A Deranged Child On A Dead Earth

parker

Well-Known Member
#1
A Deranged Child On A Dead Earth

A Novel By
Parker Kniffen

In the year 2011 the world was ending, it had started in late 2009. The news stations, most newspapers, and most news websites didn't think much of people getting sick and people going mad. People made jokes about it.

Haha, it's the zombies!

Haha, it's like that series of movies that are actually badly written social commentaries.

Eventually it got more notice. You stop joking about something when it eats your dog.

After a while Police Officers on patrol got more alert, immigration laws got stricter, people got nervous. The price of guns and ammo had already sky-rocketed thanks to the rumors of President Obama's gun control laws.

Thanks to an increase in the price of gas and oil people started stock piling and this further increased the price of fossil fuels.

These two things got much more expensive thanks to the out break.

Eventually people started rioting.

So the government had to take control. They set up Martial Law all over America.

Thanks to people being packed so close together the infection spread faster and easier. The infection rate rose quickly and almost without hindrance. Within three months of Martial Law being instated thirty percent of the United States was infected.

A month later the estimate was fifty five percent.

Other countries did better, and other countries did worse, but this is not a story about them. This is the story of a Child no older than fourteen who has hardship and responsibility thrust upon him.

_____

He was falling; well actually the helicopter he was in was falling, but that didn't matter to him. What mattered to him was the fact that he was about to die.

He could see the pilot grabbing his arm and having a seizure in the front seat.

He could hear the passenger beside him scream bloody murder as they fell.

He could see the nose of the chopper dip almost straight towards the ground.

He could see the asphalt road coming up very fast.

He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and held his hands closed so tightly that his finger nails cut open his palm. The last thought that went through his mind before he blacked out was a demand and a plea to the world.

He wanted to survive.
_____
The mind handles things in odd ways. It usually sticks everything in different little Boxes, so stuff doesn't get all mixed up and you end up petting your steak and grilling your cat.

However sometimes, when bad things happen, your mind has to change it's plan some. Sometimes it has to pour some Boxes into other Boxes. Sometimes it has to make Entirely New Boxes.

This is what happened to the hero of our tale.

His mind poured everything that had a chance of helping him survive into one Box, called 'HOLY CRAP I DON'T WANT TO DIE!', and everything else into a another Box called 'Unimportant'.

What went into the first Box was everything he had ever scene, heard, or read about fighting, fishing, hunting, information gathering, medicine, guns, knives, plants, dangerous animals, math, chemistry, and farming.

What went into the second Box was everything else, his house, his family, his pets, his name, interaction with others, most of his life, movies, friends, his name, his heroes, his religion, basically his identity.
_____

His whole body ached, his mouth was dry, and his stomach empty. That is all he knew when he woke up, and it was all that mattered to him.

He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was inside a helicopter that was on it's side. He was next to a dead person and a dying person. He didn't know who these people were and he didn't care. He thought they were vaguely familiar but that wasn't important. His Survival was important, not them, and to survive he would need to get out of the seat. He moved his left arm to unbuckle himself from it.

"Fuck!"

His arm did not like that, at least that's the impression he got from the horrible pain that was inflicted on him when he tried to move it. He let out a hiss as he ran his right hand against his left arm and felt that it was broken in two, maybe three places.

He decided that it was probably a good idea to check himself out some more. He used his right arm to unbuckle himself and began to feel himself for broken bones and other wounds.

His left shoulder was dislocated, he had a huge bruise on his chest and stomach, his right ankle was sprained, his left leg had a pretty deep cut in it, he was covered in vomit, his bowels and bladder had emptied themselves, and from the blood running down his head he could tell he probably had a concussion and a small cut.

He knew what he needed like a starving man knows he needs food. He needed food, water, what ever was needed to make a splint for his arm and leg, gauze, stitches, and disinfectant.

He carefully looked around for a first aid kit. It was in the front of the helicopter inside a thick orange case with a piece of metal sticking through it.

'First thing's first, work on the easy stuff.' He thought to himself as he slumped forward, pulled his legs up to his chest. He sucked in his breath and thrust his legs down and back so he was thrust forward himself onto the pilot's seat and slammed his shoulder back into place.

He let loose a wordless scream of pain and grabbed onto the back of the pilot's seat for balance and better reach. From the white around his eyes he could tell he wasn't too far away from passing out.

He reached his good arm out passed the dying man in the pilot's seat so he could grab the first aid kit.

He was startled when the pilot started moaning loudly and lifted his up.

What was more startling was the fact that the half of pilot's forearm was sticking out of his skin.

What just scared the piss out of him was when the pilot grabbed our hero's arm and started pulling it towards his semi dislocated jaw. He screamed as he yanked his arm back and out of the pilots hand.

He lost his grip on the seat and fell back and onto the door and to the side, slamming his left arm into the side of the helicopter. He began to black out, he didn't want to though. He knew what could happen to someone with a concussion if they went to sleep or passed out, but he closed his eyes anyway. As he was on his way to 'Never-Never Land' he heard a loud boom from close by and felt glass fall on his face.

_____

So, what do you guys think?
 

grant

Well-Known Member
#2
I prefer to leave administrations ambiguous just so I can put in whatever I want later on, but that's a minor point. Writing's good and there aren't any clear mistakes made. Beyond that I'd ask a fan of the post-apocalyptic genre.

The title is also good.
 

parker

Well-Known Member
#3
Well, the reason I didn't leave it ambiguous was because it gives people a point of reference.
 
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