- 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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prabusilitwangi
#25
====== The Aftermath of 2019 Election War ======
<<<<< Episode Twelve >>>>>
Why do we fight?
... Mojo was surrounded....
Enemies were approaching from two different fronts, with Mojo trapped in the middle. These enemies were apparently two factions on war each other, but they wouldn't hesitate to attack some bystanders like Mojo as well. Reason? No idea. Perhaps each factions assumed Mojo as their enemy, or perhaps they just blindly attack whoever in their way...
Saw an unguarded alleyway, Mojo decided to sprint into it, and lay low. He was completely outnumbered. Better not to do something foolish, he thought.
He continued along the narrow alleyway, hoping the other end is a safe exit. Meanwhile he could hear the sound of violence and warcries behind him. Sounds like they have started bashing each other's heads, Mojo thought.
Crap, Mojo said to himself. One of the enemies, a young man, standing in front of him, blocking the alley. They both stared at each other. The enemy smiled menacingly, thinking he was about to get an easy prey.
... The young man pulled a leather belt from his backpack, with a sprocket gear tied onto its end, and started swinging it around...
...
It was twenty years before the war. Mojo's highschool was located between two other schools, which often fight against each other. No reason for such rivalries, other than false sense of pride and honor.
Everytime one of them successfully beat up a student from the rival school, their friends will cheer his name and see him as some kind of a hero. A "trial of manliness", if only manliness measured solely by sucker punches and territorial attitudes. Others will just see it as stupid acts of faux bravado...
The post-election war was truly devastating, but we aren't new to such things. Fightings between different ideologies, religions, race, organizations, favourite football team, between schools, even between classes from the same school, were quite "normal" back in the day. The "fights" can be literally, or metaphorically, such as between companies who attack each other with lawsuits or predatory business strategies. It seems we are destined to be a fighting species.
Humans are social creatures. They will tend to form a group. Furthermore, they can become overly loyal to their group, in which other groups can be seen as some "threat". For this school-vs-school case, the irony is when they have graduated and meet each other in the same university or at work, they suddenly forget all their past rivalries. Talk about inconsistencies...
Usually, the students from Mojo's highschool were smart enough to avoid certain areas where such brawl could potentially occur. That day, however, Mojo needed to get his Tamiya Mini-4WD repaired, and the only repair shop just happened to be near the "ground zero". Aaaand that evening also happened to be the "fighting day", what a f*ckin' coincidence...
... The highschooler kept swinging his belt like a medieval flail, while slowly moving toward Mojo. Mojo had nothing he can use as a weapon. He looked around, there was nobody else but them in that alleyway. Run back was also not an option, as it will lead him back to the "warzone" he just barely escaped from.
Why do we fight?
Is it to win? And what's the definition of winning?
Is it the condition where your opponent is destroyed, humilliated, crushed into pieces?
And what do we gain from it?
... Well, guess I just have to fight my way out, Mojo thought...
---------------
(((( Now ))))
Rifanzo and Eriksen were welcomed into one of the survivor camps, which located in what used to be a university in Northern Depok.
One of the guard was apparently Rifanzo's old friend from middle school, the reason he let them into the camp.
Eriksen saw something that seemed to be a crude assembly of a Gatling machine gun, mounted at the entrance gate. The barrels were made from several car exhaust pipes. A compressor machine, usually for pumping air into tires, was used to rotate the barrels.
When Eriksen curiously asked the guards about it, one of them answered, "We call her 'The Final Exam', because the accuracy is like an unprepared student tries to answer a multiple choice question", he said.
He continued, "The hit rate is just around twenty-percent, even when the target is standing still, out in the open..."
He also mentioned that it was never been loaded with real bullets anymore, due to risk of misfire or explosion. Mostly they just rotate the barrels to intimidate the enemies, while the real shootings were done by rifles and pistols.
Most of the campus buildings were completely destroyed. The student dormitory building, however, was still standing. Probably because it was located a bit far from the faculties. Two snipers could be seen on guard on the top floor.
After safekeeping the motorbikes and made a brief conversation with some camp personnels, Rifanzo went to the top floor to check with the snipers.
"Hi, I'm Gallien, and that's my brother, Krueger..." said one of the snipers.
The brothers were equipped with Remington XPR rifles each. Both Gallien and Krueger were used to be students at that university. Gallien was in fourth year mechanical engineering, while Krueger was just enrolled to the psychology when the war started.
