These are the post-apocalyptic adventures of a man who calls himself Red Feather. The title, This Wasted Land, is an allusion to the opening narration of The Road Warrior (Mad Max 2).
I ask your pardon for the many grammatical errors. Keep in mind that it is a first draft. I plan to post in small chunks, so it is not a chore to read. This is an experiment so, no promises on how often I will update. Comments are welcomed and appreciated.
By the way, all written material published here is copyrighted. For information about web reprints or any other rights do not hesitate to contact me. Enjoy.
This Wasted Land - Part 1
The rusted frame of the VW bug had not moved in years until the ‘73 Camaro clipped it and sent it spinning off the hot pavement. Red Feather tightened his grip on the wheel and checked his rearview.
Three motorcycles screamed after him. The riders were all sporting a red devil horn symbol on their leathers.
Red Feather looked back to the road and tromped the accelerator. The engine roared. The car quickened and so did the beating of his heart.
The motorcycle crazies opened their throttles and gained on the sports car. Red Feather glanced at his side mirror. The lead rider was just pulling along side. He cut the wheel. The Camaro slammed into the cycle. Sparks flew. The bike and rider somersaulted down the ruined road. Red Feather allowed himself a thin smile.
The other bikers were right behind him. One drew a crossbow. Red Feather’s smile was gone. His eyes flicked to the speedometer. The needle shook between 125 and 130. One false move at this speed and it would be all over. His eyes searched the road then darted up to the rearview.
He braced himself.
The bolt smashed through the back window and lodged in the dashboard. Glass fragments bounced around the interior. Red Feather let up the gas pedal. The engine slowed.
The biker with the crossbow did not see the bumper of the sports car touch his front wheel. But he felt the result. He lost control of his bike and tumbled to the pavement.
Red Feather slammed the pedal to the floor. The old engine responded with a deafening roar.
Two crazies down, one to go.
Red Feather’s eyes searched the road. The cracked pavement was eaten up as fast as he could take it in. One false move and...
He saw the hulk of an abandoned vehicle rise up before him. He nudged the wheel. The Camaro slipped past the wreck with only an inch to spare.
The biker was not as lucky.
The motorcycle jammed into the wreck. A shower of debris hurled into the air and littered the roadway. The rider shot like a stone out of a catapult. He struck the old road and came to rest in a contorted mess.
The tires of the Camaro spouted blue smoke. Red Feather slowed to a stop. His hands hurt. They shook a bit, too. He looked back at the carnage. At least he didn’t have to waste a bullet on one of those freaks.
Red Feather leaned against the sports car. A small campfire crackled nearby. The motorcycles had yielded a few precious gallons of gas. He wished there had been more.
He fiercely cut a leather jacket. He set his knife down and looked at a scrap of leather. The devil horn symbol stared back. He threw it into the fire and watched it burn. He shook the jacket. It would be good for patches.
Suddenly, he dropped the jacket and gazed at the darkening horizon. Only a single lonely star dared to show its face. He sighed. Just another day in this wasted land.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Doomsday (2008)
This movie was cool. I wish more time had been spent on the cultures inside walled off Scotland and less on government conspiracy. A great PA-like movie, though. A must see for genre fans.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
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