Vending Machine Lunch (8 page)

“The
wasteland?”

“Yeah, boy, the
wasteland.”

“What is the
wasteland, father?” asked James, getting a bit annoyed with his
father’s self-importance.

“A gap. Between
all the cities,” said his father, looking rather irritated that
James had spoilt his little dramatic speech with questions,
“Wasteland. We dump rubbish there. Scavengers live there
apparently. And I heard Union went through a phase of banishing
wrong-doers to there.

“Anyway, enough
of the wasteland boy, no-one cares of that,” continued his father,
now pointing at the flooded area, “That is where the Ares Flood
Defences failed. Unfortunate day.”

“How?” injected
James.

“That’s a story
for another time Jerry,” said his father, now pointing at the
crater, “You do like to waste time with pointless details don’t
you? Anyway, that is where the Deimos Facility failed and exploded.
Not the best of days-”

“What? What
happened to all the people?”

“Oh, them. They
all died. Got some sort of virus which turned them... undead. Most
likely caused by the Deimos Facility exploding. Resonance is a
dangerous thing unless you know what you’re doing-”

“Whoa, whoa,
wait a minute,” said James, raising a hand sharply to interrupt his
father, “You mean that Deimos thing killed everyone?”

“Well, nearly,”
said his father carelessly, his mind still on his orange tie, “It
took time. The initial meltdown caused a fair amount of damage,
something called a resonance cascade. After that the economy
collapsed. People rioted. Floods occurred. The disease spread. All
it took was one bite, and within hours you were one of them. Dead,
but somehow reanimated. With only one desire. To feed.”

“And don’t you
care?”

“On the
contrary boy, I care very much. In fact I find the whole thing very
embarrassing,” his father scowled, “The other cities mock me.
Especially Union. I needed something to beat their Copland Project,
and I thought the Deimos and Phobos Facilities were just the
ticket. Strength instead of intelligence. We stole the idea from
Copland itself, my electronics whizz kids brute forced their way
into the system, or something like that. Look, I don’t really know.
Either way, at the moment, the war is lost and technically we sort
of shot ourselves in the foot. By accident of course.”

“Not about
that, about the people!”

“Oh, them.
Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“You don’t care
do you?” snapped James.

“Listen,
Jedward-”

“It’s James!”
hissed James.

“Yeah, yeah,”
said his father, neglecting James’s correction, “It’s a very
complex matter. I simply wouldn’t expect you to understand as of
yet.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why? Why have
you done this? Why keep me in the dark of all this until now?”
queried James.

“Because boy,
you’re gonna get us out of this mess. It’s been a long time since
all these incidents occurred. Now it’s time to turn the tables on
Union, and get the land of Elision City glorious once again.”

There was a
pause, filled with the rumbling growl of the sky.

“What happened
to the sky?” asked James, “I am assuming it was as beautiful as
depicted in your books at some point.”

“We blackened
it,” said his father, looking up towards the growling mess, “We
thought at one point the Requiem were photosynthetic due to their
near translucent skin and other things. So the sky was blackened in
hope to, um, kill them off. Turns out we were wrong.”

“The Requ-”

“So we devised
another plan-”

“-who’s
we?”

“-to play the
long game, in effect-”

“-what-”

“-in order to
restore the mess created-”

“-listen-”

“-and that plan
is now half completed-”

“-just-”

“-the plan is
you, and would you stop interrupting me boy?!”

James thought
he saw his father’s face turn red from anger. However after a
seconds reflection he knew that it was impossible. His face was
totally masked by the... mask thing.

“What do you
mean I am the plan? All of this is none of my problem. Everyone
died because of you, not me!” yelled James after a slight moments
reflection, “What makes you think I’m going to pick up all the
pieces and sort it all out for you?”

“Because you
are me!” his father yelled back, “You are an exact clone of me! And
you will do this! My mind is old, it lacks imagination! Your mind
is new and... doesn’t... lack... imagination.”

“Right,” said
James curtly, “I see. You mess up the place and I’m expected to
pick up all the pieces. After many years you’ve kept me in the dark
about this entire situation and plan, I’m just expected to solve
your problems for you?”

“Yes! You are
me!”

“No! I damn
well am not! Don’t you think of all the people you’ve killed?
Because from what I’ve seen of you, you couldn’t give a damn about
them! You have more care in your political status and this apparent
war against Union City! So forget it, nothings gonna save this
city. The ship has already sunk and you want me to drag it back up
to the surface and set it sail again. It’d be better just to start
again! Nothing is gonna bring your city back. And it’s all your
fault! Union have won! And you’re massively out of touch from
reality, you are more machine than human. Am I talking to an
electric circuit here?”

