Sick Of Surviving by J. Cordova (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

Sick of Surviving
By
Jose Israel Cordova

Part One

July 3rd, 2012.
11:38 P.M.
Los Angeles.

The sky was on fire. A fierce, rolling inferno started at the southern horizon and shot through the sky at an incredible speed north, noiseless. For 5 minutes the night turned into day. Ten seconds after it passed, all the lights of Los Angeles went dark. Walking outside, eyes still adjusting to the lack of man-made light, Odd saw all the neighbors come out of their apartments and congregate outside, discussing what the hell just happened. He heard most of them speak of God and the second coming of Christ. They REALLY believed that's what it was. Others said it could've been an asteroid, meteor, nuclear device or something of that sort. Extreme cases said it was aliens.
"All I saw was fire,” he thought to himself, walking back into his apartment. He grabbed a pair of flashlights only to find out they were useless. Cell phone, too. Pocket radio, not even static. Nothing electrical worked, even with fresh batteries. He sat, and stared at his moonlit room for a while, as the echoes of hundreds of tires screeching, coming to abrupt crashing ends made their way into his ears from miles around. Lost in a blank stupor for who knows how long, he came back to his senses when the taste of blood overflowed his mouth. He'd been gnashing his teeth. "We're boned." he whispered as he grabbed his backpack, emptied it and threw in his slingshot.
Born and raised in Los Angeles, Odd knew it was a matter of time before the little bit of thread that held this city's sanity together snapped. Walking through the crowds outside and seeing worried faces everywhere, he thought about the people. Most of them, like him, were living paycheck to paycheck, barely making enough to pay the rent each month and having a bit left over to feed themselves. Early in his adult life he came to realize that shared feeling. They've all been getting screwed by society, all struggling each and every day, and given any slight, well placed trouble or further injustice on top of that heavy over bearing load, would cause the population to lose it. This desert city will burn brighter than anything humanity has ever seen, a hell on earth turning all its inhabitants into the demons they unknowingly held inside.
He decided to take Van Nuys Blvd. to his destination, less apartments, more businesses, less people. "Got no ammo..." He scanned the street, no rocks, but plenty of cars, and a lot of them where crashed and abandoned. Odd strolled to the nearest auto, a sedan that had found its way into a compact sports car, and lifted the hood. Took out the spark plugs and threw them on the floor with a bit of force. Picked up the pieces and stuck them into his pocket. He reached the parking space of the shopping center, and saw what he was looking for, the Mighty Dollar store. One problem, they had a metal barricade on the entrance, with no way to squeeze in. Looking around, making sure no John Q. Laws with a strong sense of duty were walking, he made his way around the building, finding a rear display window with no barricade. Quickly he took out his slingshot and placed the biggest piece of spark plug in it, with a flick of the wrist and controlled movement of a pro, he had reached the maximum velocity in 3 seconds. With all his body he swung and released the piece, it barely made any sound, but the 7-foot window was completely shattered. Two boot stomps later, Odd was inside.
Duffle bags are great for storage. He filled up 4 bags with canned foods, crackers and other heavily preserved edibles. Good enough to last a single person over a month. Thinking about what supplies he might find useful or need, he walked around with a duffle bag slung over each shoulder, carefully looking at all the items. Gloves duct tape, wires, screwdrivers, wrenches, hacksaws, and hammers, hatchets- all cheap quality but there was quantity. 6 duffle bags with zippers barely holding its contents flew out the window and landed just outside. A bottle of aspirin caught his eye, "First aid...” grabbed two more bags and filled those with gauze, adhesive bandages, the basic necessities you'd find in a typical first aid kit. After throwing those two bags out, he grabbed a shopping cart with all the wheels working as best as he could find and flipped it out the window. "WATER!" He yelled at himself, "You stupid bastard, we will all need water!". Running back again into the store he chucked gallons into the cart outside, and a couple of cases of the small bottled water.
Staring at the small cart half stacked with water and realizing he could only take 4 of the supply bags with him, he stood there trying to think of what he should leave behind. "Fuck it." Odd didn't look back as he pushed his way home, leaving all the food hidden underneath some bushes. Nearing the apartment, he was a bit surprised to find only a few people outside, now most of them consisted of the many teenagers who belonged to the local crews of the neighborhood. Some of them recognized Odd by sight; but he never got in their way. After unloading and storing all the supplies, he lay on his mattress staring at the ceiling as his body began shaking, then he passed out.


