Published: 8 Feb 2021

AUTHORS NOTE: This story is fiction and may contain sexual references that are meant only for those over the age of consent. Any reproductions, copies or other uses of this story must have the written consent of the author. All characters are fictitious and bear no resemblance to anyone either living or dead.

The year was 2031, but this story really started a few years earlier in December 2021. The United States had finally come to the conclusion that the world was going to hell in a handbasket.

Their attempts at reconciliation with the many governments around the globe that were embroiled in conflict had come to an end. They finally accepted that there really was little they could do, although some still tried.

The rise of terrorist groups all over the world had now put the financial status of many countries at risk and stock markets began a slide that could not be stopped.

Kidnappings were now almost the norm and there was no end in sight, regardless of who tried to stem the flow. Drugs were now flowing into countries that had previously been clean. Corruption within governments was becoming a standard that even the most devout could not hide.

The wealthy continued to horde their wealth as companies collapsed into bankruptcy and banks failed left and right. For the ordinary, hard working, man or woman there was little let up as their homes were taken and their bank accounts seemed to dissolve overnight.

Welfare and medical assistance was now only available for the very rich and the streets were now full of young people trying to find their next meal.

Europe was no better, In fact, with the influx of unwanted refugees, their situation was even more dire. Police forces crumpled under the pressure as borders collapsed and the people took up arms to defend their homes.

The UN became nothing more than a clearing house for political frustrations and as usual, nothing was done or decided. The countries continued to become more like small police states, as each town or city tried to close its doors to strangers to keep out the unwanted.

By the end of 2021 there were open conflicts all over the world. Any country with even the smallest of gripes now turned to their armies and began to start their own fights. Chaos was now the norm.

Any country that still had their people stationed or travelling overseas now closed their borders and abandoned their people wherever they were. There was no longer any political immunity. A person’s passport was no longer a guarantee of freedom or assistance.

No one knows who fired the first shot. Fortunately all those holding nuclear weapons were more afraid of retaliation than finalising their own little war but the results of that first shot were soon heard all around the world. Conventional warfare was seen as the only way for countries to maintain their borders. They all soon began bombing campaigns against their perceived enemies.

Every form of weapon was used except nuclear. Cities became giant mounds of rubble as first one side, then the other, tried to win a raging conflict. It only got worse as poorer countries ran out of finances to maintain their fight.

Stronger countries slowly took over until they were the only ones left but that did not stop the war. Now it was the turn of the strongest to try to take it all. The result was not what they expected.

With what was left of the world’s wealth, the stronger factions set about the final slaughter. Every means was used to win. Biological agents, diseases and the worst of the arms makers’ art were set upon each other, until there was little left for anyone to win.

Countries were now in the grasp of chaos and only the strongest or smartest had a place in the new and broken world. The new focus was now on survival, money meant little. Now only arms, food or water were the currency of the day.

Families were now so fractured that even the idea of family was becoming a distant memory. Those who were left now banded together for safety, rather than some old fashioned idea of relationship.

Those who suffered most were the city dwellers. Those who had always relied on city services, shops or malls for their daily needs were the first to die from starvation or disease.

Those who were best suited to the new world were those who had been raised in the country or held small plots of land or farms that could be protected by those who held them.

The exodus from the cities only caused more mayhem and death as those who had nothing tried to take from those who did. Again it was chaos and it continued through into 2022.

By the middle of 2022, any form of government was now defunct. Military forces that had been overseas were left to their own devices, that is, those who were left. Ground troops turned into wild armed gangs that took whatever they wanted, naval forces became free roaming pirates and made their own laws.

Air forces now became nothing more than a memory as fuel for their planes had dried up as had all fuel for vehicles of all makes and models. That is, all except the ground forces who had been wise enough to plan ahead and the now pirates who were able to capture fuel tankers and hide them away in places unknown.

The world’s population had taken a massive hit from all the turmoil over the past three to four years. Some smaller countries now had barely enough of a population to even call them a country whereas the larger countries were only ghosts of their former selves.

Had there been facilities to take a worldwide census, the figures would have put the fear of the devil in every one’s mind. From the pre war figures of seven billion people, the numbers now read less than four hundred million.

If those people who survived thought that their worries were finally over when all countries collapsed after the war, they were about to be surprised once again. There was one entity that had not yet had the final say. The survivors were about to find out who really held the power over the world.

The first indication that all was not right in the world came in the form of a chain reaction of volcanic eruptions in the Aleutian chain of islands. But this was only the start.

