APOCALYCIOUS: Satire of the Dead

by K Helms

  “You’ve got to the count of three,” said the mega-phoned voice “One…”

  “Damn,” said Death Wagon. He hadn’t seen where the shot had come from, as he’d been looking at Nan. He remembered the curtains moving in the window, but could see no human form there, so he couldn’t risk taking a pot shot and possibly getting Nan wounded or killed. “We’re sitting ducks,” he muttered angrily.

  “Two…”

  “Death?” asked Nan timidly

  Death hesitated for just a moment, and then said, “Do what he said. We’ll figure this out when we have more of a chance.”

  She and Death laid the shotguns down.

  “That’s a good boy! Now lay face down on the road!”

  They did as they were told and within a minute they heard footsteps running toward them. There were at least two sets of them, hard soles clumping heavily against the cracked blacktop.

  Nan looked over at Death through the paint ball mask. “I’m sorry, Death.”

  Death was angry but not at her so he forced a smile “Don’t be. We’ll get out of this.”

  “Promise?” she asked in a frightened little voice.

  Death nodded, still smiling weakly. “You bet. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He hated himself for promising something to her that he knew full well he had no control over, but he knew that he had to try to keep her calm. As far as he knew, the enemy had no idea that Nan was a woman yet and that was good.

  He heard more footsteps behind the first. That meant there were three of them, at least. He felt his heart sink as the odds kept getting worse.

  Two men quickly patted them down and removed their blades and side arms. They slipped plastic zip ties around their wrists behind their backs and forcibly yanked them to their feet.

  “Walk!” said one of the men and they both were shoved in the middle of their backs to spur them forward.

  They walked the rest of the way to the hotel, through the main lobby and were marched through several long corridors. They were led through another set of double doors and then shoved outside into an open courtyard. Three sides of the courtyard were surrounded by the sides of the hotel leaving one side exposed to the woods lying fifty feet beyond.

  On a chaise lounge sat a tall fat white man with a shaved head. A large black swastika was tattooed over his left temple and he wore a permanent hateful scowl etched on his face, his brow, a knot between his eyes.

  Four of them now, Death kept the running count in his mind. How many more of these inbred douche bags were scurrying in the hotel? He wondered.

  The swastika adorned fat man stood up from his repose, and something like a smile crossed his lips, but never touched his eyes. “What have we got here? A Mexican?” he asked in a jovial tone as he strode toward them purposefully and smiled broadly. Death could see only three teeth and he couldn’t help but think that those teeth had probably been rotted to their roots from all the acidic hate speech that had passed over them.

  “Me?” continued the swastika leader, “I’m an American.” Swastika looked at the man standing behind Nan and said, “Take that mask off the other one.”

  Death Wagon felt his heart sink even lower. Nan looked more Japanese than black, but he thought that neither side of her heritage would be welcomed here.

  The camouflaged man directly behind her unceremoniously jerked off the mask and Death watched the leader’s face. Death saw a mix of surprise, disgust and lust.

  “Well I’ll be damned. It’s a Chink…a chink and a Mexican!” declared swastika.

  “Actually, it’s a Mexican and a Jap. If you’re going to use ignorant racial slurs, then at least pick the right one,” whispered Nan through clenched teeth. Death smiled over at his woman.

  Swastika shrugged. “Whatever bitch, it’s still a lucky day for the Aryan Nation.”

  “The Aryan Nation only has four people?” asked Death with a sneer. His question was not only to be a smart ass, but also to ascertain just how many more of these yahoos there were lurking around the premises.

  The leader punched Death in the jaw and Death staggered back into the other camouflaged man behind him.

  The man behind Death Wagon pushed him forward and growled, “Get offa me.” Death heard laughter from the other and he spat a mouthful of blood on the ground.

  “I’d mind my manners if I was you, Mexican,” said the leader and pointed to his left, “or I might feed ya’ll to my pets.”

  Death and Nan followed with their eyes in the direction Swastika had pointed and saw a fenced in area against one of the white washed walls of the hotel. Inside were three other camouflaged forms. They staggered and kept walking into the fence that bounced them backward, only to keep repeating the process. The cage men weren’t men any longer; they were now dead men walking.

