THIS SILENT NIGHT
A lone trumpet sounds. Timothy awakens, feelings of loathing and terror cause a shudder to pass through his aching body. Ever since being transferred to his new work assignment, he has dreaded sleep. “Damn, these dreams are almost as bad as being awake” says Tim. “Shut the fuck up, you know we all have them, every night” growls Demetrius.
Ever since the “Awakening”, the name given by the Chosen to their new world government, the barracks of the forced labor camps were continuously bombarded with electromagnetic transmissions specifically tuned to the human brain's natural frequency. These transmissions interfere with normal thought processes and also implant the recipients with terrifying images and punishments should they think to rise up against their masters.
Bunked together since they were transferred to the New City, Timothy and Demetrius shared many things together, but their strongest bond came from their shared hatred of the Chosen, and the Khazars who carried out the Chosen's every order with an enthusiasm that defied all reason.
The Khazars were a strange breed, with their long hooked noses and black, greedy eyes they reminded one more of some type of cosmic “blue plate special” than actual human beings, something an insane chef could not bring himself to throw in the trash and instead served up his unwitting customers this poison, disguised as a culinary masterpiece.
“Get your ass moving Tim, I'm not gonna miss my dose again 'cause you wanna drag ass”. As part of their daily routine, the “cattle” were given a cocktail of opioid pain relievers and amphetamines with their morning ration of food, so they would be more compliant in the grueling physical labor they were forced to perform 16 hours a day in the farms.
“Go on without me Dem, I gotta piss so bad my eye's are watering, I'll be right behind you”.
Tim had been a Marine back when the area known as the United States had been completely decimated by a genetically engineered virus that had mutated from the Gulf of Mexico oil spill catastrophe. Starting with birds and sea life, the virus had trans-mutated and began infecting mammals and then humans. With lightning speed, death tolls spiraled into the hundreds of millions before the virus once again mutated and no longer was lethal. But by then, it had spread around the globe and caused billions of horrible deaths.
Corpses soon overwhelmed the survivors and from this nightmare of horror the Chosen arose to power and offered a solution for survival to the broken and hopeless remnants of humanity. Their “solution” was the farms. These ghoulish operations, wrought from the minds of demons and thrust upon humanity from the bowels of hell, were nothing more than processing plants to render the dead of humanity into a viable nutrient solution for the growing of all manner of crops and fruits for the Chosen, and their minions of Khazars that had for some reason been spared the effects of the viral apocalypse perpetrated on the rest of humanity.
Tim hurried to the rations line, and pushed his way up to the spot where Deme was standing. “This shit is getting old, we got make our move soon Deme”. “Shut up asshole, they're gonna know somethings up”. Furtive glances from the “cattle” gave Demetrius a bad case of the chills. No one could know of their plans.
to be continued.........