MARY BELLE KURTZ
writing completed 0140401:0600
The Great Flood —————————-‡
Sybil Lay with Maybe curled over her back, both of them in just panties one another sweat washing over each other like it came out a hose, like it came out a cappuccino machine . Maybe put a bag of ice cubes between their bodies. Sybil felt her push her body in to her back felt the last of the ice melting as she compacted pressed the bag to water between them. Maybe showed Sybil the chunky man’s watch, too much band slack on her wrist. It had 4 faces and one said 11:18am, one said september 6, one said no moon tonight, and the final face said 112 degrees.
Sybil and Maybe had been buried under an entire van load of thrift store bale clothes. One of the bales had been popped so they could hide under it. The driver buried them 40 minutes ago before entering the alert zone. Maybe cried from heat dementia. If she could have moved she’d collapse and implode. The now only slightly cool bag of water by now was only placebo, a nostalgia. Syb lay one finger on her hand to prey strength . Mayb Winced and barely audible hissed that her head was cooking. Voices outside the van ask the driver unfriendly questions and poke around. the back door is opened and inaudible talking and then it closes. the van sits there for 2 minutes the driver is called out to fill out forms inside.
5 minutes go by and the back door opens and someone starts proding about in the clothes bales. They don’t look very hard and seem to leave with the door left open and theres a bunch of their voices out there. Sybil feels Maybe’s hot breath and crying on her back and half secretly relishes it.
ONE WEEK AGO———————————–>
Maybe has her guard up all the time. only lets her in for real when they’re eluding capture togther. Or the time in Filthydelphia that a police officer had a heart attack when a French kid punched him . Maybe organised the 1st aid for all the punks getting tasered and billy clubbed curing tear gas dispersal blindness with creamers from the donut shop and alcohol swabs. Sybil assisted by running out through the riots to take polaroids of stuff and get more creamers. the police left her alone while corralling 66 kids with a fire hose in front of a Empire Steel Reserve Bank with its entire 16 foot high glass window the full length of the banks west wall smashed. police car where overturned and set on fire. the protest the officer died at was over heckling a corporate merger of 3 food bioengineering megaopoliths. now it had escalated to protesters with catapults in piss soaked bandana and there was a helicopter hovering over empire bank for 3 days. Maybe re organised the crew of the medic tent, established intake procedure, made simple procedure adjustments that would slyly collect patient use metric to better analyse the clinic experience to the patient and sewed up a stab wound and made 2 really dorky sex innuendos while doing it.
Sybil had followed her to Filthydelphia just to keep near her. She killed time running errands for Maybe and the clinic. This was the 6th town in 3 months. Maybe knew which towns had Riots and which had occupations where to find the really large multi group protests. she had some sort of secret internet thing she would log in to and pick from a list updated hourly. there were always a bunch of wingnut peacenik survivalist kooks who Maybe at least half knew who’d feed and shelter them for light work. the food was power bars and juice boxes and the shelter was a hard floor with 20 other people sleeping on it and the work was extracting protesters who were getting their asses kicked. Sybil spent that week in Filthydelphia wandering around through the riot with her recently nice purple black up doo wearing t shirt of 260s noise band and bright blue plastic rain coat that makes her look like Madeline (the orphan) but without the hat.
Sybil was 27 ish and neither tall nor short, her part time construction job trained physique is vestige of Parisian-Bulgarian DNA hexed by a half Romani gypsy. Her DNA was ideal for wrestling goats on a mountain or doing the can-can while smoking. Her DNA was always doing inappropriate counter productive things but she clenched her teeth and carried on. Her paper trail was destroyed a name change or two ago. Most likely she’d been daughter of a radioactive bastard Bulgarian soldier impregnated by a Parisian whore.
“Or what if I was sired by a denim fag impregnated by a Tgirl street walker ?!” she liked to joke. That’s her joke.
