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Mad Max Helix

PostPosted: Sat Aug 11, 2012 11:25 pm
by NuffTorque
Hey Guys
I have had this story rattling around in my head for years. Never thought to put it on paper until I saw a few others on here do it.
Reading the different ideas on here is interesting how everyones perception of the Max story is different and what the movies mean to them.
I saw the movies in real time as they were released. Being a medical person, I always wondered how max recovered from his wound so well.
This is my version of the events following the end of the first movie.
It is edited perfectly in MS word. Doesnt copy well into this format.
If you enjoy the story and want to read more, let me know and I will upload it in PDF format so its easier to read. Off to write chapter 4



Chapter One - Zinga
Looking down at the wasteland, the brown desolate earth reached from horizon to horizon. A black ribbon meandered through the brown, splitting the landscape in two halves.
Closer, the black ribbon is covered in places by the brown earth, potholed and rough. With the closure of the road maintenance crews by the Central Bureaucracy, the road was slowly being claimed back by the wasteland.
Closer still, a black dot is whipping up a large dust trail along the ribbon. It is moving fast, very fast.
Closer still, there is a second black dot, just in front of the first. Smaller, whipping up a smaller but significant dust cloud.
The two vehicles, seemingly joined by a rope, racing down the black ribbon, separated by mere feet.
Zinga could just see the black car in his mirror, the vibration of the motorbike and the buffeting of the wind making it difficult. Sleek, menacing, evil almost. This boy racer had been on his tail for an hour now. Zinga first thought it was a boy racer trying to rob him.
Never more than ten feet off his tail pipe. Zinga had tried vainly to loose the black car, but it didn’t faltered. In fact it had pushed him faster and faster in his efforts to out run it.
Zinga was cursing Toecutter and his gang loudly, his screaming voice lost to the wind and engine noise. He didn’t have a lot of choice. It was join a gang, or die at the hands of one. It was the choice to ensure survival.
Toecutter had made him ride this scooter. A 500cc, there were two bikes but Johnny the boy got the larger one and he, the smaller. This thing was screaming its guts out at these speeds, and he could feel the heat from the overworked motor burning his thighs.
Zinga knew he was in trouble, this was not a boy racer after him. He seemed to have a purpose, and that purpose appeared to be Zinga. He didn’t have any idea why the guy in the black car would be chasing him. He had been on a binge for the last two weeks and hadn’t seen or heard from the gang. Not since they were in Jerusalem, having a load of fun until that stupid kid nearly ran over Toecutter. Maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing after all.
He cursed Toecutter, in fact he cursed his whole pitiful life. Picked on at school, at work in the factory and then by those bikies. He had been called the Zinga after a long ago fast food. They said he was round and full of fat. He looked like a lollypop when he was riding his bike looking from behind. There was some truth in it, his ample butt cheeks were hanging over the bike seat.
The speed, the bike and his overweight bulk were not doing much for his ability to control the bike. Every time he tried to avoid the pot holes in the road, the bike wobbled and shook. He noticed a bend coming up in the road. He would have to slow for this one, it looked tight he thought. He reluctantly backed off the throttle a fraction. This time the car didn’t back off like it had before. He noticed in the mirror the front of the car was closer. So close, he could only see the head light, the black bonnet and the blower spinning. He backed off some more. He needed to slow for the bend so he could power around it. The black car closed the gap. The bumper almost rubbing on his tyre.
He glimpsed the driver for the first time. A shiver ran through him, those eyes, cold, emotionless, penetrating.
Zinga was starting to panic. He realised this guy was not going to rob him or take his gas, he was going to do some real damage.
Zinga checked the mirror once more. His momentary lapse from the road caused him to veer slightly to the right, the front wheel slammed into a deep pot hole. The whole bike shuddered and metal broke.
The bike began to vibrate, the handle bars slapping each side of the gas tank. Zinga screamed in pain as his thumbs were smashed and broken against the tank.
