Apocalypse Earth - Decimation Earth (Book 2): Monty Python's Firefly...! by SG Laurie

Author:SG Laurie [Laurie, SG]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-10T22:00:00+00:00

7

Survivors

Michelle seemed pretty upbeat.

Considering.

“What a show! That feeling, it never gets any better!” he said, his coffee spilling a little.

Yes, that’s right: He’d got a coffee from someplace, from one of those popular commercially available brands - self-dispensing. You could tell because the styrofoam cup had the coffee company’s little branded logo on it.

“You’ve done this a few times before…?” I asked, suspicious and gesturing at the immense devastation.

“I’ve never been on the ground before, witnessed it enough times.” He waved me to be quiet. “Hang on a second, I’m receiving a communication…”

He put one of his meaty, hairy hands to his head and was quiet, listening.

Occasionally he’d nod his head and say: “Uh-huh. Sure, sure…”

Maybe he wasn’t even talking to anyone.

Still holding his hand to his head, he said: “Uh-huh, uh-huh - copy that…”

“That your boss?” I asked when he hung up.

“Personal call. Friend over in Alpha Centauri noticed the blast and checked in.”

“Uh-huh? You stuck a finger in your ear to take a call from someone over on Alpha Centauri? The electro magnetic discharge fried all the electronics. Communications are down. How can I believe all this shit you’re saying…?” I wondered.

“Easy,” he said and, grabbing my hand, stuck it to his head.

Immediately all kinds of radio chatter filled the air. Michelle removed my hand and, immediately, it ceased.

We did this a few times.

Clearly, he was able to communicate this way.

Michelle said, while I was listening: “Man! You know what I like about this planet? The coffee…!” and took another sip.

The channels were open and, whoever was out there, they were all referencing an “atomic” event that had just taken place.

I guessed they meant earth.

I unplugged my finger from Michelle’s ear and, at the same time, removed my banana, quickly switching it to BAZOOKA…! mode.

“It’s time for you to meet my boss. We got a lot to talk about,” I reminded Michelle, jabbing him in the chest with the gun.

“What about your colleague?” he said, nodding at Harrison.

Harrison was talking to some survivors.

More and more were emerging from the buildings in what seemed to be various stages of disintegration. Haggard and disorientated, groggy and shell shocked, heads blown in and eardrums blown out, they could barely hear or understand anything. Panic, the usual type, was beginning to spread like a slow, discernible and secondary shock-wave. You could see its wake in the survivors trying to make their way to the exits of their buildings into the safety of parking lots and streets. People fleeing shouted across to one another through the open windows of their cars to other drivers, yelling and screaming about the puncture wound that had suddenly appeared in the carefully sown flowerbed of law and order that usually gripped the country - driving into each other with their cars and bicycles and prams, skateboards and scooters.

I know things about bomb-blasts, by the way.

I’d been at ground zero when the bombs exploded over both Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.

I'm not saying I'm Japanese, but I was there.

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