by Bonds, Javan
This one instance let me know that the zombie prophet and I could be lifelong friends. If he’d picked up a box of Cheese Nips or something equally disgusting, I don’t believe we could ever speak again. I’d have to sever all ties with him, as he’d then be a person I could no longer trust.
There are several ways to tell what kind of person you are talking to; what kind of shoes they wear, what kind of alcohol they drink, and if they have tattoos. Ink can tell you a lot about someone.
There’s at least one more easy way to understand a person: their cheese cracker of choice. There are mainly two types of these treats, Cheez-its and Cheese Nips. Everyone likes one and despises the other. “Zits” are independent thinking, loyal, understanding, and moral people who stand for what they believe in. I have a moral compass, love the free market and capitalism; it goes without saying that, I’m a Zit. On the other side of the cheese cracker fence are “Nips”. These horrible people are almost always Democrats. I imagine these crackers were handed out freely at Bernie Sanders rallies.
This choice by The Oracle re-cemented our friendship and I knew I could count on Smokes until the end. As he basically swallowed the damn crackers whole, I could do nothing but smile and tentatively reach my hand over to get a handful for myself.
Easy looked at me disapprovingly. “You know, those things are bad for you.”
“I think that our constant diet of fish makes up for it.”
My brother grinned, shrugged, and reached for his own box of glorious processed food. I laughed and pointed to Smokes, in his own snack cracker paradise. “Do you really think he cares? He hasn’t had a Big Mac in so long, I’m surprised he hasn’t had a breakdown and killed every one of us.”
As my large companion drove himself to a Tabasco flavored heart attack I walking over to a nearby shelf, and opened a half gallon jar of pickled eggs. I twisted the lid off letting it clang to the floor and shoved a whole egg into my mouth.
Smokes gagged when he caught wind of the smell. “Da fuck wrong wit you, cracka?”
I’ll admit it does smell like ripe ass. I shrugged, “Yeah I know, it smells like the bathroom when you leave. Maybe even a puddle of peevie poop.”
He was momentarily offended. “I’m talkin’ bout how you stand dem thangs. Dat shit’s nasty!”
I was genuinely surprised The Oracle wasn’t a fan of every single foodstuff known to man. “You don’t like pickled eggs?”
“Shit, white bread, I ain’t puttin’ no rotten eggs in my mouf! Dey’s summin’ wrong wit you.”
“Don’t judge me because I like good food!” I’d never demean someone just because of the food they eat. I moved closer until I was only feet away from The Oracle and violently thrust the open jar in his direction. “You sure you don’t wanna have one?”
He jumped back, obviously afraid to get any of the sloshed vinegar on him. “I kill you!” He continued screaming and devouring snack crackers as he pedaled backwards.
We continued our joking argument and paid no attention to the fact that my brother was nowhere to be seen. After Smokes emptied several boxes of Cheez-Its and loaded up on cookies and other things he would send himself into a diabetic coma with, we began making our way to the next aisle. We met Easy at the end cap, his suit of armor was scratched and smeared with blood. Even though I was unable to see his face, I could tell he was breathing hard.
I seem to commonly forget anyone is with me besides my loudest compatriot.
I joked, “Nice to see you made it.” I grew serious as I looked him over. “What the hell happened to you?”
He choked out, “Vinegar.”
“Oh, shit!” I completely forgot that would be one of very few things that would draw peevies out. At the beginning, Gene baited one of the things into the sunlight with a vinegar-based solution; it’s not shocking they would come into one of their hated warehouse type buildings for it.
I raised my rifle as my doubled over brother looked up and waved his arm to tell me we were no longer in danger. Well, at least I don’t have to deal with anything.
He stood to his full height and leaned against the display. “Why?”
I cowered at my massive sibling’s accusatory finger. “I forgot!” Inconveniently, I chose this late moment to bend over, pick up the lid that had conveniently rolled to the end cap and close the dam jar. “So what happened?”