15 months ago Sybil was a tattoo apprentice in the island city of Quebec. her job title was bitch and she had a name tag and jacket patch that’s boasted her rank. Made piercing equipment and fixed tattoo machines. helped out in tight knit pack of tattoo covered people who did some black market surgeries and built cock and ball torture instruments custom for several high class dungeons in Amerika and Canadia.
the rank of bitch was paid piece work so her haunting the shop only served to get her 27 tattoos by age 21. In fact Sybil in her amusingly proportioned body and 9 visible skull tattoos and all the skulls have hair clips. Talking about it isn’t as good as seeing it but she has a grenade with eagle wings between her tits and she can flap the wings but it’s the kind of trick that would be more at home at a poly sexual Canadian strip bar rock club. this is exactly what she wanted to be when she was 21. In 9 years Sybil30 would prolly has strong mixed feelings about Sybil25 but Canadia would prolly have panopticonisexual stripper rock clubs by then so the issue would be moot. She has a tattoo of a paper clip. she wrote YESNO on her knee to test a tattoo machine she was fixing once and it wasn’t working right. She has a star with a :/ face. It is not her only emoticon tattoo.
Sybil’s controvertial plan to dress inappropriately for conflict actually worked. Her fave trick was to always carry a 30 oz coffee from starfucks and walk around sipping it looking like you have no idea you walked in to a riot. Sybil had watched the French kid accidently punch a senior plain clothes to death. she saw his face cave in panic in his last seconds in terror of that he was having a heart attack now. his eyes spun followed the puncher as he turned and bolted. knowing he was in the worst possible trouble already the officer crumpling to his knees staring in panic shock but rage like a flame thrower chasing his killer with shock turning to a glower. a show of hate that followed the punched as he ran right through Sybil knocking her down . Her eyes met his and for one tenth second and he was gone and she was corralled up against a falafel place with 70 tattooed dirty hippies with signs. she sees a medic go by and pulls off the red cross fanny pack 1st aid kit Maybe made her, takes advantage of the riot cops bewilderment at her alleged credentials and runs to the medics up the street near where the public are being quardened.
Syb snakes through pissy smell alleys and buys another cappuccino for cover. The volunteers are dormered in some kind of enviro homes advocacy teaching center. She eats 4 granola bars for diner. She crawls close to Maybe who scribbles in note books by head lamp.
Maybe confides a paranoia predicting a near certainty of the police getting impatient and importing para from a near by base to come in in unlabeled uniforms and sweep the enviro group and its members and all relevant activists and punk houses and so on as hard as they have to. As hard as they like. . She lets Sybil test her with index cards for trauma EMT tricks. When she exhausted enuff to relax she crumples sour silent and sad. MAyb only cries when she’s hurt, when she’s sad she shuts down, gets unapproachable, implosive avoidance. She is only bright eyed and alive when there are riots or mass evictions and she gets to show off playing doctor on sturdy tattooed kids who’ve been fighting.
Sybil is mostly sure Maybe lets her hold her so Syb can have the illusion she’s helping. She lets Syb hold her for exactly 4 minutes and then shudders out of it. She crawls to the corner of their sleeping matt, forces a face of silent resignation. For 3 months Syb tailed Maybe around the North Eastern cities, hung out and marvelled at the circus life of professional activists and provocateurs, and tried to appear helpful, dodged getting gassed beaten or arrested and and lived for that narrow window almost every night when Syb could trick her in to relaxing in her arms for 4 minutes.
An Anonymous Paramilitary Squad—————à
The Next night had been almost sort of a good night. Maybe’s paranoid vision of a nameless troops came true. They stormed the protester support network, beginning 11 pm by trashing 3 collective house and arresting 30 before heading to the emergency med clinic. Syb and Maybe observed unseen as the cops bust into a mostly empty clinic. When the nameless troops arrived with a battering ram to find the front door propped open the only apparent dissidents left in the building were calmly waiting on a couch drinking tea.
The troops swarmed up 4 flights of stairs with automatic rifles in their grip to find Dr. No and Dr. Bo defiantly unafraid and unimpressed.
