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OP
OP
Lotherio
Planetoid
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2011
As he sped off into the setting sunlight, Jimmy was chastising himself not to be stupid. He knew she was trouble. She was a Falcon, he was Skeleton Crew. His front wheel led him to a old brick home in the city he had found while scavenging while he struggled with it all. As he put the bike into the front small front yard, raised some 3’ off street level, he paid attention to the surrounding few homes and crumbling city buildings. Slightly distracted he was still sure he was alone and went in, this was his private sanctuary. It had been looted and desecrated, a hollow shell with broken windows, walls tore down to the exposed boards underneath, and holes in the floor. In the basement, it would seem generations ago when the atomic age existed and people were frightened after the first atomic was used, this home owner had made a bomb shelter. Jimmy had the key, he kept his private stock here, the stuff he found himself that he didn’t want to share with his gang.
That wasn’t his intention, rather he took time to climb up to the second floor of the old building. Barren as well, sometimes he came here to think about life before all this, how it would be to live in this home when everything was here. It was so comfortable he had it furnished down to the smallest of picture frames on end tables and fixtures on the wall outlets. Tonight in his silent thoughts, Lexi was here with him. Looking out at the yellow horizon, through the city, he could still smell her in his memories. Then he hated himself for falling like this, people were baggage, extra weight. They were needed to an extent, but they couldn’t be trusted. They only brought hurt and pain, while suffering followed any interaction between two people since the world fell apart for him.
As purple stretched further across the sky above, Jimmy went up to the attic level of the old city manse. Up here in one small alcove, under a shallow v-slanted roof, was the remnant of a small stained class window. No particular design other than circular geometry. Most the panes of glass were missing when he found it original, but since, he’d broken out the rest himself. There were still a few left. Choosing carefully, he selected one that was somewhere between vibrant orange and deep red. That one he knocked out. Somewhere in his mind it was metaphorical, either humanity lost, or friends, or both. When the last one was broken, he knew he couldn’t put up with the city anymore. After which, he put the emblem back on his jacket and tied down the cloth
He returned to the Westover Academy and the Skeleton Crew, there he remained indifferent. He went to his room where, barren walls but a metal frame bed with something like a mattress for him to sleep on. The noise from the rest of the guys and gals enjoying the night was more than he cared for and he took out his current music device and plugged it into his ears. Drowning it all as he fell asleep.
The next day he remained distant, had a brief encounter with Darren, the current group leader. They were friends before all this and it afforded Jimmy an honorary position so to speak. He could have been second in command if he had wanted it, but he needed his own space. Darren respected it so long as he would help when needed, and he’d done just that before. They spoke about his distance, Jimmy gave him the supplies the Skeleton Crew needed. He’d left the gas at the compound supply center last night along with some salvaged food in wrappers. Jimmy explained he needed time to clear his head and he was going over to the old Canal, that part of the city where gangs didn’t fight. After that, he’d come back see what was needed, if he needed to scavenge some more.
The next day he went to the first place he told her she would be at. Sergio’s was a dive of corrugated steel, thrown together ramshackle. The sunroof wasn’t so much made to accentuate the interior as it was just holes in the steel roof. He kept a clean floor where he served mostly clean water and other drinks from a small bar, behind which were shelves covered with knick knack and bric-a-brac. Stuff that may have meant more before it all, but now it was just memories. Items that needed batteries that had long since died, broken picture frames with people no longer living in the frame, half books, computer parts, things that looked good but had ceased to function.
Only a few friends of Sergio were given access to the back, which was nothing more than a small yard which served almost like an outdoor patio at a restaurant. A few tables, some sheds for storage, a gate to a back alley, that sort of stuff. Jimmy found a table here, close to the wall bordering the main area of this hub of activity. Outside was nearly a bazaar since the apocalypse, shops and traders, venders and beggars all. Here, Jimmy could enjoy the relative quiet while still eavesdropping on the activity outside. Quietly he sat with a clear drink, perhaps water, and waited, part of him hopeless.
That wasn’t his intention, rather he took time to climb up to the second floor of the old building. Barren as well, sometimes he came here to think about life before all this, how it would be to live in this home when everything was here. It was so comfortable he had it furnished down to the smallest of picture frames on end tables and fixtures on the wall outlets. Tonight in his silent thoughts, Lexi was here with him. Looking out at the yellow horizon, through the city, he could still smell her in his memories. Then he hated himself for falling like this, people were baggage, extra weight. They were needed to an extent, but they couldn’t be trusted. They only brought hurt and pain, while suffering followed any interaction between two people since the world fell apart for him.
As purple stretched further across the sky above, Jimmy went up to the attic level of the old city manse. Up here in one small alcove, under a shallow v-slanted roof, was the remnant of a small stained class window. No particular design other than circular geometry. Most the panes of glass were missing when he found it original, but since, he’d broken out the rest himself. There were still a few left. Choosing carefully, he selected one that was somewhere between vibrant orange and deep red. That one he knocked out. Somewhere in his mind it was metaphorical, either humanity lost, or friends, or both. When the last one was broken, he knew he couldn’t put up with the city anymore. After which, he put the emblem back on his jacket and tied down the cloth
He returned to the Westover Academy and the Skeleton Crew, there he remained indifferent. He went to his room where, barren walls but a metal frame bed with something like a mattress for him to sleep on. The noise from the rest of the guys and gals enjoying the night was more than he cared for and he took out his current music device and plugged it into his ears. Drowning it all as he fell asleep.
The next day he remained distant, had a brief encounter with Darren, the current group leader. They were friends before all this and it afforded Jimmy an honorary position so to speak. He could have been second in command if he had wanted it, but he needed his own space. Darren respected it so long as he would help when needed, and he’d done just that before. They spoke about his distance, Jimmy gave him the supplies the Skeleton Crew needed. He’d left the gas at the compound supply center last night along with some salvaged food in wrappers. Jimmy explained he needed time to clear his head and he was going over to the old Canal, that part of the city where gangs didn’t fight. After that, he’d come back see what was needed, if he needed to scavenge some more.
The next day he went to the first place he told her she would be at. Sergio’s was a dive of corrugated steel, thrown together ramshackle. The sunroof wasn’t so much made to accentuate the interior as it was just holes in the steel roof. He kept a clean floor where he served mostly clean water and other drinks from a small bar, behind which were shelves covered with knick knack and bric-a-brac. Stuff that may have meant more before it all, but now it was just memories. Items that needed batteries that had long since died, broken picture frames with people no longer living in the frame, half books, computer parts, things that looked good but had ceased to function.
Only a few friends of Sergio were given access to the back, which was nothing more than a small yard which served almost like an outdoor patio at a restaurant. A few tables, some sheds for storage, a gate to a back alley, that sort of stuff. Jimmy found a table here, close to the wall bordering the main area of this hub of activity. Outside was nearly a bazaar since the apocalypse, shops and traders, venders and beggars all. Here, Jimmy could enjoy the relative quiet while still eavesdropping on the activity outside. Quietly he sat with a clear drink, perhaps water, and waited, part of him hopeless.