by Weston Ochse
"Got that horn ready, kid?" Buckley asked.
"Always." Little Rashad pulled it from where it hung on the rope. He reflexively cleared the spit from the spit valve.
Nikki stared wide eyed. "What’s he gonna do?"
"Just watch," Sissy replied. "It’s magic."
"What do you think you’re gonna play?" Nikki asked.
"Rocky."
Buckley nodded as if he'd known all along. "You like that song, huh?"
"Nobody thought Rocky had a chance."
"Man fought a good fight with that other guy," Sissy said.
"I saw that on TV," Nikki said. "What was his name?"
"Apollo Creed," Little Rashad said.
"Yeah. Apollo Creed," Buckley murmured. "Carl Weather's played him in the movie. Saw him in Action Jackson, too."
"Wasn't he in Star Wars?" Sissy asked.
"No. That was the other black guy," Buckley grinned. "Billy Dee Williams. You know, that fight between Apollo Creed and Rocky was probably the best fight anyone had ever seen. From the opening bell to the end, I was on the edge of my seat."
"In the end, didn't Rocky lose?" Nikki asked.
Buckley, Sissy and Little Rashad glared at the young girl, whose impertinent need to be accurate had shattered the morale they were trying to construct.
"He did," Little Rashad said. "But he kicked the other guy's ass in the sequel."
CHAPTER 29
From far off, a bellowing sound creased the silence. There’d been no sounds of traffic or airplanes for several days now, and that total lack of background noise accentuated the new sound, gathering it up and propelling it forward as if the world had never heard the sound before. Like a fog horn, the sound surrounded them, direction and distance unknown.
Nikki stood and searched the night sky. "What was that?"
Little Rashad joined her, but stared towards where they knew the ocean to be, instead. "A boat maybe?"
"Like a ship. One of those big ships with swimming pools?" Nikki asked.
Sissy turned to Buckley. "They could be checking to see if anyone’s alive. Wouldn’t that be nice?"
Grandma Riggs began singing the strains to The Love Boat.
Love Boat, soon will be making another run.
The Love Boat, promises something for everyone.
"Are we really talking of a they?" Buckley said more to himself than anyone else. "Like there are other’s alive?"
"I think so," Sissy nodded.
"My God," Buckley said, wiping a maggie clear of his brow.
The sound of a fog horn split the air again.
"You know? It does sound like a cruise ship," Buckley said.
At those words, Little Rashad and Nikki high fived, then turned and threw their arms around Sissy. Sissy grinned silly happiness at Buckley and Grandma Riggs. MacHenry approached, and Sissy turned to him as well, but when she saw his face, her smile faltered, then dropped completely.
MacHenry gazed sorrowfully with red, bleary eyes at the happy group.
"How’s Gert?" Buckley asked, stepping forward.
"I salted her wounds." The words came out as a sigh.
"Like in the bible," Grandma Riggs said. "Lot’s wife transformed into a pillar of salt when she turned to look upon the angel’s destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah."
"If she was salt, we wouldn’t have this problem."
Buckley nodded towards the ocean. "Salt does seems to be the answer."
"Doctor told me to lay off," MacHenry deadpanned. "Said it would kill me."
Gert limped up behind MacHenry, thankful to have his shoulders to hang her arms and take her weight. She caressed MacHenry’s cheek. To Buckley she said, "Can we get a move on?" She tried to smile and almost managed it.
"Maybe we’re not the only ones still alive," Buckley said. "Are you okay, girl?"
"Don’t matter," she said through gritted teeth. "Just untie Grandma from that silly old chair. We’re changing plans and I’m driving."
Little Rashad perked up. "Driving?"
"What?" Sissy looked from Buckley to Gert to MacHenry.
"Yep. I've decided, we're—"
"Come on, Baby. We can—"
Gert pushed away from MacHenry, almost falling. She found her balance by holding out both of her arms. "Stop it. We both know it’s something I have to do, Travis. If we’re going to make it, we have to move faster."
"I won’t let you die," MacHenry whispered hoarsely.
"What can you do?"
