Blaze of Glory

by Weston Ochse

  "Olly Olly Oxen Free," Buckley screamed as he grinned at Little Rashad. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

  Five seconds passed. Just as he was about to pull away, Buckley jerked back as pounding from the other side of the door erupted. He spun, slipping and twisting as he went down in a pile of broken plates and crashing silverware. A brace of pans clattered to the floor with a deafening chorus of rings and clangs. Buckley spun reflexively and fired a burst of water at the metal freezer door. The water dribbled harmlessly to the floor.

  Over his shoulder Buckley whispered, "Get Sissy in here."

  "I’m here. What’s going on?"

  Buckley swung the light to the doorway and illuminated Sissy. She'd come a long way this journey. No longer was she the wilting wallflower. She'd become something else, something more mature. She was GI Barbie, with kung fu grip and ready for combat, crouched in the doorway, sighting along the length of her Super Soaker.

  "Find some Maggies?"

  Buckley swung the beam back to the freezer door. "I don’t know what I found."

  "There’s something in there," Little Rashad whispered. "And it knocks."

  Sissy stood straight and began to walk into the room. She lowered her rifle. "Then there's no problem."

  Buckley eyed the door. "How do you know?"

  "Maggies don’t knock."

  Buckley blinked twice, then stood slowly. "Very true."

  "Well?" Sissy asked. "Are we going to open it?"

  Buckley watched as a Maggie popped free of his trigger finger and fell to the floor. He stomped it. "Yeah. You better cover me just in case, though."

  Sissy sauntered over to the island where the dishes had been stacked and took up position. On her knees, she rested the barrel of the Super Soaker across the metal surface, aiming directly at the door. She snapped her flashlight on and set it on the counter beside her, illuminating the latch. "You open the door, Mr. Adamski, and I’ll squirt whatever’s inside. If it’s human, they won’t mind a little salt water. If it's something worse, well, let's hope they have the same aversion to salt as the maggies."

  Not sure if he liked the new Sissy, Buckley stepped back to the door. He gripped the latch, careful to leave Sissy a line of fire. He took several deep breaths.

  "On my count of three," Sissy said. "Ready?"

  Buckley nodded as sweat and a pair of maggies dripped from his forehead. Ignoring them, he remembered the last time they opened a door with someone knocking on the other side.

  "One."

  Buckley, Samuel and Bennie prepare to open the door. MacHenry holds dead Lashawna. Sally Struthers’ screams can be heard from the other side.

  "Two."

  Bennie opens the door revealing Sally Struthers, her face a colander of maggie holes. Blood and skin drip from her body as she’s consumed and crazed.

  "Three."

  Buckley flung open the door and pinned himself to the wall behind it. A tiny creature stood in the doorway, illuminated by Sissy's light. It screamed. Blonde hair and blue eyes, she couldn't have been more than seven years old.

  Aiming like a sniper, Sissy squirted salt water directly into the girl’s face. The screaming stopped as the little girl began to gasp for air.

  There was no sizzle.

  CHAPTER 26

  While the little girl named Nikki Oliveri introduced herself to the group, Buckley drank from a gallon jug of salt water. Although his gut was filled to bursting, he had to raise the sodium level of his blood. The maggies were coming fast and furious now. The last thing he needed was to end up like Sally Struthers, his recent memory of her death reminding him of how bad it could get. And thankfully, no one paid attention to him. Instead, all eyes were on the new addition to the group who sat on the curb with Little Rashad beside her, pleased to pass her Twinkies and a warm can of soda. The boy couldn't help but grin from ear to ear.

  Finally the girl came up for air. "I didn’t think I’d be able to eat again. Everything was rotting and..."

  Sissy knelt behind the girl and laid her weapon on the ground. "There, there. It’s all going to be good now. I won’t let you die, honey."

  Buckley stared at Sissy in wonderment.

  Gert and MacHenry exchanged a private look.

  Grandma Riggs hummed an aimless tune to herself.

  They all heard the sound of a caddie feeding on a building several blocks away, but couldn't take their eyes of Sissy.

  "That’s what my Mommy always said," Nikki whispered.