“You two started arguing about fucking eggs and I went to the next aisle to find some protein bars. Not long after I bit into an almond fudge brownie bar, I smelled something like someone took a giant shit. It was your damn eggs! Apparently I wasn’t the only one that smelled it.”
“I heard bare feet on the floor, basically running to find something. I didn’t know at the time the vinegar smell was you and decided to quietly get over and alert both of you. I came out of the aisle and the fuckers saw me.”
“The leader let out a growl and as I turned, it spread its arms as if to say ‘Come get some!’”
“I made sure my helmet was on securely and reached over my shoulder to draw my Thunder Hammer. Gripping the shaft with both hands I threw my head back.”
Easy began weaving an epic tale that only he could tell.
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“Easy spun the huge sledgehammer around, letting the side lined with tiny razors face his enemy. He began charging at the same time as his blue opponents began their run. The six creatures clashed with the bodybuilder brother of The Hero at about the halfway point. Throwing unbelievable force into his strike he hit three of the monsters and left at least two down for the count. The hammer swing had crushed hips, ribs, and nearly eviscerated one of the cannibals.
“He simultaneously twisted his weapon so that the blunt side was at the ready. Turning on his heels, Easy flattened the skull of his crawling enemy.
“As he turned to face the remaining nudists, all three tackled him as one. As one sat on his shoulders, trying uselessly to bite through his steel plated helmet, another former human was wrapped around his leg, breaking its teeth and fingernails on his protected thigh. The smartest of the three was standing to his side and pushing, trying to knock Iron Man over. Really, how smart can you be if you are going to attack Tony Stark on steroids?
“He clapped his knees together, snapping the forearms of the leg humper. Easy threw his plated boot into the chin of the recoiled animal, sending it unconscious to the floor in a heap of shattered bones.”
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“You’re full of shit. Did you watch The Matrix or The Phantom Menace with Gene?” He shook off my insult with a raised hand and continued his superhero tale to the both of our gaping mouths.
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“Easy immediately reached over his head to lock arms in front of the chest of the peevie above him. The plated arms bent the creature over until the back of its head touched the metal shoulder blades. Intentionally, he tipped onto his back, ruining the monster’s upper body. A few garbled yelps could be heard as the facial structure came apart. Not sure if the creature was conscious or even alive, he slammed his metal elbow into its unmoving head, mashing the destroyed cranium with the floor underneath. Brains violently squirted out the ears and a small squishing-pop noise was expelled as the eyeballs pancaked against the linoleum.
“Raising up, quickly standing to face his final attacker he twisted and pulled the cover off the hammer shaft to reveal a wicked looking sword, another group of four more naked, rabid, and murderous apes rounded the corner to join their comrade and help even the odds. Easy was wearing armor, but tooth and nail would overcome steel given enough time.
“Something that looked like a blue pigmented Smokes hurled itself at Easy knocking him back onto the peevie goo behind him.”
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“Wait! You knew it wasn’t Smokes because it had a bigger penis, right?” I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see what Smokes’ reaction would be.
“Man, fuck you wit a two by fo’, white bread.” I smiled and my brother just continued, ig
noring the commentary.
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“He slipped in the gore when he tried to lever himself on an elbow, sliding back into the sloppy remains. His uneasy rider continued the intimate embrace, pressing unclothed testicles and grinding its shit covered body against the armor. Easy forced out a muted growl, confident his companions wouldn't hear due to their loud jabbering and his full face helmet.
“Easy drew back and stiff-armed the infected in the gut. This sent a flow of partially digested chunks of raw meat covered in bile all over his torso. Then, he forced the animated corpse off of him and slammed his giant mallet into the thing’s back, breaking its spine and surely rupturing organs.”
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"You punched it in the stomach? That's a little close to its junk if you ask me."
Easy stopped to respond and looked at me angrily. "What the fuck is this, Mystery Science Theater 3000? Shut your damn mouth and listen!"