Bo looked up from Rainforest Doctor Magazine, she cocked an eyebrow and in an authoritative and learned voice with a tone like contemptuous vitriolic jello she sneer “Excuse me, surrr. Something i can help you with ?”
The way she spat “surrr” made it sound repugnant.
They Looked kind of like granola punk John Steed and Emma Peel if John had been runty short and Emma had been chubby and they both had had dreads. (If you have no idea who Peel and Steed are then picture jack sprat and his wife, allergic to lean) the two certified EMT make the lead inspector all embarrassed by insisting that their only function is the Bio Dev Anti GMO Murder Riots is as the protester sexual health clinic.
“Have you been tested sir ?” Bo continues coming at the lead inspector with a clip board and stack of pamphlets. Do you know the early signs of HSV ? HSP? HIV? HIX ?”
Maybe revered Dr. Bo and Dr. No. Friends since they completed the nursing college she dropped out of. Together No and Bo had founded and administered a registered EMT non prof advocacy org 501c6 tax credit offering charitable deduction. They scooped Syb and Maybe up after they had been fire bombed out of their apartment building 3 months back. Sybil had known them as long as Maybe, they were her closest approximation of family and Sybil’s jealousy of their long nerdy closeness probably amused them. These are the two who for years would book Maybe gigs practicing her field doctor stuff. They would use their unknowable collective powers to shepherd her across the country by relay teams of loyal lefties with cars to hottest latest most press worthy riots.
Maybe was unblinkingly watching down through the ventilation shaft as Dr. No repeatedly insisted that the lead inspector to just hold an unwrapped lubey condom for no explicable reason while he bullshit and babbled all kinds of obvious bullshit about this place being the protester sexual health center. She biting her trucker cap to hard, tossing her long dirty blond mane trying to stifle the first time she laughed in 3 weeks. Syb had found her 2 years ago between the shoulder blades of the northest peak of the Acadia mountains. She had come down out of the deep mountains on a coal train the day after her sweet 16. Her father preached at the slightly remote church of unity of christ who honoured a god with relaxed rules. the congregation included communists, hippies, draft dodgers, and was the only church for 600 miles that would host lesbian hippy wedding. Mary Belle Kurtz’s homeland was 100% pure descendants of Berlinish soldiers deserting in WWII when they found they had been mistakenly deployed to the middle of dark mountain forest extremely similar to the one they’d been conscripted out of at the wars beginning. As many who loved the Unity of Christ modern church there where dozens who hated it. Maybe grew up with wealthy successful people praising her families church and tough antagonistic folk calling them abomination to their face loud in front Maybe and her 7 younger brothers. She was the oldest so it was only fair that she was the girl. No one put that in her head she just declared it when her 7th brother was born.
Every man and woman of the Kurtz except for her mother was 6 foot 1, and skinny with a large curved rib cage for mountain air, pale pink skin that turned in to old leather belt slightly after they turned 30. Long strong fingers would write things no one ever got to ready in code in spiral note books. she could throw a knife with accuracy, throw a 200 pound man on the floor and pin his arms, bake bread if she had to, castrate livestock. and ride a 10 speed down a mountain road standing on the seat.
Sybil had been running away to New York City, walking out on her job as practice flesh at a tattoo shop and part time Pharmaceutical clinical trial Test subject. Half way from New Paris to New York she’d been kicked off the discount Bus for smoking grass in the bathroom. At first she was horrified, stranded at the poor violent half abandoned and arsoned edges of Steel Pitt Pencilvania. She looked after where the bus had departed and she saw sunset on the mountain and sickly trees and hundreds of smokestacks, burning coal, melting iron. When she turned around Mary-Belle was leaning on her busted up bike, wearing
a ratty blue silk camisole with a white bow, cut offs, brand-new running shoes from no where near here and a trucker cap that read “Van de Veer Mica Cave NH”. she flicked a switch blade open. when it clicked she smiled so it looked like her smile was on a hair trigger.
“Don’t you know that you are about to get stabbed over your underwear and tooth brush standing there looking like you stupid ?”
