Yesterday's Tomorrow - Nathan Wolf, Wolf (inspirational books to read txt) 📗

for confirmation. "Oh, no! Not that that'll be gross," her eyes widened in alarm as I pointed to the stainless steel cooking pot.

"You have three choices: pee in the pot, pee in your pants if you wore any, or go pee with the pythons." I knew her dilemma wasn't funny, but I couldn't keep from chuckling.

Holding the flashlight aloft for illumination, I watched as she straddled our improvised toilet and squatted down. Alice let out a plaintive yelp when her bare bottom made contact with the ice-cold stainless steel rim.

"Squat, don't sit unless you want a frozen fanny," I let out a sympathetic laugh.

Alice made a face, stuck her tongue out, hunched down, and with a little grunt kicked her sprinkler system into high gear.

I scrambled to get dressed in the near freezing air as my scrotum tried to pull everything inside of me in an effort to keep the family jewels snug and warm. My nuts were responding to the same instinctive response to the chill air which caused Alice's nipples to become stiff and hard when cold. Her body tried to protect the twin sisters from getting frostbite by increasing the blood supply to her milk outlets, all of which made summer trips to the frozen food section of supermarkets such an enjoyable experience for voyeurs. Humans are hardwired to stay sexy and productive for as long as possible. How else could we have managed to survive the ice age? At least, that was my theory.

When I came across something which sparked my curiosity, I often concocted a theory to answer the question, "Why is this or that like it is?"

I never bothered using Google or Bing to find out if my guesses were correct. If they were? Great. But if they were wrong, it would be proof I needed to get a life and stop wasting my time pretending to be smart. Frankly, I wasn't eager to find out if I was using brain cells thinking about bullshit.

I was more awake than I wanted to be, so I left Alice to her business, retrieved my clothes, got dressed and headed down to the tunnel entrance. I wanted to check things out and snag some fuel for a hot cup of tea. Memo to self: make sure future survival kits include instant coffee, caffeine with attitude.

The tunnel's entrance was wider and deeper than the rest of the cave, and it was a relief to be able to stand upright without banging my head on a rock ceiling. While the air in our cavern was almost freezing, the temperature at the entrance was absolutely arctic. The snow trapped in the crowns of the saplings sparkled and glowed in the light of my torch. The storm had done an excellent job sealing our stone shelter from the weather. Maybe too good of a job.

The air in the foyer was as still as death. I grabbed the base of one of the smaller saplings, pulled it toward me, and pushed it out in an effort to break open an air passage. I could drag the tree inward without too much effort. But, when I tried to force it outward, I could make no headway, even when I pushed with all my might. It was like trying to push a pillow into a sand dune.

I tried another sapling. Second verse, same as the first. I gave the base of each sapling a push. None of them moved. Our shield had become an airless prison. It was unlikely we were in any short-term danger of running out of oxygen. The real threat was being poisoned by carbon dioxide. CO2 becomes mildly toxic at a concentration around a percent or so. Eventually, the atmosphere in the cave would go bad, and we would die of carbon dioxide poisoning long before we ran out of oxygen. We needed to open an air-passage to the outside. Pronto!

"Alice, can you give me a hand down here, I think we have a problem with our air supply." I leaned against the cave walls and used my feet to try to move another small tree. Zilch. Zero. Nada. The damn thing might as well have been a parking meter planted in concrete.

Leaning against the rock wall of the entrance, I caught my breath. My guess? Our sapling shield lay buried under the mother of all snowdrifts.

Imprint

Text: Nathan Wolf
Editing: Nathan Wolf
Translation: Nathan Wolf
Publication Date: 03-07-2019

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
The life of a homeless Vietnam veteran abruptly changes when he stumbles upon a cult of female survivalists. They have been living off the grid for fifteen years. They don't want him there and he doesn't want to be there. They can't let him go - no man alive is allowed to know the location of their home. The can't kill him, for he's done them no harm and he can't stay, because he is not one of them. By the way, it's the dead of winter. Eight months later the Apocalypse really does happen.