Chapter 15

Welcome Wastelanders to the Post-Apocalyptic Joe in a Cinematic Wasteland Audiobook Podcast! My name is Joe Gillis, and I’m the writer and narrator of this Serial Fiction Series. We’re in Chapter 15 this week, but there are more chapters headed your way, so be sure to subscribe.

Also, if you stay until the very end, you’ll get a peek behind the page with a quick tidbit about this chapter.

The story so far…

After the nuclear destruction of Earth’s topside, Joe found himself alone in his Titan One missile complex. His MECHA tech no longer worked, nor did any of his computers or clocks after a fit of frustration from his failing memory. He no longer knew how long he had been trapped underground, and the loss of everything—and everyone—finally broke him. Then he was surprised to discover he wasn’t alone after all.

Let’s find out what happened next…

Chapter 15

When the world as we know it came to an abrupt end, the typical things that might scare someone wasn’t what scared me. Nope, the scariest things weren’t whether or not I’d live or die, it was the possibility of spending the rest of my life alone. I had just discovered that I was not alone, and I was freaking out because I was darn sure everyone had made it out of here. But I was wrong. Possibly dead wrong. And that made me panic. So I began searching around the room, trying to spot whoever was talking to me.

“Who was that?” I implored.

“It will be okay, buddy,” The mysterious voice said in a soothing way. “I’m here for you.”

I looked around frantically. There was no one there.

“Are you invisible?”

“What do you mean?” The mysterious voice questioned before telling me what he thought was the obvious answer. “That’s impossible. You know that.”

“Huh?”

“Really, Joe? Dude, don’t play me like that.”

I couldn’t see anyone as I asserted to myself, “That blow to my head must have been worse than I thought.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. What were you thinking, staying up there with a nuclear bomb dropping nearby?”

“Where are you?”

“Dude, I’m down here,” he declared.

I glanced down at the couch. “The only thing here is my tennis ball.”

“Come on, man, don’t do me like that. I’m so much more than a tennis ball, and you know it. I don’t call you a bag of flesh and blood, do I?”

I thought about it for a second. “No, you don’t.”

“Exactly, so I prefer you judge me by what’s inside of me.”

“A hollow rubber core?” I was a little confused by the question.

“No, dummy. What makes me… me. You know, the whole ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ and all that,” he said like it was super obvious.

“Okay, what’s your name?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew the answer. “Is it Bally?”

“It sure is, buddy,” he said like he was happy I remembered. “It sure is.”

I smiled, proud of myself for remembering his name. “I’m really glad I found you. I thought I was going to have to be down here all alone.”

“I’d never do that to you. I’ll always have your back,” he continued. “So what do we have on today’s agenda?”

“Just flipping through static, hoping to get some news on what happened.”

“Sounds interesting. Could I throw out another idea?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe we could give each other makeovers?”

I gave it a moment of thought and then announced my decision. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“Great, I really would like to have some eyes and a mouth.”

I nodded my head in agreement.

“Dude, didn’t I just say I don’t have eyes? I need a verbal acknowledgment.”

“Yes,” I answered as Bally cracked up.

“I can’t believe you fell for that!” he said, laughing. “Think about it.”

“Okay,” as I took a moment to process what he was saying before admitting what I really thought. “Actually, it makes sense to me that you would need eyes.”

“I don’t have a mouth and you can hear me speak, right?”

“Yes.”

“Same principle.”

“Oh, okay.”

He continued. “I just think it would be easier for you.”

“Ah, that’s so thoughtful of you, Bally,” I declared while smiling at Bally.

“Of course, I’d do anything for my best bud.”

“We are besties, aren’t we?” I said with a huge grin. “BFFs, right?”

“You know it, best friends forever!” he exclaimed. “Now let’s get a mouth on me, so you’re not the only one smiling.”

I searched the room for my permanent markers and found them in a box I hadn’t unpacked yet.

There I was drawing his eyes on, thinking about how much better things were now that I had someone else down here with me.

“Bally, I’m so glad I found you.”

“Me too, buddy,” he said as I put the finishing touches on him, giving him a mouth.

I held up a mirror so Bally could see himself. “Alright, you’re all done.”

“Dang, I look good! Great job, Joe!” he said while checking himself out in the mirror. “Now what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, we are now in a post-apocalyptic future. Do you have anything that you can wear that fits our new setting?”

I contemplated it for a moment.

Yes. Yes, I do.

Suddenly, it felt like I was in an ’80s suit up montage as I donned the pieces to the outfit I had created for promoting the Robotic Overlord MECHA IR environment. I dramatically threw on my leather jacket with its motorcycle-armor-style shoulder pads, and adjusted the belts riveted on either side of the shoulder pads. Next, I strapped shin guards over my boots, and finished with a pair of gloves that matched my outfit. To top it all off, I latched my personal radiation detector to the belt I was wearing.

“What’s that?” Bally asked. “It doesn’t seem very post-apocalyptic.”

“It’s my personal radiation detector. It will let me know if the radiation levels are unsafe in real time.”

“Got it.”

“Max used some sort of Gieger counter to check the water for radiation when he was in Bartertown, so I’d say trying to detect radiation to stay safe is pretty post-apocalyptic. You just didn’t see them wearing personal radiation detectors. But you know, they probably should have.”

