A Problem of Narrowed Vision
By Mario Esquer
The massive chassis of the Caterpillar loader rocked and bounced as it broke free of the landslide and punched out onto the surface. Mikael thought he could make out the dull, stomach wrenching squish of soft body parts through the steel hull of the bulldozer. The louder pinging sounds he imagined were being made by the crunching of bones being ground to meal.
For three weeks the young miner worked alone, welding heavy metal plates to give protection to the small control seat of the bright yellow dozer. He had been successful in ramming his improvised tank through the cave-ins which had sealed him into the mine, however he had also unintentionally succeeded in mostly crushing his only means to see outside. He and the dozer were out in the open, but he would have to guess at what lay outside of the solid granite of the mines.
Mikael thought he could make out groups of stumbling awkward figures coming towards the rumbling contraption from across the scattered desert sands.
“Mein Got, I am zee only von left.”
The brilliant sun poured blinding through the tiny ruined view slot. Mikael, who had long since given up any sense of direction, couldn’t tell if the sun were rising or setting. The beauty of the yellow beam was caught in the swirling dust blowing into his small control space and it filled his heart and his mind with hope. He dropped the clutch, floored the gas, and headed across the valley, sure that he would find the safety of the mountains in a few hours...
Ten hours later, Mikael stared down at the black needle as it slowly passed the red portion of the gas gauge; at any second his rolling sanctuary would choke, sputter, and die. The mountains could not be more than another hour away, but there were probably hundreds of the things, following the rumble of his big diesel, out there in the darkness. Within his mind’s eye their ghoulish clumsiness was captured in the scant moonlight. The whole of the valley had echoed with the sound of his heavy metal and by now any zombie in earshot would be here, following and waiting.
“It vas vorth the try.” Mikael whispered, patting his canary yellow mount’s shifter as the choking motor ground to a final and abruptly silent halt.
The first muffled pounding noises started only a minute later. They had been closer than he could have guessed. With a resigned sigh the Afrikaner lit his last cigarette and after a long puff and longer exhale he held the red hot end to fuse he had improvised weeks earlier while he and the dozer were still deep beneath the ground.
28 seconds later the explosions of the acetylene welding rig and the rapid incineration of all the oxygen the tanks held was all but dulled by the thick walls of what was now Mikael’s steel plated tomb.
The armed rescue patrol which the huge bulldozer had nearly crushed in its escape from the guarded mine entrance had finally managed to catch up with the great engine. They had been trying for hours to signal it’s occupant with thrown stones and open handed pounding on the inch thick steel armor. For hours these men followed the dozer further into the desert; every moment they followed taking them further away from the safety of the quarantine zone.
It was only now the sun was rising that they noticed the tiny fingers of smoke wafting from the crudely armored front-end loader’s only smashed-in slit of a viewport.
- - -
Mario Esquer is a dreamer and student of social science. His proposed solution to society’s ills would include any or all of the following:
Zombie Apocalypse, Invasion by Martian Tripods armed with heat rays, a world wide Captain Trips pandemic, or giving every household on Earth Beatles “Rock band” and a coke.
By Mario Esquer
The massive chassis of the Caterpillar loader rocked and bounced as it broke free of the landslide and punched out onto the surface. Mikael thought he could make out the dull, stomach wrenching squish of soft body parts through the steel hull of the bulldozer. The louder pinging sounds he imagined were being made by the crunching of bones being ground to meal.
For three weeks the young miner worked alone, welding heavy metal plates to give protection to the small control seat of the bright yellow dozer. He had been successful in ramming his improvised tank through the cave-ins which had sealed him into the mine, however he had also unintentionally succeeded in mostly crushing his only means to see outside. He and the dozer were out in the open, but he would have to guess at what lay outside of the solid granite of the mines.
Mikael thought he could make out groups of stumbling awkward figures coming towards the rumbling contraption from across the scattered desert sands.
“Mein Got, I am zee only von left.”
The brilliant sun poured blinding through the tiny ruined view slot. Mikael, who had long since given up any sense of direction, couldn’t tell if the sun were rising or setting. The beauty of the yellow beam was caught in the swirling dust blowing into his small control space and it filled his heart and his mind with hope. He dropped the clutch, floored the gas, and headed across the valley, sure that he would find the safety of the mountains in a few hours...
Ten hours later, Mikael stared down at the black needle as it slowly passed the red portion of the gas gauge; at any second his rolling sanctuary would choke, sputter, and die. The mountains could not be more than another hour away, but there were probably hundreds of the things, following the rumble of his big diesel, out there in the darkness. Within his mind’s eye their ghoulish clumsiness was captured in the scant moonlight. The whole of the valley had echoed with the sound of his heavy metal and by now any zombie in earshot would be here, following and waiting.
“It vas vorth the try.” Mikael whispered, patting his canary yellow mount’s shifter as the choking motor ground to a final and abruptly silent halt.
The first muffled pounding noises started only a minute later. They had been closer than he could have guessed. With a resigned sigh the Afrikaner lit his last cigarette and after a long puff and longer exhale he held the red hot end to fuse he had improvised weeks earlier while he and the dozer were still deep beneath the ground.
28 seconds later the explosions of the acetylene welding rig and the rapid incineration of all the oxygen the tanks held was all but dulled by the thick walls of what was now Mikael’s steel plated tomb.
The armed rescue patrol which the huge bulldozer had nearly crushed in its escape from the guarded mine entrance had finally managed to catch up with the great engine. They had been trying for hours to signal it’s occupant with thrown stones and open handed pounding on the inch thick steel armor. For hours these men followed the dozer further into the desert; every moment they followed taking them further away from the safety of the quarantine zone.
It was only now the sun was rising that they noticed the tiny fingers of smoke wafting from the crudely armored front-end loader’s only smashed-in slit of a viewport.
- - -
Mario Esquer is a dreamer and student of social science. His proposed solution to society’s ills would include any or all of the following:
Zombie Apocalypse, Invasion by Martian Tripods armed with heat rays, a world wide Captain Trips pandemic, or giving every household on Earth Beatles “Rock band” and a coke.
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