  "She kept her promise, didn’t she?"

  "I guess so. I just...I just..."

  "Miss them. I know," Little Rashad said. "Me too."

  Nikki stared at the boy.

  "My Dad died when I was five. A car accident. My Mom died couple of days ago. No big deal."

  A building collapsed somewhere on the next block. Buckley took one more swig of water, then put it away. It would have to do.

  MacHenry spoke first. "Thing’s getting closer. We should get a move on."

  "Give me a hand with Grandma," Buckley said to MacHenry.

  "And then there was Sally," Little Rashad continued. "I need to tell you about Sally sometime."

  "Was she someone special?" Nikki asked.

  "Oh yeah."

  "We need to get going," Gert said nervously.

  Sissy patted Nikki and Little Rashad on their backs. "Come on kids. Get your stuff together."

  MacHenry and Sissy finished laying the duct tape and tying the ropes that affixed Grandma Riggs to her chair.

  When Buckley tried to stand, he groaned.

  "You know? Either she’s heavier or I’m weaker."

  "Stop talking like I’m not here," Grandma Riggs said.

  They got into formation. MacHenry and Gert took point. Little Rashad held Nikki’s hand, and the pair walked in front of Buckley, still struggling with Grandma Riggs on his back. Sissy brought up the rear, occasionally turning and scanning the street along the length of her rifle. After fifteen feet or so Grandma Riggs kicked Buckley in the back with a heel. "And I ain’t heavier."

  Buckley chuckled. "I know Grandma. I know."

  CHAPTER 27

  Night fell hard on the heels of a caddie going up in flame. Since then, they'd been alternately running and walking, the ocean seeming never to get closer. In the distance, under a cloudless Milky Way sky, they could see several immense caddies grazing on a row of condos.

  Other than panting and the occasional curse, Grandma Riggs voice was the only thing they heard.

  The old gander's weeping,

  the old gander's weeping.

  The old gander's weeping,

  because his wife is dead.

  She died in the mill pond,

  she died in the mill pond.

  She died in the mill pond,

  from standing on her head.

  Gert was limping badly. Every time MacHenry tried to help her, she shrugged him off. They fell back to the rear as they argued, trading places with Sissy who took up position in front of the group.

  After a few minutes, MacHenry jogged up to Buckley. He grabbed one of Grandma Riggs’ chair legs and lifted it to help Buckley with the load.

  "How long do you think?"

  "Dunno," Buckley said.

  "Mind if we stop for a bit?"

  "Don't think so. We need to keep going."

  Go tell Aunt Rhody,

  go tell Aunt Rhody.

  Go tell Aunt Rhody,

  the old gray goose is dead.

  MacHenry glanced up at Grandma Riggs in irritation, and was confronted by her blind stare. He stopped and let Buckley continue on, the old woman staring and singing. MacHenry couldn't help but believe the song was about him.

  Nikki and Little Rashad trudged past him.

  "We’re not going to make it," Nikki said.

  "Yes we are. Sally told me that even when it seems as if there’s no hope, it’s really there, only invisible."

  Nikki shook her head. "There ain’t no such thing as invis
ible."

  "That’s what I told her. And do you know what she said?"

  "No. What?"

  "She said that a month ago there was no such thing as Maggies." Little Rashad nodded wisely. He adjusted his grip on his trumpet.

  Nikki wrinkled her forehead. "What does that prove?"

  "Proves things can be invisible."

  Half a mile later, they turned onto Highway 74 to Wrightsville Beach. This was the main drag and would take them past Lees Cut to Harbor Island and then to Wrightsville Beach where their optimism rested in the exquisite form of the Atlantic Ocean. But where their trek had been fairly easy going in the city, 74 was packed with wrecked and abandoned cars.

  They finally halted near a billboard where a pickup truck had crashed through a smiling skull holding out a cigarette on skeletal arms. The billboard read-– CIGARETTES: THE NUMBER ONE KILLER IN AMERICA.

  Just as Buckley laughed, Gert stumbled and fell. She grimaced as she tried to stand. MacHenry moved to help her. She grinned miserably as she labored to her feet, then fell again.

