Chapter 18 – Stephen’s Late Night Visitor
The Alexanders could tell that Fish was more than juiced up to explain everything that he knew, but he waited for his turn, and let the Alexanders tell the story of the shotgun and Mickey first.
“Looks like a Mossberg.” Fish stated, as Tarra displayed the righteous weapon to him.
“I guess.” Stephen added. “All I know is that it works really well.” Stephen stated with a solemn tone. “What’s going on over there on base?”
“Well, at first a bunch of people got sent out to augment the National Guard. Then we didn’t get paid, which sucked.” Fish said.
“Indeed.” Stephen agreed.
Fish continued, “Once people started noticing that the National Guard augmentees weren’t coming back, as promised, a lot of squids just took off. ‘Fuck it!’ they said, ‘we ain’t getting paid anyway’. Then more and more of them took off. It was like a ghost town on base. The higher-ups said that anyone that stayed would get promoted, awarded, blah blah blah. A few of us stuck around to stand watch on the airplanes, so North Korea wouldn’t get them or something. I thought that they were actually gonna promote me to Chief if I stuck around to help out. Wishful thinking.” Fish said that last sentence sheepishly.
Stephen looked concerned, and said, “What about North Korea?”
“Oh, no worries there. I guess NATO has ships patrolling off both the east and west coast, for now, anyway. At least until we get our shit together. There was a few of the NATO guys on base, helping out with the airplanes and stuff. I talked to one of them, and asked why they didn’t send troops in to help us restore order. The guy said that NATO and the rest of the world has a strict, ‘hands-off’ policy at this point. They are only there to keep the Chinese and North Koreans off our coastlines. He had a really funny accent. I think he was Polish.”
Tarra laughed at Fish’s Polish comment, then asked, “But what else do you know? Is there any hope for us?”
“I did talk to some of the guys that had radio contact with the other bases. I guess the Naval Station in Everett was completely overrun by the local population, and nobody is manning any of the ships there. Bremerton still has control of the surface and submarine bases, but there’s hardly anything more than a skeleton crew there to run the boats. Without food and fuel, they cannot get underway, which means they are basically dead in the water. It’s not like there’s an enemy out there to fight, anyway. We’re killing ourselves here.”
Stephen nodded in agreement. “You’re totally right, but I think we might be some of the lucky ones. I bet it’s much worse in the bigger cities.” He thumbed toward the Rudehouse place and said, “Mac and Melanie were here a few days ago and said that Burlington was a total mess. And they also invited us out to the river property, by the way.”
“Oh, no! I missed Big Mac? Damnit!” Fish exclaimed.
“Yeah, you sure did.” Stephen commented. Fish would have loved to have seen Mac again.
Tarra wasn’t fully satisfied with the information that Fish provided, and said, “So, what the hell? Is there any hope left or not? Where do we go from here?”
“We’re on our own now. There really isn’t any hope. That’s why I came back. Nobody even tried to keep me on base. Nobody gives a damn. I took as much shit as I could, those guns, that dog, two bags of dog chow and a bunch of MRE’s, nobody stopped me. I figured that I might as well be here with you guys.” Fish explained.
Stephen did a double-take, and said, “Wait, you got some MRE’s?”
“Yeah, four boxes. Twelve menus in each box, so, that’s sixty. No, wait, it’s forty-eight. Anyway, I just threw them in the truck. The galley was shut down, and the higher-ups kept saying they’d feed and protect our families if we stayed around. I don’t think they have enough food to last for very long, though. Another reason why I took off.” Fish said.
Tarra asked Fish, “Are those MRE’s any good?”
“Hell yeah they are! MRE’s are awesome!” Fish replied. But Stephen and Tarra looked at each other. They both knew that Fish’s idea of ‘awesome’ differentiated from the rest of the population. Then he added, “Stevo, you know what I’m talking about, right?”
“No, actually, I don’t. I’ve never had an MRE.” Stephen replied, somewhat embarrassingly.
“What? Twenty years in the service, and you’ve never had one? How is that possible?” Fish laughed.