When the military regime "temporary" replaced the civillian government during the chaotic period, they suppress all the riots with deadly force. To prevent the possibilities of revolution, the regime also decided to take pre-emptive strikes to campus and colleges, because the idea of revolution and criticizing the authority usually begin there....
Rifanzo asked about their guns. Gallien replied, "Oh no, I never shoot this thing, except for target practice. Krueger there, now he's the more experienced one..." Gallien pointed at his brother.
Rifanzo looked around the building. With more than one possible entry points, it will be quite a challenge to defend this place, he thought, still remembering how the coordinated attack by the mercenaries some time ago. In his mind, he calculated a number of strategies and escape routes, in case they get attacked again....
"A bit chilly up here, eh?", said Rifanzo. He knew Depok is slightly colder than Jakarta, but he didn't expect it to be this cold. Rifanzo rubbed his palms together. They were on top of a building, the winds on that height also adds to the cold.
"Yep, it's been like this the past couple of weeks. Coffee?", offered Gallien.
"No thanks... I'll be headin' down soon..."
"Us too..." Gallien turned on his walkie talkie. "Boogie, Mesa, your shift now, over..." He called another group of riflemen to replace them. "Damn it's getting colder and colder every day..." Gallien and Krueger finished their coffee, and prepared for a shift change.
Rifanzo was about to head down stairs, when he felt something fell on top of his hair. Not rain drop, he thought. He opened his palm upward...
... He read somewhere that those multiple nuclear blasts may affect the climate in the long run, but he didn't believe it until now. It was real, as he had experienced such weather during his european vacation.
"... snow??"
-----------------
... Meanwhile, Mojo had entered Central Jakarta, but still a bit far from his destination where the distress call was made, somewhere in the Brotherland...
He was on foot for the time being, since his motorbike couldn't go through the wall krack with him. He need to find another means of transportation.
Not far from the wall, Mojo found another motorcycle. An abandoned Honda Tiger, with key still attached.
He kickstarted it a few times, and rode off North. When suddenly he heard that terrifying sound blasted from a loudspeaker somewhere....
"GOOD AFTERNOON SIR, DO YOU KNOW WHICH TRAFFIC RULES YOU VIOLATED ???"
It was a pre-recorded voice which came from the automatic sentry gun, located on one of the rooftops nearby. Just a few seconds after the message, a burst of rapid-fire soon followed.
BRRRRAAAAPPPPP !!!!
"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT !!!" Mojo panickly did some evasion maneuver to avoid the 30mm rounds. He strafed left and right, while thinking what rule he violated. The machine gun caused huge holes on the road. The bullets were strong enough to penetrate armored vehicles.
Oh yeah, he just realized the motorbike's plate number had expired. That's why the "Good-Afternoon Gun" opened fire at him.
Mojo turned at an intersection, hoping it was out of the firing range. But apparently he only entered the range of another sentry gun. He saw it starting to turn it's turret toward him....
--------------
((((( Flashback continues, 20 years before the war ))))))
The highschooler stopped about a few meters in front of Mojo, belt at hand. They looked ay each other for a moment, when he finally said, "You're not a Tichon, are you?"
He referred to Saint Tichondrius High School, the rival school of his school, the Varimathras Boarding School.
"No fuckface, I'm from the XX high", replied Mojo.
"Well, sorry then. Your uniform looks similar..." The young man put his weaponized belt back in his backpack. "You shouldn't be here anyway. Don't you guys know not to pass this place every Friday?"
"Yeah, my friends are smart enough not to. Guess I'm not 'smart' today..."
"Leave then, I do not wish to join this stupid brawl either..."
Mojo headed out of the alley, but that other guy seemed to be following him.
"Are you following me?", asked Mojo.
"What? No, I'm going this way too..."
Mojo exited the alley, and entered the Tamiya workshop nearby. The young man followed Mojo inside.
"Okay what do you want?", Mojo losed his patience.
"Me? Why you go in here yourself?", said the teenager.
"I'm repairing my Avante Special. Here if you don't believe me...", Mojo pulled his Mini-4WD from his backpack.
"And I'm upgrading mine", he opened his backpack and took out a Dash-3 Shooting Star.
A brief silence between them, including the store owner too.
"Mojo."
"Murdock."
