I am not a good enough marksman to take down a turret with a pneumatic assault rifle so I went back to the old FN-FAL and its dwindling supply of bullets.
Day 101 of the neverending winter and I walk outside… and it’s not snowing. Zero wind, a balmy 32F, and it’s glorious. Newly-installed solar panels gleam in the wan sun in between the towering equipment of the defunct powerstation and I remember voting for a politician who’d claimed he’d do that, years ago, but he took the money from the green lobby and continued supporting fossil fuels. He’s probably shambling around eating brains right now, ruining still more lives. He’d make a good spitter. The image of him being pulled down by a horde of his former constituents, deaf to his manipulative words as they rip him apart makes me smile.
It’s a beautiful day and Spring is on the way, and shithead politicians are all dead. I celebrate with box wine and a few chapters of Kerouac next to the fire. But there are heating elements to be collected and I need plastic bags so I can vacuum-pack this giant spider meat before it goes bad. I don my balaclava, scarf, and ballistic mask before going out. Some of the houses I’ll be looting later have mirrors, and I’ve shot at my reflection too many times. The thought of those reptilian eyes staring out from my face makes me shudder.
