Apocalyptic Art

The bright headlamp struggled to cut through the rusted waters. Acetylene burned through the steel and iron that laid upon the riverbed. Removing debris from soil only revealed more debris, a perpetual cacophony of historical disaster that lay upon the land. No complaints from the scrappers who have contracted themselves out to cleanup the mess, not from the kindness of their hearts but the weight in their pockets.

As the torch finished cutting through the iron bar it started to sink deeper into the darkness, only to be caught by a rope that stretched out to the surface. The scrapper paid no mind as the metal started to be hauled away and they continued onto another section debris, an I-beam. They unhooked one of the five remaining carabineers from their waist which had rope to the surface and tied it around the large piece of metal they intended to cut. This was probably the State Building, or perhaps Chrysler; doesn’t matter, scrap-is-scrap and if the torch can cut it, it was money.

Nothing had been the same since the blood moon appeared in the sky. It was like a red veil had suddenly covered the entirety of the Earth. The moon had become blood red and the days had darkened. Meteorologists said it caused severe natural disasters but that paled in comparison to the true horrors. Not sure which was worse, the psychology of mankind being reduced to criminals out of fear, or the struggle the military had fighting the monsters that appeared from the rifts. More people were killed by their brothers than by beasts; though the media never spoke on that.

As the scrapper burned through the next bar it started to sink deeper into the darkness, but when the rope had become taught it started to be pulled toward the surface. The scrapper started to swim further down into the water when loud snap was heard from behind. Before they could turn around the I-beam slam into their back, pushing them deeper into the abyss of the river. They were able to turn around just as the oxygen tank on their back slammed into a hard surface, possibly a wall. The I-beam rested its hundreds of pounds on top of the unfortunate contractor.

Air bubbles were quickly floating toward the surface through the beam of light from the headlamp. The tank was busted, and only a few seconds of oxygen would remain for the scrapper to breathe. They quickly removed the remaining four carabineers from their belt and tied them around the I-beam as best they could, making sure this time it was taught. Just as the rope was cinched tight something floated in front of their eyes. Something small. Something dark. They looked over to see a small chain being carried away by something. Out of instinct they grabbed the chain then yanked on the four ropes, having them quickly retract and pull the I-beam and the scrapper toward the surface through the darkness.

Upon reaching the surface the I-beam was hauled onto a barge and the scrapper removed their mask to take in a gasp of smog air. They held onto the side while regaining their strength before hauling themselves over the side to look up at the red tinted sky through the thick clouds.

“Ya okay, Isaac?” a male voice called out from the captain’s deck.

“Yeah… I’m good.” The scrapper said trying to catch his breath.

“What the hell is wrong with yer tank?” the captain said.

“Oh… you know… stuff.” Isaac said.

“Uh huh, s’pose we done fer the day?”

“Yeah, I reckon for the day.”

“Serge’s shop or the yard?”

“Serge’s shop, might as well.”

The roar of the barge came to life as the boat carried them down the river. Isaac sat up to take in the view of the city skyline. Scraps of buildings were everywhere, those that still stood were mostly barren. Ever since the blood moon there has been three rifts that opened within this city alone. About 80 percent of the windows were broken, and the once magnificent skyscrapers were nothing more than empty husks a quarter of their original height. After the second rift, the art deco of the city had become ruins. Not a day had passed there was not some sort of fire burning within the city.

As the skyline of the city passed, the scrapper took a deep breath to look toward the red tinted clouds, trying to remember its original blue sheen before exhaling and looking down at the wood beneath his feet; that’s when he noticed his hand was still balled into a fist. Upon opening his hand he saw a black heart shaped locket attached to a dark chain. He rubbed his thumb to clear away the dirt to find intricate designs etched into the metal. Isaac was not sure if they were words of a forgotten language or clever art.

He looked along the edge to find the latch which held together the secrets of the locket. A simple latch that took barely any pressure to open, but it gave a beautiful clicking sound as it snapped open, being in the water for a few years had done nothing to deteriorate the basic mechanical structure.

Within the locket, Isaac saw two happy faces. A woman with emerald eyes and fire red hair which had to be unnatural. The other, a lad with dark brown hair and darker eyes. The two seemed happy together, perhaps eighteen years old? Undoubtedly they were caught in the chaos. He wondered what their final moments together were like. Did they hold each other? Did they kiss one last time? Did they talk about how they met? How did they meet? Was it at a party? Or perhaps lifelong friends?

As these thoughts flooded Isaac’s mind, one was more prominent than the rest, “how much can I sell this for?” He looked over the locket and realized something, this was not made of zirconium. The black metal was different, made of something he did not recognize.

“Alright, get the Hell off ma boat.” The captain called as the engine started to calm down.

