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THE WAY NORTH

Robert Fisherman

By robert fishermanPublished 2 years ago 25 min read
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Abe woke up alone.

And I mean, all alone.

He could tell almost immediately:

there was not a sound to be heard.

It was around eight am,

when he was accustomed to awaken

and there would normally be a bustle of activity

in his apartment block.

Birds would be doing their thing outside:

but not a single chirpy cheep.

It was a bit weird -

That’s a bit weird, thought Abe.

Abe put on some jeans and an old Specials tee shirt

and ventured out

to see not a soul.

The corridors were empty

so he tried the lift -

to no avail.

Abe was getting a bit nervous by now;

he checked his phone, but no bars, no nothing.

He took the stairs to the ground floor

where it was the same story,

not a dickybird,

and nobody driving by outside.

He couldn't even open the glass sliding doors,

the green button just wouldn't work.

So he stood a while,

in thought, until he spied

a heavy metal chair nearby.

We could point out about now

Abe had already had a bitch of a week.

His girlfriend of maybe four and a half years

had left him a few weeks before;

his job had become redundant,

his meds were running out

and his plants had died.

To top it off, this was the first morning

he'd been sober for a while.

So, as in uffish thought he stood

it didn't take much

for Abe to muster the spoons

to lift that leaden chair

and with one mighty sweep

smash apart one of the great panes.

He immediately jumped forward

and immediately realized his mistake

as his bare feet hit the broken glass.

He cursed, and straightways jumped back

Wriggling around on his back, cursing still

as he pulled shards of glass from his feet.

Having extracted all the glass he could find

Abe groped around behind reception

and found an ill-fitting pair of slippers.

He gratefully slipped them on, stood

and hobbled out to meet the day -

which was blank.

The shattered glass was the only sign

of any activity on that street

on that day.

Abe limped around, in the grey morning air,

doing pretty much what you'd expect anyone to do:

looking around, shouting,

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

"Hello!"

"Hello?"

The echo was unnerving.

He wandered across the street, peering

into deserted shop windows -

set up for business, but closed.

Cars were parked haphazardly,

keys still dangling from the ignition.

Well, obviously Abe had no freaking clue what to do.

After wandering round for hours,

seeking signs of life to no avail

and the sky growing dark

he despaired a bit.

His phone wasn't working; the pervading silence

indicated no one else's was either.

There were no police, nor anyone on the street

who could tell him

what the hell was going on.

TV, nothing

radio, nada

internet, bupkiss.

It was like the world had gone on holiday

and forgot to take him along.

If Abe had been having one shit cake of a week,

well this was the icing for sure.

At least that's what he thought

as he trudged back in to the apartment block

across the broken glass

and made his way back up the three flights of stairs

to find of course -

a closed, locked door,

and no keys in pocket.

The language uttered by Abe

as he faced his blank, uncaring door

doesn't really bear repeating.

But once that was done with, he started actually thinking.

He tried a few other doors, to no avail.

After some more blankety-blank words ensued

he made his way back down the stairs.

He knew there would be spare keys in the -

locked -

office.

Sparing the reactions to that,

Abe's next move was to feel around behind the welcome desk

and find what he expected:

an aluminium baseball bat.

The office window had wired security glass.

But Abe was wired up enough himself

to make short work of it.

Once he smashed through and opened the door

he made for where the spare keys were.

Looking through the third floor keys,

he found 318, 319…321...

his apartment was 320.

After searching through the other keys without success

Abe was starting to think

the universe was taking the piss.

Speaking of which, Abe felt a certain kind of itch

and finding no available receptacle

saw no problem in relieving himself in the corner.

As he did so, he glanced out the window

and could have sworn he saw a blackbird flying by.

But he saw no other signs of avian activity,

so shrugged: he knew his meds were wearing off.

So he grabbed a random selection of keys

numbered for all three floors

and left the office

but paused by the stairs, for thought.

Now, Abe was a bit of a film buff –

got a degree in media studies somewhere,

somehow, along the way.

So he’d watched The Quiet Earth

Several times,

And The Omega Man

And various iterations.

And as the sky was darkening

the thought of potential zombie hordes

did make him think

maybe the ground floor

wasn’t the best place to be.

So up the stairs he went

to the second floor.

He tried a few doors;

some places were a bit too gross, even for him,

some a little too prissy.

Eventually he found a goldilocks zone.

