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JamesSavik

Author's Challenge

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Civilization has fallen and it can't get up...

apocalypse-horsemen.jpg

Write a short story, novella or novel in the post-apocalyptic genre.

No zombies allowed- that crap has been done to death.

You may or may not tell us what happened to the world.

What will the end look like?

Show us your nightmares.

Hosting and time limits TBA given interest in the project.

Apocalypseroad.jpg

"Damn. So much for a weekend in the city..."

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Is this what you want James?

Appropriate Awareness

by DesDownUnder.

One moment the sun was shining and the next it was paled by the brightness flaring in the distance giving birth to the cloud mushrooming between the Earth and its sun. He flattened his foot on the accelerator and drove as fast as he could. With a little luck he thought that the radiation from the blast would still be strong enough to vaporize his ass. The End.

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Sounds dreadful!

How about this:

He saw the mushroom cloud on the horizon. The bright flash that had preceded it was just a memory, though he knew what it meant. The mushroom was simply an exclamation point.

He hit the brakes as hard as he could, then fought the wheel and the car slewed, first to the right, then slammed back to the left, fishtailing into a 270 degree spin. The car stopped. He tried to slow he breathing.

"Jesus Christ!" he said aloud, though the nearest person to hear him may have been in the next county for all he knew.

He turned his pickup back the way he'd come and stepped on the accelerator. The truck didn't have enough power to spin the wheels, but he was at least forced back into his seat momentarily.

Sweat formed on his forehead. Damn! It had happened! The papers had been saying it could any time now. The religious nut cases had been out in the streets, robes flapping, dirty hems dragging in the filth of the city. He'd always chuckled at them. Now? Well, it didn't matter, because whether they knew anything or not before, now they were vapor. Dirty robes and all.

He looked at the speedometer and saw it sitting rock steady on 80. Maxed out. Pedal to the metal.

He only had one thought. The kids on the res, the ones he's just left a homework assignment with, to their great moans of distress, and shy smiles when he waved from the open door of his truck. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, smiles brighter than the sun.

They'd need him now. The wind was from the west. He didn't know how much time he had. There was a cave there, room enough for the entire village. They could pack brush and tarps at the entrance.

How long would they have to stay in there? He wished he knew. But getting the kids inside, that was job one.

Fifteen miles. He pressed harder on the pedal. Didn't make any difference.

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