JULY 2023
Sasha Johnson.
I grabbed the papers, shoving it into his face, causing him to nearly fall over. He flipped around a bit before finally getting a grip of them, “You’re getting *terminated?*”.
“No, the janitor dude is.” I frowned, crossing my arms, “Read.” Soot fumbled with it again.
They were hardly phased, “He gets a termination notice like every week, and then shows up the next day fine.” Putting a hand on the desk, he continued, “It’s nothing new.”
“The reason is different this time. Messing with gate machinery.”
“Again, Jeffery’s a good guy, and a good talker. He hasn’t come back dead yet.” Soot looked at his watch, before digging through the table for some papers, “On a more optimistic note, Sasha, your office block got moved!” He grinned before hanging me a random page.
I snatched it, “Really?”
“Yeah, you got moved to the other side, so your not by the bathrooms anymore.”
The excitement in my eyes faded, “I thought it was going to be a promotion or something from this shit.”
He chuckled, “Your not by the weirdo ranting about a show with light drones in the sky.”
“I guess.” I look away with a smile.
By the road, I lowered my phone, dialing a separate number. My finger hovered over the call button. I didn’t care if anyone got hurt. I looked at the paper again, and tossed it into the ditch by the facility, letting it fall into the water. But it did not sink. Something was stopping it.
Carefully, I padded down the side of the ditch, poking the lump with my shoe. It was stiff and heavy. I pushed it once more, and a hand wound up sticking out of the water. My eyes widened, and I could hear tall grass brushing not far ahead of me.
A tall man, with a black uniform, carried a shovel, staring right at me.
I was not alone in the woods.
NOVEMBER 2023
Soot Blackshire
”My partner and I used to go to the greenhouse together.” Cole muttered, grabbing the glass of water once again. The garden was cloudy, the rain that managed to reach the skylight pattering down on the glass. The sunlights were off for most plants. The room was left generally dark.
I hold up the fallen branch of the center tree. It’s hefty and long, still sporting leaves on it despite the old wood. “You were married?”
He continued, “For a couple years, yeah. More than a couple.”
“And they used to work here?” I flip the branch around, seeing if any bugs somehow managed to get on it.
Cole shrugged, “Yeah. Not around anymore.” I frowned, silent. “On another note,” changing the topic, “the bunker barrier hasn’t malfunctioned for a couple hours, good stuff.”
I nod slowly. My mind was elsewhere.
12:21 PM.
“I’m too lazy to tell you my name.” He tilted his head as if this were obvious.
I furrowed my eyebrows, “But you were have bothered enough to have a hair routine?” I reply, frustrated.
They twitched a bit, taking a moment to respond, “It’s just good genetics and finding a shower.” He sat back in his chair, smiling “Plus, you don’t tell a stranger your name.”
“We see each other almost every day. No, every day.”
“Still.”
I felt the blood on my forehead trickle down, putting my hand over it, “If you don’t tell me your name, I’ll make one for you. Let’s see here.”
The man simply sat in his chair nonchalantly with a grin.
“I’ll call you prettyboy then. That’s what they call you here, I’d assume.” I snickered, watching as he scrunched his nose.
“What?” He sat more upright, “No? What kind of name is that?”
“Hey, hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed of.”
“Who the hell would be named named prettyboy?”
“You tell me. I’m not the one that puts that much effort into taking care of a mullet.” I grabbed his axe, continuing to clean its handle.
He continued to dry his hair with the towel, shaking his head, still smiling.
transfixed upon the shards of rocks
a little bird caws
it’s glossy feathers stained rose red
within its lanky claws is a snake
a cottonmouth, it’s jaws pried open, revealing its namesake.
the brown scales interwoven like the grains of sand
seemingly blending in with one another.
the once sharp yellow eyes are faded.
the bird is alive, barely.
still on the ground, the cottonmouth too heavy for it to move.
coiled, everything within its grasp.
the cottonmouth had gotten a little newt before
a hatchling,
the cottonmouth ruined a man’s life, paralyzed his heart, took over his thoughts.
the cottonmouth had suffered, but it took more than it had gotten back
so I shot the bird instead.
I shot it, little care if it hit or missed.
the sun cast a shadow upon me
a spotlight as to what I had done.
i pulled out a camera, endorsing my success
but when I left, the trees swayed just as they had before
yet when the birds blood seeped into the ground
when the cottonmouths venom dripped into the grass
the trees changed their rooting.
NOVEMBER 2023
Blair Moore
I sat in my sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling. My stomach ached like hell. I’d been trying to save food despite having plenty, I wouldn’t eat unless I’d die otherwise.
The more I stared up at the wall, the worse it got. Shadows flickered across the ceiling-boards. Like beetles. I sat up quickly, looking around me. The only person awake was Cole and a couple other men and woman I did not recognize. He sat on the floor, drumming his fingers along the tiles.
Cole looked back at me and I fell back down, shutting my eyes tightly.
I’ve noticed bird dude really likes to write poems or songs. He’ll grab an old journal from his pocket, and write for a bit. I’ve never really gotten to read one before except about a fat fish. Bird dude says he writes about dinosaurs a lot. Knows jackshit about them but finds it cool. I think that’s fair enough.
He talks a lot about rotting. Not like decomposing, or anything like that. To refer to what happens to people here. Like ‘alterations.’ Or just simply deteriorating here.
Cole claims he wasn’t always like this. Even after the facility collapsed, he stayed optimistic. Bird guy still tends to be. I tried to ask Cole about his name, but he says he finds the situation funny and refuses to even give a hint.
We had to stop by the treatment center twice today. I had, and still have, little clue why for the first time. We just shuffled around by the entrance before eventually turning around to head back to the bunker. The second time, we found a dude dead at the aquatic center. Cole seems more phased by it than anyone else, shockingly.
By phased, I mean Cole stole the wallet and flashlight they had. Sometimes I think of us as little better than vultures. Desperate enough to dig through a corpses pockets.
watch as my eyes sparkle and die.
