It's Not The Big Easy

[Cyrus Brodie]

See if I'd stayed down south this all might not have happened. If I'd stayed down south I might be able to actually help out somehow. If I'd stayed down south......well, people in the Big Easy know how to clan together and get shit done. Not here, not in this city. The little runts are going to core this fucking "Apple" until it falls in on it's self and still we all keep marching on like fools. It just pushes the right buttons when people don't work together. We might be out of this hell town by now if we did.

Light is coming in through the window. I overslept. Getting out before the sun comes up means an extra hour or so to scavenge alone instead of dealing with all the other idiots. After eighteen years my luxury accommodations still consist of a mattress on the floor and two space age sheets sewed between some canvas for a blanket. You'd think I could find something better in New York after all this time. But none the less I still get to live in the post card building. Yeah the big pizza wedge building. 175th and Broadway but the best part is I got half a floor with the corner side.

It's not much but I try to stay optimistic which all adds up to nothing at the end of the day. Get to spend a few minutes looking down at the city with a cup of irish coffee each morning and then it's out the back door and across the street where I keep the bike stashed. Riding a bike is a gamble with all the motorcycle gangs on the edges of town since I might run across one but for the most part everyone else leaves me alone becuase of it. And that's good since last thing I need is a bunch of snot nosed kids beating the crap out of me at my age. Nine years left...doesn't ever sound like much but it's a lot considering how much the virus takes away.

Shit....something got to the bike again, I can see the fucked up wires from here. Probably rats since I'd imagine a person would have run off with it. There was a time when I would have called it a 'her'. Was. Now I just try not to get too attatched to anything but the still I've got tucked away down the road. Anyway fixing this bike is going to take about half a day at least if I can find spare wire somewhere; used up all of my spare stock last month. Scavanging for anything takes a while around here, close to roads that get used often enough...for being so close to the bridge.

[Cyrus Brodie]

Bike is fixed for a bit. Looks like I'm going to have to find some sheet metal to secure this room at one point or another, can't afford to go fixing the thing every few weeks. I already spent two years finding stainless steel parts for the thing, hoses, pumps and all. Pain in my ass...

I gave up on trying to get out of the city a long time ago, actually, it was the day after CWIC (my little name for the outbreak, City Wide Infection and Contamination). Somehow it helps if you give names to things you don't like. Day after that was complete hell and I didn't get this gig for a few years more, but now that I have it it helps pass the days.

Down a few streets in Trinity park is a nice patch of land that I've been lucky enough to grow some potatoes in. Jackie Robinson park has a small crop of corn that's been dying out for the last few years, soil's going bad on me. They get jacked every now and then when people are desperate enough to look, but it's not the only farm operation people have going. I know two other people that are doing the same thing I am and we get along well enough to share the harvest when days get tough.

But today I've got to head down to Columbia University and get my hands on some paper. It's just a small supply until I can get the truck working again, rats killed that one too. Newspapers are the best fuel source when you roll them up into logs and tie them tight, especially if you have gas to soak them in. It saves running the heater or the jenny. And it's the one source of fuel people don't seem to think about judging by the way it just floats across the street some days. Something's not right here though, at the college. Skin gets tingly if I go too far into the building and I can smell the electricity. Someone's made it a home and I don't like how much power they're supplying their place with. Gives me the willies.

Next stop on my list today....."A Hospital." Well that was great old man, forgot to tell yourself what it was you forgot to get the last time. Shit, I need a secretary. Guess I can get to North General if I cut across 124th. Aww fuck it, that's too close to those fucking kids, and if I can't remember what I need I'm not going.

Today's Monday right? Maybe it's Thursday. Well then what the hell happened to Tuesday and Wednesday? I'm getting old... and then I'm going to die in this place....somehow I thought I'd be around to see the end of all this.

There's a Jewish rabbi that preaches messages from god I go see every so often at grand central terminal. Funny thing is he got his holy book from a man who wrote notes about the end of the world all over it, the rabbi thinks god wants us to "wage jihad" or somesuch. Annoying to hear him go on and on but it's the empty shells I'm interested in. He does a special on .357, half price on .40, and if you get enough he hands out nines for free; but that's every Tuesday . This is just a pathetic life I've got here. Have to get back before it gets dark though. DAMN did today get screwed over....

Think the worst part is I don't give a damn about much anymore. Few years ago I would have run off to help the person screaming bloody murder down a side street. I have the guns for it, hell I even sleep with them. Now I just speed up a little more. And I wanted to be a doctor. That's a laugh and a half.

The only good thing about the end of the day is I get to go home to a bottle of burbon, some hickory smoked jerky, and a big ass cigar.

[Cyrus Brodie]

"Jacqueline? Jackie."

No answer, she must be outside in her garden again. I roll over in the bed and realize it's empty. That's weird, where's the imp? Usually she takes a nap with me on Sundays. Maybe she's out with her mom. I roll over, kick the covers off, and wrap the pillow around my head. The freshly changed sheets put me right back to sleep in three seconds and I know when I wake up there will be a hard ice tea on the bedside table waiting for me. The family treats me ok on Sundays.

