Food, Sex, Respect

By Michael Zoupa

In a post apocalyptic world, there’s no idealism. You’re down to the bare essentials. Food and water. Safety and survival. Everyone is starving, desperate.
If you can’t defend yourself, you die. But also, if you don’t protect your family, you die.
The selfish do not survive.
Suffering from traumatic amnesia, a man struggles to relearn the rules of the desolate earth and not be a burden to his family as they fight to survive in the remnants of a dead planet. Monsters and robots roam the surface, few of them friendly.
Can he protect his family from the survivors of the end of the world?
Can he master his mental state and be the hero that humanity needs?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Feb 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781528987851

Michael Zoupa

Michael Zoupa is a Martial Artist in Melbourne, Australia. He is a straight-edge recovered-addict, a vegan and a personal trainer/holistic life coach. A lover of psychology and the holistic modalities, Michael chooses to utilise his journey and lessons to advocate for others, offering support in twelve step communities and personal coaching for clients struggling with social anxiety, self-actualisation and also in relationship and attachment trauma (co-dependency). Michael sings jazz and performs stand-up comedy outside of his health coaching work as well as teaching Mixed Martial Arts.

Book preview

Waking

You know when you wake up. It takes a few seconds, then you stretch a bit and you remember who you are. You remember your life.

Happens every day.

I blink a few times and rub my eyes with familiar hands and wait for my consciousness to upload.

Nothing.

I have the awareness, that it’s supposed to upload.

But nothing comes.

I have no idea who I am. What I’m doing with my life, how I got here.

Am I late for work? And if I am, which way do I run?

I become aware of the fact that I am actually outside.

It’s still dark but the sun is creeping over the horizon. The light is coming.

I clamber to my hip and look around.

Confused, I make eye contact with a small boy, he must be fifteen years old.

Tanned, ethnicity unknown, but not white.

He’s ‘off-white’.

A small girl is suddenly by his side. They look at each other and run off.

As I clamber to my knees, I see a woman, and a man.

She is skinny, muscular, red-haired. Smiling.

He is darker, surly and strong-looking. He is not smiling.

She slaps him in the chest and he grins slightly.

Looks like we got us another one.

Another one?

So there’s more of me? More bewildered and confused people?

What the fuck is going on?

Where am I?

You’re dead, buddy, she says.

The fuck!

Do you remember how you died?

I have no idea what she is talking about.

So this is Heaven? I say, like a nervous child.

She laughs. Nope. The other one.

The large guy sniggers and walks off.

I don’t know why but I already don’t like him.

So, we’re all dead? Even those kids? I ask.

YUP! she announces. This is the afterlife.

I see the large guy talking to the kids and the boy laughs and the girl nods and stares at me. What are they saying? Are they going to help me?

So, what does one do when they are dead? I say.

She smiles, You have to atone for each of your sins. She nods sternly.

But there’s no God keeping a record down here so you just have to try to remember all of them and then make amends as you go.

I hear the laughter of an old man. He’s on one knee messing with the bolts on a car tire.

So I guess there’s cars in Hell.

Is he laughing at me? Or her. Everyone seems to think it’s funny that I’m here now.

I can’t wait ’til I start remembering my sins, maybe I’ll remember how I died.

We’re in the desert. There’s nothing for miles.

It’s literally just the sand and these people.

Maybe there’s nothing in Hell. Maybe that’s why it’s Hell.

They’re fixing the car though, so where are they going? Or are they aimlessly driving around the netherworld, hoping that they find something that’s not more desert.

Fuck, I am literally depending on these strangers, these fallen angels.

Did I really perform that badly? Did I really not deserve to go to Heaven?

There’s probably only enough fuel to get half way, says the old guy.

We’ll have to walk the rest of the way.

The woman nods begrudgingly, arms folded and then looks over at me with a pained expression. She sighs and starts walking towards me.

We’re going somewhere and you’re coming.

I’m in no position to argue.

The boy nods his head towards the car and I get in with him and the little girl.

He nudges her and looks at me and she starts talking, How are you feeling? says the girl, almost too endearingly.

Um, I’m a little confused, I say and smile.

