My life fades…the vision dims. All that remains are memories.
I remember…a time of chaos…ruined dreams… this wasted land.
But most of all, I remember…another time….when the world was powered by the black fuel…and the deserts sprouted great cities of pipe and steel.
Gone now… swept away.
For reasons long forgotten, two mighty warrior tribes went to war…and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all.
Without fuel they were nothing. They’d built a house of straw. The thundering machines spluttered and stopped.
Their leaders talked… and talked…and talked…but nothing could stem the avalanche.
Their world crumbled…the cities exploded.
A whirlwind of looting…a firestorm of fear.
Men began to feed on men.
On the roads it was a white-line nightmare.
Only those mobile enough to scavenge…brutal enough to pillage would survive.
The gangs took over the highways…ready to wage war for a tank of juice.
And in this maelstrom of decay…ordinary men were battered and smashed. As the world fell…each of us in our own way was broken.
It was hard to know who was more crazy.
Me…
Or everyone else.