{"id":906,"date":"2016-12-05T12:40:22","date_gmt":"2016-12-05T20:40:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/?p=906"},"modified":"2016-12-05T12:40:22","modified_gmt":"2016-12-05T20:40:22","slug":"dooms-daughter-chapter-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/?p=906","title":{"rendered":"Doom’s Daughter, Chapter 4"},"content":{"rendered":"

My urge to punch Mason fades, along with my urge to do anything else to him: kiss, admonish for breaking my CDs, teach to be less shitty. Instead I just feel a mild mixture of pity, revulsion and curiosity. How could someone so initially <\/span>attractive <\/span><\/i>be such a wussy jerk? I decide that there is only one way to find out.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo what made you decide to be such a wussy jerk?\u201d I ask as I turn another corner on the cracked and debris-filled road. Mason shifts away from me, trying to hide his look of shame.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKeep your eyes on the treeline,\u201d Father tells me. \u201cFor more of those League bastards.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRoger,\u201d I reply as Father clambers into the back with Mason\u2019s rifle. He looks like he\u2019s going to tweak it some more. \u201cHey. Masonjar. I\u2019m talking to you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI told you I was going to die and you don\u2019t even care.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWow, I asked you a question and <\/span>you<\/span><\/i> didn\u2019t even answer. You are currently alive. So, following normal <\/span>logic<\/span><\/i>, you don\u2019t know for certain how and when you are going to die. And why should I care? You tried to trick, ambush and <\/span>kill<\/span><\/i> both of us. It doesn\u2019t exactly create a feeling of loyalty.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Past the abandoned rural houses, the road returns to the highway. I take it south, back to the big city at the bottom end of the island. We pass dilapidated gas stations and rusted-out cars as we go.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t going to kill you,\u201d Mason insists.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, so you were bluffing? You were going to let your friends do the dirty work? Wow, you\u2019re just making yourself sound better and better, Jar-head.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou think I had a choice?\u201d Mason\u2019s face explodes into a fresh display of mucous, spittle and tears. <\/span>Oh, very sexy, <\/span><\/i>I think. \u201cI try to leave, they\u2019ll kill me. I try to warn anyone, they\u2019ll kill me. I was going to try and tell <\/span>you<\/span><\/i>, but then you…\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet me stop you right there,\u201d I interrupt him. \u201cFirst of all: if you want somebody\u2019s help, pointing a gun at them? Probably the worst way to ask for it. Sounds like your employers, uh…sounds like you need to change your…hmm…\u201d I stumble over my words. \u201cHey, Dad? Help me out here. I\u2019m not good with job-related idioms.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like you should take out employment insurance,\u201d Father quips from the back.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHa!\u201d I say. Mason isn\u2019t laughing, however. He\u2019s just leaking out every hole in his face some more. \u201c…Dad, what do you mean by insurance?\u201d Sometimes his pre-Doom terms go over my head. \u201cNever mind,\u201d I say, turning my attention back to Mason. \u201cYou <\/span>always<\/span><\/i> have a choice. Unless you want to talk determinism.\u201d Mason looks at me like I\u2019m speaking an alien language. \u201cDeterminism. Cause and effect. The belief that…\u201d I suddenly remember that not everybody stockpiles books and data, and the literacy rate has dropped pretty sharply in some areas, post-Doom.<\/span><\/p>\n

As I glance back at the road, the rest of the sentence dies in my throat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDad?\u201d I call out. \u201cCode thirty-three. Point two.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRoadblock? Are they armed?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Even at a hundred metres, I can clearly see the firearms they carry. A dozen women and men span the highway ahead, carrying automatic rifles. One of them appears to be brandishing grenades. Behind them is a row of vehicles, blocking the way south.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh yeah.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShit,\u201d Father says. \u201cTurn around.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck, I\u2019m gonna <\/span>die<\/span><\/i>,\u201d Mason exclaims as I slam on the breaks and start spinning the wheel. I haven\u2019t tipped <\/span>Charlotte <\/span><\/i>over yet, but it feels like I\u2019m going to, every time I pull this manoeuvre.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no way your so called \u2018buddies\u2019 know you\u2019ve semi-not-really-betrayed them <\/span>already<\/span><\/i>,\u201d I say through gritted teeth as the brakes screech. \u201cAre you telling me your League made a roadblock?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Mason wails. \u201cIt\u2019s the Kawitzen.\u201d He can\u2019t see through the window from where he\u2019s tied up, but he sounds pretty certain.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d I mutter. <\/span>Charlotte <\/span><\/i>careens on two tires, just for a moment, before plopping back down. Anything not lashed down clatters around on the floor of the RV. \u201cThey won\u2019t shoot at us, will they?\u201d I ask Mason.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey will if they think you\u2019re League,\u201d Mason insists.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDad, we\u2019re going to negotiate,\u201d I call out.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? No we\u2019re not. \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes we are.\u201d I start turning <\/span>Charlotte <\/span><\/i>around again.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo we\u2019re not!\u201d Mason shouts.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cToo late,\u201d I say, flipping the loudspeaker switch before Father can stop me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPEOPLE OF THE KAWITZEN TRIBE,\u201d I say, loving the way my voice booms. \u201cWE COME TO YOU IN PEACE. WE ARE NOT FROM THE LEAGUE.\u201d I hit the brakes and come to a stop some thirty metres away from the road block, hoping that the tribe won\u2019t open fire.<\/span><\/p>\n

Their shocked expressions are so great that I find myself wishing I\u2019d brought my camera up to the cockpit. Dad is beside me suddenly, staring out the window at the assembled row of armed people in their piecemeal clothing.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI said <\/span>no<\/span><\/i>,\u201d he mutters. I can tell by his expression that the admonishment is mostly an afterthought; Father is already calculating new plans in his head based on possible outcomes of my rash decision. Admittedly, it\u2019s not the first time something like this has happened. I think he\u2019s getting used to it.<\/span><\/p>\n

A man with a woollen cap and salt-and-pepper beard approaches <\/span>Charlotte <\/span><\/i>while the other tribals keep their weapons at the ready. The guy with the grenades looks anxiously from the explosive in his hand to our vehicle, perhaps realizing that he\u2019s a bit too close for his weapon to be a good idea. Dejected, he lowers his arm and his expression goes from zealous to impatiently wary.<\/span><\/p>\n

The man reaches <\/span>Charlotte <\/span><\/i>and \u2013 I can hardly believe it \u2013 actually knocks on the door. I can\u2019t help but laugh. Father doesn\u2019t think it\u2019s so funny. He signals for me to remain at the wheel and he goes to meet the man at the side door.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAlright, buddy, no funny business!\u201d I hear the man say through the door. I look at Mason.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does \u2018buddy\u2019 mean?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLike a friend.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut they don\u2019t even know each other!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve missed a part of the conversation, but I hear the door of the RV open and the man step inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWelcome to my home,\u201d Father says. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a…\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHelp!\u201d Mason cries, leaning over from his tied-up spot by the chair. He gives the man with the cap his best pleading expression. \u201cThese people are going to kill me!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My urge to punch Mason fades, along with my urge to do anything else to him: kiss, admonish for breaking my CDs, teach to be less shitty. Instead I just feel a mild mixture of pity, revulsion and curiosity. How could someone so initially attractive be such a wussy jerk? I decide that there is […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[39,40,6],"tags":[35,43,42],"class_list":["post-906","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-dooms-daughter","category-serials","category-writing","tag-dooms-daughter","tag-post-apocalyptic","tag-serials"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/906","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=906"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/906\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":907,"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/906\/revisions\/907"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=906"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=906"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jamesfunfer.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=906"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}