That’s to be expected, says the girl, surprisingly articulate for her age.

What is your name? I say to her.

I am Leilani.

I nod and extend my hand, she shakes it quickly, Your name is Raphael.

She knows my name?

Like the Archangel, I say. The little boy nods, smiling.

Other common archangels are Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Chamuel, Azrael and Selaphiel also known as Saraqael.

She says it matter-of-factly, like she has rehearsed this speech several times.

She appears to be about nine years old. Come to think of it, most nine-year-olds are keen to show their intelligence and remember things like the order of the planets and the names of all the continents.

I guess it’s not as weird as it feels.

The surly man gets into the tray of the truck and ties himself to the vehicle with some ropes before sitting comfortably with his back to us. He’s really quite large up close which makes him seem even more unfriendly.

The woman gets into the front passenger seat and looks back at us, she looks disappointed in me but then smiles.

Everyone good back there!

The boy nods excitedly, seemingly amused at the woman’s boisterousness.

Leilani says, We are fine.

I am starting to wonder if the girl is a bit traumatised from being dead.

She’s very tense.

What’s your name? I say to the woman.

I’m Barbara, she grins from ear to ear.

The little boy bursts out laughing, like directly in my face for some reason. The woman laughs too and then points at him.

We call him Toto.

So there I am with Leilani and Toto and Barbara.

Everyone laughing at me for being dead.

No idea what’s happening.

I shrug and start laughing as well.

The girl laughs awkwardly but reasonably genuinely and the older man gets in the front seat of the car and scans the car at everyone laughing and smiles warmly before starting the engine and chuckling at himself.

This sets the woman off again and she cackles hysterically at his tiny chuckle which makes Toto laugh again and then everyone simultaneously sighs.

Which is hilarious.

Everyone bursts out laughing again as the car engine starts and I turn back to see the surly guy in the tray looking down the site of a rifle.

I stop smiling and wonder how it’s possible to kill someone in Hell.

We’re Off to See the Wizard

The woman is singing We’re off to see the wizard! and the old man seems amused. They’re clearly making the best of being dead.

We’re going to see someone, says the girl.

I nod at her.

Do not worry. I have all of the information that you will need. I am here to help you.

She is really awkward. But it’s comforting to know that she at least intends to help me. And that she can sense my anxiety and wants to rectify it.

Barbara stops singing and turns to me.

So errrr… You might have to shoot some people in a sec.

I am really confused now.

I don’t understand… I start but she puts her hand in front of my face and cuts me off.

You’re gonna have to get your shit together and shoot some people.

Toto is lying back in his seat, not scared, but not smiling.

He looks at me, more so questioning my reliability than whether it makes sense that people can die in the afterlife.

I’m not shooting anyone ’til you explain to me what the hell is going on.

She frowns.

You’ll start remembering soon.

I will?

The girl, Leilani seems to scan around the car for a moment, everyone is noticeably uncomfortable and the vibe is very, very different to when we got in and everyone was laughing.

I’m not shooting anyone for you, I say.

The awkward, nine-year-old girl sits upright and announces, booming:

THE SELFISH DO NOT SURVIVE.

I’m not sure if it is directed at me or Barbara. Or maybe the others, but she just says it loudly and sits back into her seat.

Barbara sighs and puts her foot up on the dashboard, her head in her hand. The old guy looks at her briefly before looking back at the girl and then continuing to drive into the distance.

I’m kinda glad the girl is here and I don’t know why. It’s weird to have faith in a small child, but she’s all I’ve got right now. She speaks assertively and that eases my lack of certainty.

The old guy points, Look.

Toto jumps up and stands over the seats. Barbara puts her foot down.

It’s a building. Square, metal of some kind.

Like a shed, a shack.

The car slows and as Barbara gets out, the surly guy in the back jumps out, rifle under his arm.

They run around the side and come back, smiling, waving.

The others jump out of the car and I follow.

The building is literally the size of the car and it’s basically just a work bench and a few boxes, the kids start rummaging immediately through them.

Barbara throws a bottle of scotch over to the old man and he smiles and takes a belt of it before looking around.

Toto runs up to me and digs his hand into my jacket side-pocket making me squirm