The bike careened off the right side of the road, down an embankment and then up the other side, launching into the air. Zinga, with his enormous weight, was ejected from the seat and flung through the air. His body hit the power line pole 30 feet up, exploding in a spray of body parts and blood.
Max had seen the pot hole and the bike veering toward it, he hit the brakes. He watched Zinga sail through the air and hit the pole. Pulling to a stop, Max put the car into reverse and backed up to the scene.
He opened the door and lifted himself out of the car, wincing in pain. He was charged with the adrenaline of the chase and stiff from sitting in the car for so long. As he looked at what remained of his prey, Max suddenly vomited and felt faint. He knew it wasn’t from the sight of the carnage, he had seen similar, in fact, worse. He looked down at his injured knee. Pus was pouring down the front of his leg. Infection. Major infection.
Max knew this infection was serious. When he was in training with the breaker squad, they had done the combat training with the Special Commando Task Force. Part of this training was emergency medical training. The lectures were given by a Doctor from the local hospital. Max and the doctor became friends and Max spent his evenings watching and helping in the emergency department. He figured the extra experience may come in handy one day if one of the other MFP drivers were injured. It could save a life, if not his own.
Max knew he needed the wound cleaned, dressed and antibiotics. The pain killers he had in the glove box were finished. These also helped to keep his fever down. The fever was working to kill the bugs but also caused him to become dehydrated, shake and shiver uncontrollably over the past couple of days and now he was feeling faint.
A dangerous combination in a fast and dangerous world.
Max climbed slowly into the car. The pain searing through the wound and up his leg. He needed water and shelter and somewhere to clean the wound. Somewhere to rest. He remembered about twenty minutes back, they had crossed a bridge. He started the car and pushed in the heavy duty clutch. Max gritted his teeth, groaning with the pain and more pus was pushed out of the torn leathers around his knee.
He turned off the highway, careful to leave no visible marks of his presence.
Following an overgrown track, he parked under the bridge in the shade. The noise of the now quiet engine crackling through the still air as it started to cool.
It was a good place to rest for a couple of days. He knew he had to. He couldn’t go on until the wound was sorted. He looked through the windscreen at the small pool of crystal clear water. A spring from the underground subterranean water table had made its way to the surface here. In another time the dry creek bed had been a flowing river giving life to everything around. Now it was just surrounded by dead scrubby bush and the skeletons of trees.
Carefully he climbed out of the car, grabbing the small tree branch from the back seat. A few deft cuts with his knife a few days ago had turned the branch into a usable walking stick. He contemplated covering the car with netting but he was weak and fatigued from his injury and lack of sleep. He needed to rest first.
Max slowly made his way across the uneven ground. Groaning and wincing with each step. His foot slipped on the loose dry leaves scattered around. His ankle twisted, the knee gave way, a blood curdling scream penetrated the silence.
Max fell to the ground, first seeing stars, then nothing, just the blackness of unconsciousness.

Re: Mad Max Helix

PostPosted: Sun Aug 12, 2012 12:50 am
by MWFV8
This is excellent dude! :D

Really captured my mind with the whole concept of what Max would have gone through starting his new life of wasteland survival, especially when you describe the effects of the injury so vividly.

Re: Mad Max Helix

PostPosted: Sun Aug 12, 2012 1:26 am
by NuffTorque
Chapter Two - Malodorous
Jessie was running, running fast, screaming. Max was behind her, running across the sandy beach.
Max caught up to Jessie, grabbing her around the waist, like he was tackling a football player. They fell to the ground in a tangled heap. Max rolled over on his back to see Jessie laughing and leaping on top of him.
“I love you Max” she whispered before leaning forward to kiss him.
Max closed his eyes as her lips touch his, breathing in her warm sweet breath.
Jessie playfully poked him in the ribs and leapt to her feet, running toward the warm waters lapping gently at the shore.
Max lay there for a minute, thinking how much he loved this girl, how she provided normalcy when he came home from the madness of the roads. A life within a life.