“I just never have, I guess!” Stephen replied. Then he quickly changed the subject. “Now that you’re here, we can move to four-hour watches during the night. You might need to show Tarra how to use and load the M-4’s.”
Tarra cocked her head at Stephen and said, “I think I can figure it out, fool. Besides, I’m going to use the shotgun. You two can keep your pea-shooters.”
“How are we on ammo?” Stephen asked.
“They were kinda stingy on that. I did manage to score an extra speed loader and six boxes of rounds. Every time I stood a watch on the airplanes, there seemed to be a different watch captain in charge. I just kept saying that I didn’t have any ammo, so they kept giving me more. I wanted to get an M-4 for Tarra, too. That never happened, though. I had no idea that you guys were able to score that shotgun.”
Stephen looked at his best friend with satisfaction. Fish actually wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought he was!
Fish looked at Stephen and asked, “When are we going to head out to the Rudehouse property?”
Stephen thought about it for a moment, then replied, “I think we’re good here for a while. We got food, water, heat, and now, protection. I don’t think you want to camp outside in this February weather, do you?”
“Ah, good point. No, not really.” Fish answered with a laugh.
Stephen added, “We do, however, need batteries. We’re getting pretty low on those. We gotta have light at night, it’s not a luxury, in my opinion. It’s a necessity.”
“I’m on it, boss. I’ll go out tomorrow and find some.” Fish said, volunteering to help. Stephen and Tarra looked at each other apprehensively, they both knew that all the stores were closed. Maybe Fish didn’t know? Or was he going to “acquire” them somehow? At that moment, the Alexanders silently agreed with each other not to ask how he was going to get them, or anything else that they might need in the future, for that matter.
Tarra asked, “Aren’t you afraid of getting shot?”
“Stupid idea for anyone that tries. I shoot back. And I can aim better. Oh, and I forgot to mention, I have this too.” Fish cockily replied as he lifted his jacket flap, revealing a 9mm pistol.
“Nice!” Stephen exclaimed.
*****
With the new watch rotation, Stephen was scheduled to have the first eight hours off. Tarra had requested the first watch, followed by Fish, then Stephen would assume the early AM shift until sunrise. Stephen couldn’t believe that he was actually going to get a full night’s sleep! He was certain it was to be wonderful. The thought of Fish being back to support the family was immensely comforting. It had seemed like forever since Stephen had actually slept soundly through the night, and he was excited about the prospect of Tarra quietly sneaking under the blanket and curling up next to him after her watch. They hadn’t slept together in the same bed since The Collapse began. Oh, what a beautiful night’s sleep he was going to get!
Stephen fell instantly asleep, but what seemed like only seconds afterwards he opened his eyes to a buzzing sound. Somewhat mechanical in nature, but almost insect-like at the same time; it was living, alive somehow. The room should have been completely dark, but there was a soft faint light that painted the walls and Tarra’s vanity in front of the bed. Had Tarra opened the blinds to let moonlight in? Why would she have done that? The buzzing continued, and Stephen decided to get up to investigate. Just before he reached down to toss the thick comforter off him, a figure appeared at the door. At first, he thought it was Tarra, who had just finished her watch and was coming to bed, but it was coming in slow, and thr
ew odd shadows off the wall in the weird light. It was Mickey! What the hell? His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. But they weren’t. It was Mickey indeed.
Stephen was paralyzed with dread. There was no way that he could have survived that shotgun blast to the shoulder and neck. Even if he had survived the initial blow, he would have bled out quickly. There’s no 911 to save anyone during the Collapse of America! But there he was, standing there, still alive and staring down at Stephen in bed. Mickey took another few steps closer and Stephen found himself still paralyzed, unable to move. He’s coming to get his revenge, he snuck in here to kill me! The M-4 that Fish gave me, it’s next to the bed! Grab it, grab it now!
Mickey had reached the foot of the bed, moving in slow-motion, ambling oddly. He was wounded badly, but still approaching. Stephen tried to reach for the gun, but was unable, once again, to force himself to move. Terrible fear swept over him and his heart pounded madly. Why can’t I fucking move? I’m going to die if I can’t reach that gun. C’mon Stephen, reach, REACH! But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.
