Post Apocalyptic Potatoes

I ran out from the abandoned shop I was hunkered down in and threw myself against the nearest car to shield myself from the onslaught of bullets that were coming my way from across the car park. I could taste the salt in my sweat as I began to cook under the high sun despite the wind that whisked across the tarmac. Maybe wearing the motorbike helmet was a bad idea but the crack of bullets overhead convinced me otherwise.

I lifted the rifle I held in my hand up to my shoulder and peered up through the windows of the car. I could make out about eight barbarians, most of them had bits of bent metal strapped to them as a crude form of protection, apart from one poor lad who had seemingly decided that wrapping himself in tinfoil was the way to go.

“I see you have finally decided to come and join us!” one of them yelled out.

“Do we really have to do this? just let me go,” I yelled back.

“Sorry Mister, no can do.”

Goddamn-it, ok so we’re doing this.

A common question thrown around these days is, “So where were you when it all went to shit?” and my answer has always been: I was watching TV.

In fairness I was only a child when it all happened, so I only have a vague memory of what life was like before. But there we were – mum, dad, my older brother, and I – sat watching the news as they reported on one of the largest CMEs ever recorded had exploded from the sun and was heading directly towards us. They told us we didn’t have much time, that we should stay indoors and turn everything off. I remember watching mum and dad run around the house unplugging things and drawing the curtains, then we all huddled together in the living room and waited – for what seemed like forever. I didn’t know what to expect at the time, I thought the sun had blown up and we were all going to evaporate into nothingness.

Minutes later I leapt out of my skin as I heard a loud popping, dad reassured me by saying it was the fuses in the switches that had overloaded. And that was it, it was over, no immediate evaporation, or hell fire rising up from the ground; I was quite disappointed to be honest.

The curtains were drawn back, I was amazed to see that the sun was still in the sky, everything seemed the same. But nothing worked. Humanity had relied so heavily on electricity and technology for so long that without it people didn’t really know what to do. I can still hear my granddad lecturing me saying something like: “Back in my day we didn’t have [insert whatever he was angry with at the time].” That would then follow with “you wouldn’t last five minutes if you didn’t have [random piece of technology].” Well look at me now granddad!

I lifted my head up and fired from my rifle, clipping the leg of an oncoming barbarian wielding a hatchet. As they dropped to the floor writhing in agony I managed to get a better look at them and saw the familiar “NSG” patch on his jacket. North Street Gang! why does this not surprise me.

It never started out like this, In the beginning when resources were showing signs of decline people rallied together, communities were formed to help each other. But by the time I was in my 20s these same communities locked their doors and were only looking out for themselves which lead to arguments and fighting. With no connection to any form of government we were no longer a united country; only a handful of the strongest of towns stayed together – and I don’t even want to talk about the rumours I have heard about the capital.

We regressed to more of a tribal colony. Even that didn’t last as one tribe would raid another leaving only the strongest left. Now North street Gang were not the best by all means, but they were lots of them and they were very persistent… I also think they were unionised.

I snuck round to the back of the car and made a beeline to another, slamming my shoulder into the side of it as I got there. I looked up and shot a few times in the direction of the attackers before I then quickly dropped back down into cover. the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder filled the air around me. The car shuddered with the impact of bullets and anything else the enemy could throw. One of the tires popped and then it all went silent, all I could hear were indistinct chatter and a quiet sobbing.

I glanced up and locked eyes with a thin young man clutching at a bag of potatoes huddled in a narrow gap between two cars, tears streaming down his gaunt face.

Looking at this man I can’t help but think how we are all just trying to survive. Even before the CME knocked everything out the world was already heading for disaster. They warned us, they told us this would happen, but did we listen, did we fuck! They said the earth’s temperature only went up by a single degree but that was enough for crops to fail across the globe and accessible drinking water to exhaust. The sick and the elderly were the first to go. As a result of the difficulty to obtain food and water people could not afford to have children. The human population halved within two years, and it was all our fault. No amount of removing combustion engines in favour of electric cars was going to save us, No matter how many trees we planted it was never going to offset our carbon footprint, We were too late. And now humanity is fighting for the last crumb of survival, like this man in front of me – clutching at his potatoes – trying to get home to a loved one who is waiting for him, or even a pet dog.

A shot ran out and blood poured from the man’s chest, from behind him a barbarian had appeared, smoking pistol in hand.

“NO!” I cried out. How dare you! He can’t be dead, that’s not fair!

I lifted my rifle and spared no mercy as I unloaded everything I had into the barbarian. The noise was deafening, I had never shot my rifle like that before. He convulsed with each round that tore through him and then finally fell to the ground. Unaware I was holding my breath I finally gasped for air. my eyes fixed on the innocent man who lay face down, I prayed for him to get up, or to do anything, anything that would tell me that he was still alive.

Just as I was about to move a sudden thwack and crack of wood hit me on the back of my helmet. I spun around only to be struck again knocking me off balance and dropping my rifle. I lifted my hands in defence and managed to catch the hunk of wood being thrust towards me.

The attacker was a crazed woman with matted hair, foaming from the mouth as she cackled at me. I could feel splinters rip into my hands as I held on for dear life while the jagged split end of the wood closed in on my chest. This cannot be how I go!

In that moment I thought of Jess. I could see her smiling at me. She was standing in the doorway to our little two-bedroom terraced house with the blue door, wearing that lovely red summer dress that I’m a fan of. I could hear her now asking how my day was.

“What’s it like out there?” she would ask.

