New Normal

A newly desolate wasteland would depress most people.

Not me. It's a relief from the monotony of regular life. True, it's swapping the evils of endless meetings and cleaning the oven for those of scavenging for food and fighting off bandits, but you win some you win some.

Oh, were you expecting me to be worried about those things? Frightened of the little hoards of teenagers who think just because they've managed to lay their hands on a baseball bat and a rifle that they're God's gift to malice?

Not at all. There's nothing like being stuck in a cubical for fifteen years, listening to the irregular blip of fluorescent strip lights and the constant, pointless whining of Sharon from accounts - who couldn't find a decent man to save her life and was so toxic she didn't deserve one anyway - to give someone a healthy enthusiasm for killing other people.

Don't look at me like that. I'm doing everyone a favour, if you think about it. Even those on the sharp end of the equation. No, really. A swift, relatively painless death is better then starving to death after tramping across miles of teenager-riddle countryside, scared for your life.

That goes for me as well as them, of course, though I intend on putting the balance of resources in my own favour.

The fact is, there simply isn't enough supplies to go around. It turns out I'm rather good at making sure I get what I need.

True, in the business world I never quite got the hand of the whole, dog-eat-dog thing. Office politics bored me even more than data analysis, which believe me takes some doing. Perhaps that was the issue. I could never get excited about anything in Cubicle Hell, not even screwing over my fellow drones.

But out here, in the lawless post-apocalypse? Ah, there's nothing like the constant fear of death to really bring a bit of life into your old bones.

I could use my fondness for murder to help others. A fighter, protector, a valued warrior like my ancestors doubtless were. I feel the thrill of it in my very blood and bones.

Well, in someone's blood and bones, anyway, which is nearly the same.

Which leads me to you.

You see, I've been debating putting together a little group of my own. It might be nice to have a little companionship after all this time...

But the problem is, who can you trust nowadays? Not that you could trust anyone before, mind you, but at least they wouldn't murder you for a sandwich.

Well, except Malcolm in IT, but he had problems.

Had.

All right, perhaps I'm using the whole "apocalypse" thing as an excuse to settle a few scores, but who can blame me? I have a lot of scores to settle.

Wait a second, another one of these scores is just passing.

Don't worry, they'll stop screaming when the blood loss kicks in.

But you and I, we’d make a good team. I need someone like you on my side. Don't worry, I'll explain what for when the time is right. Just keep your wits about you and watch my back.

What do you mean, you don't have a weapon? What kind of post-apocalypse survivor are you? Let's see... I suppose you can have my spare backup extra dagger. I probably don't really need all six. I want it back, mind you - but not in my back, ahahaha.

What, that was funny.

Oh, suit yourself.

Anyway, our next mission, should you choose to accept it - and let's face it, there's not a lot of options - is to invade that supermarket over there, take it over, and secure the food for ourselves. Survival isn't all about killing other people. We have to do less fun things like eat as well.

Well yes, there does seem to be rather a large number of dangerous looking people roaming around now you mention it. Don't worry, I'll cover you.

Sorry, did I skip that part?

You're going to create a diversion whilst I thin the herd a little. And my “thin the herd,” I clearly mean kill them all mercilessly. It's amazing the kind of weapons you an improvise from an office supply closet. Plenty of ways to kill someone in your average office. I used to spend a lot of time thinking about that. Who knew that'd come in useful one day, eh? What a world we live in.

But I digress. The plan is, you distract them in whatever way you like, I don't really care how. Use your imagination. Pretend to be injured, or that you're selling something. Religion perhaps, that's always a popular choice for door-knockers. Do a striptease for all I care, just keep all eyes on you. Whilst you do your thing, I'll - well, perhaps you'd rather not know? You're looking a little queasy already.

Just, uh, try not to react too much when I start doing my thing.

Well, what are you waiting for? No time like the present. Hop to it.

See, that wasn't so bad, was it? And that blood will wash right out. It would if we had any way of washing our clothes, anyway. At least it's not your blood though, right? Haha. Think of it as a medal of honour from your first successful mission. First of many, no doubt.

Stop shaking, do. It was only a dozen or so, and you weren't in any real danger. Not with me around. Stick with me, and you might just make it out alive.

Now, let's see what we've got here... Hope you like corned beef, there seems to be rather a lot of it. Vegan, you say? Hmm, not for long you won't be, but there's a can of chickpeas if you'd rather... Oh, you would? Well, more beef for me. Cheers!

Look, we're not going to get anywhere if you flinch at every tiny sound. Yes, I know the lights are out and it "spooky" but you'll just have to get used to that.

Ah, see? The trap worked. Just ignore the yelling and swearing, I'll deal with him in a moment.

