Free American Apocalypse by Nova Page A

McDonald’s down the road. The last time I had been down that way it had been open. They agreed, and I rode down there on my bicycle to meet them. They turned out to be a middle-aged couple. She was eager to take my money; he was reluctant to part with the saber. It came with a belt and hanger—I liked it a lot.
    Back in my room, I couldn’t get the sword to hang right from my waist. I kept tripping over it or catching
it on something. I felt as if I had a tail growing from my side. I decided to wear it over my shoulder instead. When I wore it that way and looked in the mirror, I could almost imagine myself as a ninja. I sat there and spent some time thinking about my plan. Not a lot, maybe five minutes. It just didn’t seem all that complicated to me.
    I logged in, played some Halo , and then logged off to go find something to eat. I went down to the clan’s common room and raided the refrigerator. I gave Night money every week to pay for this privilege. Night came in as I settled down at the table with my bowl of freshly nuked soup.
    I ate a lot of noodle or rice soup here. Nowadays, I was just about a vegetarian, as meat prices had become so high that no one I knew could to afford to buy it. Once in a while the main clan would send a few pounds of fresh meat to us—usually burger, probably cow, but you never could be sure. I am sure that a few ponies went missing. There were very few squirrels to be seen anymore. I suspected a direct correlation between meat prices and their absence. Dogs were also not seen as much anymore.
    I was sitting at the table, trying to be patient enough to wait for the soup to cool down so I would not burn my tongue again. Night had helped herself to the same soup. We were sitting there, slurping together, after having done the ritual “Hey, what’s up?” She was eyeing me curiously.
    “What is that on your back?”
    “It’s my sword.”
    I had worn it to eat because I wanted to get used to the weight. She nodded her head solemnly and then sprayed soup out her nose as she burst into hysterical laughter. She would begin to catch her breath, look at me, and go
back to laughing. I finished my soup, rinsed the bowl out, and headed out the door. She called out something to me, but I didn’t catch it, as she fell into another bout of laughter. I failed to see what was so funny. And I decided to rethink how I was wearing it. I resolved to cover it up a bit when I went out in public.
    I was determined to do it that night: It was payback time. Since they hadn’t given me any warning, I wasn’t going to give them any. I set the alarm for 3:00 a.m., the time when men’s souls are the least tethered to their bodies. I dressed in black and green and stuffed my mask into my jacket pocket. I pulled on the backpack and headed out the door. It was quiet; no traffic was moving on Route 50. The moon was two-thirds full, which was nice. I was going to need the light. There was a nice downhill slope to the road, which I only planned to be on for a handful of minutes. Then it would be paths and parking lots until I got close. It was nice being out at this time of night. Peaceful. I startled two deer that were browsing on the grass that grew next to the path. They bounded away from me in graceful leaps. Like squirrels and dogs, free-range deer were ending up on a lot of dinner tables. I left my bike in the same place I had on my first visit. Symmetry of action: I like that. I pulled the saber from its sheath, which was stuffed into an empty gym bag, leaving the sheath in the bag on the bike’s basket. I walked up the path listening to the night sounds of the forest.
    As I drew closer, I was able to hear sounds of the Tree People. Someone was snoring under a tarp tent across from the dead fire. The place looked the same—no reason it shouldn’t. There hadn’t been a storm, and it was less than a month since I was here last. I decided to start at the
blue tarp tent and work my way to the mansion, where