The Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse
Anyone who knows anything about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse will tell you that it was War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death until 1936 when Pestilence retired and was replaced by Pollution. And it is true, that is what was written down. It is often said that history is written by the victors. This is a rather silly quote as anyone with a pen can write down history; winners, losers, middle management, and dyslexics which is exactly what happened with the Four Horseman story. The truth is that Pestilence stayed with the four until 1963 and retirement is something of a kinder term than what actually happened...
Saigon Vietnam, 1963
"It's not us, it's you," War said, bluntly.
"We have to move with the times," explained Famine in his thin, high pitched voice. "We are a global brand after all and we need visionaries."
Pestilence was well aware that the times had changed. He looked at War with her polished appearance. She used to be grubby, she used to get stuck in. Now it was all helicopters, buttons, computers and perfectly manicured nails. Famine used to ravage and rage whereas now he hobnobbed in Hollywood, made infomercials, and spent time in laboratories. Pestilence hated laboratories for they housed his nemeses; vaccines, soap, and protective clothing. He longed for the glorious days of the middle ages.
The man in black stayed silent, his face fully in shadow. He hasn't changed in millennia and they're not asking him to move with the times, thought Pestilence with frustration.
"You want me to retire? That can't work. Everyone knows it's the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Four. You can't just rebrand so easily!" There was a buzzing quality to Pestilence's voice when he was angry and it was full hive by this point.
"Oh there will still be four of us," said Famine with a thin smile.
"You're replacing me? Who wi-"
Pestilence cut off as a plastic bag floated past idly in the breeze. The air started to thicken and slicken. He felt the grubs, bugs, and other crawlies that were always with him bury deeper into his brown cloak.
Pollution slid over, the grease from their hair seemed to continue over their entire body. They looked radiant with excitement from their promotion to the big leagues.
"Many happy returns on your retirement, Pestilence," Pollution said. "I'm sure I'll see you around."
Pestilence turned to War, Famine, and Pollution, none of whom would meet his eyes. He then looked at the silent figure in the black cloak.
"You're leaving me too?"
"I CANNOT LEAVE. I CANNOT STAY. I JUST AM." Death said.
Wuhan China, 2019
Pestilence was not made for retirement. Being a single horseman did not give him the same scope as he had enjoyed before but he had continued to toil in the hope that his efforts would be noticed. His work in Africa and Pakistan hadn't roused the four horsemen’s interest but this would. He had a pride in his work that had been missing for centuries.
When he'd made the call to the four, Pestilence was well aware that this was the apocalyptic equivalent of holding a boom box over his head outside the bedroom window[1] as he waited expectantly for his former companions to arrive. He was starting to worry that his invitation had been ignored when the crowd began to part and War, Famine and Pollution appeared.
War arrived first, striding ahead of the others. Pestilence shook her hand and then pulled in for a kiss on both cheeks, ensuring maximum face to face contact.
"You haven't changed, you dirty old man," War said, smiling like wolf at an injured deer.
Famine shook his hand, limply. Pollution nodded at him and then turned away, far more interested in the surroundings.
"I love it here," said Pollution, breathing in deeply and taking in the market scenery. They walked away from Pestilence, Famine and War to investigate some of the goods for sale.
"We're just waiting for D-"
"I AM HERE" came the familiar rattle and Pestilence was surprised to find Death sat on a stool by the stall. A stray cat then jumped into Death's lap and mewed expectantly. Death tilted his head to the side.
Pollution returned to the group. "Why did you call us here?" they asked Pestilence.
Pestilence didn't say anything but instead opened his arms. There was the usual fog in the air from Pollution's presence but there was something else, all five horsemen felt it. A nearby trader started to cough.
"Well, what do you think?" asked Pestilence, nervously.
Famine closed his eyes, concentrating on the air itself, on Pestilence's magnum opus.
"It's...magnificent," he breathed, eyes open again. "Ooh, and it has a kick! There will be panic, supply issues..." Famine grinned. "You've still got it!" He took out a phone and stylus from his suit pocket and began frantically scribbling down notes.
"Global lockdowns and police states," mused War. "This I can work with." She drummed her fingers on the counter top, deep in thought.
"What's in it for me?" Pollution demanded.
"People will cut down on travel," said War
"They will be buying food sparingly," continued Famine.
"Production will be massively impacted," finished Pestilence.
"No, no, you can't," cried Pollution. "My world! My beautiful world!"
War and Famine adopted their familiar stances of not meeting Pollution's eyes. Pestilence however stared at Pollution for a few seconds until they swore and stormed off.
"How about you, big man?" said Famine to Death. "Are you in?"
Death did not say anything for a moment, he continued to stroke the cat who was rolling over in his lap and purring loudly. The cat's claws then caught on Death's cloak so he gently freed them, it jumped off his lap and slunk back into the market. Death let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
"I WAS ALWAYS IN," he said.
Pestilence hummed with excitement. He was back.
[1] 1980s America, though productive, had left Pestilence with a lot of time to watch movies. He particularly liked John Hughes films and hated all of the zombie movies for their glaring inaccuracies.