Submission

This is a short story based upon the world of Dystopia Rising.

**********

Pain.

That’s one of the first things he always felt. Not pain from the wounds that killed him. No. This was different. This was an agonizing pain. Like being burnt alive. Wanting to scream out and not having the ability to do so. Wanting to run. Flail. Anything to make the burning just end, only not being able to move.

Having absolutely no control.

Submission.

It was probably the most terrifying part of his trips through the gravemind. The submission. It’s what the gravemind wanted from him. What they fought over.

Walker was very proud. He knew who he was and he wasn’t going to let no hill-billy freedom haters make him anything less. He was an in-dye-vidual and that was just fine. But it isn’t what the gravemind wanted.

And so they fought.

Walker squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Ignore the pain. Don’t let the gravemind win. Think of the good things. Think of Merica. Think of Sweet Bella Brook. Think of the great taste of Miller-Weiser. Think of…

Hunger.

He could feel the gravemind putting weight and pressure upon his body. It hurt. It ached. It wanted him to give in. But no. No he wouldn’t. He was born free and he would die free. He would not give in.  Think. Think!

Bella Brook. Now there was a beauty. Sweet blonde hair. Lovely chest. And she looked absolutely stunning when she wore her red, white, and blue and her hat. It made her look so lovely… So tasty… Such ripe flesh…

Eyes flashed open with terror. No. He could not give in. He was Walker! Walker Gettysburg. And that was his lovely sweet girl. His… his… What was her name again? B… B… Barbecue… Yes… Delicious delicious… No need for a drink with all that lovely… warm… crimson…

Walker screamed out in silence. He could not give in. He was Merican. He was for freedom and justice and the Merican way. He would not give in to the gravemind. He would not submit. He was strong. He was proud. He was…

So very hungry.

The pressure on him began to let up. Slowly the pain began to ease. He saw her… what ever her name was… standing there… He let out a soft moan. She was absolutely beautiful and so pleasing to look at. Always had been. It made him wonder if she tasted just as good. He drooled a bit.

He reached out to grab her, to hold her, to pull her close. Just one taste. That’s all he needed.

So very hungry.

There was so much in the way. Dirt. Roots. Twigs. Rocks.

Starving.

He climbed free and looked around with a moan. Starving.

He shuffled forward, arms outstretched. There had to be food nearby.

Delicious flesh.

He stumbled forward with a groan.

“Don’t let them take me!”

Hunger.

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