She toed down her kick stand and lowered her knife but held it pointed to the side and came with her other hand out like a hand shake. “ You are lucky I found you first, who are you? What you want here ?”
Syb took her hand, Said her name was Lost, said she was going to harlem but got off the wrong stop and which way is the A train ?
Maybe Curtsied and grinned, let her face soften and her eyes go friendlier and introduced herself as “Knife” smiling all teeth.
The she spread out her long fingers and hooked under Sybil’s jaw, pinching her jugular with fingernails like claws and told her that she had a very unreasonable temper so never invoke it. Sybil was hooked.
Maybe took her home in her bike basket. Sybil spent most of the next year repairing Maybe’s large yet condemned wooden house until one day it caved in and got sucked down a sink hole in to the abandoned iron mines. they both where kind of delighted cuz it meant the got to go spelunking once a week to look for their things. Meanwhile they moved a mile lower on the mountain and selected a 4 unit apartment building abandoned 40 years.
they shared an enormous high ceilinged apartment that must have been luxury 40 years ago.
they slept together touching, not wrapped together but touching just a finger or a shoulder to be sure that they were guarding one another from predators.
they had seperate beds and rooms until after the sink hole detroyed the house. After the sink hole destroyed the house Sybil’s determination to fuck Maybe quadrupled. Maybe hung off her for hours every day. talking about nuthin in particular. Poor remote mountain city gossip. weird science stuff she’d memorised from magazines. speculation on which impoverished neighbours from which other abandoned apartment building where breaking in to their apartment and ran sacking their food. when she exhausted her brain she’d Sometimes let Sybil Fuck her. But by then she’d be exhausted, she was like to fall asleep. So she gave up and counted herself lucky, charmingly shoddy and quaint life with a really hot depressed girl in a town with every second building boarded up.
she resolved to figure out a present she could get Maybe that would light her up. something delightful charming and that read her mind. Money was no ish cuz she’d saved up for a new ticket to New York City many times over in the past year and never got round to getting one.
a day Later she surprised her with a 100 year old picture bible.it cost 100 bux but she kept that secret. The old testament became witchery as every page was rebus or pictures of animals and arcs and stones and bread and fish and angels vs roman soldiers with prepositions and adjectives scattered between them. the front end page was an etching of a lion lay down with a lamb. Maybe played a silly game where she would say the prepositions and adjectives and Sybil had to say what the pictogram was. Unity Christ or whomever she worships sez the word is open to interpretation so it was a good game. during a long unbroken list of animals Syb had to list in Leviticus Maybe slipped asleep smiling and curved in to her chest.
Before dawn Maybe woke her up screaming and slapping her otherwise Syb would have slept until she cooked. The made its outside in just panties and t shirts, smoke so thick they couldn’t stand within 500 feet of the Building. Maybe said it was 2 guys with bandanas on their faces throwing Molotov’s and hollering some stupid shit. they weren’t her now. No fire trucks came out here. just the two of them to pace while everything burned
they watched it burn until the sun came up.
After that everything was a blur.
MARC X IS DEAD
Sybil had constructed a secret room in the old Latin social club building drop ceiling . noise dampening pink insulation, a power outlet and water stockpile. She crafted a rather ambitious bed of storage blankets over some boards. the room was within a 4 mil plastic tent with its own tap in to the air conditioning system. it was pretty cute but the mood current wasn’t what she’d hoped.
Maybe was riveted to the vent watching the lead inspector loose it at being made fun of and he locked all the guard and No and Bo inside. Maybe uncharacteristically lit a cigarette and sat quietly memorising everything below writing down everything the lead guy said. making Bo and No sit on their hands. Syb whispered at Maybe who shooed her back. Lead inspector furious and screaming rappid fire accusations and threats of getting locked in a shed for a month. they want to cuff No and Bo and screams at the Lead to be human. Unidentifiable guys in black army gear root through cupboards and drawers allegedly looking for a skinny 24 year old boy not seen in 3 days.
“Maybe I can blast the building I rigged it this, morning.” Syb said loud enuff for the swarm below to hear. she was asking Maybe permission?
