Note - This is the continuation of a vanity project. A novel written in parts, with minimal editing or fuss. If I like the end result I may gather up all the parts and rewrite them into something better. This is a learning process. I’m a decent writer but a total amateur when it comes to putting a good story together. I’m struggling with incorporating various philosophical and political ideas I wanted to include, so I’m beginning to simply focus more on the narrative.
As I progress certain elements from earlier chapters may be dropped or changed, and as I rewrite the whole thing they’ll be updated to reflect this. Certain details are too sparse, and others are far too descriptive. As I progress I’ll learn what works for my style. I think by the 2nd or third rewrite I’ll have something decent.
This has been a struggle for me, but with each chapter I think I’m working it out. Join me and lets see where it ends up.
You can find parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 here.
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“Man reading should be man intensely alive. The book should be a ball of light in one's hand.”
― Ezra Pound
The next morning began as usual, with a hearty breakfast. Fred seemed a little more reserved than usual. Jon kept glancing over at the book, and at Fred, wondering what the plan was. Fred noticed the glance.
”Alright boy, I’ll read you the introduction and we’ll see what you think”
Fred proceeded to read Zarathustra’s prologue. Though Jon didn’t understand most of it, he was hit with a sense of awe, and a new kind of hunger. He was hit with something altogether new. A thirst for a new sense of awareness, a knowledge of something about himself deeper than the reality he’d known. Fred read with a profound gravitas, his voice taking on a resounding resonant tone. The sheer poetry and flow of the words captured Jon entirely.
Fred finished up: “So, what do you think of that?”
Jon replied hesitantly: “I don’t really know what to think, what does it mean when he says man is something to be overcome?”
Fred: “A few things I think, but I’m not going to lead you there. What I want you to do is this, take the book with you, and every day when we finish work I want you to read for an hour or two. Let’s just say that you’re already on that path of overcoming. Alright lets go, bit of a journey for us today.”
At this point they jumped in the Landcruiser and set off, Jon didn’t have a clue where, but Fred said he had to show Jon something.
They drove for hours, through the same hilly sort of desert, though it became even greener as they progressed. About an hour into the journey the hard-packed dirt ground became a road, black, covered in holes and cracks, but a road nonetheless. They continued ahead. In the distance Jon could see something, it looked like bones on the horizon, rib cages, but far too big. As they got closer he worked out these were buildings, immense buildings, some of them reaching towards the sky itself. They seemed made mostly of metal, though some had glass windows still intact. The whole scene gave Jon the impression of something that was once wondrous, but now gave him chills. Fred narrated as they drove.
”This was an old city, this is a demonstration of the wonders our people used to make. They let all this fall in the name of equality, in the name of those niggers you were forced to live with, in the name of delusions of justice, in the name of guilt!”
Jonathan had never heard him talk like this before, there was a fire in Fred’s eyes that stole Jonathan’s entire focus. Fred continued.
”This city was called Perth, it was relatively small as these things go, but it was the biggest one around here. Did you know these people that built things like this supposedly once went to the moon? Did you know they could fly around the whole world in things they used to call aero planes!?” Jonathan found this ludicrous, but looking around him he found it difficult to voice any dissent. His videos had never shown him anything like aeroplanes as anything but some sort of silly fantasy.
They continued to drive around the ruins, and the sheer scope of this now-dead culture absolutely stunned Jon. As they came through the city on the remains of what was once a vast road (Fred told Jon they were called highways) they could see a dried up river up ahead, the banks running from his left to his right as far as he could see and an impressive bridge going over the top. Fred told him this was once called the Swan River, and noted to Jon how the bridge was now falling apart. On the shoreline there were numerous ruins of strange and wonderful buildings, though all of these were dwarved by the massive ruins further in the city. The whole scope of the place was awe-inspiring. ”What happened to them?” Jon breathed.
”Well, you see they were truly once a great people, but they were manipulated, they lost sight of themselves. They were eventually overrun by the types you see making up the bulk of new condonia. Such types cannot maintain grand civilisations. At the same time various diseases began to overtake much of humanity, and their whole system came crumbling down. You could call it a convergence of catasrophies. Hey.. have you ever even seen another White person before me?”
Jonathan thought to himself, then it hit him, the ONLY White people he’d seen for the majority of his life were cops.
”Just cops” he replied after a minute.
Fred smirked: ”Yeahhh, the cops, but even they weren’t White like you or me, they’re what we used to call mestizos or hapas. Cross-breeds. Our people lost sight of themselves, they let their cities fall apart, they retreated, they fought each other, they panicked over mild diseases and their cures created worse ones, eventually everything fell apart. Now all over this world all that is left seems to be shitty little slum-cities like Condonia, hordes of the worst sorta people ruled over by those slightly better. It’s amazing a guy like you even lasted in Condonia as long as you did. What happened to your parents?”
Jon replied: “I…. I don’t know… they were… taken? I remember screaming. I remember my father yelling. I remember my mother crying. I was very young. All I know is they were gone, and I was left alone, somehow with a never ending supply of credit for food and… entertainment.”
Fred thought for a minute: “Hmmmn, it seems there is something more to you isn’t there? That book” he said pointing to Jon’s bag where he’d stashed Zarathustra. “Where have you seen it before?”
Jon affirmed that he had, that his dad had talked to him about it, but when he tried to remember much about that time his eyes began to hurt and his head felt like it was being squeezed.
Fred: “See, this book would have been great to help awaken our people before they lost it all, but I still think it’ll be useful to ya”
They pulled up at the base of the highest building Jonathan had ever seen, dwarfing what he had even imagined was possible.