James stomped
back into large house, leaving his machine of a father stood
outside alone.

Sunday Bacon Always Tastes Better
Overdone.

“DRIVE. THE REQUIEM
COUNT IS HIGH TONIGHT, WE’RE LOW ON STOCKS AND WE NEED TO TAKE OUR
CHANCE TONIGHT, TURN THE KEY AND GET US UP TO A HUNDRED, REMEMBER
YOUR SEATBELT THIS TIME, FIXING GLASS IS NEXT TO IMPOSSIBLE, CLUTCH
DOWN, GEAR IN, DON’T BOTHER WITH A BITING POINT, THEY’RE GAINING ON
US ALREADY, FIRST, SECOND, DON’T BOTHER WITH THIRD, BLOCK CHANGE TO
FOURTH, GET YOUR GOD DAMN FOOT DOWN THEY’RE CATCHING UP WITH US,
TAKE A RIGHT, HAND-BREAK ON, TURN THAT GODDAMN WHEEL, IGNORE THE
SMOKE AND THE WARNING LIGHT ON THE DASH, GET YA LEAD BOOTS ON AND
TURN OFF THE HEADLIGHTS, FUEL IS GETTING SHORT AND WE WANT TO LOSE
THESE MUTANTS SOMEHOW, DON’T PANIC KEEP YA FOOT DOWN LEFT, SWERVE
YOU MORON YOU COULD HAVE US KILLED, WE NEED FOOD I CAN SEE THE
CRAVE IN YOUR EYES DON’T TRY AND DENY IT, THE LAMPS DON’T WORK ON
THIS STREET SO GET YA HEADLIGHTS ON, AND THE WINDSCREEN WIPERS
INCASE YOU FAIL TO AVOID THE ON COMING SWARM THEY’RE GETTING
CLOSER, STEER LEFT, STEER RIGHT, I HOPE YOU HAVE SOME CLEAN PANTS
ON TODAY BOY, STEER RIGHT, NO LEFT, NO RIGHT, NOW SWERVE LEFT, TURN
YA HEADLIGHTS OFF THEY’RE GONNA SEE US YOU FOOL, YOU DON’T WANT TO
FEEL THE WRATH OF THE REQUIEM DO YA, LET ME GET MY WEAPON AND BAG,
AVOID THAT BUILDING, AVOID IT YOU – AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!”

The requiem
owned the night. Always did. Probably always had done. All Jink
could remember was the blackness of the world, the growling of the
sky. Once in a while, Jink would spy a glimpse of light amongst the
roaring blackness of the sky. Jad would either claim it to be
something called the Sun or the Moon. Jink assumed they were the
same thing.

Jad would
always reminisce about a time he called ‘before Deimosgate.’ He
said that the event he called ‘Deimosgate’ was the sole reason for
the Requiem walking the land. He would go on about a time when many
more people lived on the land, mostly in peace with one another.
There was no Requiem, people worked together with one another, food
was exchanged for earned currency instead of stolen or salvaged
from the Requiem and the land had a section of brightness that they
simply called the ‘daytime’.

Jink would
listen to Jad’s many many stories of a time ‘before Deimosgate’,
how the land was at war with a place called Union, how the father
began to mess things up, how people took to the streets in protest.
Now they were nothing but survivors. Scavengers in the eye of the
storm, waiting to be killed by the devil’s own Requiem at any
moment. At a time of day that Jad would call ‘night’ or ‘to-night’
they would climb into the car and catch Requiem. Most of the time
Jad would drive, however, on occasions, Jink would get a go behind
the wheel.

What Jink saw
of the land whenever it was time to go scavenging and now, hunting
was nothing like Jad had described it to be ‘before Deimosgate.’
Jad had described a bright, beautiful land, buildings filled to the
brim with people, masses of smoke being spat out of large
industrial pipes, that rose dispersed into the orangey sky. The
beauty of people socialising, being friends, being something more
than friends, being so important to one another and yet still lost
in a crowd. Everyone was unknowingly dependant on one another and
wrapped up on their own self-obsessed bubble.

Now, there was
no orange sky. The sky roared with fury. Black and ugly, the clouds
competing with one another, constantly twisting and turning and
roaring amongst one another, rarely letting a single glimpse of
light bless the land’s surface. There were no people either, those
who were survivors of Deimosgate, like himself [Jink] and Jad, were
rarely seen and rivalled each other since food was scarce and
danger was often imminent. Well, food was scarce unless you
developed a taste for the Requiem. That however, is a different
paragraph.