“It’s barbaric.”

“Oh, really? it doesn’t seem that windy.”

“No Jess, I mean actual barbarians trying to kill one another!” to be fair, she doesn’t really know the severity of what it’s like out here – bless her, it’s not her fault. “…But yes it’s also a bit blowy.”

Growing up together she was so scared of what was going on around us. I vowed that I would protect her, keep her safe and provide for her. If I die now who will protect her? I could feel my grip loosen on the wood as my palms were wet with blood. Jess, I’m so sorry.

A shotgun blasted behind the woman who jerked forward, and I watched the crazy leave her eyes. I shoved her to one side as she fell to the floor. Standing in front of me was a man in his mid-50s wearing a tweed jacket and a flat cap, with a smoking double barrel shotgun held in his hands.

“STEVE! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” I said as I managed to get to my feet, plucking splinters out from my hands.

“Alright, my 'ansum. You looked like you needed a hand.”

“Thanks, you’re a life saver. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Trying to flog me taters.” Steve said as he opened up a tote bag filled with potatoes that was slung across his shoulder, “Do you want any? I can give you a bag.”

“Oh yeah if you wouldn’t mind that would be great thanks– Wait, Steve! this is not the time!” I grabbed him and dragged us both down under the cover of the car just as the sound of gun fire started up again and bullets pinged around us. “We’ll be lucky if we make it out of here in one piece.”

“Alrigh’ Half bag than.” Steve broke open the shotgun and reloaded two more shells, “So what did you do to piss these lot off anyway?”

“Oi! who’s to say I did anything. You know what these lot are like; they could be like this because they woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or something.” I said, reloading the rifle with a magazine I produced from my cargo trouser pocket.

Steve looked at me.

“That, or they may have seen me take a battery cell out of one of these cars.”

"Ah, there we go, that'll do it! but good on ya for finding one."

"Thanks, I don’t think there’s much charge left in it, but it should hopefully see Jess and I till the end of the week."

We both peered up above the car between a break in the gun fire to get our bearings on the surroundings and to scout out any more of the North Street Gang.

“I’m counting six more still standing, wha’s the plan?” Steve asked.

“Get rid of them, get out of here, get home, and get a drink!” I said, “oh, and try not to get shot.”

“Brilliant, let’s go”

We rose up from the car, guns at the ready and advanced forward, Steve fired his shotgun and took out half a car bonnet and the gang member behind it. Bloody hell, Steve! I went back to firing my rifle in single bursts to suppress another one from a far who was trying to take a shot at us.

Prior to Steve handing me one of his rifles a few years back I had never held a gun before, I didn’t really know how to fire it properly until he showed me. Most people would think that with the amount of guns and ammunition Steve hoarded that he was some form of ex-military, but no, he’s just a crazy old farmer who had more guns then sense. I am just glad that he is on our side. As for everyone else, well let’s just say it’s amazing how easy it is to get your hands on something when there was no longer anyone around to police it.

People created whole businesses out of offering something that the other person didn’t have. Food, weapons, medicine, you name it. Jess and I were in the toiletries business – I say we, its more her than I – her line of products ranged from soaps and shampoos to that weird mud thing that people put on their faces for some reason. But by far our most successful product is toilet paper. all guns aside we wouldn’t have survived as long as we had if we didn’t have anything to trade.

We had managed to find ourselves with our backs against a thick concrete barrier. It was a small relief to have something sturdier than a car between me and the onslaught of barbarians that surrounded us.

“I’ve got two buggers over ‘ere,” Steve said.

“Two on this side as well.” I added.

Steve breaches his shotgun carefully so that only the empty cartridge was ejected from the gun. After he thumbed another shell in its place he rummaged round deep in his potato bag to finally produce a grenade.

“’Ere lob this at them!” he said casually as he handed it to me.

“Steve, what the hell is this?” I asked in disbelieve.

“It’s a cabbage! Wha-do-ya think it is? Just pull the pin out and chuck it.”

I’m definitely glad he is on our side. I pulled the pin out and tossed the grenade towards the two on my side, we both waited behind the cover for what seemed far too long before the explosion went off. I felt it ripple through the ground as it exploded. Sound of metal twisting and glass shattering rang out along with the blast.

Steve and I scrambled up to our feet. I looked at the carnage that lay not too far in front of me, the ground still smouldered where the blast happened, a small car had been pushed with one of the wheels blown out to a side. Next to me two shots fired from Steve’s Shotgun. I scanned the scene and noticed a pair of legs laid prone on the floor – there was no movement coming from them – that’s one. Then the other reared up from behind their cover, they were screaming some sort of profanity at us. I aimed my rifle on him and landed a shot into his shoulder, he dropped to the floor in a cry, that’s two.

“I’m good my end”

“all clear ‘ere”

We heard a shuffle and I saw movement in my peripheral vision, both Steve and I Snapped our weapons onto the figure. It was the poor lad in Tin foil, He looked no older than 16. Like a deer in the headlights, he threw his hands up in the air and took stock of his current situation. Then had what was probably the first smart idea he’d ever had in his life and ran away.

I lowered my rifle and removed my helmet. Running my fingers through my hair I took a deep breath in. The mix of warm tarmac, sweat, and gunpowder entered my nose. It was finally quiet, well, apart from the occasional moan or groan from fallen barbarians littered around the car park, and a crash from a pylon that had decided now was a good time to fall over. But it was peaceful.

“So, Steve, about that bag of Spuds.”