Parker: The Story of an Apocalypse Survivor: COMPLETE SERIES by Ben Stevens

Author:Ben Stevens [Stevens, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Nanbanjin
Published: 2013-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

...When Parker awoke on the sofa he was crying. He swore bitterly, harshly, until the old familiar feeling of blackness sort of diminished. Outside the early morning was beginning to lighten and rain was falling heavily.

Parker pulled himself off the sofa, and looking under the sink found several old pots and pans. These he first cleaned outside using rainwater and his hand, before placing them on the flat roof by the hut, so that they might catch the rainwater.

Then he stripped naked, and took a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush from his rucksack prior to stepping back out into the downpour.

He let the rain wash over him as he thoroughly cleaned his teeth. Raised his face towards the sky and opened his mouth wide open. Rinsed and spat; rinsed and spat.

Back in the hut he found an old tea-towel and dried himself. Put on his torn, blood-stained clothes again. He’d find a clothing store soon enough, once he got to walking again.

When the heavy rain stopped a couple of hours later, he went outside and carefully poured the rainwater collected in the pots and pans into his two large water bottles, so that they were again both full. Wasn’t exactly ‘A’-grade mineral water; but, what the hell, it was still perfectly drinkable...

It was fully light when Parker scaled the ladder back down. He’d climbed up pretty high, he realised now. There was a hatch set in the flat roof and he guessed that this had been how the janitors had gained access to this hut.

Back on the ground, Parker’s nerves were once again fully stretched. An expanse of desolate industrial buildings, overgrown yards, rusting chainmail fences topped with barbed wire...

Parker spun round as he heard a vicious yowling – two wildcats were fighting, ripping each other to shreds with their claws...

Parker walked on.

A multitude of stacked steel boxes rising on his left; the sort of thing people had shipped furniture and such in when they’d moved abroad. The large boxes which must weigh many tonnes painted red, blue, orange and yellow...

Whatever was within them – possessions once precious to many different people – now possibly remaining locked away within the darkness forever...

It was a couple of hours before Parker realized he was finally leaving the industrial area behind him. Entering into wide streets with houses and shops set well-back from the sidewalk. Far too open for Parker’s tastes; too much to continually try and scan, his hand in the inside pocket of his light jacket, there where he kept his gun.

The sky blue and almost cloud-free; the cracked, weed-pocketed asphalt concrete under Parker’s feet quickly drying in the heat after the earlier downpour. A car half-mounted on the sidewalk, all its doors open.

Parker looked closer and saw that there was in fact a corpse sitting in the driver seat, bent over so that the top of its almost shiny white skull was jammed against the driving wheel. Must have sounded the horn for a long time, until the battery had finally run flat.

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