  “Yep, that there is Charlie, Dave and Boxcutter, and besides that, smart guy…we got us a few others out and about bringing in more recruits all the time.” The leader then leaned in toward Nan, sniffed her hair and said “I might have to keep this one for myself.” He looked at the man behind Nan. “Cut those clothes off her and let’s take a peek at what we got, Clem.”

  Nan started crying.

  “You son of a bitch!” yelled Death and lunged forward, but was instantly yanked backward from behind.

  Clem jerked Nan’s jacket down over her shoulders where it hung behind her, bunched over her bound wrists. He pulled out a long blade from his belt and cut the black sweatshirt down the front and ripped it open.

  “I’ll kill you!” screamed Death as he struggled in futility against the man that restrained him.

  “She’s got a bullet proof vest on, Hal,” said Clem, seeming somewhat confused.

  “Of course she does,” said Hal, the swastika wearing leader. He shook his head as Clem stood looking and shrugging his shoulders. Hal gave a long suffering sigh, and then said, “Just cut the straps, Clem, for God’s sake.”

  Clem turned back to Nan and cut easily through the nylon straps and removed the vest revealing a very tight under armor t-shirt as her full round breasts heaved with her sobs.

  “Well damn! Those are some fine titties, cut that shirt off her Clem!” said an animated Hal.

  Death screamed without words, the cords in his neck standing out like short lengths of rope.

  “Oh yeah, those are…what the…?” said Hal and he looked down as he felt something rubbing against his boots. A large, stray black cat brushed against his ankles, purring loudly. Hal reached down and scratched the top of the cat’s head. He looked up at his boys smiling “Who wants pussy for dinner?” Death heard a round of laughter erupt from behind him as if it was the wittiest thing he’d ever heard.

  Blood showered Death as Hal’s head exploded in front of him. Death hadn’t heard the shot, and Clem watched in horror as his leader’s body toppled lifelessly forward in the grass.

  Nan reacted instantly and brought a knee up into Clem’s crotch; he buckled in pain and curled up in a fetal position, groaning and whimpering words that no one could understand.

  Death donkey kicked behind him and struck the nameless camouflaged man in the knee cap who fell over cradling his injured knee.

  Death turned back to Nan just in time to see Clem’s head explode into chunks of bone, brain, and scalp and a fine red mist burst in the air like a macabre Independence Day celebration.

  Death heard the nameless man shouting at someone in the house, “Shoot ‘em…Shoooot ‘em!!”

  The nameless man regained his feet and staggered toward the back doors of the hotel. Death heard a thundering of footfalls from behind, spun and saw a large hairy form shoot from the wood line and close on ‘nameless’ in mere seconds. The towering beast rushed between Death and Nan, and Death smelled a pleasant scent that reminded him of freshly cut grass. It grabbed the unnamed man and wrenched his head from his shoulders with its bare hands. The sound made Death’s stomach heave, but he choked his gorge back down, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth.

/>   He heard the remaining man fall from the open window on the second floor. He still had heard no report from any firearm, but it didn’t matter. He stumbled to Nan and leaned close; she was crying harder now and shaking uncontrollably. She dropped to her knees as the strength abruptly left her shaking legs. Death dropped down in front of her and he saw a large shadow loom over them where they knelt. He glanced up and saw what he had only glimpsed as it blurred past him before; it appeared to be some kind of huge ape, as it looked down at them, covered and dripping from its victim’s blood and spinal fluid.

  “Oh my god…” whispered Death in amazement and fear.

  “Od?” asked the ape then clapped his hands together happily, showering Death and Nan with rivulets of blood.

  “Don’t be afraid of him. That’s Laptu; he’s a big galoot but he’s friendly,” said a voice from behind Death Wagon. The voice was also accented with a backwoods drawl. Death snapped his head around and saw a man wearing a black ski mask walking to the cage of zombies. The ski mask dispatched each of the dead with a .357 peacemaker that had been holstered at his side. He spun the six-shooter on his finger and smoothly slid it back into the holster that rode low on his hip.

