Puff the Magic Dragon (doesthemagkdrgn) wrote,
Puff the Magic Dragon
doesthemagkdrgn

Apocalypse part 3

Two weeks of trekking through jungle had not seemed an impossible venture on the first night. It had seemed as far away as the next century with no point of hoping it would arrive, wearied head down and forlorn, unsure it was still welcomed in the house of Now. Through the tears of loss and heartache the night had seemed as endless as the sky which viewed it all. Every tree heard the prayer of hope spoken with the the hollow voice. Every bush heard the vow of vengeance, followed by the uncertain questioning of how.

Two weeks was the time it would take to arrive at the next major town. Ordinarily it would take only a week if traveled by the road, but Graham did not believe himself ready to face whatever had caused his local village's destruction. The tropical forest was also a haven should others be spotted, and hiding right now seemed the only option.

Slowly the nights became less endless, and Graham's thoughts turned less from the stupidity of his previous decisions to the necessity of the now. Thankfully, the rationalised to himself, his depression meant he was eating less. He seemed barely in the mood to eat at all, forcing himself eat mouthful of the smallest portion before collapsing into fitful sleep.

Two weeks, as impossible as it seemed, did past, with the haze of fauna and bird calls. The birds, snakes and ants had survive in the forest, much to Graham's discomfort on too many a night, but not a sign of a human was to be seen. Not surprising, it was the heart of the jungle, He should be more concerned should he see a human.

The town was not large considered by world standards, but large to the locals. It held a population of 200,000 natives and some odd foreigners who worked the supposed necessary jobs, such as teaching English or running factories. Graham had first arrived in the town 6 years ago to teach and had decided he never wanted to leave. It was a year before he changed his mind and moved to the farm to volunteer, eventually to run and maintain the wwoofers that would wonder in from the outside. He believed himself capable of making contacts and evaluating the situation, whether it were politically volatile or native uprising. He believed he could navigate the city well enough even with his absence.

As he approached he marked the absence of sound, something learned from years in the jungle which meant a possible snake in the trees. There was no life, no noise of human traffic, no noise at all. He breached the edge of the forest and found the city standing like a mausoleum, trophies lining the horizon to the gods for their kills.

At the very edge of the clearing stood an abandoned shopping cart. Some things never change.
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