I do not own Adventure Time. If I do, it would suck a lot.
~~o~~
Chapter 1 - The Third Pillar
The hellish landscape stretched on and on as far as Sawyer's eyes could see. The sickly green sky pressed on him as usual. It has been like this since he first knew how to walk without Miss Bonnie guiding him. Sometimes, Sawyer have a hard time believing that his mad elder brother caused the end of the world. Well, maybe...end of civilization seems more fitting, seeing that the world , this stupid and worthless world, still exists. Nice job, bro.
When will you be back to finish the job?
Sawyer nearly tripped on a can of unidentifyable processed food. It looked like a piece of brown turd, if he ask himself. Which I do more often than what's healthy. He turned it over its side and saw an almost faded expiration date.
"Crap, it's seven years pass expiration date..."
Food is food, he thought, and placed the can on his empty knapsack; its left strap busted again because of the weight. He groaned in annoyance. Then he groaned some more. His feet hurt, his stomach hurts, his eyes are sore, and the air he breathe is possibly dangerous. Scratch that, positively dangerous. His green (wait, it's green? I don't remember) knapsack has no business busting up. Hell, no.
Out of pure outburst, he reached inside and threw the spoiled food in to the wreckage of an alley mall. He alarmingly felt tired and extremely pissed off from that simple act. These days he's fast becoming more irritable. Miss Bonnie (wait ,its Mistress Bonnie) said it's only because he's in his adolescent years. She said he will turn fifteen in two weeks time.
Not that I still kept track of time though.
He frantically searched around the rubble for a sign of the can. Picking up debris proved dangerous though, numerous cuts decorated his hands in few moments. Great. Now he'll add tetanus for his growing list of ways to die. That's if he won't die off starvation first, or some kind of disease. The meager vegetables Mistress Bonnie managed to grow doesn't exactly thrived on healthy grounds. They look suspicious too.
"Darn it!" Sawyer was surprised with the coarseness of his voice. It's been days since he spoke out loud like that. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I'm sick, I'm tired, I'm lonely, I'm hopeless, I'm angry ,and now I'm about to have a sore throat. Oh yeah, my eyes are sore too.
I raise my middle finger to you bro, wherever you are. No, make it two middle fingers.
He swore when he finally get his filthy hands on that piece of dirtbag, murder will be the first and last crime he will commit. He was even happy to have reasons in widening the scope of his supply raids. That way, he could have more chance in finally seeing his brother. That is also the reason why he always go on supply raids on his own, much to his Mistress' discomfort.
Heh, at this rate, there wouldn't be much mouths to feed back in New Junktown. Some just drop dead mere minutes after talking with their loved ones. Some just explode in to series of violent coughs, vomit a lot of blood and guts, then drop dead. Some folks have it easier though, they just no longer wake up in the morning. Heck, even his Mistress leaked some blood out of the corner of her mouth during one of their nights of passion. Sawyer actually tasted it, much to his disgust.
Then, there are those who just disappeared overnight. Sawyer find this people dumb. Why would you risk your life out into the wastelands just to find and join these so-called well-to-do settlements? These recent talk of "greenish people" sounds like a fairy tale to him; wishful thinking, more like. Also, if they were even true, why would he trust people with green skin? Green skin screams RADIATION, for God's sake.
Better be safe than sorry.
So at that rate, there would be fewer people to divide the dwindling supplies with. They do get harder to locate everytime he set out. Every raid forces him to search farther and farther from the camp. Walking through desolate ruins wouldn't be too bad if not for the matter of certain dangers lurking in this crappy world.
"That is why I'm not giving up on you, turd-in-a-can! I'm sorry I threw you away!"
He laughed at his own pathetic inside joke, which further irritated his throat. That is until he remembered that supply raids are suppose to be quiet. No one would want to attract their attention. The Fallen, as what old Choose Bruce chose to cheesily name them.
"Dang it bro, you still owe me the world, our parents, Bartram, Mrs. Oldy-whatsisname, and now you're going to owe me a moldy can of food. THAT'S FRIGGING A LOT YOU SICK FREAK!" Sawyer temporarily forgot to lower his voice again and shouted the last bit up the bleak sky. Clasping his hands to his mouth, Sawyer held his breath in anticipation for attacks. Sometimes, silence is the best way in dealing with death. Like a two-faced coin, you may avoid premature death or at least you die peacefully.
Sure enough, a low groan emanated from an upturned ambulance farther down the road near the city hospital. He froze in fear. If he was just able to eat some lunch, Sawyer could probably overpower one with his machete. These folks aren't terribly strong and rather squishy, you just have to avoid the green goos they leak all over their mutated bodies.
But he did not ate lunch. Heck, it's been two days since my last lunch. Man, if you could call Mistress' strange beans lunch.
And the Fallen need no lunch to kill him, for that matter. Mustering up the last of his will to back away slowly, Sawyer scanned the immediate area to hide. A rusty sedan caught his attention so he crept towards it as quiet as he could. The crap world is perpetually dark. Black in the night, and dim at best for the rest of the day. He was really thankful that these things have no supernatural visions, it is rather easy to hide in the dark and avoid them. That is until he almost came face to face to another Fallen inside the car.
If there was such a thing as silent scream in the old world, Sawyer is very sure he rediscovered it in the crap world.
With nothing but fragile glass that separates him and the former human.
With the low groan coming from behind.
Sawyer's sure this day won't go anymore crappy than it is already, until he saw the rest of their brethren tumbling down the ruined walls of a strip mall. It was sure a gruesome sight; these folks are hard to imagine as former humans. Radioactive goo steadily drips from the numerous holes in their bodies, some have extra limbs while others have misplaced ones. Some doesn't even have any.