“Do it.” Maybe concurred to loud.
down below Maybe saw Bo look right in her eyes ep the vent from where she was keeling before the Lead.
The Lead looked at Bo’s eyes and followed the Up to see what the fuck she’s so happy about and Sybil clicked a switch run to a relay bridged the main breaker down the basement on 200 feet of extension cord. The whole buildings power goes out and everyone is screaming and knocking stuff over already. She then cuts a phone wire looking thing with her box knife. Maybe calls it her plane key like its a dare. the cut wire caused the fire alarm to think a smoke sensor has been destroyed and the fire alarm is on a 20ah Battery and will now go off for 72 hours unless smashed. Bo and No get led by the troops out the fire exit in to sunlight and a crowded public. Sybil flops on her awesome storage blanket bed for two seconds before abandoning it, leading Maybe out a vent of the roof. The popped out the hole and Maybe turned and grabbed Syb by pant pocket and neck and throws her down on the roof. They just popped out the roof of the building with all the troops running out the front door with the fire alarm blaring. what are the chances this special ops man hunt dint bother to put surveillance on the room. Mayb orders her to jump improbly from roof to roof until they get 2 blocks away.
No and Bo have 100 protest kids advocating for them and the troops are getting into some kind of crowd subdue formation. The kids are all screaming some horror at one another scrambling the story telephone game. The boy, Marc Something, 24 from New Paris , Canadia was shot once in the heart at the home of the extreme anti oil rig protest group who was hiding him. 7 member of NO DIRTY RIGS where taken away in a van. one male member got a broken nose one female a broken wrist. one of the para had been stuck with a syringe and the man the syringe and the girl who stuck him are all being tested so its to early to worry.
Marc X is dead. 92% of the spirit is broken. Riot is over.
Maybe and Syb stood a block up the street watching everyone’s sails loose wind. In absence of any plan for this people broke off for post game Analysis meet ups. Maybe wanted to see no one and throw cigarette buts in the river. syb sat on the rail of a canal bridge watching her unreadable face cycle emotions and thoughts.
Syb watched her silent for 20 minutes. “So…. What you wanna do now?
Maybe let half a cigarette fall out her fingers and slowly flick and roll down the bricks in to the river. Without a thought she stated “ Jack Mississippisssippi. we are monitoring extreme abortion protesters. they steal medical waste from clinics for dead foetus anti abortion propeganda. some member have autonomously done stuff like trow acid on women seeking abortion services, arsoned 3 clinics. Big protest in 9 days. lets defuse tonight, communicate with Bo and No before we move. Bo gave me this gig 2 days ago. I was just waiting for this one to end. The walked back and forth from north to south street 3 times killing time until the unidentifiable para corps finish hanging out smoking.
twenty five hours later they caught a ride south in the back of someone with a long mobile home. 49 hours later the mobile home was stuck at the north end of a 300 mile long higway accident traffic that would take half a year to clear.
And it rained hard enuff to kill a large dog, Lightning was blasting near by trees to splinters, Floods visible down the mountain ripping up every house and piling them up when the valley narrowed. wind was deafening.
Maybe was playing with a short wave repeating flood news flawless word for word. she was smiling wide. tuning around the dial without looking. Everything between ATL and Texas south of Tennessee was gone.
“It wasn’t just us, Its everyone !! Millions of houses and sinking and being ripped apart. run out and let the flood clean you. every horrible mockery of man erased by the water we came from.”
She grabbed both Sybil’s hands at locked their eyes together.
I prayed for the inside of my mind to not be so unlike the world everyone else lives just fine in. “ she broke her stare and looked at her hands, wrung them.
“This is not at all what I meant but this is a very big responsibility. it’s the end of the world. we made it to the edge of the end of the world.
Just then a bolt of lightning hit a tanker truck full of diet cola and brown foam splatted every car for a half mile diameter. Maybe Laughed and laughed and till she fell asleep curled next to her .