  Death noticed that the man had only one hand and where the second should have been was a hook that appeared to be made of overlapping pieces of articulated metal that allowed it to flex like a prehensile tail. The masked man walked over to them and pulled off the ski mask, revealing a shaved head. Death felt his hope wilting and the man seemed to instantly recognize the look.

  “Oh…no, no, man, I ain’t one of them…I had lice,” he blurted out, and his face turned instantly red. Embarrassed, he continued to stammer, “I don’t have lice anymore though…” The man slung the silenced rifle over his shoulder and tapped himself on the chest with the edge of his hook. “I’m Arlington Neff.” He then withdrew a K-bar from its leather sheath opposite his six-shooter and he cut Nan loose, then Death. As he did this, he continued to babble, “So you know me and Laptu, there's nothing to worry about now. We're friends.”

  The cat had remained unaffected by the gunfire, as if it were common place for it and it probably was. It moved closer to Nan and she scooped him up in her arms, cradling it, crying and kissing the feline’s head over and over. The stray purred contentedly, and Arlington thought he saw the cat smiling.

  Death looked at Arlington, “Thank you…I can’t thank you enough.”

  Arlington held a hand up modestly and smiled. It was an easy and honest grin, almost boyish, even though he knew Arlington had to be in his forties. “Awww… listen I just happened to come across you all out of luck. I was looking for a friend of mine, named Daniel Tyson. I don’t s’pose you know him do ya?”

  Death was shocked but managed to reply, “Actually we do.”

  “Really? Where’s he at? Is he still alive?” asked Arlington in rapid fire succession.

  “He’s alive, but he’s not here.”

  “Where’s he at?”

  “That’s tough to explain,” said Death frowning

  Arlington’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he nervously fidgeted with his Ranger cord bracelet.

  Death saw the expression and tried anyway. “If you have the time I can try to explain it but it is all pretty freaky, man.”

  Arlington’s expression softened and a smaller grin resurfaced. “You guys hungry?”

  “Food, food!” exclaimed Laptu excitedly. Arlington thought that over the past few days Laptu was speaking better. It occurred to him that in the case of the Pedtu, the chip might have been part of an electronic dog collar/ invisible fence.

  “I’m not hungry,” said Nan. “I doubt that I could hold anything down anyway, but it sounds like the big guy is hungry.”

  “He’s always hungry.”

  “Hungry!” Laptu agreed.

  “He just took a giant dump in the woods over there a few minutes ago, so he’s got space to fill up again,” said Arlington jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

  Nan laughed heartily and the brightness of that sound calmed the surge of adrenaline coursing through Death's veins.

  “How would you guys like to take a ride in a spaceship?” asked Arlington

  “Ride!” said Laptu jumping up and down. Death could see that the impact of those huge feet hitting the ground was literally making Nan teeter. Death looked at Nan’s face; her eyes were wide with excitement. In some ways she was still so much of a kid.

  “I don’t know…I’d like to get Nan back home where it’s safe.”

  “Death Wagon, you stop it!” she said and turned to Neff “A spaceship you say?” She sounded defiant and dubious all at once.

  Arlington nodded “Basil, do you want to bring the ship to us?” he said after retrieving a small radio from his belt and keying the mic.

  The cat eyed him for a moment not wanting to get down from Nan. She was nice and warm, but it grudgingly jumped from her arms as Death helped her to her feet.

  Nan raised an eyebrow doubtfully. “Who's Basil?”

  “An Egyptian guardian of the dead, half man, half dog, but he is also a pretty good pilot,” Arlington said, looking back toward the tree line. He turned back to Death and Nan. “Best gather up your weapons, he’ll be here in a short.”

  “Shouldn’t we check out the rest of the hotel to see if there are any more of those rednecks in there?” asked Death inspecting Nan’s body armor, “I don’t suppose you’ve got any duct tape so we can fix the straps on her armor , do you?”