There was some fresh food,

so he made some sandwiches,

ham and cheese -

drank some kind of juice

made sure the doors and windows were locked up tight

and curled up

under a stranger’s duvet.

As the night closed in

he fancied he heard murmurings.

Strange murmurings

passing by outside.

(just to be clear,

these sounds were all in Abe’s head.

This isn’t a zombie story)

Next day, Abe got up

with some semblance of resolve.

He drank some more juice and,

there being no hot water

took a quick, cold shower

and availed himself

of the previous resident of room 202’s deodorant

thinking, if there was another person left on earth

besides himself

and she was female

he might as well look

and smell

at least halfway decent.

Fortuitously, the prior resident of apartment 202

happened to have the same shoe size as Abe.

He found a pair of slipons

and wandered downstairs, baseball bat in hand,

to the same empty scene as the day before;

no sign of any overnight activity.

So, standing in the street

with grey, autumnal clouds

still

overhead

and a few minutes of thought

and a shrug

decided to do what many a person would do in this situation:

he went shopping.

There was a range of shops

down the high street where he lived.

He picked menswear first;

after a smash of the door with his bat,

found himself a nice, close fitting pair of jeans,

some cool tops, no band t-shirts this time -

there being no one around to appreciate his tastes

in these matters anyway.

A leather jacket which, after a look in the mirror,

he discarded in favour of a denim.

Another smash at the shoe store door

and a pick of some stylish but functional boots

which he pulled on over his lacerated feet.

He checked himself in the mirror again

and thought he’d hit on some James Dean kind of look –

happy with that.

Abe checked his phone again, for the umpteenth time –

still no bars, no messages, no tone, nothing.

Nothing to be done.

He slipped his wallet into his new back pocket

for no reason he could think of except he was used to the feeling,

and moved on.

He passed by a more outdoorsy menswear

And thought, why not.

There he found a big oilskin,

a stitched leather belt,

and a broad brimmed leather hat.

Checked himself again and thought,

James Dean meets Indiana Jones:

even better.

Feeling suitably attired

Abe swaggered back out on the street, wondering what next.

A rumble in his belly gave him a fair idea,

so he wandered down the road

and as he rounded a corner

where he knew there was a mini mart,

he came face to face with an unexpected sight:

a dog.

A brown, nondescript dog

(a touch of brindle maybe)

eyeing him with suspicion.

So they stood and looked at each other

for a minute or so

Abe being unsure what to do –

after a bit lowered himself on his haunches

while the dog growled a little, not much.

Abe looked down below:

he saw nipples, no sign of a cock.

Great, he thought wryly

I get to meet a female:

turns out she’s a bitch.

The dog had a collar, a thin strip of brown leather

with a metal tag, but no sign of a name on it.

He slowly stood up

The dog stiffened;

But Abe extended a hand, palm down

for her to cautiously sniff

which she came and did,

and sat down,

looking up at him expectantly.

“Hey girl” said Abe,

“How are you, eh?”

and was suitably surprised when the dog answered.

“Hungry.” She said

“Got anything to eat?”

Abe stood, swaying slightly,

unsure if he’d heard right.

He knew, with his meds in short supply,

he couldn’t entirely trust his own senses.

But with no one around to confirm or deny,

the only logical thing to do

seemed to be respond:

“Hungry?”

The dog looked at Abe like he was a bit slow.

“Yeeesss. You got any food?” She asked, as if talking to a child.

Abe shuffled his feet, feeling a bit like a schoolboy now.

He glanced over at the mini mart, back at the dog

and regained his balance a little.

He jerked his head in the direction of the shop.

“Let’s see what we can do eh.”

It felt strange to be talking out loud,

not least because it was to a dog

who was talking back.

They both went up the street.

Abe eyed the automatic doors

and said to the dog “Stand back.”

The dog complied, while Abe strode up to the doors

and let loose with his baseball bat.

As glass flew, Abe jumped at the sound of an alarm.

Looking around nervously, he suddenly clicked:

a generator must have kicked in

when the power went out.

This was good news:

There would be fresh,

refrigerated food -

beer too, for that matter.

Abe disarmed the alarm

with a couple of whacks of the bat.

He crunched over the shattered glass,

the dog remaining prudently outside,

and scanned the shelves.

He grabbed a basket

and started with the dog rolls…

(he’d never had a dog, so only realized

as he passed the meat aisle

that a steak or something might be welcome).