THE FLOOD ZONE———————————–>
90 minutes lying under a bale of dirty 30 year old poly rayon clothes her body wringing out her entire moisture that she lie in 112 degree motionless air Maybe crying and shrinking behind her while then van ssqeaks on its suspension and dumb angry voice unintelligible. They dont dare move unless they are getting faked out by the inspector.
finally the guard get bored and shoo them along. Syb and Mayb erupt from hiding 28 seconds later. time 1hour 48:29 encased together under 300 pounds of artificial fabric. they are just dum lucky thats the last inspector for 300 miles and the roll through the ruined palm trees and roofs blow off house and cars in the creek skyscrapers with half window shattered dead dogs and cats everywhere, a dead blue heron wrapped around a traffic light that dont light.
Syb rips the bag of fever temperature water in walf and dumps it over both them. Sybil fishes in the cooler for any piece of ice left and drinks the melted ice out the cooler cuz thats all the water left. it was drank less than a third the way from ATL. Maybe sat up front with Dr. No gossiping about emergency response cult drama. lots of people calling each other hypochondriacs in this scene. Maybe was wearing just her white undies drenched in 6 pints of both their sweat. and a cheap gold green plastic mardigras neclace and a muddy trucker hat with an illegible fishing and bullshitting slogan on the brim. She picked it out the mud crusted dead gas station they stopped at 66 miles in to the flood zone. they marvelled at a normal highway small gastation intact yet completely ruined by receding mud slided. the door jammed open by 18 inch deep mudd. the fridge full of beer had heated up and they popped and drew fruit flies. dead dog stuck to the gas pump with mud. there is an abandoned dead white 230s pick up truck with the bed full of fish eggs laid here a week ago and the floods waters appex.
and so it began as Syb and Maybe embarked their precedent setting first looting run. entering the destroyed gas station in their undies and grabbing toxic flood bleached race car themed t shirts and fishing hats. all the lighters ruined. all the flashlights ruined, Sybil picked up a cheap gas station whisky smeared in oil and caked in rotten leaves. and caried it to the van just to look at. they took back roads in avoiding the highway as it was filled with National Guard Hummpers.
they drove down service roads and past auto body shops with their insides pulled out. they pass a 200 school busses up to their headlights in water.
In the flood zone all dead humans are interred above ground in crypts. burying would be to defile their remains making them in to a vile pervasive death soup. once they are 200 miles in to the flood zone and they pas a ruined coffee warehouse that stinks of 5million gallons of coffee brewed by a hateful sun. More dead dogs. Dead trucks with the window fogged up and wrote “help trapped inside” backwards in the grime. the first time No saw that he had to stop and check.
New Fish in Sector 7=—————————————>
Dr. No Pulled into the parking lot of a mall with just a few dead cars, frozen in mud since 6 days ago at 7:01 am.
There is a beauty salon and everything in it is ruined. weaves full of mud. Japanese sushi place mud with dead fish. the grocery store has a greenish slime trickling out of it slowly with its front door half an inch higher than the flood level. the 3 of them are all suffering heat exhaustion dehydration . and entire grocery store left to rot in 100 somthing heat for 6 days. a complex ecosystem of maggots and flies and golf ball size flying roaches and cat sized rats and feral dog gangs of unlikely team ups of german shepherd pitbull pug collie and one orange black cat blocking sybils path at the door of the grocery store. threatening to take her down as a 12 dog 1 cat shared consciousness and chew her to death.
Maybe is gaziing down streets under 18 inches of water or more. she can see a mile away as good as binoculars but to do it she has to stare and scrunch her face a lot. The Water gets deeper north and south of her. the roads above water are full of guard. No dropped them here because he has sympathetic community activist black panthers small bizz association contacts holding out hidden around here somewhere. The place looks deserted but every so often you hear voices 1 block away. see peripheral shadows. inhale live human pheromones steeped in adrenalin.