He heard her call him. Then call again, louder, distressed. He got to his feet to see Jessie way out, she screamed out again, struggling, panicking. Max tried to run to her but his feet sank in the sand. He struggled against the sinking sand as she was swept further out. Screaming, screaming his name, pleading for him to help. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help. He was stuck in the sand, watching her.
Max screamed to Jessie to swim but she couldn’t hear. He battled against the sand, helpless to do anything and she disappeared below the water.
Max woke with a start, yelling for Jessie. He sat bolt up right, sweat pouring from his skin, breathing hard. His head pounded and vision blurred. Darkness threatened to envelope him.
Max lay down again, trying to gain control of his emotions, realising it was the repeating nightmare every time he closed his eyes. Helpless to do anything to help the woman he loved, not being there when she needed him the most.
“Max? Max! Are you ok” came a voice from the distance.
He opened his eyes and looked around. He wasn’t lying on the ground near the pool of water. He was comfortable, he was covered by a blanket, a clean blanket. He was in some sort of room, a room with a steering wheel, a motor home.
“Max?” a female voice asked.
He looked at her face. She was standing next to the bed looking down with a concerned face. A handsome woman in her mid 30’s, not pretty like a model, but naturally good looking without makeup. A brown bob haircut circling her face.
“You had another nightmare didn’t you?” she asked. “How are you feeling? How is your leg?”
Max was confused. He remembered chasing Zinga down the highway, then driving to the bridge. Nothing after that. Now he was lying in a real bed with a strange women looking down at him. He took in his surroundings, clean and neat, a drip bag above him and attached to his right arm. He tried to get up but the pain in his leg stopped him.
“Max, you need to take it easy, you have been very sick but you are getting better. It will take a while to get back to normal.” She explained.
“Who are you? Where am I?” he asked.
“My name is Beth. I found you on the bank of the pool, you had a bad infection from the wound on your leg. I have been taking care of you” she said. “A week ago I had to come down here to get water for my engine. I found you lying on the ground. You must have been there for a while because you were sunburnt and dehydrated.”
“I’m a Doctor and I have been travelling out here helping those people who live in the outstations and farms. Lucky for you I had drips and antibiotics to treat your infection. I was worried that it was too late and you were going to loose the leg.”
Max looked down to confirm that his leg was still attached. The ache should have confirmed it but he needed to be sure.
“How do you know my name?”
She pointed over to a shelf where he could see his leathers, guns and other belongings.
“It was on your identification card. I thought the MFP had been pulled back to the borders of the city to provide protection? Why are you still out here?”
“I had some business to finish”
“Police business?”
“Not anymore” he stated flatly.
Beth explained to Max that he needed to get up and move about to help with his recovery. She removed his drip and told him to take his time, “I’ll be outside making some lunch. Come out when you are ready” she told him. She pointed to a pair of old rusty crutches in the corner, “Use those to help you” she instructed firmly. “Don’t undo all my good work by being stubborn.”
Max thought about Beth after she left the room. She seemed to be a caring, but strong woman. She reminded him of his friend the doctor from MFP training. You would need to possess those qualities to do the things medics do.
He took his time getting up and getting dressed. He made his way outside using the crutches. At the door he stopped and recognised the pool where he had collapsed. A small smokeless fire was burning not far from the van, she was certainly skilled in survival he thought with admiration. Beth had a pan on a frame over the fire and was cooking some meat that stirred his stomach, reminding him how hungry he was.
Max hobbled over to the fire and sat on a log. He was surprised how good his leg felt compared to last week. It still ached but the searing pain was gone.
“You lost someone?” she asked “your wife? Jessie?”
Max started at the ground. Flat and emotionless.
“You had a lot of nightmares while you were out. I overheard a lot of what you said during your fever.”
Max said nothing.
“I’m sorry for your loss Max, it sounded terr..”
She stopped mid-sentence at the sound of an engine in the distance. A drone of an engine. A single motor cruising at medium speed.