Once Mickey had slowly thumped his way around the bed and was on Stephen’s side, he disturbingly discovered the gruesome details of his murderous gunshot to the neighbor. A chunk of his neck was missing, and part of his shoulder as well. Some of the buckshot had erased a portion of his cheek, and Mickey’s foul yellowish-brown teeth displayed sinisterly through the burnt edges of the hole. Some of them were broken or missing. It was horrifying.
He should be dead, damnit, there’s no way he could be alive like that right now! Get the gun, kill him! Finish the job, you worthless pussy, DO IT! Stephen yelled and commanded himself, inside his head, but it was no use. His fear had overtaken him, and he could only muster enough spirit to move his fingers on his right hand an inch or two.
Mickey really should have been dead, but there was something wrong with the world. Everything was wrong. Mickey being in the house was wrong. Who was on watch? Where is Tarra? Is she dead, too? What about the Kays? That would definitely be wrong! And dreadful! But maybe all the wrong in the world had resurrected the ghoulish sonofabitch creeping his way next to Stephen. Maybe, just maybe, Mickey was more powerful than Stephen had assumed. He had underestimated his wretched neighbor, and now he was going to pay for it.
Fish could save him, though! Fish was dauntless, unafraid, a warrior. Stephen opened his mouth to cry out for him, but his lips, teeth and lungs could only muster up; “F-f-f-f….F-f-f-f-f-f-f.”. Mickey was next to him now, and Stephen nearly suffered a cardiac arrest as his grotesque mouth opened, and he spoke.
“Bacon.” He grunted awkwardly. Stephen gasped and choked. Was he about to die over some damn bacon? Mickey wanted more bacon, is that all? Is that why he had come back? Stephen decided that he would just give Mickey whatever he wanted. Just don’t kill me, please! Just as that last thought ran through his brain, a another wispy thought entered his head. Where it came from, he didn’t know. But it was there, something was helping him; You’re only dreaming, Stephen.
As Stephen began to realize that he was suffering from sleep paralysis, Mickey could tell that Stephen was leaving him, and his face morphed into the worst rage that Stephen had ever witnessed in a human being. His eyes flared with a hideously evil orange glow, and he leaned closer to Stephen. Stephen tried to mentally push the nightmare out of his head, and tried to close his eyes, but it was impossible. He was forced to suffer through Mickey’s torture even longer. He could smell the dank, dead body and the wickedly revolting odor that was exuding from his mouth and hole in Mickey’s cheek as the horror leaned even closer, eyes burning with rage. Stephen pleaded silently; someone, something, anyone, anything, please help me. Please GOD help me!
The Mickey-demon could sense Stephen’s helplessness, and savored it. Oh, did he savor it. He reared his head back, as if to draw in a breath to blow fire upon Stephen’s motionless corpse, and screamed as he drew forward, “GIMME SOME BACON!”
Stephen cringed and thought he was going to black out, or possibly even die, as Mickey’s bottom jawbone detached from his head and the saliva-stringy, blood-encrusted nastiness plopped onto his chest as the bacon demand left his mouth. Mickey dropped once again to bring himself closer to Stephen, eye-to-eye, minus the bottom half of his face, but Stephen awoke.
His heart continued to flutter, almost uncontrollably, as Stephen blinked himself conscious and began to focus. Pharoah had one of his paws in the exact same place that the phantom jawbone had landed on Stephen’s chest, and he was licking Stephen’s face. It was comforting.
“Good boy, good boy. Thank you.” Stephen sighed, and dug his fingers into his savior’s rough mane with admiration. He looked to his left and the bed was empty. Tarra was still on her rounds.
Stephen was thankful that dogs possessed an uncanny ability to detect distress in humans. If he had not awakened him when he had, Stephen felt as though he might have suffered a heart attack! If you die in your nightmare, do you die in real life? Stephen decided with finality that Pharoah was staying with them, permanently, regardless of how much maintenance it required.
Before falling back asleep, Stephen invited Pharoah the Protector to join him on the bed. Tarra might be upset about it, maybe not. But Stephen didn’t care. The dog would keep the demons away. Even if Pharoah left the bed to help investigate along with whoever was patrolling the homestead, the thought of him being there was enough.
