Knew World Order: A Short Story
The thunder of gunfire in the defining dark hauled him from his sleep. He sat up in his vagabond rags and silently woke his rawboned family. They sat up and listened to the pandemonium outside the windowless skyscraper. The light from the fire they lay around danced demonic shadows across their gaunt faces, but gave off scant warmth. The man held his wife’s hand. They rolled and went to sleep. Lemon-soured light penetrated the city and it rested like some gargantuan beast, overpowering the distant horizon. Dilapidated buildings, a dilapidated city, a dilapidated world… Once again he was the first to wake. Untangling himself from sheets he stood, staring out over the city. Ever since the event, and the rise of the Knew World Order, the city was lost to the dogs and the filth that contaminated the streets. There were great walls that surrounded the city. The Knew World Order had erected them for fear that animals from the world outside would get in…or perhaps the animals from the inside would get out. *
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“Get over”, he intoned. “How?” The man had no answer and allowed silence to rejoin the conversation. He was wrestled from his thoughts by the shattering of the silence. A loud growl came from behind them. A beast crawled from around the corner of the street. Men were shouting loud and delirious sounds, like some strange, new language. They saw the family. “Run,” the man gasped. “RUN!” They turned and fled like rats. Their derelict shoes beat against harsh grey, but they were no match for the beast that roared after them. The women’s legs, carrying both her and the young child, began to slow. The man watched as she started to fall behind. Fear struck. He could not watch the two things that he loved most in the world killed. He turned. Facing the beast. “Run,” he said in a calm voice. He ran at the beast. It roared at him. Fear led to death. His greatest compassion was death. That was the last she saw of her
“Get over”, he intoned. “How?” The man had no answer and allowed silence to rejoin the conversation. He was wrestled from his thoughts by the shattering of the silence. A loud growl came from behind them. A beast crawled from around the corner of the street. Men were shouting loud and delirious sounds, like some strange, new language. They saw the family. “Run,” the man gasped. “RUN!” They turned and fled like rats. Their derelict shoes beat against harsh grey, but they were no match for the beast that roared after them. The women’s legs, carrying both her and the young child, began to slow. The man watched as she started to fall behind. Fear struck. He could not watch the two things that he loved most in the world killed. He turned. Facing the beast. “Run,” he said in a calm voice. He ran at the beast. It roared at him. Fear led to death. His greatest compassion was death. That was the last she saw of her