Over the next five days, five islands became huge volcanoes. The resulting earthquakes also caused a massive uplift of nearly fifty feet of the Pacific plate. The uplift then caused the rest of the Pacific ring of fire to activate and wild roaring Tsunamis rolled across the pacific that drowned most islands and inundated major land masses.

The repercussions did not end there. As the Tsunamis and earthquakes shook the land and destroyed coastal towns and cities that were left after the devastating war, the Atlantic also got in on the action.

The islands of Cape Verde suddenly became great masses of falling rock which also created Tsunamis that rushed across the ocean and drowned towns and cities in both North and South America. Africa was not spared. What little was left of that great land was now fighting for its very survival, as once valuable land became salt laden marshes and whole populations were wiped off the face of the earth.

By 2024 there was little of the known world left as it had been. Mother Nature had taken her last toll on the survivors and no country was even recognisable if one were to look at an old map. Whole coast lines had changed. Where once there were cliffs or mountains, there were now swamps or they had been taken out of all existence. Those that had finally survived now numbered less than fifty million.

The world was almost back in the dark ages. Groups of like minded people seemed to drift together for safety or moral assistance. Every stranger was seen as a possible danger and no one took others at face value.

Somewhere in what was once known as Europe, five teens looked about as they searched for a campsite for the night. They were a motley crew but had found that each one had his own strengths that made the small group stronger. By the end of 2024 the group of five had become tight knit and trusted each other with their lives.

While no one was the out and out leader, most times the boys bowed to the oldest, Helmut Swartz. He’d had experience as a military cadet, as well as being a long time member of the Scouts in his old country of Germany.

Helmut had just turned seventeen in September and was the oldest by a year. He was a very good looking boy and a very atypical German youth. A wiry, lanky frame topped with very blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was always wearing his old Scout’s belt with a very well used, Swiss Army Knife in a worn leather pouch on one side, and the well worn holster of a 9mm. Luger on the other. Helmut had told the others it was a keepsake from his Grandfather’s time in the forces during the long ago World War II.

Next to Helmut was an American teen that had been caught by the war as he was about to leave after a vacation in the former France. Peter Dupree the third was the son of once wealthy bankers in New York. He was now like everyone else, a teen trying to make it through the next day with his small group of misfits. Peter was sixteen and had the build of an athlete but if truth be told, Peter hated sports. His solid build was from genetics and not training.

Next to Peter was a small boy from the old city of London. The only name he would give was Spider. Had it not been for some time spent in London by Peter, none of the others would have been able to understand the slim small boy.

Spider was 5’3” tall and weighed no more than a hundred pounds but the others knew he was like a lit stick of dynamite. The smaller boy seemed to have no fear and his energy levels sometimes left the others breathless. He was just fifteen years old but showed the wisdom of a far older person at times. Spider had paired up with Peter before they met the others and considered themselves to be boyfriends.

Next of the five, was a Spanish teen. His name was Alberto De Souza and he had become closely attached to Helmut. How it worked for the two teens, none of the others could work out as the two boys were direct opposites of each other.

Alberto was slender and stood only one inch taller than Spider. His skin was tawny and he had the usual flashing dark eyes of a Spaniard. He also had the temper to match. Alberto was also fifteen.

The last in the group was a fourteen year old French Moroccan teen. He had given his name as Pierre Fouse and was the colour of dark chocolate. At 5’7” he was also slender, with the same dark flashing eyes as Alberto, but he brought to the group an understanding of nature that far exceeded any of the others. Pierre’s dark curly hair never seemed to be out of place and it gave him a small, dark skull cap that looked just right on his slim frame.

Pierre was the only one without a friend to keep him warm at night but the others always made sure to include him in everything else. There was even a plan afoot to try to find someone for the boy. At the moment the five boys worked together like clockwork in whatever task that they came across.

While each boy was different, there were now similarities. Each boy was armed with weapons scrounged from private homes, defunct police stations or found lying in the streets.

They all carried a backpack with spare clothing and small nick nacks that were now precious to them as memories. In a shoulder knapsack they also carried spare ammunition and other smaller private things.

Helmut had his old Luger and carried a 9mm Submachine gun that had seen better days. The date stamp said 1945. He also had a large hunting knife in his knapsack. Alberto carried a 12 gauge automatic shotgun slung over one shoulder and had four finely made Toledo knives secreted about his body.

Spider, being the smallest of the group, had asked Peter to cut down a side by side 12 gauge to carry and also had a Gurkha Kukri tucked in his belt in the middle of his back. He had found it, while trying to save himself from a flooded street, in Lyon, which is where he was found and saved by Peter. He also had at least two fine cut-throat razors somewhere on his body. The other boys never knew how or where he kept them, but they had seen him sharpening them on occasions.