5 GALLON BUCKET HOUSE ———————————->
They make camp in a vine choked termite eaten plantation house in north sector7. the house is empty but for paint flakes. the bottom floor is sitting in the water and there is bedroom after bedroom with 5 gallon buckets of pool grout or coarse stuck patch or red paint.
the hide their sparse possessions in buckets in the best room in the maze of rooms.
they have a fireplace they can use for tiny fires after nightfall. the last water they drank was filthy melted ice 2 hours ago. the dared in to a 2 story house near by and grabbed a bunch of clothes from the mostly intact apartment of some party girl with tight metallic tights that sagged on either of them and micro pink hoodies that said JUICEY in rave font. her boyfriend was dressed like a rockabilly goth pimp and syb got his belt .
They pushed through the mud around PARIS DRUG. the drug store had 6 ailes of groceries toiletries and gee gaws.. there was a case of digital cameras full of water and mud. Syb and maybe Tried 20 packs of batteries in 20 flashlights until they found 2 that lit bright and didnt die after 2 minnits. Syb Found the Merchandise inventory . Everything below 40 inches ruined. anything above 40 might be ok if the scavenged it soon. Maybe got excited about a crank radio to replace her one from the apartment building. The cash was smashed. the wernt the first to break this place. the guard probably where and then the shadow people came in and trashed it hurrying to grab stuff and flee. sybil chanced a bag of funyuns. they were unharmed safe in the bag.. the smell of funyun was chemical but its was the first non rotting smell in hours.
So the cash is already gone, all the expensive stuff is trashed and un fencible anyways. some canned food with the label rot off. fork lift pallet of ruined cereal, the consolation prize of unlimited distressed urban fashion club wear. Syb ate 4 funyuns and is done with them. she dumps them on the floor of PARIS DRUG just to admire bright yellow dust on this 100% med pallet. 9 out of 10 lightes dont work. the 9 volts drowned, all that lived was 800 double triple and quadruple A. Sybil rekkons that this place at least has food enuff a few weeks if they also get vitamins…
vitamins wich are pills,
this being a drugs store they must have some ,
if not in the grocery section thanperhaps in…
“this fullly stocked compounding pharmacy with its own store room of pacckage drugs and a carosel of pills sorted by chemical name well above the flood and sclaes and a pill making mchine all in a neighbourhood with lots of old people !!!” Syb and Mayb squeeked in unison with jumping and a full minute duet of giggling.
They hopped over the counter of the pharmacy the had completely failed to notice for the first 40 minutes. Sybil pushed the pill racks around. “I think who ever was here last made a beeline for the XanaX and took it all. there is a bunch a bunch of different stuff. pharmacy reference books, and i found a 27 pack of colored pilottey markers. everything on the bottom 3 shelves is soaked and the bottom shelf if ender water. Its probably 90% mud.”
She prodded a snot textured blob of green mud with a curling iron . Shoved 2 inches in to the mud she clunked in to a pill bottle and freed a jug of 100 40 mg methadone. beneath that was an 8 pack of jars of 250 ephedrines. her boots she entered the flood zone in 4 hours ago logged with water mud between her toes and she swore she felt leaches of maggots or something else in there. she kicked the mud ball and unearth the pharmacists secret arsenal 90% slvagable all organised in something between a tackle box and a make up tote.
Maybe picked a bottle out the water loged case. Morphine Sulfate 80 mgpml. 500 ml bottle of it. she spun the cap off and dabbed the blu tinted morphine juice behind each ear. Syb made a move for her nack but she dodged, parried, handed sybil a little plastic beach pail and shovel.
“You dig ! I’ll Pack it in 3 trash bags and we can float i to the 5gallon house”
She had gathered a dozen boxes of trashbags and found a box of a dozen dry headlamps.
They dragged their loot to camp about midnight. dark no moon no light. the felt their way 4 blocks to the plantation house in no visibility. careful not to stumble over garbage under water. trying not to splash to much worry of multiple guy voices coming from 2 blocks south, whoopin arguing.