"Are you almost to the end? I'm getting bored." He responded with silence and a scary finger point. I didn't speak again and lowered my head as he continued.
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“His now unsheathed blade zinged through the air to slice one of the charging undead nearly in half at the waist. Its spine and a few tendons being the only things keeping its upper body attached. Organs spilled out as it began to flail and collapsed to its side before the lower half finally toppled over.
“Two came at him from different angles on his front while the apparent smart one lunged at his back. His blade whistled through the two at the front just as he toppled over forward.”
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"Smart ones? Like in Slow Burn?"
"What the hell are you talking about dumbass?"
He hadn't delved into the library The Oracle had given me and had no clue. I gestured for the wheels to keep spinning. "Never mind, continue."
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“He fell past the two that he had eviscerated and the leader pushed itself off of the armored bodybuilder. The smart one was confident it had just gotten a meal. Apparently, "smart" doesn't imply the intelligence to understand you are battling with a fucking superhero! Grinding it’s shit covered penis isn’t going to get you a meal. Oh, and Iron Man has a fucking sword. Not very smart.
“The yellow-eyed beast smiled, about to devour its prey. It didn’t know that it wasn’t getting a meal unless it could bite through metal. Easy jumped up to face the thing and readied his sword. It charged him, unaware the pointy stick was dangerous. The bodybuilder thrust his sword arm out right as the screaming devil came within reach.
“The monster was impaled with the blade sticking out of its back. The smart one knew it had been bested but pulled itself further down the blade as it grappled at his armored forearms. Iron Man planted a heavy boot against its crotch and kicked it back to die on the floor.
“He sighed as he wiped the blade of gore on one of the fallen blue bodies and then turned to make his way back to his companions.
“He now had a story to tell. Though the others probably wouldn’t believe it, at least it would be entertaining.”
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“That was it? You didn’t even come close to getting bit?”
“Of course not, this armor kicks ass!”
“So there was no point in telling us all that? I could've taken a nap for the past ten minutes!”
My brother scoffed and shook his head. “Fuck you! I just thought you might like to know what I was doing while you two were over here stuffing your faces!”
“And you know you’re not Neo, right? There’s no way you did all that in the five minutes you were gone.”
He opened his mouth to argue with me as Professor Smokes interrupted. “Pay no attention to this ignorant fool.” He stepped forward and planted a congratulatory hand on my brother’s shoulder. “I thoroughly enjoyed the tale and I’m sure the audience agrees.” Easy looked at me past Smokes and cocked a satisfied eyebrow. My brother smiled, thankful someone was entertained by his rambling.
I sniffed and curled my nose. “I think I could eat pickled eggs all the way back to the boat and be safe. Just having you around would cover the vinegar. You’re nasty as hell!
“I don’t think there’s any more Kool-Aid. Let’s get another buggy to load up on canned food and a few things on the list. Then we’ll get out of here.”
The gangsta resurfaced. “We got da Cheez-Its, dawg!”
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“I swear to God, I’m gonna start carrying a fucking air horn everywhere I go!” There was apparently no one on the deck to hear me scream my voice out. I kicked at nothing and shouted again in vain, “Shit, Crow!”
The Cora was docked in some type of U-shaped port. My brother offered, “Go around to the other side and get on that hill and see if you can see anybody.” That was a reasonable suggestion. I only nodded as I began walking.
After at least a half mile of trudging over spattered shit and seeing absolutely no movement, I began climbing a steep and seemingly malevolent tiny mountain before me. There was no movement, no animals, and no birds could be heard. It was nearly like home just after May Day, just another quiet day in rural Alabama.
The only thing that brought me to the here and now was the fact that I was wearing a fucking Battlestar Galactica costume, carrying a Klingon bat’leth, and staring at sewage litter everywhere.
Sometimes I want to think that I’ve just lost my mind, 98% of the population is undead, and I’m just dreaming about an episode of The Walking Dead. Where hell are Rick and Daryl?
