Jobs
1033 Words
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Right now, she's smirking as she's smoking her cigar. Her lips are chapped and her face is full of dirt and b**d. Her hair is cut short and her armor is shattered except her metal cape. She's sitting on a pile of rebel corpses, not disturbed by the stench they let out. She's used to it.
“These bastards...,” she scoffs, half-smiling. “They won't let me finish my cigar in peace.” She sighs, letting out the smoke from her nose and mouth.
“My lady,” says a demigod kneeling from behind. “I'm afraid that we've run out of supplies for the soldiers. All of us without powers are fighting with our bare hands and could not efficiently defeat an opponent with guns. Even the people inside the dome are starving and tired. They are dying of starvation and most of them could not pray for you anymore.”
“Well, that's unfortunate,” she says like she doesn't care, continuing to smoke. “I can fight without prayers, so don't worry.”
“I've heard that the other towns surrendered and they have been treated well. I suggest we surrender, my lady!” he speaks his mind, closing his eyes.
She laughs hard in the middle of the lifeless battlefield. The dead could almost shiver into life because of her madness. “It's been a while since I laughed that hard, general!”
“Pardon me, my lady?”
She turns and smirks over her shoulder. “We will never surrender. We will fight 'till the last woman and child. Do you have something to say that makes sense against that, general?”
Still kneeling, he bows his head, to hide his slightly gritting teeth. “None, my lady,” he says.
“Good. Now, get back to your post.”
“As you wish, my lady,” he bows, standing up. He turns around, frowning.
Upon revisiting his post, his men gather around him. They're the captains of squads under his command. They meet at the entrance of the dome.
“What did she say, sir?” asks one of them but his face is enough to tell them. “I knew it,” says the man, looking to the side, enraged.
The general says, “She said we shall fight until the last woman and child.”
They begin to speak in chorus, expressing their objections.
“That's madness!”
“Unbelievable!”
“She's gonna s*******r us all!”
“Even children?”
“We saw how she sacrificed Olympus Mons to defeat the enemy but this is just going too far!”
“My comrades,” says the general, bowing his head. “I'm sorry to say that I might betray her.”
“Then we're with you, sir!” one of them speaks out.
“Yeah!” others agree.
(On Earth)
The grumbling of the engines of machines whir and crank in this city being rebuilt from the ground up. In the continent of Columba, there's one faction that dominates. Laborers come from over the continent to earn. Most of the survivors of the apocalypse gathered here to start new lives. As a result, in this new city, it's as if the apocalypse never happened. Although, the buildings aren't as tall as the ones that existed four years ago.
A lad that's been rescued by Leo and Yanmei has arrived, witnessing the bustling city, beginning to grow faster than anyone would expect. Children are playing in the muddy streets, restored cars driving down the road, and vendors advertising their products to people passing by. He goes on walking to the center of the town, hoping that there will be someone willing to hire him for at least any blue-collar job despite his thin body.
Finally, he finds a sign on the fence beside the gate of a construction site. It says, “Still Hiring” written with charcoal on a broken piece of plank. The writer of this sign might have miscalculated for “a bit” and reduced the size of the words “Wage: 100 drachmae per day” at the bottom of the first two words.
*Drachma is the worldwide currency since ancient Greece.
“This is good enough,” the lad says to himself. So, he enters through the gate and didn't expect a truck to be heading towards him. “Argh!” he screams, leaping to the right. He trips, falling into the mud.
“Watch out, you fool!” screams the driver as he drives the truck to turn left.
“I'm sorry!” the lad apologizes, sitting on the muck and wiping the mud off of his face.
He stands up and looks around if anyone saw the embarrassing clumsiness he did. It seems that no one is paying attention. The men just keep on doing their tasks, carrying sacks of cement, sand, and other construction materials. They look as rugged and dirty as he is.
Like a tortoise stretching and twisting his neck, he looks for the man in charge of this construction. He tries his best to avoid getting in the way of the men lifting heavy things.
“Yo!” someone calls at him.
He turns around and it's a guy that looks as young as him, in his mid 20's. His hard hat is so old that the color yellow plastic it's made out of is barely noticeable. His complexion and body suggest that he's been fed well. Like every worker on this site, his clothing is dirty. His red t-shirt is full of grease and rust and his jeans are soaking wet that moss could grow on them.
“Oh, h... hello,” he says, unsure of his tone and words. “I'm looking for-”
“A job?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me ask your name.”
“Marco Mijares.”
“Okay, Marco,” the man smiles. “call me, Benjamin. Let me take you to your station.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” he says, smiling and leading the way into the building in construction.
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- Writer
