America the Dead

The camp was a makeshift place off an old logging trail. It was dry under the pines where they had set up camp, but the logging road had flooded over, the water had receded, and now the road was a quagmire of mud steaming in the early morning sun.They had encountered no major obstacles on the way in. Joel knew the way. The road was cracked in a few places, flooded in a few others, but only a few inches of water. The major stuff had held off until they had arrived and settled in.The last few days had bought rain, snow, and what felt like earthquakes or explosions far away. Heavy vibrations they could feel through the pine needle covered ground. No one was sure what they really were, but they were all worried about it.They had made up their minds late last night, when the rains had stopped to get out of the woods, but the two new trucks they had driven in would not start. Joel's old truck turned over and started fine. They had spent most of the sunrise checking over the two trucks, but they found nothing wrong with them. The batteries were up, the starters turned over, but they would not fire. There was no spark at the plug. Scott and Glenn who were both mechanics were puzzled over what could be causing it. I was raised in Texas and New York. I write short stories, novels, lyrics, poetry. I also enjoy building 3D models in my down time. I have written several series and collections.

Billy was up on the roof. Beth, Jamie, Winston and Scotty were standing at the edge of the building as he was, looking out over the city. Things were crazy, and they seemed to be getting worse as the days rolled by.The police precinct was still burning. It had started sometime during the night two days before, and since there was no one to put the fire out, it had been raging for hours now. A few minutes ago, the roof of the building next door to the precinct burst into flames. Maybe the fire had started inside, or the extreme heat from the burning police precinct had caused it to burst into flame, spontaneous combustion, but it was a strange thing to watch. It appeared as though it had simply burst into flames all on its own.The animated conversation about whether it had been spontaneous combustion or a fire source from inside the other building that had simply burned through, had kept up for a few moments, and then they had all lapsed back into silence. I was raised in Texas and New York. I write short stories, novels, lyrics, poetry. I also enjoy building 3D models in my down time. I have written several series and collections.

The doorman, an elderly white haired man, had been dead, lying in the doorway preventing the door from closing and locking. The dead had killed him but not turned him. Or at least he had not turned yet. What a lot you learn in three days, she told herself now, as she remembered. They had dug in, shifted him outside the door. Bear had dragged him to the gutter as she had held the door. They had no sooner let the door close than he had sat up in the gutter of the street."Bear! He's only hurt," she had said, shocked. She had turned to Bear where he stood behind her in the hallway. The words coming to her lips automatically."Baby," he had started. But that was when the doorman had hit the glass door. Rattling it in its frame, scaring her so badly that she had peed herself a little. Bear had dragged her unprotestingly, backwards down the hallway.They had used the elevator, taken it to the top of the building. There had still been electric in the building that first day. Now the elevator was dead, wedged open on their floor. I was raised in Texas and New York. I write short stories, novels, lyrics, poetry. I also enjoy building 3D models in my down time. I have written several series and collections.