[AGttA] Chapter 3.0: Always Yell “Fore”

Continued from Chapter 2.1, here.

Read it from the beginning, starting here.

Last entry, I wrote that I wanted something to change.

Well, that certainly happened today.

I woke up, made myself some coffee and ate a stale muffin for breakfast.  After I’d enjoyed my coffee as best I could (I’d been forced to learn how to enjoy coffee without cream, since there weren’t any cows in the Apocalypse, and I just couldn’t stomach that fake creamer stuff), I headed up to the roof of my building.

Up on top of the building’s flat roof, I grabbed my golf club and the big box of golf balls that I’d dragged up here a few weeks earlier.  Before the Apocalypse, I’d never been able to hit a golf ball, but this seemed like as good of a time as any to master this new skill.

I couldn’t watch any old videos (no power), but I did find some books, including one intended to instruct idiots on how to golf.  Why idiots would need to golf, I don’t understand, but I still read the book.

I placed a golf ball on the putting tee, picked up my driver, and swung the club around.  I held a hand up against my forehead, shading my eyes to watch the ball fly through the air.

“Hooked it,” I murmured to myself, frowning.

After another second, I heard the faint clink echo back, the sound of the golf ball falling in among the rubble.  At some point, I knew, I’d run out of balls, and I would have to head out and figure out where they all ended up.

I dropped another ball onto the tee, hit it, and watched it fly.

This time, however, as I stared out at the fields of rubble spreading out towards the horizon, I caught a glint of light off of something moving.

Something was moving, out amid the rubble.  

I hurriedly tossed the golf club aside and grabbed for the pair of binoculars I kept stationed up on top of the roof.  I scrolled the knob to focus them as I scanned across the area where I’d seen that flash.

There it was again!  As the scene viewed through the binoculars leapt into focus, I spotted the source of movement, zeroing in.

At first, I thought that a backpack was somehow ambulating along the top of the rubble.  But then, the wearer of the backpack paused for a moment in between two large boulders, and I caught my first sight of her.

Rachael.

I, of course, didn’t know this was her name.  I didn’t know anything about her, except that she had dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, a camouflage patterned backpack slung over her shoulder, and a ferocious looking squint on her face.  In some way, her expression reminded me slightly of Clint Eastwood.

I instantly fell head over heels in love.

Maybe it was the loneliness, or the fact that I had half convinced myself that I’d never see another human being for the rest of my life.  Maybe it was the fact that I had, during a dark spell last night, drawn a face on a volleyball with magic marker.  But whatever the case, I knew one thing for certain.

I had to get out there, to where the woman trampsed through the rubble, and make sure that she wasn’t an illusion.  

I had to know that she was real.

I turned, starting for the ladder that led back down – but then paused.  “Hey!” I shouted out at the top of my lungs, waving both hands over my head.  “Hey!  Over here!”

I stared out into the morning brightness, hoping that she’d heard me.  I didn’t see anything from her, however; apparently my voice couldn’t carry that far.

Lowering my hands, I looked around wildly.  I needed some way to get her attention.  By the time that I climbed down the ladder, hiked all the way out to where she now stood, she could be far away.  I had no way of predicting her direction.

My eyes fell on the golf club, hastily tossed aside onto a folding lounge chair I’d dragged up here.  

That could do.

I carefully placed another golf ball on the tee, taking a second to square my hips as I wrapped my fingers around the club’s handle.  I didn’t know how many shots I had at this, so I needed to channel every bit of my limited golfing ability.

The club slowly rose back, over my shoulder.  “Remember, follow through with the hips,” I murmured to myself, repeating the advice from the book I’d read.  If it worked for idiots, it would surely work for me.

I looked up at the glint of the woman’s backpack moving around in the rubble for one last time, mentally crossed my fingers – and then swung the club around.

I heard the “thwock!” as the face of the driver connected smoothly with the ball.  I immediately threw the driver aside, grabbing for the binoculars while simultaneously trying to track the tiny little white dot of the golf ball as it sailed away.

It was heading right towards her!  This was a good sign!  I watched as it dropped down out of the sky, directly where I’d aimed it!  Right at the woman!

In fact, I thought distantly to myself, I hadn’t put any curve on this shot at all.  Apparently, I performed better under pressure!  It was heading right for her…

…wait.  Shit.

“Look out!” I shouted, even though I’d already established that my voice couldn’t carry that far.  “Look up!  Watch out, it’s coming right towards-”

The ball dropped down out of the sky, clonking the woman right on top of her head.  Through the binoculars, I saw her eyes roll back in her head as she collapsed down to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered to myself as I dashed for the ladder.

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One thought on “[AGttA] Chapter 3.0: Always Yell “Fore”

  1. Pingback: [AGttA] Chapter 3.1: Clear Liquids | Missing Brains

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