So he loaded up with some good stuff

grabbed some bread, cheese, and smallgoods

a knife

a six pack

and made his way back out

to sit on a bench with the dog.

Abe dug in his basket

and fished out a pack of sausages, beef and onion

fetched one out for the dog

which she wolfed down quick smart

so he gave her the rest, same story.

She licked her lips

“Cheers”, she said.

“Welcome.” Said Abe around a mouthful

of white bread, Dutch salami and aged, smoked cheddar.

The cogs in his head ticked over again

and he went back in to the shop

and found a bowl

and 2.5 litres of water.

He set the water down

and raised a bottle of lager

for himself.

A few bottles of lager later,

not to mention a steak or two for the dog

and not a little mumbling and swearing to himself

he looked over at the dog

who was sitting round like she had nothing better to do

(she didn’t)

“I’m Abe.” He told the dog.

“Hi Abe.”

Abe finished his last pretzel.

You got a name, dog?

She sniffed, a bit disdainfully.

“Names are for you people. I don’t need one.”

She slouched.

“My people tried to give me one. Didn’t stick.”

Abe opened another beer

“So…just Dog then?”

“Sure.” She said. “Just don’t call me…” she trailed off, so, finally:

“What?”

“Late for bloody dinner.”

They both laughed, in their own ways.

After a few more bites, they looked at each other.

“Sooo….”

“Sooo…?”

Abe looked at Dog. Dog did same (but at Abe), and asked

“You got a plan, man?”

A plan, thought Abe

I woke up yesterday, to this.

I should have formed a plan by now?

But okay,

seeds were already being planted.

He looked around:

there was a hunting and fishing place nearby

plentiful supplies at the mini mart.

All good, but still no special reason to stick around town.

“No special reason to stick around town, eh.”

He said.

“Not to my mind.” Dog replied.

“Got a direction?”

Abe thought a bit, and said

“We’ll head north I reckon.”

for no special reason

and Dog saw none to disagree.

Abe looked around

at the various vehicles

Scattered about:

various SUV’s

not to Abe’s liking, not wanting anything

that ran on a computer

since they seemed to be a thing of the past now.

Then he spotted it -

A silver ute

parked diagonally by the kerb

keys dangling

invitingly.

“Yeah!” Yelled Abe

Jumping on the flat deck,

exultantly.

Again he warned Dog to stay back

as he took to Hunters and Fishers with his baseball bat

The Ramones running in his head

and the cold glass raining on his back.

You don’t see many kids in candy stores these days:

but Abe was about as close as you’d get on this one

Staring at the hardware, the army surplus

Never mind the fireworks –

this was the place to start a party.

So, the pump action shotgun

was an obvious first

shells, spilled wholesale into a bag

A semi automatic and some ammo

A machete and he was good to go.

(oh hang on -

Are those really six grenades?)

Cool, now we’re done here…

Dog was hanging out, restlessly

outside the store.

This was a bit exciting for her –

she’d never been a criminal, but was she now?

Don’t know, don’t care.

All bets were off, it would seem

in this day and age

and anyway, trust this guy or not

he was at least the only one around with thumbs…

She was understandably concerned though;

about a bunch of stuff.

The lack of birds, and other wildlife -

just her, and this random guy

who didn’t seem to have a clue himself

as to what was going on

(and honestly didn’t seem all that stable)

She was used to a pretty orderly life:

daily walks

food at the right time

and now this.

So, reasoning it out,

it was either eating crap out of dumpsters until that don’t work no more

or stick with the guy with the thumbs

and hope for the best.

And so, after a few more stops

(Abe had to gather up a few meds – not his usual script but

some stuff he hoped might see him

through for a while)

they set off

In the silver machine

Packed with everything they thought they’d need;

water, meat, booze, batteries

coffee, beans, toilet paper

guns and a compass.

Abe didn’t even know how to use a compass

so he stuffed it in the glove compartment

as Dog looked out the window.

They both at least thought they knew the way north

so that’s the way they headed.

The streets of town

gave way to rolling valleys, market gardens

and eventually

bush.

With the windows down

sweet scents flowed in;

earthy scents.

Dog hung her head out the window

lapping it all up.

“This is the way north eh Abe?”

“This is the way north Dog.”