Max’s instinct was to extinguish the fire. He kicked at the pot of water that was next to fire on it. He instantly knew it was a mistake as the steam and smoke rose into the sky.
The engine slowed, faltered, then sped up toward them.
“Dam!” Beth said, glaring at Max. “Find somewhere to hide”
“Janie” Beth yelled. “Come quickly”
Max looked round to see a blonde curly haired girl about 7 years old come running through the scrub.
Max looked on puzzled. Not moving.
“My daughter” Beth explained as she led her daughter to the safety of the scrub.
Max felt down to his side to grab the shotgun. It wasn’t there. He hadn’t bothered to holster it, it was still lying on the shelf in the van.
Cursing as the engine sound got closer, Max knew he wouldn’t have time to get the gun and get to safety. He had time just to duck behind the motor home before a motorbike pulled up in the small clearing at the doorway.
They could both smell him. He was alone, dishevelled and very big. In his left hand a machete. He turned off the bikes engine and the silence was deafening. He looked around and saw the fire, meat still sizzling on the plate. He put the stand down and walked over to the fire. Picking up the piece of meat, he shoved it into his mouth. Even though it was straight off the heat, he was so hungry he couldn’t wait.
Stinky man looked around, expecting to see people. They must be hiding. “Well that’s ok” he though, “I won’t have to fight for what I want to take”. He decided he was going to take everything he can. Food, water and gas. Then he will set fire to this big vehicle. “Because I can” he thought to himself.
He walked over to the motor home, cautiously, on guard, machete at the ready. It was a basic survival instinct that had come back to most people now. Fight or flight. Most adopted the flight mode, but not stinky man. Don’t trust anyone, don’t trust your surroundings.
Seeing no one around, he peered in the door. He was surprised to see so much stuff he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to carry it all on the bike. Maybe he would just stay for a few days, rest up and gorge on the food. Take some time to investigate what this place had to offer.
Stinky man stepped inside. Checking to make sure no one was hiding. They had to be around somewhere. The fire was hot but they must have run off into the bush. He would deal with them later. He may be lucky, there may even be a woman for him to enjoy. Things were looking up the thought with a wicked grin on his unshaven face.
He put the machete down and started looking through the cupboards and drawers, throwing things on the floor examining every nook and cranny. He stopped. Eyes wide open. Morphine! Lots of it. So much it didn’t register at first. Like a kid in a candy shop he started shaking with glee. In the drawer below, needles and syringes. He hadn’t had a decent shot of anything in a long while. Drugs were only available in the cities and he had been on the road for a long time now.
His hands were shaking with anticipation as he sucked up the drug out of the glass via with a syringe. A feeling of warmth and calm came over him as the drug flowed through his blood.
In his euphoric state he decided to go back outside, enjoy the feeling while lying in the sun, he had all the time in the world. As he walked out the door of the motor home, his guts seem to explode in pain. He grunted, leaned forward and toppled down into the dirt.
Unseen, Max had picked up the dunny shovel and waited outside the door. It was his only plan. He knew he was no match in his condition to fight the stinky man. As stinky man came out the door, Max swung the shovel, aiming at the main bulk, hitting stinky square in the guts.
Max leapt astride the stinky man, a flash of steel and a knife was at his throat. The knife was his boot knife, easily carried and concealed until needed. Like now.
Max saw the tattoo on his cheek, another one of Toecutters’ gang. Stinky man didn’t have time to utter another sound as the knife plunged into his throat. Warm blood gushed from the wound, covering Max’s hands as stinky man writhed and convulsed under him.
“Max! NO!” Beth screamed from the scrub. She had been watching from the cover of the scrub, shocked at Max’s actions.
Max looked at Beth, blank, emotionless, cold.
Beth suddenly felt afraid, more afraid that when stinky man had arrived. Afraid of Max. This man whose life she saved had just killed another without any hesitation or emotion, no conversation and no reason. As she looked into Max’s eyes, she saw nothing. Where once there was a soul, now nothing but blackness.

