Capítulo 1: NYC - NARTS, YOLKS, CROWBARS
Five years ago I would have laughed in your face if you would have told me that I'd ever attack a man-sized Nart with a crowbar.
First of all, I wouldn't have known what a Nart was, and secondly, my job as an accountant for Winston-Harrison and Associates would scream everything other than violence.
But five years ago I learned that I wasn't controlling the world (I'd known that previously, but I'd never really known it) and that wild and crazy shit could happen. Shit I never could have dreamed of. I was just a working class motherfucker, hometown NYC, taking the underground to work every single day.
Now everything's changed.
Obviously.
I tightened my fist around the handle of the crowbar. Any second now the ugly face of the Nart would peek around the corner, it's eyes staring into my soul. I waited in anticipation. I could hear the Nart nearing me; their feet make tapping sounds, almost like when cats walk on tile; just without the scratching of the claws.
Then - there it was! I swung my arms backwards and then forwards, bringing the crowbar down on it's head. It let out a loud shriek, a sound I know existed but couldn't hear; Narts made sounds too high for human ears, but I could feel my blood curl at the high frequency. I continued to bash in the side of it's head. A few moments later brain was oozing out of the left side of it's skull.
One Nart down, X many to go.
I crawled out from behind the wall and quickly sliced the Narts stomache open with my pocket knife. Why hadn't I attacked it with that? My knife was too short and small, crowbars were better. Narts luckily have soft skulls. I watched the guts spill onto the floor, jumping back so that they wouldn't stain my boots. I rummaged around the insides of the animal for a few minutes, trying to see wether it'd eaten anything that might be worth keeping. I found nothing as usual.
I should probably explain what Narts are. Narts are kind of like Wasps, but they have tongues and teeth and they're not stripped but spotted. If I was a better artist I'd draw you a picture. But I suck. So I might as well just tell you everything in numbers.
In the year 2056 where a Third World War became inevitable due to several smart-ass politicions and a lot of fuss about 'one planet'. The war caused millions of deaths, a lot of soldiers and a fuck-ton of civillians. It lasted four years. After the war ended, people came back out of hiding and tried to rebuild the economy. Every attempt failed. And then all of a sudden we started to realize that we weren't really us anymore. The chemical and atomic bombs had changed society forever.
Animals were no longer the same. Neither were humans. We were lucky; our bodies were more resilient. Newborns often suffered from abnormalties or simply died at birth, but some animals got fucked up. I don't know it the radiation and the chemicals brought out old genes or just mutated their DNA strands, but some species went crazy. Narts were one of them. Since Narts come from insects, there are a shit tone of them.
For every human left on earth, there are twenty-seven Narts. And the Narts have realized that they're stronger. But of course, they're still just insects and not humans who've evolved into social and political philosophers that pass knowlage on from one generation to the next, but they're still pretty fucking dangerous.
Now that you've learned what the fuck Narts are I can introduce myself a bit more.
My name was Emmanuel Hart, used to be bullied and called E-Manuel. Maybe that's the reason I went into accouting. Ha-ha. I don't really identify myself with that name anymore. Whenever I find someone who's half-sane I introduce myself as Mack. Don't ask me how I went from Emmanuel to Mack. I don't know either. I'd spent the year after the world searching for jobs, and totally failed. I didn't even get a single interview. The past months absolutly everything closed down, ecxept for the farmers, everyone is pretty much fucked.
About 20% of the world died in the war and 20% more died afterwards due to complications with their health or suicide. I was in the surviving 60%. Of course - some cities had been completely wiped out; especially those were a bunch of people lived in the same place. During the war I'd stayed at my Uncle's in New York State, may he rest in peace, it was only after that I returned to NYC. And I found my city in ruins.
I'd moved back into my little appartement somewhere on a street that's name has no meaning anymore. There were only three other inhabitants in the building. One was a former prostitute and yes, I fucked her quite a bit, and the other two I'd never more than seen.
I was thirty-five years old in 2061, still a young ambitious man who, like every man still alive, thought he could make it to last man standing.