The door gets kicked open and I can hear Jackie screaming at someone, it's that angry scream. She doesn't get scared, just pissed. Not sure if I rolled out of bed first or if I grabbed the gun first but I don't have to shoot; It's the MP's. Jackie's still mad and starting to beat up the guy holding her back, the imp is joining in too. It's a family creed we have, don't fuck with the Brodies. Blame the Irish in me.

"Cyrus Brodie?"
"Obviously..."
"You've been recalled to active duty. We need you to come with us, now."
"Problem?"
"Besides your devil daughter it's a national security issue."
"Tell me why you want me or I'll sick her on you next," they look at me like I'm joking, "....I let her bite strangers."
"It's not just you, it's every enlisted man we can drum up. Navy, Marines, even the Reserve."
"Then you have the wrong branch, I'm Delta."
"That's exactly why we need you to come with us."
I don't move, the girls have stopped beating up the one MP and are staring at me. I know they expect me to go, we all know I need to, but not this time. I've been out of their lives for too damn long.
"Both forigen and domestic..."
Something about the way he said domestic automatically makes my feet start to move, and hands pull a shirt over my head.
"My family is comming with me." It wasn't discussed any further.

I snatch up the shotgun under the covers and jolt upright as gunfire rips through the morning air. It's down the street a bit, few hundred yards judging by the sound of the reports. Fucking dreams, haven't had a good one in over ten years and it makes me feel like I'm going crazy.

The radio kicks on and there is the predictably over zealous report from out president. Ah, the sound of pumping a shotgun, old school intimidation and I swear I hear the radio falter and crackle. That's right talk box, I'm going to kill you dead. The first three rounds are simple salt shot, wimpy I know but it's funny as hell to shoot someone and watch them piss their pants thinking they're going to die. Serves them right. There's nothing to be happy about in this life anyway, we're all just living until we die. And the grape shot, nuts and bolts really, tears through the radio in four successive booms ending it's irritating existance.

I was the guy who believed in the govornment. I was the guy who thought our military would do something to help stop all of this. I was the guy who failed to catch the ones who let it loose; I killed this city. I killed my wife and I even killed my little girl.

[Cyrus Brodie]

"In the early days people took comfort in the local government New York had set up. They voted on things, not the normal things we used to, but water rations, how to police the area. It was all bullshit but they thought it was a god send. Thousands of people believed America's army, or somebody, would come help them. Even set up easily accessible "Secure Zones". That made them happy too until people of a certain age bracket started to unhappily pop their clogs; then after they kicked everyone out they became "Clean Zones". Bunch of god damn Hippocrates, worse than doctors if you ask me.

But that was all after the first two or three days of chaos. I was privileged enough to go trudging through the worst of it to break up some riot, or raid on resource rich buildings. The military did their part....for a while, but the truth is we were some of the first to break off and start surviving the way we are now. Hysteria, open air gang wars, muggings, killings, raping, arson, mass religious panic which I thought was the worst part of it all, compared to those first few days this week is paradise. Still a shit hole though..shit hole on spring break...guess that's a nice place on the worlds asshole? I don't know. If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, anarchy might excite me but I didn't...so....shit hole."

I uncork the bottle of Macallan sitting next to me and fill up the half a plastic bottle cup, and stopper the bourbon again." There was a time when Macallan was selling for five digits a bottle, I found this stuff in the glove box of an old semi. About thirty some years old now, wonder what it'd go for....still it's not as strong as the stuff that comes out of my stills but it tastes better. Fine whiskeys use to be a hobby of mine, now I just make the stuff as a form of currency along with vodka and shine. Destroying my hobby is one more reason why I hate this place.

I could still go and find one of those communities, try to fit in again, but after how some people reacted to military types in those first few years I'd rather shoot off my left one. There was seven of us hold up in the flatiron for a while, and that's how I was able to get the big ass water distiller tank into the place, but...after a while, I was the only idiot unlucky enough and stupid enough to hang around. Four of them were killed and the two other ate a bullet. Well....one guy went a little crazy and ate some C4 for brunch. So besides the whole idea of having to live with a bunch of dim witted commies, community types....still get a kick out of that one, military guys from back then aren't so stable. I just polished off this bottle in about an hour so guess I'm not so stable either.

Don't get me wrong because there are still a bunch of nice people out there. Big Marge is one of them, I can see her working her own still from here. Wish she would cover up her fires though...not smart to be visible at night. The obsessive compulsive guy a few more streets down, funny as hell to take a marker to his face, damn near scrubs his skin off and cusses like an angry dwarf on helium at the same time. Everything comes down to the fact that I've lived out here away from the groups for too long to try and change that. Staying alive on my own is a job and I need a reason to wake up every day besides bleeding the lemon from all the hooch I had the night before. It wouldn't be a bad way to live if this place wasn't the ass end of the world. Anyway it's about time to change the catch bucket on the shine so...sorry whiskers."

I haul back and wing the empty bottle at the mouse that's been keeping me company for the last half hour. There's hardly enough meat to even make a snack for me but I'm not going to eat it, that would be wasteful. The mouse is bait for a buzzard or even a crow. I don't care what it is at this point, I'm just hungry.