Stephen also made a mental note to ask Fish for a huge favor the next day.
*****
A very sweaty Fish struggled a bit as he dragged Mickey’s cold, stiff, awful body by the feet out to the rectangular hole that he had dug in the Kessler back yard as requested by Stephen. He glanced at Pharoah, who was sitting near the dirt pile adjacent to the grave, watching him curiously.
“Want to give me a hand, if you’re not busy?” Fish asked the dog.
Pharaoh simply continued to watch.
“No? Okay bud, no problem! I’ll do it myself! All by myself.” Fish huffed, panted and laughed all at the same time.
Fish called for Stephen just as the grisly corpse landed with a macabre thump as it met with the super moist and very chilly February-in-Washington-State soil at the bottom of the grave. To Fish, the gruesome body was just another piece of trash. Good riddance. I never liked you, anyway. And, for the love of God, you fucking REEK!
Stephen came outside, he just wanted to see his nemesis one last time, defeated, at the bottom of the hole before his loyal best friend covered him up. Tarra joined her husband for support, but made the Kays stay in the house. She knew that Stephen only needed that one last thing for him to be right again. Closure.
Chapter 19 – Terrible Things Happen
Once the burial was complete, Fish cleaned up with some of the cold hot tub water and readied himself. He was anxious to get out in the new world to find some batteries. Almost too anxious. Stephen and Tarra had walked him out to the motor pool in the back yard. He wanted to take his own monster truck, but Stephen protested.
“How much gas do you have left in there?” He asked.
Fish replied, “A little over three-quarter tank. I hardly drove it around at all on base.”
“We need to conserve that. Take the Prius instead.” Stephen suggested.
“Aw, c’mon! I don’t want to take that go-cart!” Fish argued. Tarra laughed, but gave Fish a mean look in defense of her beloved hybrid.
“Ok, fine.” Fish whined. Then looked at both the Alexanders and said, “Who’s coming with me?”
Stephen and Tarra looked at each other, both shaking their head “no” at each other silently in agreement that neither of them would accompany Fish into the unknown.
“You’re on your own, buddy. We can’t leave the Kays.” Stephen answered.
Fish shrugged and said, “Good point. Well, I’m outta here.” Then he muttered under his breath as he walked toward the car, “By myself, again, just like burying the body next door.”
&n
bsp; “What did you say, fool?” Tarra yelled.
“Nothing. Bye! Love you guys!” Fish replied with his infamous grin, and waved to them after he dropped his M-4 into the passenger side and got into the tiny vehicle. He immediately slid the seat all the way back to accommodate his length. Was a midget driving this thing? Fish joked to himself.
“Love you, too!” Stephen called back happily and waved as Fish crawled up the driveway in the Prius and took a right onto Swantown Road. He even used his turn signal, for some odd reason.
Tarra said to her husband as they watched Fish depart, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Not sure. What are you thinking?” Stephen replied, curiously.
“That he’s going straight to Connie’s place.”
“Yup. Either that or Chief Worts’ house. Or both.” He chuckled.
*****
The Alexanders had speculated correctly. Fish’s first stop was the Constantine place. He had debated going back to his own apartment to try to salvage whatever he could. But he hardly had any food, and what he did have only consisted of a couple microwaveable meals in the freezer, which would have spoiled without electricity. He wondered if his place had been ransacked, and guessed that it probably already had been. Oh well. Good thing he had packed up all his clothes and stuff for Stephen’s place before the shit hit the fan.
The apartment building that Connie had lived in contained sixteen units. He almost was unable to get into the parking lot due to all the garbage and junk that was scattered everywhere throughout the lot. Why were people so lazy and nasty? Just because it’s the end of the world doesn’t mean that you have to act like it! He thought to himself, disgusted, as he plowed the nose of the Prius in between two large, full trash bags and parked. He shouldered his M-4 rifle as he left the vehicle and cautiously approached the apartment’s entryway, stepping over all the shit on the ground.
THE COLLAPSE: Swantown Road Page 16