Abe took a swig of beer and laughed.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

They coursed down long, empty highways

tall trees either side

there was a Bruce Springsteen tape in the ute’s cassette deck

so Abe put it on

and they listened through it

a couple times.

They sang a bit

(well Dog howled a bit)

through ‘'Born to Run'.

Then the forest cleared

and all was bush again

and they spied a turnoff

and something was triggered in Abe’s memory -

he’d been here before –

So he hung a left.

They went down a side road

which wound and winded a ways

past bushes, flax, a creek, some stones

until they reached a house.

Old weatherboard, brown;

It stood (or sat) comfortably amongst the bushes.

There were gumboots by the door:

an old rocking chair on the deck even.

All looking very downhome, and Abe remembered

he’d been to a party here some time before.

But of course, no one home today.

So they got out for a look

there was a huge plum tree out front:

its boughs creaking with fruity weight.

A wagon wheel rested against a nearby rusty fence

there was a dog nosing about –

oh right, that was Dog.

Abe ambled up to the front door

which opened without resistance

and went in for a look –

Dog wandering in behind, curious.

A scout through the house revealed all the home comforts

big screen TV, stereo, dvds and games

and yep, a generator out the back which Abe was able

to fire up

and lo and behold,

a shed further out back

with plants hanging out to dry, some already dried…

So, with creature comforts

a freezer full of meat

weed galore

and enough booze and meds to last Abe a while

they should have been fine

except for the note Abe found

taped to the refrigerator door

with one word on it:

BYE.

That kinda bugged him.

He felt like he’d been left behind

from some mass exodus or something.

But what was there to do, for now

no one to talk to but Dog;

nothing to do but walk in the bush

shotgun in hand

in the vague hope of seeing a pig

or a wood pigeon, or some such

(but nonesuch)

They were nice enough times though;

Abe and Dog just hung out and talked, about this and that.

Didn’t catch anything, but who cared

they were getting by.

Between walks, they watched movies, ate and drank, and slept.

Pretty idyllic, you could say

But cracks in the surface were showing, day by day:

And Dog could see it…

Abe and Dog sat by the fire, watching a bad action movie.

"So Abe - that's short for something isn't it?" Abe finished his chicken drumstick

and tossed the bone, which Dog quickly snaffled up off the plate.

"Like - Abraham?"

"Nah..." said Abe. "Abel."

"Huh. That's kind of ironic."

Abe took a swig of whisky and lit a joint.

(bad action scenes continued on the screen)

"How so?”

Dog looked at Abe.

"Well, Abel was the first man to be killed, and here you are, the last man standing."

Abe looked at Dog.

"How you know this shit, Dog?", he asked as he propped himself up on an elbow.

"Oh, my people were, um - religious. They used to sit around reading from this big book

most nights and talk about stuff like that."

"Sounds like fun" said Abe.

Dog grunted. "Yeah it's pretty dark stuff mostly." She inched a little closer to the fire

which was going down a bit.

“Some of it’s kinda funny, but can’t recommend it overall.”

She said as she rested her head.

Abe stoked the fire, and left her to it., but she asked:

"So Abe, did you have people too?"

Abe realized with a bit of a shock

He’d barely given a thought

to his family

and friends

the last couple weeks.

His mum, his sister

his mate, Andy

his ex girlfriend

Gone, like the bars on his cellphone

like the cops on the streets.

So Abe realized he was left with a question,

hanging in the air.

Did he have people…

They were sitting outside by the pond,

Abe on a tree stump

Dog on the grass, when Abe asked

“So Dog, did you notice anything?

Like, when it happened?”

Dog thought for a minute, and said

“there was a faint smell.”

A soft wind rustled the trees nearby.

“Like…rotten eggs.”

Dog pawed the grass, like she was searching for a word.

“Rotten eggs?” Abe asked.

“My people took us to a place one time.

There were holes in the ground.

Water and mud was bubbling up, and steam.

It smelled a bit like that.”

“Sulphur…?” That was Abe.

“If that’s what you call it, I guess…

Yeah – I know that word. ‘Sulphur and brimstone’."

“Well I’ll be damned.” said Abe, tossing another stone into the pond.

“You might be right.” said Dog.

So of course, another night,

by the firelight

listening to some Doobie Brothers

Abe had to ask:

“Dog, how is it you can talk?”

Dog looked at him strangely.

“Anyone can talk, Abe.” She said.

“It’s just down to how you listen.