Mad Max Helix - Chapter 3 Revelations

PostPosted: Mon Aug 13, 2012 9:42 pm
by NuffTorque
Chapter Three - Revelations
Max limped back into the camp area and over to the fire. He had just buried the stinky man, drained his fuel tank, collected some tools from the pannier dragging the bike off into the scrub.
“Stop right there!”
Max looked up to see Beth had his shotgun aimed at his head. Behind her, Janie hiding.
“Who the hell are you?” Beth demanded. “You’re one of them aren’t you? Did you kill the cop and take his car and badge?”
Max stared back silently. He felt suddenly tired, the adrenaline wearing off.
“Well I deserve an answer, after all I have done! Have I saved a murderer? She asked. “Or do I now have to kill you too?”
“I was a cop” Max replied. Now I’m not.
“You think that because you lost someone, it gives you the right to kill anyone you want? She demanded “You don’t know anything about that guy and you just slit his throat without… without, without asking any questions! Or finding out who he was! Or why he was here.”
“I knew what he stood for” Max replied “Senseless vermin who would kill for a gallon of gas or anything else they wanted, it was him or me, us”.
Max couldn’t stand any longer. He slumped to the ground exhausted, leaning against the log that served as a seat.
“Us? There is no US! Beth shrieked “You think you did us a favour by bringing this violence here? We don’t need this around us. I am here trying to help people, to save lives and make people well. And you, well you just destroy things, without remorse or thought. I saw the darkness in your eyes.”
“Lady, you are just wasting your time, saving me or anyone else. Making us live in this world any longer than we have to. Have you any idea what is going on out there?”
Beth looked at Max, then Janie. “Honey” she said to Janie “go into the van and start tidying up, we have to get out of here”
She turned to Max “I know there are still good people out there, people who help each other, people who care, there is always hope when there is life. Sometimes people are worth the effort. What happened to you Max, if that’s your real name, what could be so bad that you are so cold and calculating?”
Max said nothing.
Beth reached into her pocket and pulled out several large zip ties. She threw them to Max.
“Put them on your wrist and tie it to that branch” she indicated the branch attached to the log he was leaning against.
Max took the ties and studied them. He contemplated his situation. She had saved him, she had done the right thing, he had no argument with her. He put the zip tie on his wrist then the second attached him firmly to the branch.
“I can’t trust you now, especially with my daughter around. Once we have gone you can free yourself. I hope you have enough honour left to allow us to pack our stuff and leave in peace.”
Max nodded and made himself comfortable. He needed to rest, to sleep, the effort of the past hour had spent all his energy.
Beth and Janie spent the next two hours cleaning up the mess the stinky man had made in the motor home and then collected all their gear and packed it away.
Beth struggled with the idea of saying good bye to Max. The man she had invested a lot of her energy in over the past week in saving his life, holding his hand during the fever induced nightmares. Her compassionate side felt that inside him somewhere was a decent man. Her visions of the brutal attack and killing of another man conflicted with her compassion.
Beth strapped Janie into her seat and got behind the wheel. Hand poised over the starter key, then turned the key. The motor turned over, slowly, laboriously and then fired. She gently revved the motor to warm it up. Her father had taught her a bit about cars when she was younger. She was an only child so her father missed having a boy to teaching him about mans things.
She slipped the gear lever into first gear and started to crawl along in a wide arc to clear the camp site. The motor lurched, shuddered and stopped. She cursed under her breath and turned the key. The motor turned over but wouldn’t fire. She rested the starter for a minute and then tried again. Nothing. Again, nothing.
Cursing louder this time, she pulled the bonnet and got out to have a look for the problem. It was pretty obvious as soon as she lifted the bonnet. Everything was covered in water. The water pump had cracked and was pumping water over the electrical system and the rest of the motor.
“Shit!” she yelled, startling Janie in the cab.