Part Two

It must've been around noon when Odd opened his eyes. Drenched in sweat he quickly got up and opened the windows of his studio apartment. Reaching to open a bottle, he saw the tap still dripping. Stripped out of his clothes and jumped in the shower, relief was felt when the cold running water hit. The quick shower woke up part of his brain, and it was telling him to fill some jugs up before the water pressure eases up. He filled every single cup, glass, bowl, pot, bucket and plastic container he had in his possession. His backpack lay in the middle of the room with its contents spilling out. Candles, matches, lighters, containers of lighter fluid, a few notebooks, pens, a stack of paper, crayons, markers, chalk, tooth brushes, tooth paste, bars of soap and two empty spray bottles.
The knocking on the door made him jump. Before opening the door he yelled, "Hello Irma."
"Odd you sonovabitch open the god damn door, it’s hotter than hell out here."
"It ain't much cooler in here." he opened the door and saw his neighbor Irma with her 7-year-old daughter Iris. "What the fuck happened last night? Don't tell me you slept through it? The fucking sky was on fire! What do you think...”?
"Hello Iris, how are you?"
"I’m okay Odd, How are you?"
"I’m alive."
"Why is there always stuff on your floor?"
"Because you guys always show up when it’s messy in here."
"Always?"
"Yeah, always."
Irma annoyed and demanding attention asked "Odd! What the hell? I'm talking and you're acting like noth..."
"Sky was on fire. Anything that uses electricity doesn’t work. I know. Now can I talk to you later? I got to go somewhere."
"Where are you going?" She asked.
"None of your business. I’ll knock on your door when I get back."
"Okay, be careful."
Irma was a 28 year old single mother Odd met when he first moved in to the apartments. At first he thought she wanted something from him when they began talking in the laundry room, but quickly he realized she was just bored and lonely. Iris was a sweet and smart kid, with a crazy mother and no father in sight. From what Odd could tell she seemed to be growing up fine.
Walking outside to the summer heat felt like getting covered with a blanket. A suffocating, smothering, and in-adaptable heat. Deciding to return for the food he had stashed away the night before wasn't looking like a good choice, either way it had to be done. The shopping center was a disaster when he arrived. There seemed to be a few baggy clothes wearing, bald headed thugs about every 20 feet. The one who saw him didn’t look a day over 11, the kid whistled. Immediately all the guards turned and looked at Odd. An older looking guard tilted his head up a bit “Hey! Where you from?" Odd answered by turning around and running. After about 4 blocks he stopped and sat near a palm tree. "God damn it." Out of breath and drenched in sweat with an over 100 degree heat, the delirium started to kick in. The sun stared and mocked him "Ha… ha... ha... ha... ha... ha..." Or was it his own heartbeat he heard? Either way he flipped off the sun, "You won’t beat me." "Ha... ha... ha... ha... ha...” His exposed skin burned and felt tight, slowly he got up and walked back home.
The sound of shattering glass marked the hour like bells at a church. In the distance the first pillars of smoke stared rising from the east. Most likely the gangs had started looting all the mom and pop shops and sparking off riots. Great time to settle old scores, and stake their claims on the new found commodities. Every so often he saw a few people running with shopping carts full of random things, from breakfast cereal to plasma screens. They had caught on to his actions, but twisted it their own way. What good is a plasma screen when the city is burning and there is no electricity?
Once home, he filled the spray bottles one with alcohol, the other with lighter fluid. He duct taped them to the sides of his back pack, and attached a hammer and a hatchet each to a length of cable wound and bound to the straps. Waiting for darkness didn't take long, the city was over come by shadows and gangs quickly while the sunset. Leaving his house, he decided to head east first, then south for a bit before cutting west to the stores, but first he had to knock on the door next door.
"Hello Odd. MOM, ODD'S AT THE DOOR!" Iris answered.
"Where is Irma?"
"She's in the bathroom."
"Listen, if you guys ever need water, there is plenty in my apartment, just don't waste it. I repeat, Do-Not-Waste-It. There will be trouble and you will need what you can find. In case I don't come back, here is the key. By the way, don't let your mom sell anything in the apartment. Take care."
"Where you going?"
"Out."
He had walked less than two blocks when "What you got in your bag, man?" It was a skinny 18 year old, about a half foot taller than Odd, wearing a baggy blue t-shirt and baggy checkered shorts that looked like a skirt from far away. Odd tried to ignore him, tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead, but the guy persisted "Hey bitch I said what you got in the bag?" That stopped him. "Tell me something, do you like having teeth?" Skinny looked puzzled, but began walking towards Odd. "What you say?" As soon as the question was finished, Odd swung the hammer and smashed the spot between nose and upper lip. The skinny thug hit the ground hard, gurgling and moaning loudly. Looking over the bloodied figure, Odd noticed a