Maybe we all talk – and listen - on different frequencies.”

She rested her head on her paws.

“You’re maybe a bit different in that I guess.”

Abe lit a joint, inhaled and exhaled.

“I’ll be -”

“Damned, yes I know.“

Those were okay times,

Then there was that night.

Dog sort of knew it was coming, but didn’t quite see it coming

Dammit.

It was a dark and stormy night

(sorry, but it really was)

Abe was stalking around the house

wielding a bottle of vodka

and swearing incoherently,

loud, obnoxious rock playing on the stereo

Dog knew whatever stuff Abe had been taking

to keep himself calm

had run out.

And as the rain lashed down

and the thunder rolled

a streak of lightning struck

the old plum tree -

splitting it asunder.

Abe screamed

as if the lightning had struck him

and as Dog cowered

he began shrieking and ranting about the end of the world.

“The end of the fucking world? Let’s go!” He yelled.

Abe smashed his near empty bottle against the wall and snatched up another.

He turned and glowered at Dog.

“Let’s go.” He said, thickly.

“Where?” asked Dog.

“World’s end” said Abe, taking a fresh swig.

“North.”

“Now?”

Dog glanced at the tumultuous skies outside.

“Now.”

“Bad idea Abe.”

“Wasn’t a question Dog.” Said Abe.

“I’m going to the end of the world and you’re coming with.”

Dog growled

but Abe growled harder.

Dog tried to slink past, between Abe and the couch

but too late:

Abe seized her by the collar, fetched up a length of thin rope to it

and dragged her out the front door.

And as the rain lashed down,

Abe put Dog in the back of the ute

and tied her rope to the cross bars

Dog all the while

“No Abe, no! Please!”

to deaf ears.

“Don’t do this!”

To a guy who had lapsed on his meds

with no one to tell him he was going off the rails

except a dog who had no experience of such things.

Again, deaf ears.

Abe went back in

and came back out

with a bag stuffed with weed

and whisky.

He left a note on the fridge door with one word:

BYE.

Still brandishing his bottle, cackling -

“Going to the end of the world,

might as well go out high, eh?”

Dog was struggling against her rope.

“Go to hell Abe.”

“Well, we might just stop in there too.”

Abe got behind the wheel

took a big swig

and careered down the drive.

Abe squealed out the driveway and turned right

continued that way for some minutes

until, the rain easing

Dog felt like she could yell at Abe

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“North.” Came the reply.

The rain pummeled down a bit more so Dog had to holler:

“THIS IS NOT THE WAY NORTH!”

Abe saw a road sign and thought:

fuck she’s right.

I should have turned left.

He braked hard, so Dog hit the back of the cab with a grunt.

“Sorry.”

Dog wasn’t in the habit of swearing

but there was for sure a word preceding ‘moron’ under her breath.

So around they turned, swerving on the wet highway

on the way north.

As they passed the driveway on the left,

the painted letterbox

Abe put the Springsteen tape on again

singing along to ‘Born to Run’ again

Dog wasn’t singing along this time:

too busy gnawing furiously at the rope.

They made it about two hours up the road

amidst the mists and gnarled bushes

Abe swerving erratically, on the wet road

as the thunder rolled

and the lightning cracked

until he saw a thing:

two lights glaring right back at him.

Abe yelped

thinking he was on a collision course

with another car.

Pretty sure it was a possum really -

but any rate

he veered to the left

went over the verge

into the ditch

turned over twice

and came to rest.

Abe

was thrown clear

the top of his head making friends with a large macrocarpa

making for instant death

(for Abe, not the macrocarpa).

Dog

having bitten through the rope, in the nick of time –

was also hurled from the deck of the ute

and had to hustle quick smart

as it turned over.

The rain had eased to a fine powder.

Dog went cautiously around the ute

“Abe?” she called.

She nosed around to where Abe lay dead

pretty obviously.

Dog sat around for a few minutes

thinking well, what’s next.

After a while

Dog thought well,

people do this thing don’t they

so she scraped up some dirt

and leaves

and pushed them over Abe’s body.

Before she finished

She gave Abe’s face a lick

“So long Abe,” she said.

“You may not have been the best man on earth,

but at least you were the last.”

And so Dog loped off up the road -

heading north -

thinking maybe she could find that possum…

(next day, all the people came back)

Short Story
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About the Creator

robert fisherman

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