”This here wasn’t even half the height of some you would have seen!” Fred said with a melancholic smile.
They had lunch right there in the shade of the ruined tower, enjoying themselves immensely. They both lapsed into silence through this, simply enjoying the view. The city was empty, silent. The only sounds the calls of various birds picking their way through the wasteland. They then spent a good half n hour ‘truck huntin’ as Fred called it, finding various ways to scavenge fuel for his Landcruiser. This didn’t take very long, they found a massive truck sat on its side. Through this process they raided a few other buildings, getting hold of a whole bunch of tinned food, and some other seemingly useless items.
While they pumped in all the fuel they could Fred said: ”This might be my last source of diesel in this here city, I’ve been filling up from this truck for months now, dunno what I’ll do after that, guess I’ll be a lot less mobile. Now I know this city seems completely lifeless, but remember if you ever come here without me. You don’t wanna be here at night”
Jonathan tried to respond with more questions but Fred cut him short. Jon felt a little disappointed, as he wanted to ask Fred if there were any other towns or settlements around.
”I think that’s about enough learnin’ for today eh? Lets go home”
They began the drive back.
As they arrived back at the farm (Home) the sun was setting. Fred told Jon he had some errands to run, and dropped him at the cabin. He seemed tense. He packed a whole heap of canned food and a few other items, and without a word drove off to the edge of the farm out of sight. Jonathan entered the shack, and began to read. The book offered him something special, something new, a perspective beyond anything he’d ever thought possible.
As he sat there reading and pondering he heard a scratch, a loud metallic scratch. It was that hatch on the floor again! All these months he’d got so used to ignoring them that he’d practically forgot they were there. He tried his best to ignore it once more, but the sounds continued, louder and louder. He swore he could hear a faint sort of screaming accompanying the scratching, a strange ethereal screeching. Almost animal-like, but somehow also very human. Jon ignored it, sorted out some basic bread and cheese, and went outside to eat and read under the light of a candle.
Hours later, Fred still had not returned, Jon slipped back inside and began preparing for bed. He wasn’t sure what to do, ever since he’d arrived Fred had been there, he’d always had a guide. He washed himself, and got into bed, thinking he’d simply sleep it off.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! SCRATCH! CLANG!
Hours later he awoke to a loud banging. It was the hatch again! The scratching continued, but it was accompanied by bangs and a strange guttural sort of whining. It reminded Jon of something he’d heard before from the goats, an animalistic whining, but with something…far too human about it. There was a panicked sort of urgency about the scratching and banging this time.
Jon prepared himself to ignore it again, laying down and blocking his ears, but then he heard something that stopped him in his tracks. Did he hear a voice? A voice asking for help? He moved near the hatch and listened intently.
There it was again, the voice. Was it Fred?
He could have sworn it said: “Help!” Loud and agonized, yet somehow distant and weak.
He waited in silence.
”HELP!”
Jonathan jumped up, screaming down at the hatch “FRED IS THAT YOU?”
All he got in response were screams of fear and agony, the strange near-human goat-like screeching, and more panicked scratching and banging. Jonathan ran outside, grabbed the sledge hammer and came back. He smashed the three locks off the edges of the hatch, and began to turn the large central wheel that would obviously open it.
At this point the door burst open, Fred entered wild-eyed.
”WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” he screamed in a panicked voice Jonathan had never heard him make.
As Jon was making excuses he saw Fred’s eyes go wide, and heard a loud clang behind him. Jon turned. The hatch was open. Out of it crawled a nightmare Jon couldn’t have imagined even if he’d tried to.
It was vaguely human. Pale translucent skin, emaciated almost to the point of ridiculousness, it seemed covered in a greasy layer of moisture. Sweat or something else Jon couldn’t tell. Large nostrils with a small nose. No hair on any aspect of its body. As it climbed out the hatch it looked towards Fred so that Jon saw it side on. It was growling and mewing in animalistic ways, and it seemed focused on Fred. As Jonathan made a sound of surprise it turned towards him. At this point Jon noticed the eyes, they were white, all the way through, no pupils to speak of, and it seemed to be sniffing and listening for him. Jonathan suspected at this point that the creature was blind. Its breathing was hoarse, and as it shuffled it hissed. Its mouth was full of extremely sharp and long teeth, that looked like they shouldn’t even fit in the mouth, but they were half black and rotting. It didn’t seem to be able to really close its mouth properly.,
It shuffled its way towards Jon, at which point he noticed its hands, large nails on every finger, long enough to be considered claws. It swung its head side to side, sniffing and listening.
Fred at this point screamed “OI YOU!!” and before Jon could react it leapt straight towards Fred, arms reaching towards his throat. Jonathan screamed and charged with the hammer. It was on top of Fred now, slashing at him ferociously. Fred’s screams becoming a bubbling sort of choking sound. Jonathan swung the hammer at the back of its head, expecting resistance, but it sort of crumpled under his swing, laying down twitching right on top of Fred. Its head practically smashed like a dropped melon.
Jonathan threw down the hammer and dragged the creature off, it was lighter than it appeared, being practically skin and bones.
”Fred! FRED! What the fuck!?” Jon panicked.
Fred was laying on the ground, a pool of blood slowly spreading around him. “Jon, i’m sorry, I should have fucking told ya, shut that fucking hatch will you?”
Jon ran to the hatch and closed it, rushing back to Fred’s side demanding to know what was going on. Fred didn’t answer. He would never answer again. Fred was gone.
Jonathan stood, covered in blood now, looking from Fred to the demented creature he’d dragged next to him. Jonathan fell to his knees and screamed like a child in distress. He cried, he wailed, then eventually, he curled up into a ball and everything faded to black.