Urgh, fine. Come with me if you don't want to sit in the dark on your own, but you'll have to at some point. Well, you shouldn't have watched all those horror movies, should you? A little forethought would have gone a long way. You could at least have taken some notes, you'd be useful then.

Well how was I supposed to know it was an ambush? Sacrificing one of their own like that, it's shameful really.

No, that is not what I was doing with you earlier, and I’m certainly not planning on doing it again.

 Anyway, at least they had some interesting weapons on them. Don't you feel better for having something more substantial than my cast-off dagger? Of course you do. And you'll barely notice the previous wear once you'd used it yourself a few times.

Yes, you will have to use it. You know people are always only three meals away from total anarchy, don't you? Something like that. I read it somewhere once, though some people just need to skip elevenses to go on a hunger-induced rampage.

Anyway, my point is, we're well past the general population getting their three square meals, so you need to be on your guard. Constantly. Trust no one - except me, of course. You should always trust me. Maybe yourself, though given you chose chickpeas over a good, honest tin of corned beef...

It was a joke, I'm joking. Very laudable life choice, I'm sure. Not sensible given that the world is literally burning down around us, but good on you for sticking to your principles.

My point is, someone somewhere is going to try and kill you at some point. Be prepared. Read a book on how to use a machete, though really, just swinging it about a bit tends to do the trick. Know you'll have to draw blood at some point. You might even enjoy it - we humans didn't get this far by being nice to each other all the time.

No, don't practice on me. I have a lot more experience than you do, so I shouldn't expect you'll come out on top. Just don't, all right? I should hate to lose the first person I've had half a decent conversation with in six years.

Yeah, I know the apocalypse only happened last Tuesday, but my point still stands.

You're not so bad, now I'm used to you and you've stopped whimpering all the time. I'll make a survivor of you yet!

What do you mean, you're not sure you want to live in a world with no food and constant danger? Soft, that's what you are. That's what we all are - or rather, were. It's a good thing for sorting the strong from the weak. We've needed this for a long time. Too much pandering to the weak members of society. But no longer! We will survive, and we will thrive, will we not?

I will, anyway. The jury's still out on you.

Come on, we're not going to get along very well if you can't take a joke, are we? Come on, stop snivelling. We've got another mission.

What do you mean, where are we going? We're here!

No, not the bookies, the library. Information is the key to survival. How do you think we've stayed alive so far? Through my knowledge, that's how. I have enough skills to kill other people - you probably don't want to know how I got them - but you, if your pacifist self is going to make yourself useful, you're going to need to have a few skills of your own.

Don't panic, we need complimentary skills, not the same ones. Healthcare, foraging, that sort of thing. Think food just appears in the shops, do you? We'll get enough from supermarkets to keep us going until we can grow things, but it won't last forever.

No, you can't pick up a few reading books for the road. Think this is a pleasure trip, do you? A nice little holiday and everything will be back to normal in a couple of months? No, buttercup, that's not how it works. We're in this for the long haul now, and the sooner you get that idea into your head, the better.

Civilisation, or at least the facade we had of it, has crumbled. It's everyone for themselves now, other than the inevitably brief alliances - except ours, of course. We'll be fine together, however long this takes.

No, there’s no jolly beach reads for us if we want to make it out alive. It's all practical things, but I'm sure you'll be all right with that once you get into it. Humans are supposed to make things and know things. You'll enjoy it. The computer age robbed us of that. We could look up anything we needed to know, and so we knew nothing for ourselves.

But the tables have turned. The power stations have stopped, there is no more internet. You can't just google anything and everything anymore. Those who will survive are those who know what they're doing without having a phone in their pocket.

Books, my friend! Books are the thing that will decide who lives and dies.

That and weapons.

So, are we set? Have we got medical books, food books, maps?

It's a good start. 

Oh, all right, pick one fiction book, - but only one. We can't have any excess weight. We travel light, we move fast, we find high ground. 

Twilight? Really? Well, all right, then.

No, no, I'm not judging you at all.

Maybe a little bit.

Okay, I'm judging you six ways to Sunday, but at least there's plenty of fire starter.

I'm curious, though - why were you cowering in the broom closet when I found you?

Hiding from zombies. Urgh, really?

No, it's a reasonable concern, if zombies were real.

Which they aren't.

We need to worry about the living, not the dead. Or undead, I suppose, but only because the undead aren't real, which seriously hinders their killing capacity.

Hmm, perhaps this isn't such a good partnership after all.

Oh, stop sobbing, I'll make it quick and painless. I'm not a monster.

Ow. OW. All right, I'll not kill you, but only because you've impressed me with that. I didn't need all that blood anyway. You can at least help patch me up, seeing as you did it.

Interesting.

Pent up anger, have you? Good. Well, now I'm not actually dying any more, thank you very much, perhaps it's time to make a real plan. Maybe we can make something of all that rage of yours.

Yes, I think this could work after all.