After the End - Part 1
February's Short Story
Each month, I request writing prompts from my readers and choose one to use as the basis for a short story. The prompt is a launching point and I try to incorporate as much of the concepts and ideas as possible while applying a generous dose of artistic license. This is the story born out of February’s prompt (posted below after the story). I hope you enjoy it!
Leave a comment with your writing prompt suggestion!
The wind gusted, moving a thick layer of dust across the ground. The arid field was dry, caked, and hardened by the blistering sun and a severe lack of rain. The air was quiet. There was no sound of man or beast, or any hint of movement other than the wind and the dust.
The silence was interrupted abruptly by the loud bang of a window shutter, caught just right by the latest gust. The shutter hung slightly crooked, on a dilapidated house in the middle of the field. The house was small, its shingles worn and curled, its siding faded and crack, its foundation sagging noticeably on one corner. It was, by all exterior signs, long abandoned.
On the inside, the old farmhouse looked only mostly abandoned. There were a few small signs of life here and there, though not many. A man walked through what once served as a living room. His clothes were dingy but not worn out. His stride was slow and deliberate, and his heavy boots made a solid thud on the creaking floorboards with each step.
The man walked into the kitchen, which looked dusty and barren. He looked at the shelves inside an open cupboard. There was nothing there. He closed the cupboard door, but it swayed itself back open with a high-pitched moan. The man opened the next cupboard door. Empty as well. He turned his attention to a collection of tin can sitting on the counter, none of which have labels attached. All but one of the cans were open and empty. The man picked up the last can as a perplexed look crossed his face. He gently shook the can. It made no sound. He turned the can over, revealing an already opened bottom and an empty inside.
There was a loud clank as the can bounced off the counter and ricocheted into the sink. The man walked out of the kitchen and sat down at a small wooden table. At the center of the table sat what used to be a large candle, now melted down to two inches tall. Next to the candle lay an old photograph, faded and curling on the corners, and a tattered Bible. The man gingerly rested his elbows on the table, sighed heavily, then cradled his face in his hands.
The solemn quiet was pierced by a loud thud. The man assumed the sound had come from the banging shutter once again. He stared accusingly at the window. The thud repeated, but the shutter did not move. The man stood, his senses on keen alert, his hand instinctively clutching the revolver holstered on his hip. Another thud. He removed the gun from its holster and stepped cautiously toward the front of the house. Following the next thud, he threw the front door open, taking aim at any would-be intruder, but there was no one there.
Pressing his back against the side of the house and strafing along, gun at the ready, he made his way toward the corner. With a quick lean, he caught a brief glimpse of the side of the house. He repeated the maneuver again, lingering slightly longer to gain a better look. His eyes rolled, and he holstered his gun, then stepped around the corner of the house.
A beat up, old droid moved forward, banged into the side of the house, took a step back, and the repeated its movement. The droid, roughly human in its design and proportions, though slightly larger, was in very poor shape. Its metal showed signs of fatigue and rust, rivets were popped out, and a few access panels were missing altogether. It had been a long time since the man had seen a droid. Most had been destroyed in the war or scavenged for parts afterward.
“What are you doing?” the man asked.
The droid stopped moving, then turned its whole body to face the man. “I am unable to walk through this door.”
“That’s because that door is a window, genius. Your proximity scanner must be on the fritz.”
“I am unable to run a self diagnostic at this time.”
“Here, let me help you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Walk towards me. That’s right. Keep walking. A little more.” The man slowly backed up as the droid moved toward him. Once the droid had stepped past the corner of the house, the man said, “Good, now turn to your right.”
The droid followed the instructions.
“Perfect. Now start walking, and keep going until you come across someone else’s place.”
The droid walked past the house and continue across the field. Once he was convinced that it was on its way, the man started off in the opposite direction, heading toward the nearest village in hopes of buying a loaf of bread or, if it was a really good day, some meat.
