by Javan Bonds
WHEN THEY GOT back, my brother told me the story of why he was covered in blood and his armor was dented. I wonder how he’s going to smooth those out. Easys not going to be able to stand any sort of blemish that others can see on himself or his clothing. The next time he donned the Ironman suit it would look fresh off the rack, as if he had never touched it before.
Gene had some sort of private meeting or séance with The Oracle below deck. The other three filled the rest of us in on what happened on the Forever Young. I have to say, it sucks what happened to Festus. I hate that the old guy got murdered by another human. Not that I would rather have had him chopped up and slowly devoured by the peevies.
I know it sounds cold, but it must’ve been his time. It wasn’t great that he was brutally murdered; he just would’ve been a lot of trouble in coming years. Oh come on, you know as well as I do that in a few years someone else would have to be wiping his ass!
It’s like when your grandparents get extremely old. You cannot wish they were dead. But you privately know that it would be better if they went ahead and kicked the bucket. Not just for me, it would save their dignity!
When The Tech and his husky shadow emerged from the stairs, they let me know in no uncertain terms that my brother had an official title. I would now be able to call him The Protector.
That sounds about right. If I had not already been cast as The Hero, I would assume I was The Protected, or to make me sound even more pathetic and less manly than my brother, The Weakling. Damn, I just remembered Smokes thought I was “the gay” on the day we met!
While this journey has had the occasional moment of excitement, there’s probably only a hundred more years to go. I’m certain we will not come across any more living or un-living the closer to we get Ground Zero. The peevies migrated north as fast as possible and I’m sure there are no other survivors with any kind of interesting back story. You can plan on reading more of my boring, uneventful writings for the foreseeable future. Meh.
☠☠☠
After a lengthy conversation with the returning conquerors, that I don’t remember, and I was sure no core protagonists had fallen, I started making my way downstairs. Why the hell did they wake me up to begin with? Maybe it was just to watch my brother achieve total victory from afar. They could tell me more about their adventures after I got some sleep. Yes, I’m aware Easy had already told me, I just didn’t pay attention. And you can bet your ass I’ll forget the next time they tell me.
I finally collapsed in the bed and snuggled up against Sarah who wouldn’t let me do anything more. There was no way I was asleep for more than a few seconds before I started hearing shouting, gunfire, and explosions. Seriously? Of course, The Love Interest didn’t even stir. If I didn’t go up to see what the hell was going on, somebody would just come get me.
I put my boots back on and huffed out the door. The unhelmeted Ironman came down the stairs three it a time. I looked up as he was about to speak and cut him off. “I’m fucking coming! Don’t get your panties in a wad.” Because I was really needed.
He waited at the base of the stairs and kept pace beside me to fill me in. Again, I have no idea why. “There are pirates– we think it’s part of the same group that attacked the Forever Young–. The boat is secured onto the Cora. And they are still attacking the Forever Young.”
I looked at him, incredulous. I wanted to ask how the hell they already got the boats tied together in such a short time. A more pertinent question came out. “Why the hell are they attacking that boat? There’s nobody on it. Is there?”
He chuckled. “Nope. But it’s moving so they think there must be someone on it.” He explained further at my still confused stare. “The Forever Young is behind us at our five o’clock. The bad guys are on the other side of the Forever Young and can’t see our ship from its five o’clock.” He smiled wickedly. “They can’t see us and will throw everything they have at an empty boat. We’ll sweep in to finish them off after they’ve depleted their ammunition.”
Then what the hell was I called for?
They already have this figured out. I was going back…then it hit me! I looked at him with wide eyes. “I’m using the fucking cannon!”
He looked as if he was about to protest and I reaffirmed my prize. “No, not yours. I called dibs!” I was about to start squealing. As long as they were anywhere between our four o’clock and eight o’clock, they were within the cannon’s range. This was going to be fun!
Of course, I didn’t even go above deck. When I realized I might get to use the cannon, I turned around and started making my way through the middeck to my beautiful boom maker.
