Flash Fiction Friday: A Day Late and a Apocalypse Short

Haven’t done one of these in awhile and yes I am a day late (or several weeks, even a month or two if you’re into counting such things). However, I was writing a short story background for my latest RPG character and I decided to share it without you. Make of it what you will.


The City fumed, screeched and stank as it always did. Winter had come early this year and with it an edge. Bill felt it in the air. He had one more package to deliver before turning in for the day. He parked his bike on an alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the MetroPol officers in the corner.

Fascist pigs.

They carried body armor and heavy assault rifles. They treated Mid-Town as if were some god forsaken occupied Third World country.  Bill”s boss was tired of covering his parking tickets and he didn’t want to give him a reason to fire him or the cops a reason to arrest him. He knocked on the metal door, “Quick Time Delivery! Package for Mr. Tom Harris!” He checked the address on the box again. Right place.

Screw this.

He left the small box on front step and turned to leave when he heard the door open but before he could say anything shock hit him in the back and everything went dark.

He opened his eyes but could not focus them, his arms and legs in metal restrains. A hooded figure stepped from the darkness into the light of a single light bulb over head. A familiar voice emanated from under the hood, “I’m sorry that I have to do this to you.”  A syringe pierced his arm, “and yes this is going to hurt.”

Fire course through Bill’s veins until the pain overwhelmed him. When he opened his eyes, he heard the same voice pushing him out of the room, “You got to get out of here, take this.” He gave Bill a  bag now loaded with something heavy and rectangular. “Run, I’ll cover you.”


An explosion shook the building followed by flashes of light and gunfire. Bill stumbled away through a door and into the alley. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head to ward off the cold blast of air. Heavily armed police and soldiers swarmed the building. Explosions echoed through the urban canyons. He looked up. A military helicopter hovered over the street. A second later, a large piece of concrete hit it. It maneuvered away, only to crash a block down. The street shook from the impact.

Bill ran for the safety of his apartment. There a pounding headache drove him to take a fistful of aspirin and go to sleep.

The next morning the news anchor talked about an anti-terrorist operation gone wrong, with several casualties, but no exact numbers. The network cycled handful of shaky images shot by bystanders on cellphones and digital videocams. His phone beeped. A few messages from Evelyn asking where the Hell he was, but none from his jerkass boss. He still had his job. Then he remembered his bag.

Inside he found a laptop. Once it loaded, a video came on screen. The same hooded figure from yesterday spoke directly to the camera.

“Bill, I’m sorry for what happened. I wish there had been another way. But I had no time, literally. By this time, the injections worked and you should be feeling the effects soon. I’ll explain what that means, exactly later, but for now you need to find the others. Things are deteriorating, fast. And by you,” the man in the screen pulled his hood back, “I mean me.”

Bill saw himself on screen.

Oh shit!



That’s the idea.

Seen it all before?

This might give you a clue (click on the link for a hilarious review of the same):

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: