- Beranda
- Stories from the Heart
POST-2019 APOCALYPSE
...
TS
prabusilitwangi
POST-2019 APOCALYPSE
Started as an "iseng-iseng" story in my facebook wall post, back in 2017. It was originally written with Pilkada DKI 2017 as the background, but later changed to the upcoming Pemilu 2019. Later, I find it hard to stop 
, and kept writing ever since...
Warning : This fictional story may contain violence and sensitive issues, such as political, racial, and/or religious
Note : This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events are either the product of author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Author has no affiliation with any media, political parties nor their support groups.
INDEX :
<<<< POST-2019 APOCALYPSE, EPISODE ONE >>>>>
... Day 700 after the war. I was scavenging for weapons and supplies from a place used to be a mini-market. During the war, this place was used as a hideout from one of the survivors group. Militants from both opposing sides were using mostly melee weapons or home-made bombs, but if you're lucky, you may find some firearms lying around...
Didn't find any guns or bullets, but I was lucky to find a cabinet filled with instant noodles. Ahh.. the only edible food from the era before the war. Back then, my only problem was deciding where I will have lunch during office breaks. Now my problem is to make sure nobody sneaks in and stabs me from behind while I'm having my lunch. This morning I had to kill 3 youngsters trying to steal my breakfast. I even resisted the urge to impale one of them in front of my bunker, as a deterrent to other thieves...
I broke open one of the noodle package, and sprinkled the seasoning on top the uncooked noodle, and eat it raw. Did all those while my left hand still ready on the trigger, just in case this was an ambush. But after a while, I decided to put my gun down, and enjoy my food with both hands, while my mind wandered to the comfort life before this cursed war, or as we survivors called it: The Post-Election Apocalypse...
<<<< POST-2019 APOCALYPSE, EPISODE TWO >>>>>
I didn't even remember who won the presidential election, or should I say, the dreadful event that led to this war. I only remember that the losing side didn't accept their defeat, and started a violent nationwide protests. The winning side also responded in such a non-peaceful manner as well. Things got escalated beyond control, and like a chain reaction, we eventually ended up in one of the most brutal war in the history of man. Both sides were so deeply fanatical to whom they voted for, and thought that the other side must be somewhat brainwashed....
Why did I survive the war?
Probably because I was a neutral (a "golput" as they said).
Probably because of my 'not-so-bad' survival skill.
Probably because I wasn't near the ground zero when the nuclear exploded.
Probably because my choice of ride got me fast enough to escape some conflict zones.
Probably because my past eating habit somehow caused my body to develop immunity to all those chemical weapons.
Or probably it was just luck....
... But like they say, luck will eventually runs out. I opened my shotgun ammo pouch, and counted my remaining luck. Seven buckshot shells in the pouch, and two in the gun itself. That should be enough luck for the time being...
--- Continued in Episode Three ---
, and kept writing ever since...Warning : This fictional story may contain violence and sensitive issues, such as political, racial, and/or religious
Note : This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events are either the product of author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Author has no affiliation with any media, political parties nor their support groups.
INDEX :
Spoiler for "index":
<<<< POST-2019 APOCALYPSE, EPISODE ONE >>>>>
... Day 700 after the war. I was scavenging for weapons and supplies from a place used to be a mini-market. During the war, this place was used as a hideout from one of the survivors group. Militants from both opposing sides were using mostly melee weapons or home-made bombs, but if you're lucky, you may find some firearms lying around...
Didn't find any guns or bullets, but I was lucky to find a cabinet filled with instant noodles. Ahh.. the only edible food from the era before the war. Back then, my only problem was deciding where I will have lunch during office breaks. Now my problem is to make sure nobody sneaks in and stabs me from behind while I'm having my lunch. This morning I had to kill 3 youngsters trying to steal my breakfast. I even resisted the urge to impale one of them in front of my bunker, as a deterrent to other thieves...
I broke open one of the noodle package, and sprinkled the seasoning on top the uncooked noodle, and eat it raw. Did all those while my left hand still ready on the trigger, just in case this was an ambush. But after a while, I decided to put my gun down, and enjoy my food with both hands, while my mind wandered to the comfort life before this cursed war, or as we survivors called it: The Post-Election Apocalypse...
<<<< POST-2019 APOCALYPSE, EPISODE TWO >>>>>
I didn't even remember who won the presidential election, or should I say, the dreadful event that led to this war. I only remember that the losing side didn't accept their defeat, and started a violent nationwide protests. The winning side also responded in such a non-peaceful manner as well. Things got escalated beyond control, and like a chain reaction, we eventually ended up in one of the most brutal war in the history of man. Both sides were so deeply fanatical to whom they voted for, and thought that the other side must be somewhat brainwashed....
Why did I survive the war?
Probably because I was a neutral (a "golput" as they said).
Probably because of my 'not-so-bad' survival skill.
Probably because I wasn't near the ground zero when the nuclear exploded.
Probably because my choice of ride got me fast enough to escape some conflict zones.
Probably because my past eating habit somehow caused my body to develop immunity to all those chemical weapons.
Or probably it was just luck....
... But like they say, luck will eventually runs out. I opened my shotgun ammo pouch, and counted my remaining luck. Seven buckshot shells in the pouch, and two in the gun itself. That should be enough luck for the time being...
--- Continued in Episode Three ---
Diubah oleh prabusilitwangi 05-02-2019 10:48
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Stories from the Heart
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prabusilitwangi
#9
=== Post-2019 Apocalypse, Episode Nine ===
<<< Flashback, April 2019, 15 hours before Election >>>
"... Uhhh, I'll have the umm... iced cappuccino please...", He said to the barista. "Hey, how about you guys??", he yelled to his buddies who were already occupying a table.
"Two mocha frappuccinos for me and Annie. And you?"
"Just a cup of hot tea, thanks..."
The barista repeated their order, "So one iced cappuccino, two mocha frappuccinos, and one hot tea. May I know your name, sir?"
"Nikolai."
It was such a normal, peaceful scene in some downtown cafe. Four friends hung out together for coffee and light talks. Nobody knew about the war that was going to happen some time later....
The coffee wasn't that great, but the place was quite cozy, and the live music was nice. On the corner stage, one guy was singing "American Pie" by Don McLean, accompanied with only a Takamine acoustic guitar.
A long long time ago, I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance,
that I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
The amps were set just enough so the customers could enjoy the music while still be able to strike conversations with each other...
"... So how is your project going, Murdock?", Nikolai had joined the others on the table.
"Yeah, this month's the craziest. Even tomorrow they ask for a progress review...", replied Murdock, while stirring his frappuccino.
"But I heard tomorrow's a day off? Election, amirite?"
"Tell it to my boss. He said everyone must be back to work after voting as soon as possible. Me and Annie must cancel our movie date..."
"How about you, Nikolai? I heard all foreign countries instructed their citizens to stay away from Indonesia temporarily, fearing the possible conflict. Why are you still here?", Annie asked.
"They said that, yes, but they won't pay for the flight ticket, and I don't want to spend my money either. So you f*ckers stuck with me now...", Nikolai grinned.
"Well I am sure everything will be fine though. Maybe they are just being too paranoid. Right, Mojo?"
Mojo was still busy gaming on his cellphone. "Huh... what now? Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's fine..."
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
<<<< NOW >>>>
...Mojo sat on that very same table, in the same cafe...
It was obviously abandoned now. Pieces of broken mugs and tumblers were seen everywhere. Espresso machines and cash registers had became cockroach motel. A macbook with some bullet holes lying on the floor. A Takamine guitar, now broken in half, in the same corner where the live performance usually was. A wall that separated the smoking and non-smoking area, now had a huge gaping hole due to a tank's cannon. Seemed everyone was 'smoked' that day...
Where are they now? Nikolai? Murdock? Annie? The others? Mojo said to himself. He wished them allright, although such probabilities were slim.
Eriksen, Rifanzo, and Mojo were on their way South, when two of the motorbikes ran out of fuel. They couldn't hop together on the one remaining motorcycle, due to the bulk of their supplies they were carrying each. So they decided to stop and find some other vehicles they can change to, or siphon the fuel from. And what a coincidence, they stop at the very same cafe Mojo usually visits before the war.
There were some cars outside the cafe, but all of them were heavily damaged by bombings. One Daihatsu Ceria even seemed to got squished by a tank.
Only few of those cars still have a bit of fuel. Siphoning fuel from abandoned vehicles obviously came first to everyone's mind during troubled times. Mojo, Eriksen and Rifanzo pumped out the last drop of fuel and put them in the motorbikes. They also decided to take a brief rest inside the cafe.
"... Now, anyone wants to discuss about those attackers? Who were them? Why were they searching for the golputs? How did they track us? How could they have a freaking military kill-bot?", Rifanzo opened the conversation about the attack on the medical camp which they barely survived from.
"Well, I'm obviously a golput, but how about you guys?", Mojo asked.
"Nope, I voted, remember?", replied Rifanzo.
"Me too, only for the discounts though...", said Eriksen. He referred to discounts and promotions stores and restaurants usually offer just by showing the evidence you have participated in the election.
"So they were going for my arse then, or maybe some of the other survivors at the camp. May they rest in peace..."
"I know all my men personally, so yeah, they were after your arse...", said Eriksen.
"Which brings us to the next question. How did they know who are the neutrals, and their location?"
"Hmm....", Eriksen scratched his chin. "The fact is they do have a high-technology killer robot at their disposal, so we don't know what else high-tech stuff they may have. Maybe some kind of a newly developed tracking system..."
"Well, that means we still stick to the plan. If they gonna send another wave of goons, at least we can get some backup in the Southern camps. Hopefully they have enough firepower, just in case more of those robo-f*ckers come. We can't only rely to the M-79, and normal bullets are just as effective as online petitions..."
"Okay, let's continue our ride then. Perhaps other survivors have the answers we need..."
They headed back to their motorbikes, when suddenly a music was heard.
"... You are, my fire... The one, desire... Believe when I say, I want it that way..."
It was a ringtone from Mojo's cellphone, from an unknown number. Mojo picked it up.
"Send help... Hurry... We can't hold this position any longer.... Here is our coordinates..."
"Hello, who is this?", Mojo replied. However, the voice was apparently pre-recorded and repeated several times. After writing down the coordinate, Mojo ended the call.
"What was it? An S.O.S. call?", asked Rifanzo.
"Yeah I think so..."
Mojo would have ignored it and continued his trip, if only the voice wasn't sound a bit familiar. He looked at his phone screen again, maybe he never saved the number before. Finally he remembered...
"... Nikolai?"
====== continued in episode ten =======
======= thank you for reading =======
<<< Flashback, April 2019, 15 hours before Election >>>
"... Uhhh, I'll have the umm... iced cappuccino please...", He said to the barista. "Hey, how about you guys??", he yelled to his buddies who were already occupying a table.
"Two mocha frappuccinos for me and Annie. And you?"
"Just a cup of hot tea, thanks..."
The barista repeated their order, "So one iced cappuccino, two mocha frappuccinos, and one hot tea. May I know your name, sir?"
"Nikolai."
It was such a normal, peaceful scene in some downtown cafe. Four friends hung out together for coffee and light talks. Nobody knew about the war that was going to happen some time later....
The coffee wasn't that great, but the place was quite cozy, and the live music was nice. On the corner stage, one guy was singing "American Pie" by Don McLean, accompanied with only a Takamine acoustic guitar.
A long long time ago, I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance,
that I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
The amps were set just enough so the customers could enjoy the music while still be able to strike conversations with each other...
"... So how is your project going, Murdock?", Nikolai had joined the others on the table.
"Yeah, this month's the craziest. Even tomorrow they ask for a progress review...", replied Murdock, while stirring his frappuccino.
"But I heard tomorrow's a day off? Election, amirite?"
"Tell it to my boss. He said everyone must be back to work after voting as soon as possible. Me and Annie must cancel our movie date..."