MacHenry opened his mouth as if to speak, but couldn't find the words. Frustration and emasculation loosed silent tears. "I... nothing."
"Listen honey, Gert said softly. "If that’s a boat, it won’t wait forever."
MacHenry stepped towards her, but halted as she stumbled away from him. The determination in her eyes was no match for his desperation.
"In fact," she added, pointing to the boy, "Why don’t you pick out a ride for us, Rashad?"
"Anyone I want?"
"Anyone you want," Gert said.
The boy’s face brightened. He grasped Nikki’s hand and began wading through the morass of abandoned vehicles.
"Preferably one with the keys still inside," Gert added.
Little Rashad’s gaze danced across the cool lines of fast cars. He paused to stare longingly at a silver Trans Am-- beautiful and fast, it would do little for the small group.
Buckley held out his flask of salt water. "You could drink salt water. It helps.
Gert ignored him. "Maybe a pick-up truck, Rashad."
"Salt water slows them down," Buckley said, raising his voice.
But Gert still ignored him, her gaze following Rashad and Nikki as they searched for a vehicle.
A maggie shot from the palm of Buckley. He held it out to her, close enough so that she had to watch. Pulling salt from his pocket, he dribbled some on the nasty beast. The maggie puffed smoke and turned to sludge.
"Nice trick," she said.
"Maybe you can live longer. Hell, maybe the people on the ship have a cure," Buckley said.
"That’s bullshit and you know it."
"But I—"
Gert lunged towards him and grabbed him by his shirt. "Don’t you do it!" Without the make-up of her profession and the hope to survive, her face looked twenty years older.
"What?"
"Don't give me hope," she snarled, like a cornered animal. "I can live with death. What I can’t live with is hope! I can’t die with it. I don't want it."
Grandma Riggs kicked Buckley in the small of his back. "Let her be. It’s her choice."
How could he leave her be? Buckley's whole reason for being was to motivate the group and get them to safety. Now to have one of their own infected and giving up hope, Buckley felt the failure on a personal level.
Sissy interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. MacHenry. Where are your clothes?"
Buckley spun and saw the middle-aged, former used car salesman standing behind Old Gert with a sloppy smile on his face and pale blue boxers around his private parts. No clothes meant no salt, translating to a quick death, if not corrected.
"MacHenry, what the hell are you doing?" Buckley asked.
Gert let go of Buckley and staggered to her lover. She placed both hands on his chest. "Baby? What are you doing? You can’t do this."
MacHenry smiled and grasped her hand in his own. "I’m doing what I wanted to do all along. I’m gonna go out like the brightest and the best of them. I'm going to go out in a blaze of glory"
"Oh honey."
"I’m not gonna leave you, baby. Just think of me as your Johnny Storm."
"No. Not Johnny Storm."
"Oh yeah," MacHenry said, looking at Buckley. "And it's time to flame on."
CHAPTER 30
The old gander's weeping,
The old gander's weeping,
The old gander's weeping,
Because his wife is dead.
An old primer gray pickup truck with a black roll bar, dualies and fifty inch t
ires rumbled down Highway 74, swinging from one lane to the other as it wove through the parking lot of once mobile cars. Cars and trucks littered the highway as if they’d been cast aside by children who’d been called away to dinner. Grandma Riggs was strapped to the roll bar, still facing backwards, cackling with each dip and bump. Little Rashad and Nikki held onto a length of rope tied both around their waists and to the bar facing backward, as well. Buckley and Sissy sat facing forward, wind whipping their hair, sweeping away each maggie in a maelstrom of afterbirth wind as it was born. In the cab, MacHenry sat behind the wheel, driving while Gert kissed and murmured a lifetime of I Love Yous into his ear.
The truck skidded sideways causing Buckley and Sissy to grab hold, wrapping their arms around the roll bar. In their path were a pair of caddies, grazing along the asphalt and concrete of the roadway like immense Pac-Men-like caterpillars escaped from the game. One rose up, spying their approach. The other continued chewing, unimpressed.
