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Authors: Emmy Laybourne
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What Mario Scietto Says
EMMY LAYBOURNE
illustration by GREGORY MANCHESS
Despite all his disaster planning, and the bomb shelter he built under his shed, Mario Scietto was not prepared for the apocalypse that hit Monument, Colorado. A series of escalating disasters, beginning with a monster hailstorm and ending with a terrible chemical weapons spill that affects people differently depending on blood type, has torn the world as he knows it apart. “What Mario Scietto Says” is set in the world of Emmy Laybourne’s Monument 14. The final book in the series, Monument 14: Savage Drift , goes on sale May 6th.
This short story was acquired and edited for Tor.com by Feiwel & Friends editor Holly West
.
October 12, 2024
I guess that’s about enough of that. Come on, now. Enough. Enough!
Well, dammit, Annette, they was the first people I’ve seen in two weeks since the godforsaken nightmare began! I know, I know what you’d say, but no. You are my wife and I won’t be parted from you. Period. Final. Hey, I can’t dig a grave! I’m not going to burn you! What am I supposed to do with your body?
If your body starts stinking then I guess I’ll smell the stink!
So yes, I’m a stupid old man. An old fool. I chose your dead body over the live company of five perfectly nice children.
They had to go on eventually. They’d use up all the power. Eat all the food in the whole shelter.
Oh, hell, that would have been fine with me. You know it would have been.
Yes, yes, I’m stupid.
Anyway, they wanted to leave. That boy Niko had purpose all right. Going to get the little ones to Denver and find their parents. Heroic. Nice to see a teenager with some steel.
Down to 138 amp-hours. See? What did I say? They did use a lot of power. And aren’t you glad we invested in the Xantrex? It saved our butts, that’s what it did. Saved the butts of those kids, to get to come in from that NORAD poisoned air into a nice clean shelter underground with filtered air and hot water.
They loved the shower. And did they need it! Out there walking in the pitch-black, trying to make it to the airport, coming across all manners of crazy people out for blood. They stank of fear, Annette. Fear has that taint to it. Smells like what comes right before vomit, don’t it?
They’re gone and now I got all the power I need. To sit here. To warm up my little meals. To lie in the dark and think about those kids on the road. To be alone, Annette, with only your voice in my head and your stiff, heavy body for company.
Enough, for God’s sake. Quit. This. Blubbering! Or pull the trigger, if you’re so miserable. Go ahead and be done with it!
Can you imagine our own neighbor Brad Landry trapped those kids? He and his son, that little snot—the one who burned Bubba’s tail, the two of them set a trap out in that empty foundation next to their lot and then those kids fell in it.
Served him right to die for that one. A girl that was with them, a girl with blood type O who had lost her mind, she killed Landry. I saw him out there, mouth open and gray like marble. Like a statue. All bled out. Never saw anything like it before in all my life.
If I hadn’t seen a flare those kids shot up, they’d be dead by now. Make no bones about it, Annette.
So now we know why, don’t we.
When we was called to build this place, Annette, I knew it was the right thing to do. You went along with me, God bless you, and we built it! And Susie laughed at us. Lots of people did, I think. But we didn’t care, did we? It was a hobby, we told people. We’re “Preppers,” we joked. But did I install a cut-rate purifier? No. Did we skimp on the solar cells and the generator and the batteries? No. Because all along I knew there was a reason we were building it and dammit, saving those kids was the reason why!
So that’s it, then. The shelter’s served its purpose and that’s the end of it, Annette. I’m going after them. I’m going to
EMMY LAYBOURNE
illustration by GREGORY MANCHESS
Despite all his disaster planning, and the bomb shelter he built under his shed, Mario Scietto was not prepared for the apocalypse that hit Monument, Colorado. A series of escalating disasters, beginning with a monster hailstorm and ending with a terrible chemical weapons spill that affects people differently depending on blood type, has torn the world as he knows it apart. “What Mario Scietto Says” is set in the world of Emmy Laybourne’s Monument 14. The final book in the series, Monument 14: Savage Drift , goes on sale May 6th.
This short story was acquired and edited for Tor.com by Feiwel & Friends editor Holly West
.
October 12, 2024
I guess that’s about enough of that. Come on, now. Enough. Enough!
Well, dammit, Annette, they was the first people I’ve seen in two weeks since the godforsaken nightmare began! I know, I know what you’d say, but no. You are my wife and I won’t be parted from you. Period. Final. Hey, I can’t dig a grave! I’m not going to burn you! What am I supposed to do with your body?
If your body starts stinking then I guess I’ll smell the stink!
So yes, I’m a stupid old man. An old fool. I chose your dead body over the live company of five perfectly nice children.
They had to go on eventually. They’d use up all the power. Eat all the food in the whole shelter.
Oh, hell, that would have been fine with me. You know it would have been.
Yes, yes, I’m stupid.
Anyway, they wanted to leave. That boy Niko had purpose all right. Going to get the little ones to Denver and find their parents. Heroic. Nice to see a teenager with some steel.
Down to 138 amp-hours. See? What did I say? They did use a lot of power. And aren’t you glad we invested in the Xantrex? It saved our butts, that’s what it did. Saved the butts of those kids, to get to come in from that NORAD poisoned air into a nice clean shelter underground with filtered air and hot water.
They loved the shower. And did they need it! Out there walking in the pitch-black, trying to make it to the airport, coming across all manners of crazy people out for blood. They stank of fear, Annette. Fear has that taint to it. Smells like what comes right before vomit, don’t it?
They’re gone and now I got all the power I need. To sit here. To warm up my little meals. To lie in the dark and think about those kids on the road. To be alone, Annette, with only your voice in my head and your stiff, heavy body for company.
Enough, for God’s sake. Quit. This. Blubbering! Or pull the trigger, if you’re so miserable. Go ahead and be done with it!
Can you imagine our own neighbor Brad Landry trapped those kids? He and his son, that little snot—the one who burned Bubba’s tail, the two of them set a trap out in that empty foundation next to their lot and then those kids fell in it.
Served him right to die for that one. A girl that was with them, a girl with blood type O who had lost her mind, she killed Landry. I saw him out there, mouth open and gray like marble. Like a statue. All bled out. Never saw anything like it before in all my life.
If I hadn’t seen a flare those kids shot up, they’d be dead by now. Make no bones about it, Annette.
So now we know why, don’t we.
When we was called to build this place, Annette, I knew it was the right thing to do. You went along with me, God bless you, and we built it! And Susie laughed at us. Lots of people did, I think. But we didn’t care, did we? It was a hobby, we told people. We’re “Preppers,” we joked. But did I install a cut-rate purifier? No. Did we skimp on the solar cells and the generator and the batteries? No. Because all along I knew there was a reason we were building it and dammit, saving those kids was the reason why!
So that’s it, then. The shelter’s served its purpose and that’s the end of it, Annette. I’m going after them. I’m going to
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