Monday, July 26, 2010

Volume 1: Our World

Our World
by Steve Ormosi

I’m in a contemplative mood tonight. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty much always contemplating; I guess that’s why I got this job working at City Hall trying to help those who don’t want to be helped. My specific runaway train of thought tonight is how to keep this damn city working together now that a little bit of order is coming back into the world – our world at least.

Now that The Watch is in place and there isn’t immediate danger from the hordes coming through and chewing our balls straight off, people are cutting out the whole working together thing and starting to carve out niches for themselves. Power struggles are starting to emerge, people are getting uppity with each other and I’m the one who has to fix the bullshit. Let me explain that a little better, I’m the one who has to come up with the answer that someone else will use to fix the bullshit. Politics, eh? That’s ok, I don’t really want the notoriety anyway, ‘cuz chances are any semblance of order and peace won’t last, and when that happens, I won’t be the one who gets crucified.

So I’m sitting here in this bare room, these four walls keeping order. There are no windows in this room. This is delicate work and I need complete concentration. How does one bring a group of people together? How does one channel George Washington. How does one reimagine Thomas Jefferson for a world infested by unthinking, unfeeling killing machines instead of Red Coats? And a better question, why? Why give a shit? Why hope? How do you even keep hope alive when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun? A million guns? A billion? With teeth?

I think it’s great how short attention spans are. How many of these people even think about the fact that all that stands between them and a slow, munching, slurping end are a few thin walls? Once the apocalypse becomes mundane, world peace goes out the window again. So, of course, it’s up to the cursed few, who harp on the bad to figure shit out for the masses. We few pessimists who remember what it’s like to see everything crumble are the ones left holding the world – our world – in our hands.

What do I do? Is a police state the way to go? Probably, but I don’t know if we have the brute strength for that. So what’s the next best thing? Do we try democracy? That’s what this country was founded on right? Well maybe not democracy but a facsimile of a facsimile of democracy. Hell, with this few people, we could maybe make a real democracy work. But no one would ever agree. Who’s got to step up and take control? We need to find someone with the knowhow, and the elbow grease to get humanity kick started.

We need a symbol. We need a creed. We need to find something to unite behind. Right? Or do we need to just follow Machiavelli’s advice and make the unwashed masses fear us? And who are we anyway? Who do I trust enough to run this place somewhere other than into the ground? Oh fuck, no. I need a drink.

I spend the next hour trying to convince myself that this is a bad idea. I don’t want it. I don’t want the responsibility. Who else? Jacobs? No, too stupid. Wilson? No, too soft. Vlad? Not committed (ha, I should be committed for even thinking about this). What about Max Donovan? Hell, he’s basically running the place now anyway. But he’s a megalomaniacal douche bag.

I tell my brain to go to hell for the night and lay into a bottle of bourbon that was found by a scouting party recently. Perks of the job I guess. I’ll figure this out tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes much too quickly. My headache tells me that people from Kentucky are assholes. Kentucky bourbon, what a god awful disgusting and wholly beautiful drink. As I drag myself from the bed I've fashioned in this thing that they tell me is an apartment I can’t help but realize that I've puked all over my shirt at some point during the night. I also take note that my brain has in fact gone to hell and hell really hurts. Fuck it’s bright. Fuck it’s loud. Fuck.

I need coffee. I go to the market. As I’m walking through I look at these people, all wandering aimlessly. It’s pretty goddamn clear that we need some real leadership. The revelations of the night before leave me with very little hope for humanity. Who am I to assume that what everyone needs is a little bit more me? I arrive at the “café."

“Double latte, please.”

“Haha, fuck off.”

I sit at one of the three tables carefully constructed of whatever the hell was around at the time and grimace.

“You look like shit,” I’m told.

“Thanks Horace, you always were a charmer. If it weren’t for the zombies, I think you’d have gone national by now on personality alone.”

“Gotta have a nation to go national.”

“You ain’t lying.”

“I’m sure you and the boys in city hall are working on getting that going, eh?” Horace says to me with a straight face. With a straight goddamn face he says this.

“Well, I guess we’re gonna find out. Though I wouldn’t hold my breath for seeing a McDonald's around anytime soon, it’s just not good for you.”

“Yeah, the cholesterol will kill you. And I always thought that clown was fucking creepy.”

“You thought Ronald was creepy?” I laugh, which is nice, because I hadn’t expected any levity this morning.

“What the hell was he even doing representing a fast food place? That clown had an agenda. He should be off making kids laugh and what’s he doing? Hawking cheap burgers and shitty fries.”

“You crack me up man, the whole world gets turned upside down and you’re worried about the motives of a clown. I guess he snuck away from the circus and joined the corporate world.”

“Double latte sir,” Horace says as he slaps a tin mug of black coffee in front of me.

“Haha, fuck off.”

The coffee kick-starts me a bit, but I’m still hurting. Horace is going on about something or other, I feel a bit bad I’m drowning him out, but not bad enough to listen. My brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure how to tie all these damn people together. We’re not going to survive apart. There’s danger on the doorstep and it’s not going away. I make my decisions and go to talk with a couple of the more prominent public figures.

