Overgrown: A short story

Overgrown

Manhattan, NY, The Year 4057

Adrian brushed aside some tall grass, and moved through the overgrown street. It had been twenty four years since the fall, and the overgrowth spread far and wide. The tall buildings above casted shadows on the streets below in the afternoon sun. They were partially covered with brambles and vines, creating a pattern of green that before the fall, you could have only seen in the botanical gardens. Adrian emerged from the grass onto mossy street. A stream of water ran across it, only a foot step wide. Where the stream was, the pavement had crumpled in, allowing marine life to pass through this area. Adrian heard a distant crunch of twigs behind him and turned to see a beautiful buck deer standing some twenty feet away. Adrian slowly unslung his hunting rifle, and popped a round into it. He aimed carefully. He only killed one deer every month. That was his rule. Others killed many, many more. As for him, he appreciated nature. He squeezed the trigger and the rifle bucked in his hands. The Buck staggered back and fell, a bullet in its leg. It howled a sound that pierced Adrians heart. He walked towards it, strapping his rifle to his backpack and pulling a first aid kit from the pack. He stepped carefully forward. The deer kicked and shrieked, but eventually settled down enough for Adrian to move up alongside its leg. He reached forward with tweezers and pulled the bullet out. The buck screamed and kicked, missing Adrians head by mere centimeters. Adrian waited a few minutes and bandaged the leg, only after pouring some antiseptic on it. The deer slowly got to its feet and backed away, bowing its head in his direction. Adrian waited till it was gone, and continued walking. He moved through brush for hours till he heard a rustling in some grass. He shouldered his rifle and fired, hitting a squirrel. He opened the shopping bag he carried attached to his belt loop, and dropped the squirrel in. He walked a few feet, stopping when he noticed a vine of Blackberries hanging a few feet from the overgrown wall of a building. He walked towards it and pulled at it, yelling when something slithered from the vines. A full grown copperhead. Adrian pulled at his rifle, getting it up in an aiming position. The snake lunged, and Adrian fired. The bullet smashed through the snake's head, and the snake fell, brushing against his shirt and landing with a thump on the ground. Adrian fired a few shots into the vines, just to make sure nothing else was hiding in them. When he was sure, he reached up and picked most of the Blackberries from the vine. He checked one of his jean pockets, and pulled a plastic baggie from them. He dropped the Blackberries in, and closed it, putting it back in his pocket. Wind whipped through the empty streets for a couple seconds, rustling Adrian's hair. He turned, and walked back the way he had come, watching out for any hostels. He was suddenly tired. Barely any vehicles were able to run anymore, most had been choked with overgrowth, others had been abandoned because of lack of fuel. Adrians camp was near the now abandoned and overgrown Central Park Zoo. A Lot of the animals within had left, but some, like the alligator, remained. Adrian had specifically chosen a ticket booth as his home. He smiled. Nature was awesome. He settled into the booth, closing its door and barring it shut. He had a beanbag chair, blanket, flashlight, backpack, solar powered camping stove and tiny shelf inside. He pulled the squirrel from the shopping bag and cleaned and skinned it, finally turning on the stove and putting it in a frying pan. He put it on the stove and waited, occasionally flipping it with his spatula. He disposed of its remains through the front window slot, into a bucket beneath. He then boarded back up the window slot. He checked the squirrel and plated it on a small paper plate. He grabbed one of his plastic forks and started to eat. It was surprisingly good. After he was finished, he turned to a stack of books and comics he had, and continued reading a copy of Mary Shelley’s The Last Man. It was a good book. After a while, the light in the booth faded, and so Adrian turned on his flashlight. He would read for hours, until he turned off the flashlight and fell asleep, and he would wake in the morning to eat the leftover squirrel for breakfast.