Maybe made Sybil stand in the paint chip filled bathtub and cleaned her with stainless steel range cleaner. It burned a bit and didn’t wipe off completely. they cleaned each other of oil and death juice. their skin was exhausted puffy and red. after 4 months hunting the end of the world they had fallen off of it. They felt the claws digging now into their souls and suspected they be trapped her for years. Sybil Dared the moonless night to try to capture her. Maybe had fallen asleep in a pile of pills with all her 6 foot 1 folded in to a little kids school desk. sybil passed out in a huge pile of dry clean blankets and clothes and towels they’d spent all day finding. when she woke up 20 hours later Maybe was hogging most of it.
Morteville MENTAL HOSPITAL DIARY
Morteville is a city of ghosts and monsters. founded by the kingdom of Paris in the year 113 as a strategic base to prevent London from using the Mississippissippi during the heat of the 13th year of the resimulation of the NorthernAmerica. Founded by teenage french soldiers from Sybil’s own ancestors in Acadia. A fact she delighted in pulling out coyly when any Life long Mortevillian asked her what the fuck she is doing so far north of st claud. a rather ambitious and laborious 66 square block Paris style city was built including a 1/6th scale notradame cathedral. that two this day houses ministers of both officially municpal government enmeshed christian sub sets baptists of the snake and european black catholic. the Acadians cast their city with low security prisoners from paris sent on prison hulk cippled merchant ship on parises monthly shipment of building stones from the south of Paris cut to intricate shape for the tiny notre dame catheredral. on 6 occasions one of the 6 thousand ton payloaded hobbled captured merchant prison scows would sink, 260 men burried under thousands of tons of granite. the emperor of paris thumbed his nose at any who might mourn the loss of 260 brawlers and theives. prisoners of war carved the stones anways, let them make more, c’est la guerre.
The prisoners all imediately desserted ranks and went out to form isolated clans and cults in the swamps. Paris then rounded up 660 poor people below the age of 45 and shipped them over in much safer boat. everyone got a founding mother and fathers Morteville settlement welcome steemer trunk. it held a dish set and a swamp machette and a gator club some hand towls a 3 pound dried salted pork lump in brown paper some coffee beans and tea bags needle and thread hot water bottle and a single shot snub nose 12g hamd pistol with no trigger. it fired by slapping your other hand over the hammer or you could thumb it if you had blacksmith hands. every man woman and child got a gun on some sponsorship deal with Paris, all debts forgiven and an acre of swamp they could fill in with somthing and build a house on. Maybe dig black muck and somthing in it. was in there.
50% of them abandoned their claims and wandered in to the swamp where everyone lived in big wooden barges under 2 layer mosquito nets, inside a mesh to keep out insects wrapped in a second corser tougher mesh to protect the smaller mesh from creatures golfball size an up. they have the french swamp people have been mixing with spanish desserters from the southern spanish america and native olive colored indigious swamp indians came to see why anyone would want to build a city at the ass end of a 2000 mile drain of 1000 estuaries on its way here. this swamp is a 300 mile long jetty off the mainland american organic discharge.
Paris complained that the Acadians could not handle the southern heat and keep order.
Paris soldiers seized a hatian slave ship from the Madridians and made sure that everyone got a slave with their acre of mud and their gun and toiletries.
All sorts of Race schenanigans went down, Luther martins Motel room Balcony is here and people look up at it all the time. Hatians and some later Afrikans turned out to be way more together in the 105 degree heat and by 250 the cities population was 78% Black 8%Latin 2%Bayou Indian 11%Parisian 1Acadian.
Certainly hundreds of slaves escaped situations ranging from bad to worse and fled into the swamps to try to find a way to live in the place. 9 months after the haitians met the swamp people the gumbo dna of the dirty southern cajun race began production.
Haitian Scientists brought with them the technology for the Swamp fan boat, which was invented here about 190 built from new industrialized tin malt silos and a captured London Biplane. a game changing Black invention like the air conditioner and the traffic light,also invented in the swamp.
the newly invented swamp boat was christened an Attchuaflya which is par for swamp talk where grammer has been replaced by jumbling multiple words together. a french urdu Bayou indian Mongeral word that only really makes sense if you are trilingual.