MacHenry spun the wheel, shot into the median, the off road tires gripping, sliding and slipping across the slick grass and clay. The treads bit down, grasping desperately at the loose soil, the stress on the frame threatening to flip the truck into a gymnastic nightmare. Just when Buckley thought they’d most assuredly crash, the wheels caught, the truck straightened and shot out from the median into the westbound lanes.
Everyone couldn't help but stare at the great length of the Caddie, this one easily a hundred feet long. Smaller, strange, creatures suckled between the jointed scales, perhaps offspring, perhaps parasites. The body rippled like a caterpillar as it moved incrementally. A smooth slimy trough was left in its wake where there had once been road.
The sound of the fog horn drew their attention back to their destination. Closer now, they let up a cheer as a clear, thin, blue line striped the horizon. The ocean! Buckley's heart leaped. That he'd survived this most improbable trip was nothing less than miraculous.
They passed Lee's Cut and crossed the bridge over the channel and merged onto Highway 76. From there on, it was a straight shot across Harbor Island to the outer island of Wrightsville Beach.
But halfway across Harbor Island, the truck began to slow. Their break-neck speed had been reduced to walking speed, the truck swerving and dodging mounds of crashed cars and trucks, and the occasional mountain of bubbling Maggies, the effect of the salt air on the monsters’ surfaces demonstrably nasty.
Buckley leaned forward and pounded on the window. "MacHenry. Get a move on, man. We're almost there."
But there was no response. Neither did the truck speed up, nor did MacHenry offer any reason for the delay.
Buckley pounded the top of the cab. "MacHenry. What's wrong, buddy?"
Instead of answering, the truck pulled to a halt. MacHenry turned off the engine, and slumped across the wheel.
Buckley jumped down from the bed of the pick-up and tried to yank open the door. Locked. The passenger door was locked too. Cursing, he climbed back into the cab and tried the sliding rear window. It moved easily. Sticking his head partially inside Buckley began, "Is everything--" but stopped when he saw what filled the front windshield.
Up ahead grazed one of the largest Caddies they'd ever seen, chewing through a Home Depot. The creature seemed to expand with every crunch. A tantalizing fifty feet behind it lay the ocean along with the sand of Wrightsville Beach, empty and inviting, the promise of life instead of mere tans.
He'd thought MacHenry dead, but that was far from the truth. The man's sobs filled the cab, his shoulder's shaking, tears falling onto the upturned face of Gert, laying in his lap. Her eyes stared sightlessly heavenward. Where she'd been ugly when mad, she was most beautiful in death, the stresses of life, the fear of living and the self-loathing of a lifetime, swept away on angel's wings leaving her as innocent and pure as the day she was born. Maggies surged from her ear and trailed down across her shoulders and onto MacHenry's leg, where even as Buckley watched, they burrowed in the man's naked flesh.
Keeping an eye on the caddie, Buckley put a hand on MacHenry's shoulder. "MacHenry, you need to get out of the cab, man."
MacHenry raised his head from the steering wheel and gazed upon the face of his girl. He gently brushed maggies from her gossamer cheek. He sobbed once more as he stroked her skin.
"She’s dead, my friend."
Instead of replying, MacHenry began to bang his head against the wheel. With each impact the horn sounded its ugly BLAT.
"MacHenry, come on," Buckley said, staring worriedly at the caddie. If they drew its attention, no telling how fast it could be upon them. For a creature that size, they were no more than a cocktail weenie. "MacHenry. You're gonna get us killed if you don't stop."
MacHenry sat up straight. He wiped the tears away from his eyes and met Buckley’s gaze in the rearview mirror. "Get out."
"MacHenry?"
"Untie Grandma Riggs, take the kids, and you and Sissy get out of the fucking truck."
"MacHenry, I—"
"Dammit, Adamski! Don’t you ever listen? I said get out of the fucking truck. I probably don’t have long to live and don’t have time to fuck around. Look at that big motherfucker. Do you really want to have this conversation now?"
Reluctantly, Buckley began to untie Grandma Riggs as Sissy ushered the children out the back. MacHenry kept his eyes locked on Buckley in the mirror.
"And just so you know, Adamski. I’m mad as hell that you’re alive and my Gert isn’t."
