The Day The Tanks Came

"Hans!"

Summer had come early and the shout was almost muffled by the torpid air.

"What is it?" Hans had been looking forward to a lazy afternoon with the family, little Addy was ready to work in the fields now and Anna had been making noises about a third child, a duty that he had been anticipating nicely.

"Hans, have you been able to get anything on the radio?"

Rudolf was a worrier, the whole village knew it, and had never been a ranking officer despite having been in the army almost as long as service allowed.  Old age had failed to take the edge from his concern but nor had it made him any harder to live with.  As a single man he was unusual but he was well-liked and a useful man to know in case of electrical repairs.  "No, Rudi, you know I don't bother with that thing."  Sometimes the music was nice, but lately it had become a little political for his tastes, "Besides, since when did we need it?"

"Hans, I listen to the radio always, and I tell you that it has gone. Now, what do you think of that?" Rudolf's face was flushed, he'd been running.

"I tell you that you spend too long listening to the radio and now there has been a break in the service and that it will do you some good."

"Hans... Mister Group-Leader, I-"

"Please, not now," Hans cut him off, the rank brought back a whole phalanx of memories that he had long ago grown tired of dealing with. "Rudi, you are a radio man, that is fine.  Go ask Konnie if he has anything and then work with him, yes?  For now, it is Summer, it is nearly harvest and I have 'duties' to perform for my family.  I do not expect you to understand but I do expect you to give me some peace."

"They were talking of the Front again-"

"And they always will, you know that.  Now, run along to Konnie, he may have more time for you."

Konrad was new to the village, recently discharged with distinction, and had a young family.  Starting was always hard, but the cameraderie of the Old Guard meant that he had been well-supported, and his aptitude with technology made him a natural appointment for the village broadcast and reciever station.  It saved him from running his own fields, something Hans doubted the youngster would enjoy, and meant that they had enjoyed the full benefits of the radio for some months, something Hans reflected on with some pained displeasure.

"Yes of course, Mis-"

"Oh, just leave man!"  Hans turned and walked off his porch as pointedly as he could, deliberately ignoring the obvious salute.  Rudolf was a walking testament to why men needed to be married: so that they could turn their worries and anxieties to real concerns rather than phantasmogorical ones.

Post-Apocalyptica

This is my own term for post-apocalyptic porn, that is a story that fetishises the situation following an apocalypse, not porn set after an apocalypse.  I'm not sure how the latter would be any different from normal porn, if I'm honest.

AFTERMATH

Cold. The wind whistled through the chain-link fence and smelt sweet through the gas mask. Unbidden, he checked the geiger counter hanging round his neck out of habit before grupping his rifle tighter. Smoke still rose in the distance, through the dust and the smog, and there was the muffled sound of flames crackling in the distance. Guard duty: the worst duty, but it was necessary; Daniels had already had to fire in anger and now the brass were worried that there would be more. Didn't see them pulling guard duty.

Boner said the motorways were the worst: cars frozen at the point of impact surrounded by melted tarmac with their occupants trapped inside. There was talk of missions to the countryside and into the cityh to gain the supplies of those that hadn't kept themselves shielded. Radiation was quick on foodstuffs and on the ready meals and tinned goods it was fast enough to leave the food virtually unaffected. Rations were good for the moment, the advantage of guarding the warehouses, and so this did not bother him much. Volunteers had been requested by Regional Command but so far no one had been willing to brave the maelstrom that had engulfed the centre to rescue some jumped up civvies with a radio. Fuel was short, vehicles at a premium, but they had been trained well enough to conserve ammunition. Sixteen rounds so far used had all been subject to the brass crawling up peoples' arses to make sure it was justified.

And the worst of them was Redbar. He and his unit had been caught topside at zero hour and he'd managed to get them all to safety, and he was bloody insufferable. He'd counselled waiting before going looking for extra food, until the poor sods had been killed by looters or at least until the majority of them had started to leave the shelters. Most, he said, would have fuck all but there would be some sad fuckers who had stored correctly and they would be fodder for the looters. Survival of the fittest. He wasn't certain what to make of Redbar, either he was a genius or the most evil fucker he'd ever known and there was simply no middle ground.