her nibble the remaining portion of her protein bar as I tell her, “Excuse me madam while I dress for the occasion.” I slip my new plastic jacket over my head and on my body. I fumble my invisible tie while asking her, “Is this tie suitable with my suit?” She almost chokes laughing. I hand her a bag and tell her to put it on under her jacket. I inform her it will keep moisture out and more of her body heat in. I unroll two more sheets and rip