Terminus: A Novella Of The Apocalypse - Plot & Excerpts
Thus, post-Terminus, the world has gradually run down. Like a previously hand-crafted clockworks abandoned to the antipathic elements, our so-called society is shot-through with rust, eat-up with decay, and overrun by neglect. Today, it limps along like the badly broken thing it is. We hear the mechanisms of it grinding together defectively, the apparatus within it wheezing sickly and the pipes connecting it all rattling together like tumbling old bones. Daily, something necessary fails hopelessly, never to return to service. Monthly, the frameworks of our former culture crumbles, never to be recast. Annually, creepers advance, weeds invade, forests threaten, and a desultory dust settles thick over everything, the shrouds of nations and the pall of a dying world. This is our home. To say it is a violently uncertain place is to understate the obvious. It is not a nursery of children. It is not a sanctuary for the elderly. Ubiquitously, we range from youngish to middle-aged, and we are mostly men. While we are not all of us ripped with corded muscle or rippling with wiry strength, every survivor one of us possesses something dark and dangerous hidden silently within. By necessity, we are all mass-killers, spree murderers, serial predators. None of us survived Terminus without suffering violent assault and inflicting it, too. Not a single soul is innocent. None of us are clean. When we close our eyes, visions of our crimes torment us endlessly, and for us there can be no absolution. No redemption. No one can assuage our tortured minds and nothing can relieve our twisted souls.
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