When the Fires Stopped - Episode 2 (www.geddongear.com)

The howling was not loud, or overbearing. It was subtle, which made it all the more chilling. It was a Kawil, a Mayan lord of blood. They are a nasty creature with an Obsidian mirror embedded in an equally black forehead. The Kawil stole faces from fierce animals and often was seen with a wolf or bear snout. It always had a snake as a replacement limb and “experts” argue that that was where its spirit was housed. It was the snake that emitted a subtle howl, like the wind but less joyful.

Still running I was determined to make to www.geddongear.com . The store should have a shelter of some kind, or maybe even brothel.

I could hear the beast getting closer. I knew it could sense me, but I it could not have seen me yet. If it had, I would be dead already and the earth would have one less chance to undo this mess. I could not outrun this thing. I could not fight it without weapons. I needed to hide. I took a hard right down an alley and noticed a dead bum holding a sign that read “Sucks to be you.” I paused and considered the irony, then kicked the bum and stole the sign. I really did not need to kick him, he was already dead, but old habits die hard.

Using a worn out photo as kindling lit a fire and threw the sign on it. Smoke…Kawils’ are drawn to it. That is why the Mayans used it in ceremonies - that is why you stay away from cities - and that was my diversion.

I noticed the bum did not have bar code on his wrist or back of his neck. Only people from the agency were exempt. Was he agency? It had been 50 years since the gene was introduced into the population. The public did not know, they could not know. An ambitious scientist in the agency designed a system to catalog all humans without their knowledge. He introduced a gene that manifested a fingerprint like barcode tattoo 1 year prior to 2012. It was introduced into the world’s water supplies and has been a part of the human genome now for the better part of a half century. Only members of the agency had these removed. When the public found out last year, the black market for underground tattoos exploded. Some snot nosed genome hacker kid found a way to modify the tattoos. Modify, but never remove.

So why was this bum unmarked? I did not have the time to consider; before I could leave my diversion I heard the unmistakable sound of a creature with a dragging serpent for a leg. It was here, what now…..

Read Eposide 1 at http://www.geddongear.com/bloggan.aspx

"When the Fires Stopped" Episode 1 (www.geddongear.com)

When the fires stopped, the screaming began. At first I was disoriented, my head hurt, but it was still there thanks to the Asteroid Armor. I purchased it from leper wandering the streets pre impact. “Pre-impact” - now I knew nothing would be the same. Back to the screaming. It was loud, but thankfully distant. I fired up my cell phone only to see a “No Service” where the signal meter icon should be. Across the gorgeous but now pointless touch screen, a public service message:

"Sorry for the inconvenience, all Satellite and Radio Communications have been repurposed for the global defense shield. Thank you for your cooperation. Yes We Can."

According to the “pre-impact” public service programming, the shields were never meant to block the asteroid. No, they were meant for something far worse. The thought brought images of fear and Mayan food to my head. Food, I needed some. I opened my Newton’s Capsule and greedily ate the airline peanuts I had stashed from my earlier flight from Gibraltar. The old man said it would come in handy. He also said to find the nearest Post-Apocalyptic grocery store and get some survival gear. I took stock of where I was, scrapped but not broken, lying on the sidewalk in the middle of Times Square. I had to find a store to stock up and head out of the city. Had to make it to The Refuge, had to take the advice of the General and stay clear of the cities. “They are the stalking grounds of the Kawil” he said before the Ichel creature took him. I should have never taken the job in that agency, the subject matter did not fit the skillset of reformed assassin.

Dusting myself off, I got up and headed for what seemed to be the direction of 42nd street. An advertisement for some kind of apocalyptic store vaguely showed itself on a billboard obscured by a large stamp that read “[Citation Needed]”. Bureaucrats! The only known post apocalyptic store and they want to hide it from the citizens. Still, I headed in that direction and found a flyer carelessly stapled to the head of an unfortunate hotdog vendor. It read, “Geddon Gear, now open to serve you”. Some sort of super store, exactly what I needed. I walked in the direction of where the vendor’s fingers seemed to point before rigamortis had set in. Thankfully it seemed to point away from the screaming. I proceeded on towards that heading, thinking very carefully about the weeks that had passed since I joined the agency. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out my personal archive journal I carried with me and began to write.

“My name is Gordon. I don’t have a last name, not anymore, not since the agency. I don’t know if the agency exists, and if it doesn’t then someone needs to know. The asteroid is only the be….”

Not realizing that I should not walk and write at the same time, I stumbled upon a putrefying corpse dangling from a noose. It was an Ixtab, an ancient being that delivered all priests, slain warriors, sacrificial victims, and women dying in childbirth, as well as suicides who hung themselves in the socially approved manner. But this one was dead. Then I noticed the screaming had been replaced by howling and I began to run…