Peter carried a 7.67 Mauser hunting rifle purloined from a large house some time ago. A hunting knife was also strapped to his waist. Pierre carried an old AK47 but had only two magazines and a few extra bullets loose in his backpack. His only other weapon was a nasty looking machete picked up from an antique store in what was once Paris.

Helmut was the typical German youth. He was organised and very correct in everything he did. No suggestion was ever put forward without him first giving it deep thought. Helmut was the one that selected the camp sites and set out the guard place for the camp.

Peter was a very good shot and when they stopped to camp, he was the one that took up guard with his rifle at the ready and a small pocket pair of binoculars. Spider was usually the cook for the group as well as the barber which had been his father’s profession before the trouble started. He was a very good cook.

Alberto and Helmut were the ones to set up the three small tents after which Alberto would go in search of fire wood while Helmut set out a circle of stones for the fireplace.

Pierre seemed to be a natural hunter. In his pack he carried six wire snares that he would set out as soon as they stopped to make camp. He very rarely came back without some form of meat for their dinner.

The boys had got used to only eating twice a day, a solid breakfast and a heavy dinner. During the day they would sometimes find small snacks or fruit and nuts as they moved.

They did not have any place in mind. The chances of finding a real home were slim to none, so they just kept moving from one place to another to find food or a good place to camp for a while.

They tried to never be seen or caught out in the open. When there was little option and they had to move over open places, the others stayed hidden while Pierre would take to the ground and disappear, while he looked over their probable route. Peter would lay ready with his large hunting rifle in case trouble came their way.

Towns and villages were avoided at all costs unless they were in dire need of something such as ammunition or clothing. Cooking gear was split between them all. It was Helmut who had suggested it just in case they got separated. That way they would not lose everything. Helmut was a very careful boy.

Helmut carried a large map of Europe and would use it when needed even though it was more of a memory of what Europe used to be, than what it was now. As best he could guess, Helmut thought they were somewhere in what used to be Eastern Poland or thereabouts.

They had stopped to make camp on the edge of a large forest with a small stream that ran down into the centre of a wide valley below them.

Spider had the small cooking fire under way and was preparing what few vegetables he had left while waiting for Pierre to do his magic and bring in the meat. Helmut was looking over the well worn map and trying to work out exactly where they were, while Alberto went back out to collect a little more firewood.

The three tents were erected under the trees and were almost invisible from out in the valley. Peter lay on a small knoll with his rifle standing on its bipod and the caps off both ends of the Zeiss Ikon scope. The binoculars were up to his eyes as he scanned back and forth.

It was a sudden noise off to his left that made Peter turn his head from the valley. Just as his eyes took in the tree line, a small figure ran from the dense trees carrying something small in his hands. A second later Pierre burst from the trees and was running after the small figure.

Peter watched as Pierre gained ground on the person and, with a final effort, tackled him to the ground. The item in the person’s hands flying out into the longer grass as he turned to battle with Pierre.

Peter tried to take it all in as the two boys became a tangled mass of kicks and free thrown punches. Grunts and yelps filled the evening air as the two boys battled. It was Pierre’s extra fitness and determination that finally won over the slightly smaller figure.

It was almost an anticlimax when the smaller figure suddenly just gave up, in what looked to be total exhaustion. Pierre looked down at the figure as he tried to suck air into his lungs while he rested his hands on his bent knees.

Peter sat up from his hide after giving the valley one more check. It was not a good idea to forget his real duty. Peter lifted his rifle and closed the bipod before making his way to where Pierre was now straightening up from his little battle.

When Peter got close enough, he saw the smile on Pierre’s face. The figure on the ground was dark haired and as thin as a rail. His unkempt and starving appearance showed he had not been faring to well out in the wilds.

Peter looked down at the dirty, thin boy. His clothes were not much better than rags and his eyes had a haunted look and were deep set into his sockets with dark rings around them.

“Well Pierre, what are you going to do with him now?” Peter asked, in school boy French.

In very broken English, Pierre replied.

“Feed, wash Môn ami.”

“OK, let’s get him back to camp. Did you get anything for dinner?”

“Yes. Good…uhm…how you say…Lapin?”

“Ah yes, Rabbit.”

“Yes, trois…is uhm?”

“Three.”

“Yes…Monsieur Spider is very happy, yes?”

“I think so, very happy.”

“Bon.”