Jim Jones is a doctor. The more violent the world gets, the more important healers are. He’s a charismatic guy with a penchant for getting folks to give him information he needs. Treating a patient and treating a city are similar (as far as I can tell). You need to know the problems to be able to fix them, but more importantly, you need to be able to know how to ask the right questions and look in the right places to know where the problems are.

I come-a-calling to his place at around 8:15, just after the sun’s gone down. He greets me with a glass of water and a smile, “And what can I do for you this evening?”

“Hi Jim, was just wondering if I could have a couple minutes of your time, got something I want to talk to you about.”

He sits on an armchair he’s got. I sit on a wooden rocking chair, “ Listen,” I say, “I think we’ve got to have a mayoral election. We need somebody to run this place.”

“Right, what poor schmuck’s life are you trying to ruin?”

I pause for a moment, once I say this I've got a co-conspirator. Once I do this, I've got to follow through, “Mine.”

His right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, “Mayor , huh? Well good luck, I’m not sure I’d peg you as the politician type.”

“Yeah, but politicians are assholes. We need solidifying power here, not people quibbling over bullshit and tying to further their own careers. Besides, that’s kind of what I need you for. I need someone to talk to the people, find out what they want, what they need. I need someone to be my eye in the sky, and you’re the first person I thought of.”

He smiles, “Ok, ok, I get it. You’re a good guy, I’ll help you out. Hell, anyone other than Donovan will suit me fine, he’s a self serving prick.”

“Just don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll put a hit squad out on you.”

“I’ll watch my back.”

With Jim on my side I’m feeling a lot better about myself. My coffee is wearing off and it’s about time I find somebody who has a bit of pull with the locals. I need to talk to Kelly, the local bartender. I shake off thoughts of the night before and go to talk to her.

“Hi Kel,” I say as I walk through the door.

“Hey stranger, just a minute,” Kelly says as she pours a beer for a guy down the bar.

“How’s business?”

“Booming as always,” she says as she hands me a mug.

“Listen, I’ve got a thing going, I’d like your help,” I say just before taking the first swig. The beer tastes like piss water, but at least it’s beer, “What do you think about a little law and order coming back into this place?”

“You’re gonna be the police?”

“In a manner of speaking, I guess. I’m thinking about having an election for mayor. With so much to do in the city, we need some kind of leadership.”

“And you think you’re the one to lead?”

“Believe me, if I could think of anyone that could do it well that wanted to I wouldn’t even be here right now, but everyone with any pull right now would probably just get us all killed.”

Kelly looks up and down the bar, “You think this is gonna make you popular? You’re going to have everyone up your ass in no time.”

“Yeah Kel, listen, I need to know that you have my back on this. You know everyone here and I need everyone.”

“I dunno, I’d be sticking my neck out there.”

I look at her with my most sincere face, “I need your help Kelly. We need to keep this place together or we’ll all be zombie food. Donovan will have us all at each others’ throats. We need to be strong now. We need unity.”

“Alright, good speech. Look, if you think you can do it then I’ll back ya. I’ll get the word out to my people, but don’t you half ass this thing. I want to know that your heart is in it.”

“You have my word Kel,” I say as she slaps a shot down in front of me, “Aw, jeez, you serious?”

“Seal it.”

I knock the shot back, thank Kelly and walk out, still tearing from the fumes.

The next day I walk into city hall and announce my intentions, Donovan is predictably unhappy.

“So what makes you think you can run this place?” he demands.

“I know the people, and I think I have an idea of what we need to do to get us back on track. Maybe even start fighting back against the hordes.”

“We’re barely surviving right now, we can’t fight back, hell we can’t even light our houses. Most of us don’t even have houses.”

“Max, we have to look to the future. This isn't a good existence, we have to give everyone hope,” I turn my attention to the rest of the council, “We need hope now, because we don’t have anything else. We have to cling to something and we have to pull ourselves together.”

Donovan stops me, “I understand all that, but why do you think that you’re the best one for the job? You've never stuck your head out for anything. I would have never pegged you as the kind of guy to make a grab for power.”

“I’m not grabbing for power, and believe me, I’m the last one I would suspect to be doing this too, but I know what needs to be done and I know important people who can bring the populace onto our side and we need that.”

“So back me,” Donovan says, “I can do all the things you’re going on about with the right backing.”

“Max,” I try to choose my words carefully, “I’m not sure if that would be the best thing for everyone. I've been asking around and I think it has to be me or we don’t get the support we need.”

“You don’t have the backbone for this. You don’t have what it takes. If you want an election, you've got it. It was the obvious next step anyway. Start campaigning boy.”

“I already have.”

Donovan looks at the council, “I’d like to make a motion for an election in three months. Agreed?”

All I’s.

“Fine, motion passed,” he looks back at me and winks, the bastard winks at me, “Election will be held in three months. For now we continue on as we have been, council decisions are the rule.”

“That will be fine,” I walk over to him and hold out my hand, “Good luck to you,” I say.

He takes my hand and leans in, “You’re in over your head. You’ll wish you’d never started this by the time that election rolls around.”

I smile at him to hide my disdain, “I only hope the people choose correctly. Whoever wins, our goal has to be the survival of our race. I have trust that we both feel the same way.”

“See you at the polls, boy.”

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