Buckley bit his lip, knowing that the man was speaking from a chasm of pain. If he wanted to be mad, then let him. Frankly, Buckley couldn't explain why he still lived.
"You need to make sure they make it," MacHenry said.
Buckley nodded as he unwound the last rope. Sissy climbed into the back of the truck and helped the old woman down.
"I’m serious. They have to make it, don't you see? Otherwise, this trip was for nothing. Me and Old Gert could have fucked ourselves to oblivion instead of that forced march you put us on. We would have been happy to die in each other's arms. Love instead of fear surrounding us as we breathed our last breath."
Several seconds ticked past. A Maggie slid from Buckley’s forehead, but he ignored it. Instead, he turned to gaze back into MacHenry's eyes, who nodded slowly in return. The man smiled once, but there was no love in the gesture, more the recognition of an enemy right before battle.
"But it was you who roused us, Adamski. It was you who made us care about the others. And I thank you and hate you for that."
The man had something to say, some great weight to unload from his soul. He'd lost the love of his life. Buckley couldn't help but empathize. Slowly, he extended his hand through the back window if nothing more than to touch the man's shoulder in a friendly gesture.
"Get the fuck away! I’m not touching you!"
"What?" Buckley was stunned by the man's rage.
"Oh, I'm not afraid of dying, if that's what you think. It ain’t the dying I care about, it’s the selfishness. You would have hidden it from us if you could."
Buckley dropped his hands to his sides and lowered his head. So that was it.
"You tried to hide the truth from us. You did to us what you wouldn't let any of us get away with. Lashawna, Bennie, Sally, all of them deserved a chance, but you never gave it to them. Instead, you played judge, jury and executioner. And when it came time to do the same to yourself, what did you do?"
I acted like a coward, Buckley thought to himself.
"You acted like a coward," MacHenry said, as if he could read Buckley's mind. "Remember what you said back at the BBQ joint? You said that maybe this was a phased invasion of some sort, that maybe the maggies weren't around anymore because they were unnecessary. How long did you think about that?" MacHenry held up his hand. "Don't tell me. Because if you say that you'd thought of that back in the hotel, then I'm going to climb out of this truck and kill your cowardly ass. Had you given yourself the same fate as Lashawna and left us alone, then maybe my Gert would
have lived."
"I..." What could he say? MacHenry was right. Buckley hung his head and took it.
"Look at you. Just like your comic book hero, The Thing. You’re willing to take everything and anything. You are the foundation." MacHenry shook his head violently. "And somehow...some-fucking-how you managed to hold us together and condemn us at the same time."
"MacHenry, I’m sorry."
"Stuff it. I don’t care about your feelings. I’m not going to give you the benefit of forgiveness. So, get out of the fucking truck. I’m gonna do what you should have done in the first place. It’s called sacrifice and it's the ultimate demonstration of love."
MacHenry turned the ignition and revved the engine.
Buckley climbed off the back of the truck and stood with the others. The truck lurched forward then stopped. MacHenry rolled down the driver's side window and stuck out his head. "You know, this has always been about love, not survival, Buckley Adamski. I think it’s kind of funny you never understood that."
Buckley stared back as MacHenry put the truck back in gear and shot forward. They all knew his goal. Shouting at the top of his lungs and honking the horn like a mad-man, MacHenry drove towards the Caddie.
Buckley turned to Little Rashad. "Come on, Kid. Let’s make MacHenry’s Charge of the Light Brigade worthwhile.
They angled off to the right. It would take them longer to get to the ocean, but their path would keep them safely away from the immense creature.
CHAPTER 31
About halfway to the caddie, Travis MacHenry halted the truck in the middle of a field. He got out, holding his and Gert's backpacks. One-by-one he pulled out the remaining Carolina Cocktails, seven in all. Then without ceremony, he emptied the contents atop his head and tossed the empty containers into the open cab. Seeing this, the others couldn't help but stop and stare. As horrible as it might become, he'd been their friend and ally and deserved their attention.
Buckley stood with his hands in his pockets, head down, remembering back in that hotel room when Travis had first talked about his desire to flame on.