Wasted World | Episode 1 by North Geoff

Author:North, Geoff [North, Geoff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Horror
Published: 2020-06-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“Hey,” the stranger said.

“Hey,” Angela answered back. He wasn’t a man, she realized. He was as big as a grownup, but the voice was young, and his build was slim. He was a teenager, probably fifteen or sixteen. A grey hoody was pulled up over his head, but Angela could see the long strands of greasy black hair poking out around his neck. The boy stared back at Angela with dark, guilty eyes.

“Starting to think I was the only one.”

Angela was gripping the plastic cup too tightly. “Pardon me?”

“The only one left… you know, like the last man on earth.”

What was he doing in this house with Angela and the old woman? “You… You’re the first person I’ve seen since… well, you know… since it happened.”

He moved towards her a half-step. “Yeah, what the fuck was that all about? Did we like get hit by an asteroid or something?”

Angela leaned up against the open doorway leading into the kitchen. Whoever the boy was, he didn’t keep up on the world around him. He had no clue what had happened, or how much the planet’s governments hated each other. She tried to control her breathing, not wanting to reveal to the teen how scared she was. Somewhere in the back of her terrified brain she realized the old woman had finally gone silent. “It was a bomb. Nuclear. They’ve probably dropped them all over the continent.”

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. He never blinked. “We got nuked. Yeah, I wondered that, too. Fuckin’ shame.” He glanced quickly at the woman in the chair. “Too bad about that old lady. Was she your mom?”

“My mother died years ago.”

“So then you don’t who this is. You came in to like take stuff?”

Angela could feel the hard plastic in her hand starting to squeeze in. Any more pressure and the cup would snap into a dozen sharp pieces. “I used the couch, stayed the night. I just needed somewhere to sleep.”

“You trespassed.” The boy came closer. She could smell liquor on his breath. Now probably wasn’t the time to tell him he was too young to drink. “What’s your name?”

“Angela.”

“We have to stick together, Angela. We have to be a team and take care of each other.” He reached up and rubbed his dirty knuckles gently down her throat. The fingertips settled at the top of her chest. “You don’t got to be scared… I won’t let nothin’ bad happen to you.”

Angela turned her face away from him. She looked down and saw the old woman sitting perfectly still. Something had changed. The knitting needle was no longer melded between her fingers—it had been stuck deep into her throat. The glass finally splintered in Angela’s hand, she pushed the teenager away and made a run for the open window.

He grabbed at her hair and yanked her back towards him. “What’s your fucking problem? I’m trying to save your life.”

He backed into the overturned coffee table and they both tumbled onto the chesterfield.

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