Void of a Can Opener – Part 3

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(If you missed Parts 1 & 2, catch up on the action in this category.  And now the adventure continues.)

The crunching sound of metal upon asphalt was getting closer.  The two of them stared at each other indicating the need for absolute silence or their cover would become known.  The window he flew through was noticed by the enemy.  From the street, it outstretched its robotic arm moving rhythmically like a snake’s slither.  The two of them laid on their back hoping to camouflage with the floor.  Twisting and turning, the arm emerged through the window beaming with a red light on its end reminiscent of a lit cigarette.  Closer it approached the woman.  She pursed her lips in an attempt to hold her breath.  No… the man thought.  The idea of losing the only other human was not an option.  He needed to ensure her safety.

He turned his head to the left.  His eyes scanned rapidly trying to find something to distract the robotic creature.  He could see a metal desk against the wall absent of an accompanying chair. Further away he could see a black door shut implying a quick escape was out of the question.  He looked once more at the woman.  Panic painted her face with beads of sweat.  She closed her eyes shut not wanting to see the room as her last memory, yet she knew her demise was inevitable.  The robotic arm floated just a few feet above her, inching closer and closer.  The man reached in his pocket and withdrew his knife.  Desperation bred rapid decisions.  He gripped the folded knife knowing he would later regret his next move.

In a quick swoop, he flung the knife toward the window nearly missing the robot.  Steadily the blade fell until finally hitting the street with a loud clunk.  The enemy’s arm paused and then turned before retreating to the street.  The woman opened her eyes and was shocked to still see the room.  They could hear booming robotic steps becoming fainter.  She turned to face the man.

“Why did you do that?”

He stared into her icy blue eyes.  The man tried to produce an answer but came up short.  Instead he sat up and offered a shrug.  She stood up and walked towards him.

“Thank you.”  She smiled with sincerity.  “My name is Eden.”  She extended her porcelain hand.

He shook her hand with diligence.  “Corporal Mason Van Daal.”  His stomach began to rumble.

Eden turned and began rummaging through a pack she had stashed in the far corner.  She plucked out a can of beans.  Mason stood and wiped debris from his pants.  “Here,” Eden said as she tossed the can.  Gripping the can, Mason looked out the window now regretting tossing his weapon.  He sighed in disappointment.  To him it was another can that would be dented but remain intact.  Mason slammed the side of the can against the edge of the desk.  Eden cocked her head to the side.  She walked over and retrieved the can from Mason’s calloused hands.  She gave him a confused look as she brought the can to her lips.  Parting her lips, she exposed metallic canines.  She positioned a pointy metal tooth on top of the can.  Twisting the can, the seal broke with ease.  Mason’s jaw dropped.

Metal against metal ground until the top of the can popped open.  Eden flung the top to the floor and handed Mason the can.  It emitted the scent of seasoned pinto beans, the scent of a poor man’s bounty, but Mason couldn’t take his eyes off of Eden.

“What… are you?”

Eden gave a crooked smile before answering.

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What do you think will happen next?  Comment below on where you think this adventure is going.  Enjoy this story?  Follow me for the next part.

Until next post,

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Photo credit: S. Schleicher @ http://www.freeimages.com/photo/pocket-knife-1471140

Void of a Can Opener – Part 2

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If you missed out on the first part of this story, you can read it here .  And now the story continues.

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Night began to appear faster than he had hoped.  While he made his way through the wreckage, he knew finding shelter was crucial — they would be out soon.  Through broken glass, human remains continued to decay, making the soil their final home.  Many would vomit at the smell of such a stench.  Instead, he wore it like cologne.

Most doors of the outlining buildings had been boarded up long ago.  Breaking down the boards at night was too laborious and no doubt would catch the attention of the enemy.  His frustration caused him to growl like a dog.  He scanned his surroundings in search of refuge for the evening.  Hunger pains continued, making his stomach grumble once again.  Soon, he reminded himself.  Just then, the enemy let out a battle cry, sounding somewhere between mechanical and the undead.

With nothing to hide behind, he quickened his pace knowing all he could do was move.  Even though he was among what were once considered busy streets, he felt naked, exposed and trying to protect his life as though it was the reaper after him.  Now in a light jog, he could feel the enemy’s resounding steps.  Panic emerged similar to that of a lost child.  He stopped mid step, almost losing his balance.  Was that an open window or did his eyes deceive him?  Glad to find something, he made his way closer to the building.

Hesitation surface after seeing the height of the window.  If he did not jump at the correct time the enemy would sure claim another life.  The crunch of metal was closer, and he could see trails of steam to his left.  He had but once chance to claim shelter.  With that, he backed away from the building to make way for more speed.

He tightened the straps of his backpack in anticipation of a hard landing.  After taking in a few deep breaths, he began his sprint.  One foot in front of another, he kept his eyes fixed on the window.  He let out a grunt as he leapt toward the window.  His fingertips clenched the frame as he dug his toes as best he could against the wall.  Using the last bit of his exertion, he pulled himself up through the window before crashing on his back against the concrete floor.  Lying on his back, he let out a chuckle, happy to be alive for another moment.

“Shh!  You’ll give our location up,” came the warning of a woman.

His eyes opened wide.  For so long he had accepted he was the soul survivor of the enemy’s first attack.  He had so many questions for her.  How did she survive?  Were there others?  Did she have a can opener?  Another mechanical screech emerged.  The piercing sound made them cover their ears.  The enemy was too close.  Words would have to wait.

 

Until next post,

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Photo credit:  Antonio de Chiara  http://www.freeimages.com/photo/trash-1571775

 

Void of a Can Opener

Can of Beans

This post was inspired by a writing prompt I had a while back.  It was a vague prompt that simply was to write about having no can openers.  With the fairly recent release for Fallout 4 and my husband breaking one of our can openers this past week, I felt the timing was prime to post this.  I snapped a picture of him holding his coveted ranch beans, a staple in our household.  (Seriously, we can’t go to the grocery store without getting a couple cans.)  Enjoy 🙂

 

The life of simple things was once desired; a time in which getting back to the basics was a lifestyle.  Stripped of the pleasure of convenience and speed, technique and delayed gratification ruled their attention.  After the collapse of society and the comfort they once had, he stared down at the can of soup cradled in his hands.  

Sustenance, which his body craved, was in his possession.  The worn label would fool others to believe its expiration date was in the distant past.  In a time when food was scarce, it was all he had.  Ash-covered grounds and rotting flesh everywhere, a can of soup became his hunger’s savior.  However, void of any can opener, his stomach still protested.  

It was clever for the enemy to take every last can opener as plunder.  Anything that resembled such was nowhere to be found.  Trying relentlessly to open cans always would leave a dented can with a frustrated, exhausted man.  It was going to be an agonizing death for them all; perhaps surviving the attack wasn’t in his best interest.  

Surrounded by uncertainly and death’s door beginning to creak as it opened, he refused to accept his fate.  Looking into the eyes of those already departing this life, he found the hope he needed.  Placing his faith in others’ stupidity, he knew there had to be at least a solitary can opener somewhere.  Clenching the can tighter, he revealed the slightest smile, knowing full well he would enjoy its contents.  

The sun kissed the horizon before departing for the evening.  The intensity of such a kiss reflected in his eyes as he gazed into the sky.  He took a deep breath and began weaving in and out of the land’s despair.  And so, his journey began.

The story continues here.

 

Until next time,

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