Forgetting the spoiled food, Sawyer turned and broke in to a run. For better or otherwise, he have no idea. He can outrun them, but not for long. Soon, his malnourished bod will run out of steam. To his chagrin, Mistress Bonnie said adrenaline will make things worse. C'mon Sawyer, you wimp, control your breathing...relax, butterflies, puppies, daisies, kitties, pus -
Something far ahead caught his attention, and it's in the general direction of their neighboring settlement. It seemed...wrong. The place looks wrong. Shrugging the feeling, he used his remaining strength to sprint towards the settlement. Sawyer could get help there.
Or get them killed.
The mutants seemed to have gained in number, he noticed. But surely these people have somthing to defend themselves? Either way, it isn't his problem. He's determined to pass on the problem anyway. Suddenly, something green zipped past him, narrowly missing his head. He looked back and saw, to his horror, that one of the mutants is gaining fast upon him. Sawyer never knew they could launch their juices from afar, and if all of the five mutants chasing him now could do that...he can not think of any other worse situation.
"Shit!"
A rather solid iron fence blocked his way. The patten knitted to closely that climbing it will be quite hard. Without breaking his momentum, he leaped and managed to have a nice hold on the fence. The former humans started to converge below him as he picked up his pace in getting to the other side. The bastards start to shake the fence, intentionally or not, he doesn't know. With one last grunting effort, he hoisted both of his legs and let go. The knapsack protecting his back from potential grazes from the iron fence, he plummeted ten feet below into the hard earth.
"Damn...that actually hurt!" A jolt shot up his left foot and his teeth grind together painfully. Looks like he needs to practice his landings more if he wish to continue doing supply raids.
He rolled down the slope he failed to notice earlier and smacked hard facefirst into a wooden picket fence. He rolled over again, letting the non-existent breeze whip his stinging face. Sawyer imagined himself looking like a prone and bloody goldfish taken out of the water. He engulfed air greedily, already feeling lightheaded. Shaking away the weakening effects of fading adrenaline, he sat upright and surveyed his surroundings.
He's in a classic pre-End suburbs, if the pictures Mistress Bonnie showed him are accurate. This settlers have it easier then. They don't have to live in raggedy tents like the settlers of New Junktown. He wiped the blood from his left cheek.
The place seems eerily quiet. Too quiet. Sawyer knows that silence has been the most important law of the new world. It is the absolute, if a settlement hoped to survive. But to his growing fear, the silence in the place is oppressive. Unnatural. He can't even hear mundane and unavoidable noises like wood being chopped, clanging utensils, muffled conversations and varying sounds of livestock.
"What is wrong with this place?" To his left, a moderately sized house stood with an open door. The lawn have long since been unmanaged. There were only patches of grass left, the hard and dark earth taking up more space. Sawyer started limping towards the mismanaged abode.
He limped as fast as he could towards the open door, hoping for someone to help him. He also hoped the mutants outside the iron fence won't attract too much attention. Sawyer shuddered at the thought of a ripped iron fence. That would be hellish.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, please somebody be there..." He muttered to himself, finally reaching the porch. From up close, the house look more unkempt than his initial thoughts. Cracked walls, loose floorboards, chaffing paint and dust rising from the floor.
Maybe this isn't such a nice idea...
He had always trusted his guts. Sometimes, gut feelings are as reliable as common sense. Presently, his gut feeling tells him to run away, climb over the iron fence, and try his chances with the mutants. "Well, I won't found out by standing here."
"Who's there?! I SWEAR IF YOU'RE ONE OF THOSE GUYS AGAIN, I'LL BLOW UP YOUR FACE!"
He gritted his teeth. The voice decidedly belongs to a woman. Probably around his age, basing on the shrilliness. "Huh, I don't have any idea who you're talking about gal. Don't get your panties in a bunch."
There was a sizeable pause before the girl replied. She's probably processing what he said. "Get up here, take the stairs beside the sofa."
Warily entering the house, instincts warn him with the sudden change in the girl's tone. He wondered what is her deal. Sawyer was never very trusting. The environment he grew up on demands it from him. It is the second most important law of the new world, after all.
"I just need somewhere to -"
"I won't give a damn what you need if you won't show me your face." Some hostility flared again in her tone. "Get up here and don't do anything funny. I'm armed!"
"Okay, okay...pssh. What a sourpous."
"I heard that, maggot!" Sawyer's very close to losing his cool with this girl. He hope she's worth every trouble. Dragging his feet up the rather creaky stairs, nervousness started to kick again. What if this girl is one crazy dolt? A scavenger? Or, God forbid, a cannibal? Those dudes are not cool at all. He remembered how he had been almost chopped alive by one, while holding salt shaker on his left hand.
Staying low to the wooden flight of stairs, he peeked slowly. Sawyer couldn't find her at first, feeling mildly annoyed. He stood up straight and explored his immediate surroundings. There were only two windows, both draped in stained curtains. The long hallway encases three doors, one left open. He approached it silently, cursing himself for making so much racket with the creaky stairs. His heartbeat started to go fast again.
Should I draw my weapon? I don't want to go on in unprepared but I don't want her scared either. Both situations will probably get me killed. Maybe it's best if I take off my hood. She'll probably trust me more.
"Look, I'm not going to hurt you or anything. I just need somewhere to rest for the night. Where the hell are you?"
Suddenly, something cold and hard touched the back of his head.
"If you move, I'll have your grey matter decorate my wall." An audible click followed the girl's monologue.
Maybe taking off my hood isn't such a hot idea.
~~o~~
That's it for chapter 1!
R&R guys!