My breathing could be compared to a dog, I was exhausted and had no clue how I could force myself back to where I had just left my brother and The Oracle. I considered simply laying down in the grass, it would take a while for peevies to get through this suit of armor.
Squinting, I looked towards the boat to see my bald and massive sibling standing on the deck, grinning from ear to ear. He threw up his hands and chuckled loudly and victoriously. “Don’t worry, we made it!”
I dropped to my knees and pulled the walkie-talkie from my belt. “I. Fucking. Hate. You,” came out between breaths.
Wait a minute! Why didn’t I just use the dam radio to call someone on the boat? I could've saved myself hours of walking, and use the post-apocalyptic version of a cell phone! I was never much of one to use the fucking thing anyway. That’s probably why I only rarely had a girlfriend, I would rather speak face-to-face than talk over mass communication.
It took nearly twice as long for me to walk back around to find exactly what I expected: the gangplank raised and the dam rope ladder waiting for me. I had to think of some way to return the favor to Easy. I needed to find some Preparation H!
I drew up to the rope ladder, about to probably fall to my death when the hammer of a gun could be heard cocking. A male voice asked angrily, “What the fuck are you, a ROBOT?”
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12
Eyes For You
THE FEMALE HAD been following the floating construct. The construct would occasionally stop its travels on the running water and shelled figures would emerge. They always emerged from whatever cave they went into and usually argued with one of the darker skinned pale ones before returning into the construct.
The peevie had been hunting the shape for what seemed like its entire lifetime. Brief glimpses of the hairless pale one, the target, always sent chills down the female’s back.
The cannibal formerly known as Warden Slice could barely imagine the unbelievably perfect taste this one would bring. The only thing preventing the immediate mastication of the flesh of the large brute was the much hated water, and the seemingly impenetrable construct. There was no way not to fall into a watery death most of the time and even when the construct did stop its movement, it was impossible to penetrate the outer skin. Impossible at first, but there might be another way.
The object came to rest in an area with several similar constructs gathered in the same location. The beast plotted a path in its mind
. A floating construct near land was easily climbable and from that one, the next construct could be pounced upon. This pattern could be continued across several constructs until finally, the peevie would be close enough to end up on the top of the floating construct it had been following. The pale ones congregated all along the top, so it was safe to assume that is where Ezekiel Collins would be found.
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The blue cannibal spent hours climbing constructs, and jumping from one to the other. The targeted construct was the next in line. It was exhilarating to see what the rabid animal had been yearning for as long as it could remember. There, sat Ezekiel Collins with an exposed, hairless head, completely unaware of the watchful stalker.
It was sexually arousing to be only a few yards away from the pale one that had been hunted for so long. The peevie almost screamed in frustration as it tried to find the best way from this construct to the other. Simply jumping would not be wise, the gap of the deadly liquid that lay below was too great.
After a panicked search, the animal finally located a way to get from where it was to where it desired to be. The large, tree type-structure in the middle of this construct could be climbed easily and hopefully the plan would develop further when the top was reached. The former human reached a point near the top of this dead tree and found a long vine. This vine was literally made from small fibers and appeared impossibly sturdy. The animal could picture using this vegetation to swing from the dead tree to land on Ezekiel Collins. The excitement was palpable and a few practice chomps were taken before actually leaping.
The animal jumped with vine in hand and swung over the gap. Only feet away from the target now, the peevie let go and intended to fall directly onto the target. The pale, hairless one would not be ready for the attack and would fall easily. Teeth would rip into flesh continually until the enemy was no more. The other pale ones would be dealt with after the priority was taken care of.
The blue cannibal did not prepare for the momentum brought on with the swing. Letting go, it continued moving forward, far out of reach of its intended target. The peevie hit the railing of the construct and rolled off, crashing into the water at the edge of land. Panicking, it splashed and flailed as it crawled and ran out of the shallow water. Cut and bruised from this encounter the animal formally known as Warden Slice had survived to try again another day.