On the peticular day I'd killed the Nart, my fourty-fifth kill, I headed back home with a smile on my face. I had a date (a booty date mind ya) with Joline (the prostitute) later and I was very much looking forwards to it, I hadn't had sex in quite a while and was acheing for it. Mind you; before the war I would have never fucked a prostitute I'd be too scared of HIV and HPV and whatever else you can get. But what's the point anymore? Life didn't have meaning; surviving isn't my future it's evolution. And she really was quite pretty though already forty-five.
I unlocked the door that lead from the streets into the building and walked up to the seventh story. The elevators had stopped working a long time ago.
My apartement wasn't worth much, but neither was anything else so I'd installed plenty of locks. It took me an average of thirty seconds to get inside. The second I was in the fucking hellhole I kicked my boots off, threw the crowbar on the floor and made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. We had no running water anymore. I screwed off the top of a bottle and took a large gulp. Much better.
I opened all the windows, but only a crack, I didn't want any nasty mosquitos inside.
I hadn't locked the door because I was expecting Joline to walk inside in about a quarter of an hour. No one else was going to come or even just pass by. A few days ago I'd spent the entire day inside just staring out the window. I'd only spotted six different people walking the streets below in 18 hours.
I turned the gas-stove on and placed my one and only frying pan on it, then I grabbed the eggs out of the cupboard. A few miles away there was a chicken coup.
It didn't take long for the pan to heat up and so I cracked three eggs into it. My breakfast. Funny thing about eggs was that there was no egg white anymore. Just the yolk. Weird what chemicals can do. I didn't mind because I'd always preferred the yellow to the white anyway.
The yolks were still sizzlling in the pan when I heard the knock on the door. Joline. I hurried over and opened the door. She was a lady and didn't like to be kept waiting. A few weeks ago I hadn't opened up immediatly and as a consequence she'd ignored me for three days.
"Hey, Joline, how ya doin?" I asked and hugged her. She pushed me off, like always.
"I'm fine. Do I smell eggs?" She scrunched up her little button nose.
"Yeah. If you want some I'll make more."
"It's fine, but that's sweet of you." She smiled at me. It wasn't a forced smile but it wasn't a happy one either. I raised the corners of my lips in return.
"How're Jack and Jamie?" I asked. She was the only person sane (or maybe insane) enough to still have pets. Two cats, both toms.
"They're fine. Jack got some kind of cat flu I think. Probably was out hunting rats again." She slid the coat off her shoulders and hung it over the back of my chair. I'd gotten rid of all but two. I didn't have anyone but her in my life. She wasn't wearing much under the cloak. Just some fancy lingerie. It probably used to be nicer, it was kind of stretched out and the color was a bit worn off. But she still looked good. I made a mental note to bring her back some new outfits if I found any.
"I'm going to eat now, if you're okay with waiting?" I asked. She nodded and sat down.
I slid the yolks onto a cleanish plate and joined her at the wooden dinner table. She stared out the window, watching the city that never sleeps finally rest. I ate the yolks in silence. She didn't speak to me and I didn't ask her anything. When you're alone most of the time, you don't mind long silences. It's just nice to have company. I finished and got up, putting my plate in the sink to clean later.
By the time I'd returned to the dinner table she wasn't there. I tried the bedroom. She was lying on my bed, staring at the TV. There was no power, and even if there had been, there would be no channels. But I hadn't taken it down yet. Not out of hope, just out of laziness. And apart from the television I had nothing on my wall. I saw it as a decoration; an object from the past.
I pulled my shirt over my head and lay down next to her. She liked my upper-body, I'd grown quite strong over the past few years. She never wanted me to take my pants or socks off though. I never got why.
After a short pause she turned to face me and pressed her lips against mine. We kissed, passionatly but without emotion. If you look at the numbers; there were twice as many women as their were men. Most definitly due to the war and the fact that men think they can handle Narts which usually isn't the case. Women are more careful. Of course; these numbers are based of what I'd seen in NYC and New York State. I had no contact to other parts of the world. She rolled on top of me and for the first time that day, number and plans for survival left my head.
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