“…and there were creatures who received no transmissions…
…and there were other beings yet who took no form…”
Cedric the Wise’s face exuded tranquility.
Urogk felt bad.
Grok was a good man, after all. He just had NO game when it came to the ladies.
She decided to go apologize for kneeing the poor fellow in the testicles.
What she found in Grok’s cave when she returned was…
I’m not sure if rational thoughts like these would continue on right now if fresh meat were to enter the equation. I might be right back into the red rage, and who knows for how long.
Fresh flesh does sound really, really good right now…sigh…with a little barbeque sauce…alas…
Grok was bare-ass naked…and the color of moss.
He lay motionless in the middle of the cave, his eyes bloodshot and glazed over. He was grunting and groaning erratically.
Urogk hadn’t known that the mushroom she had shoved down the ancient man’s throat had been the most powerful psychotropic, hallucinogenic, time-and-space-bending substance ever to be ingested.
RokBott was immediately impressed with the sheer totalness of earth’s destruction.
He landed his spacecraft, which still contained the lifeless components of Rave.
Urogk knelt beside the ancient man, worried. Grok was clearly in pain. She stroked his head, gently untangled the matted mess that was his hair and felt compassion swell up in her heart…
She couldn’t help but stare at Grok’s quite substantial girth, swollen as it was.
Urogk was overcome with a strange, sudden impulse.
“That we may all become creatures of true reflection.”
Cedric chose to stay behind when a new order of planet Earth’s most wealthy societies chose to evacuate.
He stayed behind in order to disperse wisdom and salutations of peace to whoever may be left on earth…to whoever may be seeking…
99% of the planet was left on earth at that time…
“That we may all reflect the true creation, the true reality.”
Rok’s navigational software told him that he had landed somewhere in southern Nevada. He made a mad dash to Las Vegas.
All that stood there was a stop sign.
Every other thing that had composed the city of Las Vegas was now simply lost for the ages.
No E. No nothing.
I remember the last woman I loved. Her name had been Shoshanna. I remember burning my toe on the kerosene heater in the throws of passion. We had been huddled up in the attic for weeks, just trying to stay warm, trying to stay alive.
I still remember her scent, like apricots washed in cotton. I can still hear her unique little laugh too, like a sparrow chirping happily. So yes, I’m gonna say that we had been in love.
While Grok’s mental reality spiraled down through the fabric of space and time, his manhood was also being sucked down, and quite literally so.
Urogk had never tried this particular method of pleasing a man before, no one ever had at that point, as a matter of fact.
It just seemed like the right thing to do.
Shoshanna contracted the zombie virus soon after, on the same day that we made love for what became our last time. Life has a flare for tragic contrasts.
We had been arguing about something. Now, I can’t remember what. At the time, it seemed really important, very heated. I miss getting irrationally angry about trite, unimportant bullshit. Now, I just get blood-crazed at the sight of any living thing…
“Earth must have been so cool back in the day! They had entire cities built around parties. We should totally go there someday, like a field trip. Hit up Vegas and Amsterdam, Bangkok and Paris…too bad there’s not much there anymore. It’s still gotta be pretty dope!”
RaveBott always dreamed of one day seeing earth.
The details of time/space travel are always up for speculation amongst those who’ve never traversed the continuum before themselves. (*)
In this story, Grok’s soul falls through the wormhole. His physical body remains in the cave, where his unconscious body has unknowingly rounded third and seems to be getting the wave in to steal Urogk’s home plate…so to speak…
While he’s tripping, he’s the time-travelling specter of an ancient cave dweller.
Grok gets spit out of the wormhole and the world is basically dead.
We had been hiding in her house for several weeks, back when there was still hope that the whole “zombie” thing would blow over, hope that “normal” life would return one day.
She stormed out of the house. I can’t remember if I tried to stop her. I hope I did. The stained-glass window in the door shattered when she slammed it shut. That’s probably what attracted the attention of the zombies.
She was blood-crazed, herself, when she came back.
Grok was shocked at what he saw stretched out before him. The earth was scorched. There wasn’t much of anything to be seen.
Trash and ash blew over the land.
He bent down to pick up a plastic grocery bag that was blowing by.
His hand passed through it.
I miss you, Shoshanna.
RokBott missed RaveBott too.
He pressed on.
His navigational software told him that California no longer existed, so he decided to head north.
Grok was mystified by the plastic grocery bag that he couldn’t catch.
He thought that is was a sort of land-dwelling jellyfish or something.
Whatever it was, it was slippery and highly evasive.
Grok saw a charred stick.
The hunt was on.
A question of purpose keeps nagging at me.
I spend most of my time these days straining my mostly-rotten brain for shreds of memories from a life lived so very long ago, so very dead and gone now, and for what?
If and when memories do resurface, they only end up reminding me of how badly things have gone ever since this fucked up disease has plagued this long-forsaken earth.
What is there possibly left for me to live for?
Why can’t I die?