This is story my baldheaded brother gave me of the events above deck after the battle.
☠☠☠
Donning my Iron Man helmet, I emerged from the stairs and noticed Dr. George standing near the bow. He was aiming his sniper rifle up and in the general direction of the Forever Young. I didn’t realize until later that he was firing the shots over the boat to make the occasional splash so it would appear the Pirates were receiving incoming fire from the boat they were attacking. When everything would get quiet and the enemy would stop shooting, he would launch a tracer round in their direction just to freak them out.
Each time, they would again send rifle rounds into the Forever Young. We even heard some small explosions and started seeing smoke rising from the far side of the doomed ship. I was guessing they had improvised grenades.
At some point soon, we will need to procure some type of mounted machine guns to be attached to the deck, maybe one on both sides of the poop deck and then on both sides of the bow.
All the suited protagonists lined their rifles on the railing, aiming at the Forever Young and the Pirates beyond. The yacht was going up pretty quick and was nearly consumed with fire. We were all prepared for the enemy to come around the soon to be sunken ship when we heard a thunk and a shake coming from under us.
☠☠☠
After Easy and I parted ways I could see that the yacht was on fire! It would be completely gone in no time. I didn’t see a reason to give the sumbitches on the other side the opportunity to see us and launch a counterattack. Or prepare in some other way. We had to take the fight to them or at least should first.
I started firing whatever kind of ammo The Tech put in this thing. It was disappointing not to hear a swoosh or something else I expected to hear when firing an RPG. The nearly invisible cannonball sank through the red hot skeleton of the Forever Young. An unseen and only just audible explosion was heard as the cannonball impacted the enemy on its opposite side. Had Gene used the dynamite from the canal explosives in these cannonballs?
Our resident nerd converted the spark ignition of the cannon into just a button. Where was the fuel? Fuck it! Mere mortals should not ask how The Screenwriter performs miracles. I was yearning for a secondary fire key to press and look down the iron sights. I pressed the left mouse key once more and received a click, signifying it was empty. Where the hell was the reload key? I was about to just give up and go online to look for some cheat codes when I noticed a crate full of black cylinders to my left. I was going to have to manually reload my weapon? WTF? Adam Sessler was definitely not going to give this one a good rating!
It would not be possible to rapid fire these things, but it wasn’t going to take more than a few seconds to reload if I had a bunch of cannonballs at the ready. I was able to knock four or five of them into the floor. Next, I rolled the damn things up against the cannon. Why were these things here? Did The Tech keep a fucking box full of cannonballs or something? Just as I thought that, I looked down at one of the heavy cylinders. This was comical and I was pretty sure it had been done in some zompocalypse story. The cannonballs each had a three hole grip! Well, I guess I’m not going to get bowling balls filled with explosives or napalm.
☠☠☠
“What is your kriffing brother doing Easy?” Gene looked at me. I had forgotten what he had said
before we left Guntersville all that time ago.
Gene paused, as if remembering something important, then a look of surprise flashed on his face.
“Big Bertha!” I was expecting him to throw his head back and start laughing like a mad scientist. He went on to explain how he had rigged the cannon to fire projectiles without using any type of fuel or something like that. I’m no engineer, but I don’t think what he said he did is technically possible. He boasted that one of his attributes in Fallout was jury rigger. Whatever the hell that means?
After at least half a dozen bowling balls were launched from the Cora, the Forever Young started breaking up. We could see a trash barge with people running around on it beyond the yacht. The boat was peppered with tiny holes and probably wouldn’t stay afloat long if we kept throwing balls through it. Just as I thought that, our cannon became silent.
☠☠☠
“Motherfucker! Why?” I kicked the damn cannon and received no answer. Perhaps I could just follow the advice of my mechanic wannabe buddies from high school if it doesn’t work, look at it. Keep looking at it. Eventually, you can just throw your hat down and yell. “Well damn! I guess I’m not gonna be able to make it work.”