Pierre reached down to the ragged looking boy and offered his hand to help him up. Once the boy had got over his fear and saw that neither of the other two meant him harm, he reached for Pierre’s hand and let himself be hauled to his feet.

“Quel est? votre nom?”

Pierre tried to speak to the boy in French but got only a blank look. Peter tried English and got the same look. He then tried Spanish with the same result. It looked as though they would have to wait until they got back to the camp to find out the boy’s name.

Pierre took the two rabbits from the back of his belt and the one the boy had tried to steal. Afterwards he took one of the boy’s hands. Peter followed along behind as they made their way back to the camp where the others sat around the fire waiting for the night’s meat.

All the fight had gone out of the thin boy. His long, lank, dirty, dark hair had fallen over his eyes as he shuffled along beside Pierre. Peter noticed the boys footwear was more holes than shoes and they had no laces so they flopped as he took each step. How the boy had been able to run was a mystery they would never find out or solve.

Once back at the camp, the other boys looked on in shock as Pierre led his captive into the centre of the small camp. Peter explained that they had tried to speak to the boy in French, Spanish and English but with no result.

Helmut stepped up to the ragged boy and spoke to him in German.

“Wei lautet dein name?”

The boy looked up at Helmut and muttered something unintelligible to anyone there.

“Was hast du gesagt?”

The boy muttered again but still no one understood. Helmut looked at the boy and suddenly he smiled.

“I think he might be Russian or one of the countries close to there. Let me think for a bit, my Russian is sketchy at best.”

Helmut looked at the boy as he let his thoughts range back to his school days. Finally, with a smile, he said to the boy.

“Вы русский?” (Are you Russian?)

“Nyet, Roma.”

“He is Romany, a how you say…gypsy but he does understand Russian.”

“Ask him his name again.” Peter said.

“Как вас зовут?” (What is your name?)

“Dmitri.”

“So his name is a Russian one. It is not unusual for gypsies to hide their given name.”

“He looks hungry and very dirty. If he is going to stay we need to clean him up a bit.” Peter said.

Pierre looked at the boy and smiled at him for the first time. He then knelt next to the boy and asked in French.

“Avez-vous faim?”

Pierre made motions with his hands as though eating. For the first time they saw the glimmer of a smile on the boy’s face as he nodded his head furiously.

Helmut motioned to the nearby stream.

“Вы идете мыть” (You must wash)

The boy looked at the stream, paused and then nodded. Peter looked over to Spider as he sat by the pot and added cuts of the rabbit to the vegetables already waiting in the pot.

“Can you get him some soap from your pack Spider? And we might need your talent for cutting hair afterwards.”

Spider just nodded, went to his pack and took out a half bar of soap, next he rummaged around and found a cloth. With these in hand he gave them to the boy and gestured to the stream.

Dmitri took the cloth and soap then after looking at the boys around him to make sure they were not going to disappear, he scurried off to wash in the stream.

Dmitri returned much cleaner than he had arrived although his hair would need attention in a big way. Peter looked at Helmut as he waited for the boy to ask the question they had discussed while Dmitri washed. Helmut turned to see if Spider had done everything needed to get dinner cooking before turning back to Dmitri.

“Теперь мы подстричься” (We will cut your hair.)

Dmitri nodded and then looked around and shrugged his shoulders. It was obviously a gesture to ask how he was going to cut his hair. Helmut pointed to Spider as the smaller boy pulled his knapsack to his side, his cooking duties now on hold as the pot began to bubble over a low fire.

When Dmitri saw Spider pull out an old leather roll and then saw they held a number of barber’s tools that were well maintained along with a pair of hand clippers from his bag, he nodded his head in agreement. Dmitri then took hold of his long lank hair and ran his fingers right down to the scalp and looked at Spider in askance.

Spider was not as slow as some thought. With a smile he looked at the now cleaner boy and nodded.

“Number one it is then.”

With a metal comb in hand, Spider set about cutting the dirty hair close to the scalp. Not once did Dmitri try to stop him or even suggest he could feel a tug as his lank hair caught in the blades of the hand clippers.

As Spider clipped away, Helmut turned and whispered to Alberto. His boyfriend glared at Helmut before saying out loud and with a certain amount of anger.

“Ellos son mi último, ¿por qué debería yo?” (They are my last, why would I?)

Helmut got a look on his face that boded no good for Alberto if he refused.

“Because I ask you to help our new friend.”

Alberto mumbled something under his breath before turning away to begin searching through his own backpack.

TBC

Critiques, complaints, suggestions or adorations gladly accepted. Arthur at CastleRoland dot Net

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