Every so often, walking about, we might stumble on little bits of yesterday. Things aren't always intact, and guess I'm too young to recognize a lot of what used to be. Momma, however, she's lived long enough to recall just about everything.
Sometimes she says, "It's funny how well we've got on without certain stuff."
I guess she means some things used to be sort of an everyday necessity until no one could use them anymore. That said, I don't exactly see the funny side. I think it's kind of sad. She says I'll understand when I get older. That makes me never want to grow up.
Still, one bit of the past sticks in my mind. We were trekking across a prairie in the middle of the empty stretch from New Louis to Fort Jansson. I remember we come across this stretch of grass vast as a lake and taller than a small child. I'd grown that summer, but only stood a few inches higher than the tallest blades.
For a minute, Momma considered not crossing. Though what with the sun close to setting, she wanted to make for the woods. It isn't safe being out after dark, not on the ground anyway. So we risked it.
The grass tickled my face, making me snicker.
Momma said, "Hush."
"Sorry," I said.
"Don't worry. Just be quiet."
About half way across the prairie we came across this thing. I don't really know how to describe it. Imagine like a stumpy, chubby kid with the arms chopped off, the left over nubs sticking out; or maybe like a real straight ginger root. Anyhow, I noticed it first.
Pointing I said, "What's that?"
Expecting the worst -- she always does, though she says there used to be a time she didn't -- Momma spun around. Aiming her rifle, she scanned all about. Then her eye settled on the thing.
Shaking her head she told me, "That's a fire hydrant. Was a fire hydrant."
I wanted to ask if it gave out fire, and if so, why'd folks have them back when. Only before I could say anything something tackled me from behind. I felt claws digging into my back.
The raspy hiss of an atrox sounded right in my ear. I couldn't see anything though, my face planted in the dirt. A shot rang out from Momma's rifle then I felt the atrox flapping its wings. The talons sunk in as it started lifting me off the ground.
Another shot. The atrox screeched in pain. Hoisted a few feet off the ground I saw Momma running towards me. I reached for her outstretched hand. She grabbed hold, and pulled hard as she could.
The atrox tried to shift its grip, get more of me than my backpack. The second it did Momma gave a firm yank. She literally ripped me out of its claws. I felt the talons shredding my back.
Flapping wildly, and snarling in anger, the monstrous predatory bird went up into the sky.
While tears poured down my face I felt the blood flowing down my back.
Grabbing my face in her hands Momma said, "Stay calm."
Her eyes went to the sky. I followed her gaze. We could see the giant bird circling. Another mutation after the failed salvation. To hear Momma tell it, some scientist figured he could save animals that were dying out. So he introduced something into the environment, and though it saved the critters, it also changed them. Plants, animals, everything changed, even some people, sending the rest of us down a notch on the food chain.
Momma raised her rifle. Like it knew what to do, the atrox slipped into a dive just as Momma fired. By the time she bolted another round ready to fire, the massive bird came straight at her talons out. Momma barely had time enough to hold the gun between them.
The claws wrapped around the rifle, while the bird's speed and weight combined to knock Momma back. She fell onto the ground. The atrox stabbed at her head with its beak. She dodged, but being pinned down it seemed only a matter of time before the bird got her.
Not knowing what to do, still knowing I needed to do something, I ran at it. Don't ask me to say what I was thinking. I wasn't. Then I jumped on the bird's back. My tackle pitched it forward. It stumbled a bit then fell, its head slamming into the fire hydrant. The atrox thrashed a second, throwing me off its back, however, by then Momma came running in. She grabbed that buzzard by the head, and started slamming its skull into the fire hydrant until it split open.
We sat there a second huffing and puffing. After she caught her breath Momma bandaged me up. Then we headed into the woods.
Still, I'll never forgot that hydrant thing. I never figured anything from the past might still be of use. Seems things can still be good for something even if they can't be what they were for.
Sometimes she says, "It's funny how well we've got on without certain stuff."
I guess she means some things used to be sort of an everyday necessity until no one could use them anymore. That said, I don't exactly see the funny side. I think it's kind of sad. She says I'll understand when I get older. That makes me never want to grow up.
Still, one bit of the past sticks in my mind. We were trekking across a prairie in the middle of the empty stretch from New Louis to Fort Jansson. I remember we come across this stretch of grass vast as a lake and taller than a small child. I'd grown that summer, but only stood a few inches higher than the tallest blades.
For a minute, Momma considered not crossing. Though what with the sun close to setting, she wanted to make for the woods. It isn't safe being out after dark, not on the ground anyway. So we risked it.
The grass tickled my face, making me snicker.
Momma said, "Hush."
"Sorry," I said.
"Don't worry. Just be quiet."
About half way across the prairie we came across this thing. I don't really know how to describe it. Imagine like a stumpy, chubby kid with the arms chopped off, the left over nubs sticking out; or maybe like a real straight ginger root. Anyhow, I noticed it first.
Pointing I said, "What's that?"
Expecting the worst -- she always does, though she says there used to be a time she didn't -- Momma spun around. Aiming her rifle, she scanned all about. Then her eye settled on the thing.
Shaking her head she told me, "That's a fire hydrant. Was a fire hydrant."
I wanted to ask if it gave out fire, and if so, why'd folks have them back when. Only before I could say anything something tackled me from behind. I felt claws digging into my back.
The raspy hiss of an atrox sounded right in my ear. I couldn't see anything though, my face planted in the dirt. A shot rang out from Momma's rifle then I felt the atrox flapping its wings. The talons sunk in as it started lifting me off the ground.
Another shot. The atrox screeched in pain. Hoisted a few feet off the ground I saw Momma running towards me. I reached for her outstretched hand. She grabbed hold, and pulled hard as she could.
The atrox tried to shift its grip, get more of me than my backpack. The second it did Momma gave a firm yank. She literally ripped me out of its claws. I felt the talons shredding my back.
Flapping wildly, and snarling in anger, the monstrous predatory bird went up into the sky.
While tears poured down my face I felt the blood flowing down my back.
Grabbing my face in her hands Momma said, "Stay calm."
Her eyes went to the sky. I followed her gaze. We could see the giant bird circling. Another mutation after the failed salvation. To hear Momma tell it, some scientist figured he could save animals that were dying out. So he introduced something into the environment, and though it saved the critters, it also changed them. Plants, animals, everything changed, even some people, sending the rest of us down a notch on the food chain.
Momma raised her rifle. Like it knew what to do, the atrox slipped into a dive just as Momma fired. By the time she bolted another round ready to fire, the massive bird came straight at her talons out. Momma barely had time enough to hold the gun between them.
The claws wrapped around the rifle, while the bird's speed and weight combined to knock Momma back. She fell onto the ground. The atrox stabbed at her head with its beak. She dodged, but being pinned down it seemed only a matter of time before the bird got her.
Not knowing what to do, still knowing I needed to do something, I ran at it. Don't ask me to say what I was thinking. I wasn't. Then I jumped on the bird's back. My tackle pitched it forward. It stumbled a bit then fell, its head slamming into the fire hydrant. The atrox thrashed a second, throwing me off its back, however, by then Momma came running in. She grabbed that buzzard by the head, and started slamming its skull into the fire hydrant until it split open.
We sat there a second huffing and puffing. After she caught her breath Momma bandaged me up. Then we headed into the woods.
Still, I'll never forgot that hydrant thing. I never figured anything from the past might still be of use. Seems things can still be good for something even if they can't be what they were for.
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