The Seventh Seal
What they didn’t warn me about the End of Days was that it would get pretty boring.
I mean, sure, the beginning was pretty exciting, as all the righteous fucked off into the sky, and all the news channels were covering signs and portents and all that shit non-stop. And then there was demons, and man, was that some fucked up stuff, proper collapse of civilisation shit, like a movie with really good 3D except movies don’t actually drag people off to the fiery abyss to like, Demonic stuff. But I guess either there more sinners than the demons can handle, or they’re as lazy as the rest of us working stiffs, because they seemed to stop after a while and now we’re all just sort of hanging around and waiting.
Oski and I have spent the last few days working our way down through the docks in search of something to do. The area is pretty stripped out and abandoned now; no-one is shipping trucks of food into New York anymore so none of the good Deli’s are open now, but we figured most of the gangs would be clustered around the posher districts where at least there are nice houses to stay in. Anyone with any sense has fucked off to the country anyway, to try and reconnect with simpler ways, because I guess burning skies and demons and angels and that crazy shit can be a good argument for catching some old-time religion.
We’re pretty much doomed though, due to the covetting of each other’s asses, if you know what I mean. I figure – and Oski doesn’t really seem to care so long as we’re together – that we should stay away from people generally, because people equals sin, right, and more people is more sin, and more sin is demon-bait. Anyway we’re now on a six-month walking tour of the Atlantic; how cool is that? And today we should get as far as the Statue of Liberty, if it’s still standing. Oski is sure he saw something on the news about it being blown up or dragged off or something but with no Mobile Signal since March I guess we can only settle the argument by visiting.
I miss Wikipedia. It settled all our arguments.
We’ve been lucky in the last couple of days in so much as we managed to find a food supply crate up on a warehouse roof. I think it’s one from the last of the big drops, and its chute must have caught the wind after the last Storm of Blood and dragged into view. Fresh food is spoiled but it was full of cans and some military-looking shit that tasted surprisingly good when you warmed it up. Better than shooting dogs for meat, anyway, although there is no shortage of the bastards. It even had one of those wind-up radios, and Oski spent most of that evening trying to get a signal until I got pissed at the static and threw it into the river.
So here we are, sat on the wharf as the sun sets on another day, and the New Jerusalem has still not been unveiled. I’ve pulled out a bottle of wine by way of apology – seriously, that man can sulk for days – and handed over one of my precious last few cigarettes. We can see right over to Manhattan, still and quiet in the dusk, and the river is stained red with the evening light. Or the remains of the Blood Storm. Its so… peaceful.
What they didn’t warn me about the End of Days was that it can be beautiful.
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