  "I can’t go any farther," she sobbed. "Something’s wrong. My feet feel funny."

  "Oh, Babe," MacHenry said. "You’ve gotta get up. We’re almost there. Hell, you can smell the ocean."

  Gert closed her eyes. "I just want to sleep. I want to rest."

  "It's almost over, baby." MacHenry whispered, smoothing her hair. "It's almost over.

  Little Rashad and Nikki stood closest to the pair.

  "He's right," Little Rashad said. "I can smell it, too."

  "Reminds me of summer," Nikki said.

  Buckley found a curb and squatted. The chair Grandma Riggs was taped to rode so high on his back he was forced to lean a little before the legs met the pavement. When they did he slumped, grateful for the slack and removal of the weight.

  "We’ll rest a minute here. Kid, get Grandma some water and then help her with the lighter. I think she needs some more crack. Eyes gotta be hurting her by now."

  "Don’t be trying to get me loaded, Mr. Adamski. No matter what you do, I can promise that I do not fornicate on a first date."

  Nikki stared in shock.

  Sissy, Buckley and MacHenry grinned. Gert shook her head. Little Rashad was so embarrassed a blush crept up his neck.

  "So don’t be getting your hopes up," she added.

  "I bet you were something in your day, Grandma." To Little Rashad he whispered, "Scratch the crack, Kid. I think she’s had enough. Just give her some water."

  "And don’t you be worrying about my eyes. I can see better than I ever. You should attend to Mr. MacHenry. He's about to be thunder whipped."

  Buckley frowned as he tried to decipher that last bit.

  MacHenry massaged Gert’s shoulders where she lay. He spoke to her both softly and urgently. She shook her head in response, her shoulder's shaking as she sobbed.

  Little Rashad arrived with a bota bag of water, which Buckley passed to Grandma Riggs. "How are your lips, kid? I think we’re gonna be needing them pretty soon."

  "Okay, I guess."

  "Better massage them or pucker them or do whatever you do. When it's time to blow, we're going to need you ready."

  Suddenly the sound of laughter interrupted. Buckley and the boy turned to the sounds of Sissy and Nikki giggling by the side of the road, their heads together like school girls.

  "She seems nice."

  "She doesn’t know much," Little Rashad said.

  "Guess you need to show her the ropes."

  "I guess I can do that." He turned to look at Buckley. "But..."

  "Naw. We ain’t playing with buts. All of us are concentrating on you kids making it. You’re the future."

  "Just me and her? Ain’t much of a future," Little Rashad frowned.

  "Hey! Your future’s as good—"

  Buckley had intended on saying something more, but choked as a Maggie popped through the skin of his esophagus and into his throat. He coughed it into his hand and threw it angrily to the ground where it curled and slithered in the night air. Buckley stomped it dead, smearing it along the ground. Not satisfied, he spat on it for good measure.

  Grandma Riggs offered her crack pipe. "Want some of this, boy? It takes away the pain."

  Buckley shook his head. "So does a .357 Magnum."

  CHAPTER 28

  MacHenry rolled a wheel he'd found beside a nearby wreck over to where Gert had fallen. With his help, she managed to sit on the edge of the rubber.

  "Jesus, but my feet hurt," she whimpered. "Help me with my boots, baby."

  Gert began to unloosen the knots on the work boots, as MacHenry knelt in front of her. He watched as each lace came free, apprehension carving his frown.

  From the other side of the street Buckley whispered, "Get ready, Grandma. We’re leaving here in a few minutes."

  Another Maggie popped free from Buckley’s scalp. He snatched the nasty thing and flicked it into the open window of a VW Bug. They were coming one right after the other now. It was only a matter of time before he went crazy. He had to watch himself. He'd come along to help everyone. Becoming a liability would ruin it all.

  Sissy approached. Glancing at the maggie residue on the sidewalk beside him, she shook her head. "How long?" she asked.

  "Any second now," Buckley murmured. He sniffed deeply. "I can smell it, salvation. We're almost there, but it might as well be a million miles away."

  "What you most need is sometimes the most dangerous thing of all."