It was out of
sheer luck that Jink and Jad were allied together; most survivors
were alone in the land, many of them going insane from the immense
loneliness that the land offered. Despite the loneliness of most
Deimosgate survivors, a vine tree existed, spreading occasional
whims of rumours whenever encounters between survivors took place.
Most of them included tales about finding a way to escape to Union,
or a place where food was plentiful and Requiem were little. Jad
would often disregard them as, “utter slanderous nonsense,” stating
that the tales didn’t tell themselves and that it was probably
originally a trap for a poor survivor to fall into.

Jink would also
share the same feelings, even without Jad’s ever-important input.
He owed his life to Jad. Jad had been his mentor all his life,
taking care of him since he was found as an abandoned baby whilst
the Deimosgate disaster unfolded. Jad was effectively Jink’s
father, and was the one who gave him his name, his knowledge of the
land ‘before Deimosgate’ and his expertise in how to survive a land
plagued with the Requiem. Jink owed everything he had to Jad and
took his word like it was a law. He believed everything Jad said
without question, knowing that when the day came that Jad would be
taken by the possessed, he would be able to survive the land
himself.

“It’s bound to
happen one of these hallowed days,” he would often say, “I’ll be
too old, won’t be fit enough and ya’ll be on ya own, Jink. That’s
why you gotta be as good, if not better than me. That’s why I gotta
train ya up. If I don’t ya’ll be one of them God-forsaken
beasts.”

Jink had no
idea why Jad had taken it upon himself to look after him. Not that
he minded, but he often pondered over why, all those years ago, he
had saved him from most certain death from the Requiem invasion as
the events of Deimosgate unfolded. He had attempted at times to
bring up the topic, but he was often quickly snubbed with
instructions to get some rest, or prepare to go out to hunt or
something like that. Jink had silently come to the conclusion that
Jad was simply saving himself from loneliness from which, in a pre
Deimosgate land, he may have suffered from. Either that or he had
large fatherly instincts. But Jad never went into detail about his
personal life in the time ‘before Deimosgate,’ just life in
general, from a bird’s eye view, a fly on a wall.

They had lived
off left over food, abandoned from the disaster over the years,
making sure they avoided the attention of the Requiem and only
going out to scavenge at nights. This, at first, worked out well as
there was plenty of abandoned food stores packed with tinned
processed foods. However, recently, Jink had noticed the scarcity
of food and the desire, fuelled by hunger, to take a savouring bite
into other meats. Jad had often vowed not to take a bite into
Requiem meat. However the survival instinct soon kicked in, and the
dangers of acquiring the taste of Requiem meat soon became
meaningless in reply to the overwhelming growl of a stomach.

Oh and it was
overwhelming. Food shortages were inevitable and Jad hadn’t really
planned for the day that all the survivors unwilling to hunt
Requiem had eaten all the available food. When Jink had asked why
they don’t eat Requiem, Jad had flown into a rage, yelling he
didn’t want to ‘become contaminated’ or something like that.

Jink knew Jad
had good reason to be furious. When he was furious, he was scared.
And he had a very good reason to be scared. To either starve to
death or to break a rule they had stuck by for many years. Well,
hunger soon made the decision for him, despite the dangers.

Over the years,
Jink had seen them who survive on Requiem meat. They... change.

Observations
from both Jink and Jad noticed they became more secluded, even more
secluded than everyone already was. Their skin turned pale, near
translucent. Their eyes burned a deep red. They became more
suspicious than ever before, hiding themselves away from even their
allied post-Deimos scavengers. And most noticeable of all, the more
they ate Requiem, the more their taste for real food lacked. It was
as though they had become addicted to the meat, refusing fresh food
when it was easily available for the much harder to catch, dirty,
contaminated and dead Requiem meat.

Jad was
terrified that they would become the freaks that they had observed
however it wasn’t long before hunger prevailed and they set out to
eat the Requiem. A few weeks on and they were both wondering why
they hadn’t done it sooner. The meat from the Requiem was
beautiful. It was dry and course and the rotting meat tasted awful,
but that didn’t matter. It made them feel amazing. Within the first
bite, Jink became aware of a feeling of absolute supremacy flood
his body. For the first time in his life he felt powerful and in
control of everything. His eyes glanced up to Jad who was obviously
thinking the same thing. But Jink knew he was better. Jink knew
that his feeling of supremacy was better. Jink knew he was the one
in control, he was the one who held the real power, the rooster of
the wood. He could kill Jad at any moment, with no trace of
remorse.