  “Duct tape? Who’s the redneck here?” asked Arlington, joking around. He gauged Death’s expression “Too soon? Sorry. Yeah, I’ve got some in the ship. As far as the hotel…the scanners didn’t pick up anymore heat signatures besides the two of you and the other four.”

  Death eyed him seriously and with a tone that matched his expression he asked with serious suspicion arching his brow. “You’re not insane are you?”

  Arlington laughed and Laptu clapped the pirate on the back and bellowed laughter too.

  Arlington wiped his eyes with the back of his hand “Seems likely, don’t it? Maybe when you see the ship…” Suddenly the sky darkened above them and soundlessly the large silver disk-shaped ship hovered over the tree line then settled softly onto the courtyard. A door opened downward and formed a ramp to walk up. At the top of the ramp stood the Anubis a long tipped spear in one hand. Death had been a big fan of old sci-fi movies and was struck with nostalgia, but his mouth still hung open in disbelief.

  “Basil?” asked Nan after a slight pause.

  “Yep,” Arlington nodded.

  “It's beautiful!” Nan exclaimed as she noticed the way the black velvet fur seemed almost iridescent. “He looks like a king!”

  Arlington rolled his eyes, “Man, don't be telling him that crap, his head is big enough.”

  Basil narrowed his eye at the pirate but said nothing. Arlington thought the Anubis was flexing his abs though.

  “Are you sure his name isn’t Klatu?” he asked, thumbing at the Sasquatch. Arlington blinked at him not understanding. “The Day the Earth Stood Still?” asked Death. He searched Arlington’s face for any sign of recognition, but there was still nothing, “Never mind.”

  Arlington smiled with a little confusion but a lot of hospitality and swept an arm grandly toward the ship like a showcase model from the Price is Right, although the hook at the end of it gave it a bizarre quality. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” exclaimed Nan and grabbed Death’s coat sleeve tugging at him.

  Death resisted, “Can you take us back home in that thing?” he asked.

  Arlington shrugged “Don’t see why not. On the way you can tell me about Danny.”

  From the woods behind the hotel they could hear the rumbling and screams of the dead coming en mass toward their position.

  “I think it’s the vibrations of the ship that draws them. We can’t hear it, but they seem to,” explained Arlington, the Pirate. “We probably ought to hurry,” he
said and strode to the ship’s ramp. Nan stopped tugging Death’s sleeve and snaked her arm through his and found that he was more apt to go with gentleness than by force. She filed that fact away, like all women do.

  Chapter 61 - Safe Havens

  After a brief detour to the Winnebago for the rest of their belongings they headed for the mines under the control of Basil’s dexterous hands.

  “Your job is to find a place that’s safe for survivors?” asked Nan.

  “Yep,” Arlington answered simply.

  “That’s a big job. Where are you going to go?” asked Death. Normally Death Wagon didn’t trust people, but for some reason he felt an easy connection with this strange man.

  “I’m still not sure, but I’m open to suggestions.”

  “It would have to be fortified,” said Nan.

  …and secluded,” added Death

  Arlington nodded. “Terrain should be strategic and the land needs to be fertile for farming.” He tapped the point of his hook on the table top for emphasis.

  “It might be a good idea to set up multiple settlements so you could separate clashing personalities and viewpoints,” Nan said, the debacle of the Greenbrier still fresh in her mind.

  “Well, to tell you the truth, I figure that anyone I meet that’s a scumbag I just won’t take,” Arlington said in his usual honest way of speaking.

  “That’s pretty harsh. Judging people on first impressions is sort of like playing god, isn’t it?” Death asked.

  Arlington nodded again. “That’s why I’ll let Laptu be the judge. He seems to be a pretty good judge of character.”

  “Where is Laptu?” asked Nan

  “He’s probably in his den playing with his Barbies.”

  “Barbies? You mean like baby dolls?” asked Death grinning.

  “What can I tell you? He’s just a big innocent kid,” Arlington explained.

  “He didn’t seem that innocent when he was ripping that guy’s head off of his shoulders,” interjected Death.

  Arlington shrugged. “He does what he has to.”

  “Have you found any others?” asked Nan, trying to change the subject