Blaze for the Apocalypse

I’m not who I am because I want to be. It’s because people made me this way.

This isn’t a denial, blame-society-for-my-social-ineptitude kind of thing. This is a people are useless, undependable, and generally stupid kind of thing. A people-prove-themselves-wrong sort of thing.

The zombie apocalypse proved this. Good people are an exception, not a rule.

If you encounter another survivor, the chances are high they’ll fuck you over if it means they get the longer stick, even if it’s a centimeter. If it means the road to life is a little longer, the greater good is history.

No one cares about the backend operations as long as it means smooth sailing for them. Participate in the cannibalism, rape, and enslavement if it means you feel like a part of the pack. Or, almost as bad, ignore the reality of your ineptitude if someone else is calling the shots for you. Feeling protected is far better than having personal integrity.

This is why people hate me. Have always hated me. I see things for what they are, and because I’m not willing to compromise I’m an outcast. I won’t participate and I won’t ignore. Whatever I am is worse because the things I do, I do for me. Only me.

When the dead started coming back, people divided into two factions. One of them thought it meant we’d all play nice and help each other recover. All of the sudden everyone was expected to sacrifice their own lives for people you’d just met. The others saw this as an opportunity to do whatever they wanted, to use other people as they liked. I imagine they all thought, “I’ll die soon anyway, why not?”

At the end of the day everyone falls into one of those factions, at least a little bit.

Except me.

I hope you haven’t read all of this as a bitter complaint, or a subliminal cry for acceptance. This is reality. You’ve seen it. You know what they did in Monroe and Startup. You know about Fort Christian. The people in Sultan?

I did say good people were an exception, not a rule.

I’m telling you this because, only a few years after the apocalypse, we’re trying to get what we had and not make something new. People cried for the obliteration of society, for reform, and now that we have it we’re wasting that clean slate. Pre-apocalypse those were those who played by the rules and those who didn’t. Nothing has changed.

Especially not me.

Advertisements

About Eloise J. Knapp

Eloise J. Knapp is an author and designer living in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s