they told us that this would happen. hints in movies, in comic books, in popular culture... they let us know what was coming and we laughed it off. that which was to serve as warning became jejune, banal, ignored.
we went on with our lives, working, eating, sleeping, [procreating], ants on a [procreating] hill, hauling our [bottoms] out of bed at the crack of dawn while we hurtled towards a future we would have laughed at.
the scientists were busy, the leaders too. they had contingency plans for everything. we had entered the safest [procreating] era the world had ever seen.
nobody was happy, but god[expletive] we were safe.
scientists and leaders, they had alarms for everything. alarms to tell us when we were to be disinfected, alarms to tell us when to get on the trains, alarms to get out of buildings, into buildings, to warn us of threats to our mental and physical health.
and the high alarm. no real purpose existed for it when it was built. kids called it, you'll get a real kick outta this, kids called it the "get on your knees and find god" alarm.
goycafy. y means yahweh, if you were wondering, since goycafg is a [female dog] to say.
one day the alarm went off. trucks of all kinds rumbled past my door. the wife and kids prayed.
i followed the trucks until i heard the gurgling of millions of throats. i couldn't go further. i ran, ran back to my house like a mother[procreating] coward. we latched the gate, bolted the door, closed the shutters, did everything we could.
we could keep them out, but we had locked ourselves in. three weeks in and martha could not stand it. she was the first to give in to the cabin fever. she would stand over the stove, looking at the wood we'd taken from the kitchen table to blockade the windows as though she could see right through it. she liked to sing, you know, before the goycafy.
now she muttered. i listened to her for a little bit, but i could feel her words wind like little worms into my chest.
i couldn't think like that. it wasn't fair to the kids.
i woke up on a tuesday (i think) and she wasn't in bed.
she'd gone out to meet them. i heard movement downstairs.
it was by the grace of some higher power (or maybe a continued cruelty) that we survived. not a bite amongst us. we eluded those [illegitimate boy children].
decision to be made. house compromised, we stole through field and out to the docks. we're heading to the ocean.
only chance now. corpses don't move over water, i hear.
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