Irradiated highways, overgrowth-covered back roads and death and despair in the cities and wilderness passed at a steady 70 MPH as Mel was driving back to his Cabin. The crudely fortified compound was 30-yards deep into a forest of barricades and impaled intruders that decorated and served as a warning to the bandits and dregs of the wastes.
Lost in a daydream of Old World songs and places and senses, Mel could see black smoke in the distance. He floored the pedal of his Town Car and the nostalgia and sorrow of his life in a mushroom cloud of dust and decay turned into bloodlust for the degenerates that must be torching his lawn or tampering with his barricades. If they were near his house, then their spines would make splendid wind chimes.
The muffled voice of Chip resonated from Mel’s chest pocket, where Chip was bound in a folded up handkerchief. Annoyed, Mel placed Chip into his glove compartment and locked the talkative circuit board away.
Not far now, the black smoke was just the beginning of a fire and what looked like a skirmish of raiders fighting over the plunder, or at least what they thought would be a killer find. New bodies. Broken spears and shattered barricades and punctured fences and tortured faces on corpses lined the roadways. “Figures. I knew it was a matter of time. Chip, watch the car.” Said Mel as he slid the car into park and ignored the muffled complaints of the locked up circuit board.
“Hey. HEEEY! Gentlemen. I have something to axe.” Said Mel, as he grabbed his fire axe, one of the last traces of his Old World life. The swarm of stunned bandits looked over and laughed, in relief, as they saw the cleanly dressed man in a shiny car and sharpened fire axe. Easy prey, they thought. What luck. And they had at him, pouncing and running and rallying from every direction as Mel’s home burned and burned in the background.
“If you wanted to come over all you had to do was axe.” Said Mel as he swing the axe into the forehead and halfway through the now split skull of the first unwitting dreg.
“I’m afraid I have to axe.” Said Mel, as he swing the axe clean through a wrist and then halfway into the back of another dreg. “Who are you, if you don’t mind me axing?” Said Mel, laughing a little more with every quip and slash and flying limb.
With a baker’s dozen bodies piling up around Mel, the rest of the dregs started to get wise and began to flee. With a heave, Mel chucked the axe with both hands over his head and it spliced the skull of a fleeing raider right through.
Mirage Insight 