  Buckley ignored the remark. "What I'd give just to bathe in the ocean. Like to see how the maggies deal with that."

  "I saw this show once," Sissy began, her eyes focusing on a maggie that popped and fell from his nose. "It seemed like so long ago, like it was someone else's memory." She paused and gazed towards Gert and MacHenry. "In the show, there were dozens of beluga whales trapped in the arctic ice after a quick winter creep. Taking turns, they’d swim to the surface to breathe. Their continuous motion was all that kept the water from freezing around them. They could go without food for a few months, but they had to breathe. They always had to breathe."

  "So all they had to do was wait for the ice to melt," Buckley said, describing the obvious solution. "How long did they have to keep doing it?"

  Sissy held up her hand and shook her head as sadness crept into her eyes. "Except they had a problem. It could have been just like you said. They could have just taken turns and risen to the surface, their body's feeding upon their own stores of fat to survive. But that didn't happen. There was a polar bear crouched outside the hole, you see, and it swiped one of its massive claws at each whale as it surfaced to breathe."

  Buckley blanched. "Jesus."

  "This went on day after day after day, the water pink with beluga blood. When one finally weakened enough to be caught, the beast would feed. Then it would rest for awhile, allowing the beluga a false sense of hope. Before long, it would return to making the pink water again."

  "The pink water," Buckley repeated.

  "Yeah."

  "They had nowhere else to go. They were doomed from the minute the ice creeped over them, they just didn't know it."

  "And you know?" Sissy said. "I feel like a beluga whale and I don’t want to die that way."

  "Beluga. That’s where they get caviar from, right?"

  Sissy nodded. "The real expensive kind. They were very rare."

  "Like you, girl. You’re as rare as they come."

  Sissy glared first at Buckley, then at the ground. "I'm nothing special."

  "I remember when I first met you," Buckley chuckled. "You’ve changed."

  "I’m done changing. Now, I’m just tired. I want to rest. I want to get to the ocean so we can escape."

  "Even if it is just a false sense of hope?"

  "Even if," Sissy said. "I guess it's the beluga in all of us."

  Buckley put a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe it won’t come to that."

  Now it was Sissy's turn to laugh. "It always comes to tha
t. What was it you mentioned earlier? It’s survival of the fittest and we’re no longer the fittest."

  Buckley shook his head in wonder. "I can’t get over how much you’ve grown. Your father would be proud of you. I'm definitely proud of you. If I had a daughter, I’d wish she was just like you."

  For the first time during the entire conversation, Sissy made eye contact with Buckley. A mix of joy and sadness painted her features as she battled with the inevitability of death and the contentment of sudden acceptance as a mature person. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. The action surprised both of them.

  Buckley wiped at it, then turned to Gert and MacHenry. "Come on you two, time to get a move on."

  "Just give us a few," MacHenry yelled back. "The girl’s feet here are hurting and she needs a little—Holy Mother of God!"

  MacHenry, who’d been squatting down in order to help Gert unlace her boots, fell backwards as he struggled to escape the pool of blood that spilled free. There was no question why her feet were hurting her for in the expanding pool of blood were at least twenty of the nasty little creatures wriggling like mobile rice.

  Gert screamed, her voice shattering octaves as it rose in both pitch and volume. MacHenry recovered from his fear quickly and tore off his flannel shirt, leaving only a white T-shirt beneath. His baritone NO NO NO underscored her soprano as he wiped viciously at the wounds.

  Little Rashad stared hard at the scene. His small eyes wide with yet another death.

  Sissy sat on the far curb, shielding Nikki from the sight.

  "Here we go, Grandma. Hang on." Buckley lurched to his feet. Grasping Little Rashad’s hand, he tugged him over to where Sissy had gone to comfort Nikki. They all stared at the ground, trying hard to ignore the screams from the couple in the middle of the street. There was nothing they could do other than giving the couple their intimacy.

  "Think good thoughts, boy," Buckley said, scruffing the boy's head. "Think good thoughts."

  The screams and shouts of NO faded after a few more moments. Ignoring the possibility of infection, MacHenry embraced Gert, holding her head to his chest. He stroked her cheek as he murmured solemn promises to her.