A YEAR UNDERFOOT – entry #203

A Year Underfoot


May 10th, 2034

It’s been two days since the Threak raided our camp and I haven’t seen Bagman since. I don’t know if he’s dead, or alive. It happened so fast I’m still trying to piece it all together.

It was early in the morning, just after sunrise, the air was cool and damp and the skies, clear and blue and warbird free. Just the way I like it. It had all the markings of a great day. It really did.

I suppose I let my guard down.

I was tending to the small fire Bagman had started for breakfast while he skinned and prepared a jack rabbit that had wandered into one of his many snares. My thoughts drifted back to the days leading up to the invasion – one second I was walking down Hollywood Boulevard, enjoying the human freak show, – and then the next – Bam! I was knocked back into the here and now, – flying through the air, arms and legs akimbo, smack into the unforgiving trunk of a large oak tree.

I lost consciousness when I hit the tree. I don’t know how long I was out, – a few minutes, at least. When I came to, I was lying on the ground in the fetal position, coughing uncontrollably, with smoke in my lungs and ashes in my eyes.

The trees surrounding me were ablaze.

I reeled to my left side, rolling over my blaster as I did so. I scooped it up and yelled for Bagman, but between the roar of the flames, and the screech of the incoming warbirds, my cries were lost in the din.

I had to get out of there.

Another round of plasma shells slammed into ground. The concussion wave they created was great enough to temporarily snuff out a section of flame, allowing me to slip through the fire line and race down the hillside. I ran nearly half a mile before I looked back to find the area I’d just left fully engulfed in flames.

And, still no sign of Bagman.

I watched as the three warbirds hovering fired another cadre of plasma shells into the hillside.

The ground shook under the impact.

The firestorm was short and sweet. Not a tree was left standing, nor, for that matter, any signs of life left at all. The area is a loss, and with it, the perfect vantage point to keep tabs on the air base.

But, more importantly, Bagman, where are you?

It s been two days, brother.

Where are you?



About paul nevins

Fiction writer, reader and baseball fan.
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