------ to be continued ------
<<<<< Episode Twelve >>>>>
Why do we fight?
... Mojo was surrounded....
Enemies were approaching from two different fronts, with Mojo trapped in the middle. These enemies were apparently two factions on war each other, but they wouldn't hesitate to attack some bystanders like Mojo as well. Reason? No idea. Perhaps each factions assumed Mojo as their enemy, or perhaps they just blindly attack whoever in their way...
Saw an unguarded alleyway, Mojo decided to sprint into it, and lay low. He was completely outnumbered. Better not to do something foolish, he thought.
He continued along the narrow alleyway, hoping the other end is a safe exit. Meanwhile he could hear the sound of violence and warcries behind him. Sounds like they have started bashing each other's heads, Mojo thought.
Crap, Mojo said to himself. One of the enemies, a young man, standing in front of him, blocking the alley. They both stared at each other. The enemy smiled menacingly, thinking he was about to get an easy prey.
... The young man pulled a leather belt from his backpack, with a sprocket gear tied onto its end, and started swinging it around...
...
It was twenty years before the war. Mojo's highschool was located between two other schools, which often fight against each other. No reason for such rivalries, other than false sense of pride and honor.
Everytime one of them successfully beat up a student from the rival school, their friends will cheer his name and see him as some kind of a hero. A "trial of manliness", if only manliness measured solely by sucker punches and territorial attitudes. Others will just see it as stupid acts of faux bravado...
The post-election war was truly devastating, but we aren't new to such things. Fightings between different ideologies, religions, race, organizations, favourite football team, between schools, even between classes from the same school, were quite "normal" back in the day. The "fights" can be literally, or metaphorically, such as between companies who attack each other with lawsuits or predatory business strategies. It seems we are destined to be a fighting species.
Humans are social creatures. They will tend to form a group. Furthermore, they can become overly loyal to their group, in which other groups can be seen as some "threat". For this school-vs-school case, the irony is when they have graduated and meet each other in the same university or at work, they suddenly forget all their past rivalries. Talk about inconsistencies...
Usually, the students from Mojo's highschool were smart enough to avoid certain areas where such brawl could potentially occur. That day, however, Mojo needed to get his Tamiya Mini-4WD repaired, and the only repair shop just happened to be near the "ground zero". Aaaand that evening also happened to be the "fighting day", what a f*ckin' coincidence...
... The highschooler kept swinging his belt like a medieval flail, while slowly moving toward Mojo. Mojo had nothing he can use as a weapon. He looked around, there was nobody else but them in that alleyway. Run back was also not an option, as it will lead him back to the "warzone" he just barely escaped from.
Why do we fight?
Is it to win? And what's the definition of winning?
Is it the condition where your opponent is destroyed, humilliated, crushed into pieces?
And what do we gain from it?
... Well, guess I just have to fight my way out, Mojo thought...
---------------
(((( Now ))))
Rifanzo and Eriksen were welcomed into one of the survivor camps, which located in what used to be a university in Northern Depok.
One of the guard was apparently Rifanzo's old friend from middle school, the reason he let them into the camp.
Eriksen saw something that seemed to be a crude assembly of a Gatling machine gun, mounted at the entrance gate. The barrels were made from several car exhaust pipes. A compressor machine, usually for pumping air into tires, was used to rotate the barrels.
When Eriksen curiously asked the guards about it, one of them answered, "We call her 'The Final Exam', because the accuracy is like an unprepared student tries to answer a multiple choice question", he said.
He continued, "The hit rate is just around twenty-percent, even when the target is standing still, out in the open..."
He also mentioned that it was never been loaded with real bullets anymore, due to risk of misfire or explosion. Mostly they just rotate the barrels to intimidate the enemies, while the real shootings were done by rifles and pistols.
Most of the campus buildings were completely destroyed. The student dormitory building, however, was still standing. Probably because it was located a bit far from the faculties. Two snipers could be seen on guard on the top floor.
After safekeeping the motorbikes and made a brief conversation with some camp personnels, Rifanzo went to the top floor to check with the snipers.
"Hi, I'm Gallien, and that's my brother, Krueger..." said one of the snipers.
The brothers were equipped with Remington XPR rifles each. Both Gallien and Krueger were used to be students at that university. Gallien was in fourth year mechanical engineering, while Krueger was just enrolled to the psychology when the war started.
