1st Episode
Goro crouched carefully on the ancient rafter. The prey was somewhere in the ruins below, he could smell it.
Goro knew this place many years ago. There were black staircases that moved people up and down.
He often daydreamed of the magical old world. He vaguely remembered his mother and the little square that showed living pictures.
Years ago, there were things called cars that took people everywhere. His mother had one.
Goro squinted. The sun will go down soon. He had hungry mouths to feed.
Wasting no time, he grappled the vines growing next to the rafters and climbed down. At 27, Goro is one of the best hunters of the tribe. Nothing could escape his bow.
The old world’s roads crumbled beneath Goro’s feet, a skeleton of progress buried under roots and rot. Its ghosts lingered, but they offered no guidance.
Above, the canopy was full of nesting birds; stirring them would end the hunt.
Feeling motivated, Goro started pacing forward.
But as soon as he took the corner, there was a dark man standing boldly over a small hill.
Goro hesitated for a split second and aimed an arrow.
The man didn’t breath nor did he stir.
As he inched closer he realized that the ‘man’ was just a statue.
Goro couldn’t recall this detail. Perhaps he was too young to remember.
These statues were our great ancestors, the tribal chief taught. Nobody was allowed to touch them.
“What happened to the old world?” Goro asked the chief when he was just a child.
“It ended because of sin,” was the answer.
Arriving at the base of the statue, he got on his knees and put his arms up in supplication.
“Oh spirit, give me success in my hunt, amen!” he said while bowing.
Suddenly there was a rustle in a nearby bush and Goro saw a figure rush past.
He got up and dashed. The chase was on.
The biped ran like the wind wearing strange, orange old-world clothes.
“Nobody is people except OUR people,” the chief reminded the tribe while roasting a fresh kill.
Goro jumped over moss covered vehicles and closed in on the kill.
It was a female. Goro remembered his mother.
The day mother died there was fire everywhere.
“By the spirits I command…” Goro started chanting the hunter’s hymn.
He raised his bow, let fly and the shaft tore through the air.
“For hungry bellies I plead…”
Arrow pierced the creature’s side.
“To the hereafter you go!”
Her blood curdling scream made the birds fly away.
Goro stalked his fallen, whimpering prey. The creature started talking in panic, but not to Goro.
Machete unsheathed, he pounced on the woman with no hesitation.
Goro wouldn’t let this thing’s death prattle stop him.
The dark forest of cracked concrete, asphalt and trees fell eerily silent.
Goro swung the knife with surgeon like precision as the creature’s horrified looked on.
The machete’s edge bit through flesh and bone, the whimpering stopped, and the forest fell eerily silent. Goro wiped the blade clean on her strange orange garment, his mind already on the hungry mouths awaiting his return.
(To be continued)