Isaac’s mind had wondered longer than he realized as they were drifting toward a dock which lead up to a scrap heap and a makeshift building with a few patrons standing around, clearly this location was put up in haste after the incident.

“Wow, that was funnier than the first hundred times you said it.” Isaac said as he got to his feet to walk toward the edge of the boat.

“Well I try.” The Captain said.

As the boat pulled up to the dock, Isaac stepped off and walked toward the harbor to the lone building.

“Be sure to bring me the receipt when you offload it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The Captain said a little annoyed.

Isaac made his way up the dock to see some familiar faces. Only a few were competing scrappers if you would like to call them that. There was plenty of work for each of them, they likely wouldn’t clean up the city within their lifetime much less other cities the government had contracted out. Other patrons were military, contractors, and a few people that had nothing else to do but socialize.

Isaac made his way through the twenty odd characters to reach a counter at the front of the building, designed like a bar but intended for trading. Although, the occasional glass or two of petrol tends to go across the counter when asked.

“Hey, fat ass! Where you at?” Isaac called out, nearly everyone looked horrified at what he had just said.

“Did some just call me fat?” a deep voice called from a doorway behind the counter.”

“No,” Isaac said, “I called you a fat ass. There is a distinct difference.”

From out of the door came a six-foot-eight male with long white hair and a beard. He likely weighed over three-hundred pounds but it was clearly all muscle, half of that weight was probably his biceps.

“I’m not fat, I’m big boned. My mother said so.” The man said angrily, though clearly a joke.

“Hey Serge.” Isaac said.

“Hey yourself, what happened to your tank?”

Isaac looked over his shoulder, not that it would do him any good to see his back, “got pinned under an I-beam. Damn thing slipped through the haul.”

“Well glad you’re okay…” Serge hesitated, “I’m not giving you a discount.”

“I almost died!”

“You called me fat.”

“I called you a fat ass, there is a difference.”

“I gave you a discount the last time you needed something.”

“Serge, buddy, I’m sorry. Can you please give me a discount on a new tank? You know I bring you the most business.”

“Second most. Sven brought in a lot of scrap recently, and some sort of glowing blue technology thing.”

“He didn’t get that from scrapping; he tell you where he got it?”

“Some technology from London. Supposedly you can augment metals with it. Sends some sort of electrical charge through the blade but the frequency kills those monsters.”

“Does it work?”

“Hell if I know." Serge shrugged, "with how many people have died in London I would say no. Been a pet project of mine to build an axe. Whether it works or not doesn’t matter, it will look great on my wall.”

“So if I bring you something I’ll be your favorite?”

“It’s gotta be worth my time.”

Isaac slapped his hand on the counter to catch Serge’s attention. On the table was the heart shaped locket with intricate designs.

“A locket… neat.”

“Not just any locket, my dear friend! This is a locket of the lost and forgotten! Inside you’ll find a happy couple who fell victim to the hardships and chaos of the second rift.”

“Why the second and not the first?”

“Chrysler building.”

“Ah, right. Go on.”

“Their tragic tale of woe, destined to be together and die together. Their final moments as they looked longingly into each other’s eyes as they said, ‘farewell my beloved catfish.’”

“Catfish?”

“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”

“Sorry.”

“They held each other tightly, tears rolling down their face as the reaper came for them as the building was launched into the harbor and their bodies never be seen again.”

“Wow… touching story.” Serge said.

“I know, right?”

“Still not giving you a discount.”

“Come on, seriously!?” Isaac looked back at the locket and thought about the intricate designs and the unique metal, something that was undamaged by time or water, “what can you tell me about the metal.”

“The metal?” Serge said.

“Yeah, I don’t recognize it. Do you know what it’s made from?”

Serge picked up the locket and pulled out a monocular for closer inspection. He rubbed his fingers across the etchings and fiddled with the locking mechanism before handing it back.

“Can’t say I recognize it; very unique.”

“Right? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s worth anything.”

“Fine, I’ll pay the full price. I’ll just go to the other trader from now on.”

“No you won’t, but I’ll be sure to take it out of the scraps you’re off loading.”

“Between my expenses, hiring the barge captain, and you, I’ll be lucky to buy myself some jerky.”

“Oh, going fancy are we?”

“You know it—”

A deafening crack was heard in the distance and the ground started to shake. The patrons started running away as a bright light in the middle of the city shined from the ground and into the sky, tearing away the clouds.

“Hey Serge…” Isaac said.

“Yeah Isaac?” Serge said.

“Did you finish that wall mount of yours?”

“Two days ago.”

“You might want to grab it before heading to the shelter.”

“Yeah, let’s just hope London knows what they were doing.”

“If it doesn’t work and Sven scammed you, will that make me your favorite?”

“Isaac, shut the Hell up.”