“Let me look at it for you” said Max from behind her.
She spun on her heel and saw he was standing a couple of feet behind her. She had forgotten about his boot knife, he had used it to cut stinky mans throat and also his bonds soon after he had tied himself to the branch. It was much easier to sleep that way.
Beth shuddered and began to panic. She looked for the shotgun. It was in the cabin, Max between her and the gun.
“Janie” she yelled “stay in the van, don’t come out for anything” Beth instructed her daughter. She clenched her fists ready to put up a fight, as much as she could.
“Beth” Max spoke softly “I won’t harm you. I owe you. Let me help”
He walked around her, giving her a wide berth to show he wasn’t a threat. She remained tensed, ready. He leaned over and looked into the engine bay. “The water pump needs to be replaced, there is no easy fix for this.”
She looked defeated. Her opportunity to get away from this man and the violence of the place evaporating before her.
Max turned to Beth who was frozen to the spot, “I know where there is a vehicle with the same motor. Its two days drive from here, we need to go get the part and come back, and replace it so you can get mobile.”
“I told you, there is no US, no WE.” She hissed. Her fear of this man now exacerbated by the broken vehicle.
“I need to get the part. I can’t leave you here by yourself” Max replied gently. “It’s not safe”
“It was plenty safe here until you woke up Max!”
“Look Beth” Max said firmly, “You need help. You can let me help or I can get in my car and leave you to the vermin.”
The reality of the situation became clear. She could trust this guy or not. Either way he was going to leave. At least if he said he was going to get the part and fix her car, she could get Janie to safety.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Ok get the part, but we wait here”
Max nodded. He walked over to where his car had been parked up by Beth. She had found the netting and covered it with branches and scrub. She had done a good job and it was hard to see even from the campground.
He got his tool kit and went to work on the water pump. Beth checked on Janie, realising that they hadn’t eaten all day. She started to prepare a meal, always wary of where Max was. She just couldn’t let her guard down. Keeping Janie in her sight at all times.
The sun was setting and a chill crept through the air by the time she had finished cooking. She walked over near Max, “there is food ready if you want” then returned to the fire.
They ate in silence. Rabbit stew and day old home made bread. Janie let out a loud burp and then giggled. It broke the awkwardness. Max smiled and laughed along with Janie. Beth, with motherly instincts, was about to admonish the child when she heard Max laugh.
Beth saw for the first time the real Max. A man, a shell of a man but a person, with a soul and feeling and emotion. It seemed ridiculous to laugh at such a childish vulgar act, considering the events of the day, but it was such a normal and silly thing that she laughed as well. The days horrors forgotten for the briefest of moments.
Beth put Janie to bed and joined Max at the fire, warding off the cold air. Max was staring into the fire, lost in his thoughts of another time and place.
“Max” she said quietly “tell me what happened. You need to talk about these things. Who was it that you lost?”
Max continued to stare at the fire. He shifted his weight as if uncomfortable with the conversation.
“As a doctor, I have dealt with plenty of people who have suffered the traumatic loss of a loved one. It is called post traumatic stress. The only way to fix it is to talk about it. There is no miracle cure, no magic pill to take away the pain. Only talking, and time.”
A tear fell on to his leathers. He was surprised. He had kept it together for so long now. He didn’t think he could cry. He hadn’t cried since it had happened. He didn’t need to. It was wasted energy. He concentrated on retaliation, revenge.
He looked up at Beth, eyes filling with tears and the story poured out. He told her about Jessie, how they met, their excitement at the news she was pregnant. The birth of their baby and how his life was complete. Almost. The road warring was taking its toll and he had wanted to quit. Get a normal job, away from the violence. He told her about the Nightrider, the Jerusalem attack and the Toecutters gang. The holiday at Mays farm. How they had run his family down and left them for dead in the middle of the road.
Beth moved over to Max and cradled his head in her arms. He was no monster. He was a victim, just like the rest of them. They both cried for a long time.