It was nearly sundown by the time the man made it back to the farmhouse. He was still twenty yards away when he heard a familiar sound. He stopped in his tracks and listened more carefully just to make sure, then shook his head.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He approached the house and, after setting the burlap sack he was carrying by the front door, walked around the side. “Are you lost?”
“I am fully aware of my geographic co-ordinates,” the droid replied.
The man shook his head again and walked back around to the front of the house. A moment later, he leaned back around the corner. “Well, if you’d like to be fully aware of where the front door is instead of trying to walk through that window, follow me.”
The droid tilted its head slightly, then pivoted and walked toward the man. It rounded the corner and followed him into the house. The man walked into the kitchen and emptied the meager contents of the sack onto the counter. A few tin cans, a couple apples, half a loaf of bread, and a small cut of meat. He picked up one can and set it inside the cupboard.
The droid walked up and stood beside him. It picked up a can and set it in the cupboard beside the first. The man looked at the droid with a raised eyebrow. He put another can in the cupboard and the droid followed in suit. The man picked up the apple and set it in front of the droid. The droid picked up the apple and clutched it. An explosion of applesauce and juice flew across the room.
“No, no.” The man picked up the second apple. “Gentle, like this.” He set the apple down again.
The droid reached out toward the apple. Its hand closed slowly until its fingers were just touching the apple skin. “Gentle. Like this.”
The man grinned. He picked up one of the empty cans off the counter and threw it through one of the broken panes of class in the window. “Your turn.”
The droid picked up an empty can and tossed it. The can hit the floor two feet away. “Gentle. Like this.”
“No. Not gentle.” He threw another can through the empty pane.
The droid picked up another can and hurled it across the room. The can reached the window, shattering through the glass. “Oh, no. I broke the door.”
“Close enough,” the man chuckled. “You’re not quite right, are you?”
“I’m afraid some of my circuits are damaged, and it is possible my programming is partially corrupted. My self-diagnostic feature is offline, so I can not be certain of any errors.”
“Were you damaged in the war?”
“It is possible, but I do not recall a war.”
“Lucky you.” The man walked out to the living room and sat at the table. The droid came and stood beside him. “Do you have a name?”
“My designation is C4R1.”
“Ugh, that’s rather dry, isn’t it? I think I’ll call you Carl instead. How does that sound?”
“That designation is acceptable. How should I address you?”
“You can call me, James.” The man slowly shifted around the items on the table, then rubbed his chin. “You know, Carl, I could use a little help around here, repairing windows and what not. I don’t suppose you would be interested in sticking around for a while, would you?”
Carl’s eyes fluttered and there was a faint whirring sound. “I do not have another destination to reach.”
“Good. Good.” James thoughtfully rearranged the table again. “You know, I saw a job posting in town today. It’s a big job. Dangerous too. But having a former battle droid with me would certainly up the odds of success.”
“I would be happy to be of assistance.”
“Well, first, let’s see if we can fix your aim … and a few other things. Then we’ll see what happens. We’ll get started in the morning. But for now, I need to cook that meat before it spoils. Do you know how to start a fire?”
“Of course.”
“There is a fire pit out front. There should be some small logs there as well.” Carl stood up and walked out the door. James got up and walked into the kitchen. He picked up the package of meat, weighing it in his hand. A slightly disappointed look swept across his face. He glanced up and looked at the newly broken pane. Oh, no. I broke the door. The words echoed in his head.
He chuckled to himself, “We definitely need to fix that aim.” James’ eyes grew wide and he rushed to the front door. “Carl! Don’t light the fire ‘til I get there!”
Although the challenge was to write a short story based on the prompt, this idea was a little too big, so consider this part one. We will return to the adventures of Carl and James at a later date.
February’s Prompt:
“In a post apocalyptic world, a Mandalorian-like loner is paired up with a droid with corrupted programming. He is hired to restore the electricity to a small town, but discovers the power plant is occupied by the several of the aliens that caused the downfall of civilization.”