“Smart. Very practical.”

“I could weather it with some paint to make it appear older than it is.”

“Will that affect its accuracy?”

“Not if I stay away from the detectors.”

“I like the idea of that.”

It didn’t take long to gather up the supplies—some paint, brushes, paper towels, and windshield washer fluid. As for my person radiation detector, it was pretty small, about as thick as a few smaller smart phones combined, and around the same height and width, about 4 inches by 2.5 inches. The black impact resistant cover with belt clip over the whole back gave it the appearance of a pager, especially since I wore it on my belt most of the time. Luckily it was bigger than a pager, so I didn’t look like I was an ’80s drug dealer or something. It had two display screens, one large display screen covered most of the face and the other a top-view for quickly assessing any radiological threats. I’ll be honest, my favorite feature was the ability to search with radar and find the source of the radiation. The built-in radar screen reminded me of something like the motion tracker from Aliens with five upside-down triangles coming together at the tips to form the radar sectors in a half-circle, spiderweb style display. Instead of a blip showing you the location of the radioactive material, it worked more like that game where you’d say ‘hotter’ or ‘colder’ with arrows on the top pointing right or left and the bars in the upside-down triangle sections growing to guide you in the direction of the radioactive material, helping zero in on the source of the danger.

On the plus side, I hadn’t used it in a real-world situation. On the negative side, there was a good chance I would need to use it now. I’ll be honest, I bought a bunch of them and never thought we would have to truly use them. These were just a safety precaution for me and the crew working down here since this used to be a nuclear missile complex. It’s better to be safe than sorry, and who knew what we might uncover during construction.

My radiation detector was still in practically pristine condition, even after all the use it had. This wasn't by accident—I was very careful with my possessions. It wasn’t in my nature to just toss things around or do anything that would naturally distress them. I took good care of my stuff. My comic books, books, DVDs, CDs, video game cartridges or discs, most everything thing I owned, were kept close to the condition I had bought them in, which is funny since I loved how it looked when things were aged or distressed. Heck, I distressed most of my models, costumes, and props. Through trial and error, I had figured out a lot of techniques for aging items—well, that and by watching YouTube channels like Odin Makes. I had learned a ton of stuff from him like how to dry brush.

It was pretty simple, dab the brush into the paint, and then wipe most of it off by brushing back-and-forth on a paper towel until it barely had any paint left on it—hence the term ‘dry brush.’ Even though the impact resistance case was made out of something plastic, I used metallic paint along the raised points and edges, dry brushing wherever it seemed like something would have contacted it or been worn down by use, like the two buttons below the screen or the ones on the side. I had to admit, it was a little odd weathering something that I actually used, since I hadn’t worn it down in any way remotely close to what I was doing.

Satisfied with my ‘worn-out’ edges, I added some grunge to it by watering-down my black acrylic paint with windshield washer fluid and applied it wherever dirt might build up. To create lighter sections of grime, I used a paper towel to pat up some of the paint. Within no time, it was dry and ready to use.

There I was, in front of a mirror with Bally by my side, when I realized it was missing something. “It’s nearly there, I just need something else, right?”

Bally chimed in after mulling it over in his mind. “Your vintage aviator goggles!”

“Yes!”

After finding them, I threw them on so they were sitting on my forehead.

“Look at you! Perfect!” Bally declared. “Post-Apocalyptic Joe is in the house!” 

“Heck, yeah!” I responded excitedly. “This feels right, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does,” Bally confirmed while I was acting tough in the mirror. “It sure does.”

Everything seemed to be right in the world for a moment… until an alarm went off.

That concludes Chapter 15 of Post-Apocalyptic Joe in a Cinematic Wasteland. Written by Joe Gillis and read by Joe Gillis.

Well. Well. Well. Joe just can’t seem to catch a break… you know, scratch that, because he’s most likely way better off than any stuck above ground.

What will happen to Joe next? Stay tuned to find out next week. Until then, let’s dive into that promised peak behind the page.

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room… the super small elephant…

So he’s talking to a tennis ball? Yes, that he is. If you didn’t catch it in the previous chapters, Joe doesn’t do well on his own. He very much needs companionship. He had that with Maya and Sanjay, and to make matters worse, he used to fill up his free time by watching movies—and those are now gone, too.

Now he’s been alone for who knows how long, and something deep down inside of him knew he needed a companion since he was going to be stuck down there for a long time. I decided on a tennis ball because it was something that already helped him in the real world, and also linked him to his friends.

Even though Maya would always get made at him for bouncing it on the wall, it became a fun thing to joke about for Sanjay and him. So I felt he would have had those good memories tied to the ball. Plus, he was using most of the time he thought about them, so there was that.

How long will it take him to realize Bally’s not real? Well, you’ll just have to stay tuned in to find out, because his world is about to be turned upside down again.

And that brings us to the end of another chapter.

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Thanks for joining me on this crazy journey! See you all on the flip side!

Post-Apocalyptic Joe in a Cinematic Wasteland copyright 2024, Joe Gillis, All rights reserved. This is a Jowagi Production and is distributed by Slacker Entertainment.