When the military regime "temporary" replaced the civillian government during the chaotic period, they suppress all the riots with deadly force. To prevent the possibilities of revolution, the regime also decided to take pre-emptive strikes to campus and colleges, because the idea of revolution and criticizing the authority usually begin there....
Rifanzo asked about their guns. Gallien replied, "Oh no, I never shoot this thing, except for target practice. Krueger there, now he's the more experienced one..." Gallien pointed at his brother.
Rifanzo looked around the building. With more than one possible entry points, it will be quite a challenge to defend this place, he thought, still remembering how the coordinated attack by the mercenaries some time ago. In his mind, he calculated a number of strategies and escape routes, in case they get attacked again....
"A bit chilly up here, eh?", said Rifanzo. He knew Depok is slightly colder than Jakarta, but he didn't expect it to be this cold. Rifanzo rubbed his palms together. They were on top of a building, the winds on that height also adds to the cold.
"Yep, it's been like this the past couple of weeks. Coffee?", offered Gallien.
"No thanks... I'll be headin' down soon..."
"Us too..." Gallien turned on his walkie talkie. "Boogie, Mesa, your shift now, over..." He called another group of riflemen to replace them. "Damn it's getting colder and colder every day..." Gallien and Krueger finished their coffee, and prepared for a shift change.
Rifanzo was about to head down stairs, when he felt something fell on top of his hair. Not rain drop, he thought. He opened his palm upward...
... He read somewhere that those multiple nuclear blasts may affect the climate in the long run, but he didn't believe it until now. It was real, as he had experienced such weather during his european vacation.
"... snow??"
-----------------
... Meanwhile, Mojo had entered Central Jakarta, but still a bit far from his destination where the distress call was made, somewhere in the Brotherland...
He was on foot for the time being, since his motorbike couldn't go through the wall krack with him. He need to find another means of transportation.
Not far from the wall, Mojo found another motorcycle. An abandoned Honda Tiger, with key still attached.
He kickstarted it a few times, and rode off North. When suddenly he heard that terrifying sound blasted from a loudspeaker somewhere....
"GOOD AFTERNOON SIR, DO YOU KNOW WHICH TRAFFIC RULES YOU VIOLATED ???"
It was a pre-recorded voice which came from the automatic sentry gun, located on one of the rooftops nearby. Just a few seconds after the message, a burst of rapid-fire soon followed.
BRRRRAAAAPPPPP !!!!
"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT !!!" Mojo panickly did some evasion maneuver to avoid the 30mm rounds. He strafed left and right, while thinking what rule he violated. The machine gun caused huge holes on the road. The bullets were strong enough to penetrate armored vehicles.
Oh yeah, he just realized the motorbike's plate number had expired. That's why the "Good-Afternoon Gun" opened fire at him.
Mojo turned at an intersection, hoping it was out of the firing range. But apparently he only entered the range of another sentry gun. He saw it starting to turn it's turret toward him....
--------------
((((( Flashback continues, 20 years before the war ))))))
The highschooler stopped about a few meters in front of Mojo, belt at hand. They looked ay each other for a moment, when he finally said, "You're not a Tichon, are you?"
He referred to Saint Tichondrius High School, the rival school of his school, the Varimathras Boarding School.
"No fuckface, I'm from the XX high", replied Mojo.
"Well, sorry then. Your uniform looks similar..." The young man put his weaponized belt back in his backpack. "You shouldn't be here anyway. Don't you guys know not to pass this place every Friday?"
"Yeah, my friends are smart enough not to. Guess I'm not 'smart' today..."
"Leave then, I do not wish to join this stupid brawl either..."
Mojo headed out of the alley, but that other guy seemed to be following him.
"Are you following me?", asked Mojo.
"What? No, I'm going this way too..."
Mojo exited the alley, and entered the Tamiya workshop nearby. The young man followed Mojo inside.
"Okay what do you want?", Mojo losed his patience.
"Me? Why you go in here yourself?", said the teenager.
"I'm repairing my Avante Special. Here if you don't believe me...", Mojo pulled his Mini-4WD from his backpack.
"And I'm upgrading mine", he opened his backpack and took out a Dash-3 Shooting Star.
A brief silence between them, including the store owner too.
"Mojo."
"Murdock."
------ to be continued ------
Diubah oleh prabusilitwangi 14-12-2018 05:55
0