"How about you, Nikolai? I heard all foreign countries instructed their citizens to stay away from Indonesia temporarily, fearing the possible conflict. Why are you still here?", Annie asked.
"They said that, yes, but they won't pay for the flight ticket, and I don't want to spend my money either. So you f*ckers stuck with me now...", Nikolai grinned.
"Well I am sure everything will be fine though. Maybe they are just being too paranoid. Right, Mojo?"
Mojo was still busy gaming on his cellphone. "Huh... what now? Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's fine..."
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
<<<< NOW >>>>
...Mojo sat on that very same table, in the same cafe...
It was obviously abandoned now. Pieces of broken mugs and tumblers were seen everywhere. Espresso machines and cash registers had became cockroach motel. A macbook with some bullet holes lying on the floor. A Takamine guitar, now broken in half, in the same corner where the live performance usually was. A wall that separated the smoking and non-smoking area, now had a huge gaping hole due to a tank's cannon. Seemed everyone was 'smoked' that day...
Where are they now? Nikolai? Murdock? Annie? The others? Mojo said to himself. He wished them allright, although such probabilities were slim.
Eriksen, Rifanzo, and Mojo were on their way South, when two of the motorbikes ran out of fuel. They couldn't hop together on the one remaining motorcycle, due to the bulk of their supplies they were carrying each. So they decided to stop and find some other vehicles they can change to, or siphon the fuel from. And what a coincidence, they stop at the very same cafe Mojo usually visits before the war.
There were some cars outside the cafe, but all of them were heavily damaged by bombings. One Daihatsu Ceria even seemed to got squished by a tank.
Only few of those cars still have a bit of fuel. Siphoning fuel from abandoned vehicles obviously came first to everyone's mind during troubled times. Mojo, Eriksen and Rifanzo pumped out the last drop of fuel and put them in the motorbikes. They also decided to take a brief rest inside the cafe.
"... Now, anyone wants to discuss about those attackers? Who were them? Why were they searching for the golputs? How did they track us? How could they have a freaking military kill-bot?", Rifanzo opened the conversation about the attack on the medical camp which they barely survived from.
"Well, I'm obviously a golput, but how about you guys?", Mojo asked.
"Nope, I voted, remember?", replied Rifanzo.
"Me too, only for the discounts though...", said Eriksen. He referred to discounts and promotions stores and restaurants usually offer just by showing the evidence you have participated in the election.
"So they were going for my arse then, or maybe some of the other survivors at the camp. May they rest in peace..."
"I know all my men personally, so yeah, they were after your arse...", said Eriksen.
"Which brings us to the next question. How did they know who are the neutrals, and their location?"
"Hmm....", Eriksen scratched his chin. "The fact is they do have a high-technology killer robot at their disposal, so we don't know what else high-tech stuff they may have. Maybe some kind of a newly developed tracking system..."
"Well, that means we still stick to the plan. If they gonna send another wave of goons, at least we can get some backup in the Southern camps. Hopefully they have enough firepower, just in case more of those robo-f*ckers come. We can't only rely to the M-79, and normal bullets are just as effective as online petitions..."
"Okay, let's continue our ride then. Perhaps other survivors have the answers we need..."
They headed back to their motorbikes, when suddenly a music was heard.
"... You are, my fire... The one, desire... Believe when I say, I want it that way..."
It was a ringtone from Mojo's cellphone, from an unknown number. Mojo picked it up.
"Send help... Hurry... We can't hold this position any longer.... Here is our coordinates..."
"Hello, who is this?", Mojo replied. However, the voice was apparently pre-recorded and repeated several times. After writing down the coordinate, Mojo ended the call.
"What was it? An S.O.S. call?", asked Rifanzo.
"Yeah I think so..."
Mojo would have ignored it and continued his trip, if only the voice wasn't sound a bit familiar. He looked at his phone screen again, maybe he never saved the number before. Finally he remembered...
"... Nikolai?"
====== continued in episode ten =======
======= thank you for reading =======
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