Brian Steele - 4POCALYPSE - Four Tales of a Dark Future

“Toby’s camp?” Jasmine asked, surprised. There was no way that imbecile ran the camp., she thought.

“Believe it or not. He was the dumbest fuck there but Owen trusted him, and he protected me, never knowing if Owen would change his mind or not—” she chuckled, “it pays to be blond and have big tits… even after the impact some men never learned to look past what a woman looks like and care more for their safety.” Angela walked onto the platform. “This road leads into Owen’s camp and once when I tried to escape I made it this far—” she laughed, “I thought I could hide here…” She looked at Jasmine’s expression. “What? I said I was blond and have big tits. I didn’t say I was smart. If I was smart I wouldn’t be here.”

Jasmine laughed as she knelt against the dirt wall. She pulled her binoculars up, dropped her goggles around her neck, and then peered at the camp. Angela was right. There was a gathering of about thirty men or more, lining up for dinner and being served by several women.

The sun peeked out between the dusty golden-brown haze and shone down on the group as they stood in line like a gathering at a buffet table with no worries in the world. Jasmine looked up and, for one brief moment, missed living in Garland, Texas. She was young, around six or so, but she could remember standing in line at a Luby’s cafeteria with her father, fighting over the chocolate pudding.

“Crap. How many?” Jasmine asked, amazed at the sheer number. She didn’t have a clue that Owen’s little army was as large as it appeared.

“Christ. Didn’t Commander Herne tell you…?” Jasmine shook her head no. “Owen has around a hundred men. They’re all around this fucking place and everyone of them are crazier than hell.”

Jasmine put her binoculars on the hill, put her goggles back on, and then opened her pack and removed several pieces of equipment and gently laid them down next to her pack. Then one by one, she assembled her BMG 50 caliber sniper’s rifle. “How far away are we?” She asked as she lifted the rifle, gently placed it on the hill, and then looked through the scope. After a moment, she slowly twisted dials until the camp came into clear focus. Even through the golden-brown haze, she could see everything perfectly. If I make it back, I’m going to marry Tank, Jasmine thought.

Angela lay beside her, peering through Jasmine’s binoculars, now becoming her spotter. “Exactly a half a mile,” Angela answered. “See that fat fuck sitting up on his throne, that’s Owen.”

Jasmine looked up, then around, looking for something to measure wind and direction. She dropped her goggles, and then with her binoculars, she slowly looked around the camp. Then she saw it. One of the women who were serving the men wore a face scarf and just behind the knot, one of the ends was billowing.

She handed Angela the binoculars. “See the woman, her scarf?”

“Yes,” Angela answered.

Jasmine went back to her scope and found her. She then trained the rifle on Owen. “Be my spotter. I need to know when everything is calm… oh, and do me a favor, just whisper the word calm, when the conditions are right.”

After several minutes, Angela whispered, “Calm,” and through her binoculars, Angela watched as Owen’s head exploded. Then she watched as Owen’s guards fell one by one, and then watched as a truck exploded, and then another, and then a third one. Chaos reigned as Jasmine slowly unloaded her clip. However, what impressed Angela more than anything did, not one bullet went wasted. Jasmine took out the major guards and vehicles, and set the men running in sheer confusion. Uncle Baul was right, Jasmine thought. Killing Owen would cause his army to collapse.

“Remind me when I get back to rip off Tank’s clothes,” Jasmine said as she loaded a new clip.

“He’ll have a heart attack,” Angela answered. “The tower.” Jasmine nodded her acknowledgement. “Believe it or not, that’s their fuel storage.” Two seconds after Jasmine had heard the word fuel the tower exploded. The repercussion sent buildings, vehicles, and unfortunately some of the people they wanted to save, flying in every direction. “Damn…” Angela whispered. “I didn’t have a clue…”

“Neither did I…”

The onslaught within the camp was even more forceful than Jasmine and Angela thought. Even though the tower explosion killed most of Owen’s men, the remainder within the camp were killing each other in sheer panic, which made it that much more difficult for them to get in and get the survivors out.

Jasmine saved one clip from her sniper rifle, but used the remaining grenades, which made the cannon useless, and was close to running out of shells for her Mossberg and bullets for the Glocks.

It was thirty minutes or more before the chaos ended and, other than the wind that picked up, the camp became quiet. There were faint moans but those ended quickly as Jasmine and Angela found the source and ended it with a bullet. Angela stood over one of the men that Jasmine had shot earlier and emptied her Glock into him.

“Feel better?” Jasmine asked.

“A little,” Angela answered morosely. “He was the one who took Carmen’s baby.”

“Where do they keep the prisoners?” Jasmine asked.

“In a fucking dungeon in Owen’s place, but it’s more like a torture chamber,” Angela answered. She then wiped tears from her eyes. “I have stories to tell you when you get back… You will be back.” She looked at Jasmine with tear stained cheeks. “Tank will make sure you’ll come back, you’ll see…”

Angela then nodded in the direction of a building that stood at the end of the street. “That gleaming piece of crap, he called his palace. Follow me.”

“You know, I think I heard Tank speak maybe a hundred words, and not once was there profanity.”

“I inherited my mother’s tits and my father’s vocabulary, so sue me.”

Jasmine laughed. “Proud of those, tits, aren’t you?” She was going to miss Angela. She almost wanted her to come with her. She was definitely a good fighter, and her sense of humor was good company.

“Absolutely. Now if I had your tight little ass—Tank’s words, not mine—I’d never enlisted. I’d have married some fat old fart and took his money after he died.”

Jasmine howled in laughter. Yes, she was really going to miss Angela, but she also knew Angela was going to make it back safely, and in the course of doing so, she would be promoted to Lieutenant and spearhead the opening of outposts between the cities, most of which would be supplied by Owen’s arsenal and food source in the beginning. After time the cities will see the importance and support them and even branching out to create outposts in all directions that will play a major role as people started leaving the underground cities to rebuild.

“Take me there,” Jasmine said, walking in the direction of Owen’s house. “We save every last one of them…”

The dungeon.

Four stories beneath the palace.

The palace was originally a library complete with a tornado/fallout shelter converted to a temporary safe house that would house the residents of the small town until after the impact. A small town with a population of around fifteen hundred people that didn’t believe the impact would be so devastating. It was nothing more than a bad tornado is what they expected. The residents would live there two, maybe three days, a week tops.

Then the entrance collapsed, cutting the town off from all contact.

Three months later the food ran out. Less than a week later they drew straws to see who would be willing to kill the first person that would soon be their next meal. They started with the infirmed, then those with medical problems where they depended on medical attention, then the elderly, and finally only the strong survived.