The boat between us was now sinking it was no longer a barrier in the enemy’s line of sight. The Pirates jumped behind the shipping containers or any other random piece of junk on their damn barge and started sending rifle rounds in our direction. I don’t think they would be sinking a caravel anytime soon with small caliber rounds, but they were keeping heads down on our boat. It wasn’t surprising that their vessel turned to face the Viva Ancora and came straight in our direction.
☠☠☠
We had taken cover on the other side of the poop deck, occasionally peeking to see our approaching enemy. “One barge. Several motorboats approaching. If they are unable to board, they will simply do to us what they did to the Forever Young.” Darth Vader spoke after rising up quickly and dropping back down.
Hammer turned with an insanely giddy giggle. “I’ve got an idea!” She sprinted to the port side of the ship and began heaving on the rope that one of the motorboats was attached to. Her giggling became almost maniacal as Gene and I rushed over to join her.
☠☠☠
Well, shit. The barge plowed through the burning ashes of the Forever Young and started our way. Several tiny boats broke off and moved at us even faster. The fight was coming to me whether I wanted it or not. I went down to my room to armor up before heading back above deck to defend my home. There was no time to check, but it seemed Sarah had overdosed on sleeping pills, remaining completely dead to the world.
As I came above deck I shouted attempting to berate the Tech. “Hey, MacGyver! Your stupid bowling ball gun broke.”
He didn’t seem to be with the rest of the crew but The Old Friend looked over and motioned for me to join the rest of them cowering behind cover.
“They’re headed this way. Keep down.” Bradley spoke in a low voice. Mary peeked out from behind her master’s head and gave me three quick nods of agreement.
“Okay.” I matched his volume. I shook my head. “Why are we whispering?” I asked as I continued to whisper.
The paraplegic bodybuilder smiled and didn’t bring his voice to any higher of a volume. “I don’t know. It just seems like this is the best thing to do.” Mary again looked out from behind Bradley’s head and put a single finger to her lips.
I looked around and spoke at a more conversational pitch. “Where’s Easy? Did he go back to bed–“
The Medicine Man interrupted. “He went with Captain Sledge and Eugene to take the fight to the enemy.” He pointed to the left side of the boat to show me where the small motor boat had departed from. Well, I guess they had this covered. That means I could go back to bed!
Attempting to appear nonchalant, I turned around and began my trek to the stairs. Before I got more than a few steps, The Dark Lord of the Sith placed his gloved hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “No, Captain Collins. I am afraid you must remain HERE!”
17
Wrath
THE TECH SHRUGGED the shotgun from his shoulders as the waterborne vessel made a wide arc and drew on the leading motorboat. They were completely undetected in the darkness. Gene crouched and began flexing his fingers and extended his adamantium claws, mentally preparing himself for the fight to come.
One with the Force, I must be.
He then turned to his fellows and in his best Arnold Schwarzenegger. “I’ll be back.”
Excelsior’s Comics’ owner launched himself at the incoming bass boat. An impossible amount of yards were crossed with his Force Leap. He came out of his Superman pose and seemed to land gently on the deck. The four men in the boat had no time to realize they were boarded. All four men would be annihilated before a shot rang out.
Gene threw his arms forward and in. The man in front of him had just enough time to scream as the razor-sharp claws sliced into his upper back. Before another intake of air could be made, The Tech violently forced his blades out when they reach the point of the spine. The body collapsed as vital organs were slung asunder.
Victim number two was to Gene’s 8 o’clock. The collector of everything fantasy drew back his now crimson blades driving them through the man’s throat as he turned. The hapless pirate began letting out wet gurgles and frantically trying to call for assistance from his comrade’s only feet away. A forceful back kick sent the poor soul into the black water.
The next closest pirate called out for his comrades that had just died by the blades. It was clear this man knew something had just happened. “Carl? Gary? What the hell was–“
No more sound would be made by a mouth that just received a trio of razors from between the teeth to stab out the back of the head. The eyes looked confusedly through the darkness to see what made this killing blow. Satisfaction would never be met when the eyes rolled back and the body went limp.
The horrid smell excreted as the body voided its bowels caused the next casualty to turn from the controls of the boat. The round, short man stood with a disgusted sniff. He made a rude sound when he heard the body thud against the bottom of the boat. “Motherfucker! Did you just take a shit?” His answer was a swipe across his throat. The impossibly sharp knives rived his throat, exposing the spine. He took his last breath as the esophagus, trachea, and jugular were severed. Blood began gushing freely as he gasped and reached for his pistol.
The Tech simply brought his other hand up and turned his wrist. The claws slashed into the pectoral muscle and destroyed tendons, ensuring the arm could not be raised. Gene’s other fist shot forward and drove the daggers into the left side of the chest. The lung was irreparably punctured as the man wheezed.
Slicing and stabbing continued until the body slumped into the chair and fell over into the floor. “You have no sanctuary. Resistance is futile.” The Tech grinned wickedly and prepared to board the next closest enemy boat.
☠☠☠
“You think I give a mother fuck? Fine then. Motherfucking stay on the motherfucking barge and motherfucking wait for the motherfuckers!” The little man barked in his best attempt to sound like a badass.
Leslie Lindsay was The Dictator.
Because of his first name, his short, wiry, and overall feminine physique, Lindsay habitually tried to make himself sound more masculine. The surefire way to do this in his mind was to use the word “mother fuck” as frequently as possible. A squeaky and nasally voice in no way made his vulgarisms and empty threats seem more imposing.
Lindsay somehow had controlled this group of marauders from the beginning. Even those giant motherfuckers like Brutus took orders from him. Working at the local marina on the day the world stood still, he discovered the infected feared water and would steer clear of uninfected meat if a large amount of H2O stood between them and their meal.
Because he could captain a waterborne vessel, the pipsqueak rescued quite a few peop
le after the initial outbreak of May Day. The band of survivors started a sort of flotilla. The Dictator often referred to it as “my motherfucking armada.”
Infighting, swaths of deadly sickness that would have only been annoyances a few months ago, and simple wear and tear had sanded his grand fleet down to nothing more than one motherfucking trash barge and a few dinghy yachts. The patchwork fleet used gasoline sparingly but witnessing a powered boat traveling down the river was reason to spend some valuable fuel. These motherfuckers got shit and I’m taking it!
Some of the motorboats had been dispatched when it was obvious the powered yacht was no longer the target. He could just make out a silhouette in the almost total darkness of the river. Barely believing what he thought he was seeing on the other side of the sinking vessel lay something from his dreams. A motherfucking pirate ship! He had to take it, enslave the crew, and make it his motherfucking flagship.
☠☠☠
Gene Stanley took out the next motorboat with as much ease as the first. The pirates couldn’t see in the dark and simply pulled alongside the first boat that stopped. They were only able to see the silhouette of the vessel, not the bloodied, eviscerated bodies strewn across it. The Tech almost chuckled when the boat came within feet and killed its engine.
“Why’d you guys stop? We gotta catch up with that boat!” A wheezing chortle sounded from the recently stopped vessel as the armored nerd extended his claws. “Poindexter told us to–” those were his last words.
The Tech dove at the man with a foot on the edge of the small boat. He drove his blades straight into his throat under the chin. Gravity did the rest of the work. The Wolverine talons sliced down and severed the necessities of life. Blood pumped from the open wound as the man tried to scream out some kind of alarm. Unable to make any kind of recognizable noise, the only thing he could do was collapse in tears and fade away in indescribable pain.
The closest antagonist jumped back when something wet splashed his arm. He clearly thought he had just been spit on. “What the fuck, man?” The offended pirate sniffed and realized it wasn’t a spray of tobacco juice. “Shit! Are you bleeding?”