by P. D. Clover
As I walked out back, I was astonished, Bruce had those fellas loading it and stacking it almost as fast as the stuff was brought out. He was good to his word. Bruce saw me and walked over with a slight smart-ass grin, he said, “You are able to pay for this, I mean, your card isn’t going to be declined is it? I really don’t want to unload this beast.”
I smiled, “We will see!” as I said this my scanner girl walked over and for the first time tonight, she spoke, “ex-ex-excuse m-m-m-me sir-r-r-r, I-I-I ne-nee-nee…”
I cut in to save her, she was clearly uncomfortable which probably made her studder all the worse. Made sense why she didn’t say anything, and Chris was willing to lend her to me for this little project. I had wondered why he would give up such an excellent worker instead of keeping her up front, but now I knew, she had a stutter. She was probably sent off to inventory or stocking because of it. Sad, if the world wasn’t ending, I would have offered her and Bruce a job. They both were solid little workers with good heads on their shoulders.
“Alrighty then, here ya go young lady.” I handed here my AMEX card, she nodded and stuck it into her handheld scanner chip first.
As we waited for the approval to come back, I noticed all my little helpers were holding their breath. I couldn’t help but laugh, “HAHAHA, y’all worried I scammed you and now you will have to put it all back?” they all just looked at me with blank faces. Yep, that’s exactly what they thought. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wad of cash stripped off a couple of bills to add to ole Joes payment.
As I did the little scanner beeped and an “approved” flashed on the screen, the kids all let out a breath simultaneously. I couldn’t help but grin. I walked over and handed Bruce the rest of the cash I had on me, other than what I was holding for ole joe.
“Here ya go Bruce, pay everyone and give yourself and the young lady there a little something extra...”, I said with a wink.
“Becky,” Bruce said.
I smiled, “That’s right… now where is Ole Joe? I got his money.”
Bruce said, “Haven’t seen him yet, which is strange…”
At that very moment, a call came from beside the building out of the shadows, “SINNERS!”
Bruce looked over at me and said, “And that my dear boss man, is a Diablo… and it sounds like he is off his meds or maybe taken all of them at once.”
“Depends on what exactly?” I asked.
“If he is naked or not,” Bruce said.
“If he is naked or not? What in the Sam’s Club hell has been going on back here?”
Before Bruce could answer me, a large Hispanic male about 6’6 320lbs stepped out of the shadows from the corner of the building, completely nude and covered in some dark liquid or oil. At this distance I couldn’t make out what he was covered in, but I could definitely make out that he was holding something shiny and more than likely metallic in his right hand.
“Bruce, get everyone inside.”
Without missing a beat Bruce said very loudly, “EVERYONE BACK, BACK INSIDE, DIABLO IS OFF HIS MEDS AGAIN AND HE HAS A KNIFE.”
I was impressed that Bruce noticed the knife.
“Sir, do you want to come in and wait while we call the cops?”
“Absolutely not, but thanks for asking Bruce. I have shit I have to do, and I cannot risk that crazy freak slashing my tires,” I said as I walked with the group to the roll down door.
As we arrived at the roll down door that lead into Sam’s, Bruce stopped and turned to me. I noticed Becky had stayed right by Bruce’s side the whole way and was in fact holding on to his arm… “Interesting”, I thought.
“Sir, may I ask why you did all this? Paid us all and our manager so much money? Why you bought so much?”
I took a deep breath and looked at Bruce and Becky, “You two an item?”
They both nodded. “That’s great, I mean it. I wish you two the best. Thank you for your help.” I took a deep breath and replied, “Around 2 p.m. tomorrow something bad is going to happen. It will change the world forever. You need as much food as you can get, a way to protect yourselves, and an ability to move without a vehicle, and most importantly…. be prepared to do whatever you have to.”
Bruce and Becky just stood there staring blankly at me. “You’re serious?” Bruce asked suddenly trying to reevaluate me. Trying to see the joke or humor in my words, but there was only truth and he knew it.
I looked at Bruce and Becky and said, “Yes I am. Please roll down the door and no matter what you hear, don’t call the cops. I don’t need the hassle. Take care of each other.”
As I walked back to my rig I looked over at Diablo, he was muttering to himself like he was possessed. Then suddenly, his head snapped up and I could feel his eyes lock on to me. Unfortunately fuck-face Diablo was standing about 40 yards in front of my truck and thanks to the security lights back here I could now make out what he was covered in. It was blood, a lot of blood. I suddenly understood where Ole Joe went. As I moved toward my drivers’ side door, diablo came closer. He was now ten yards in front of my truck, covered in blood, totally nude and holding a knife. This would be a clean shoot, I knew that, more-over this fuck-nut deserved to get smoked… but, I would have to deal with the police, and that would eat up time. Time, I don’t have to spare. It will create a bunch of drama I needed to avoid at this moment. What I need to do is get in the truck and get this heavy ass load home so I can go out and finish grabbing what I can, while I can… What I did not need is spending the next 5 hours dealing with cops and answering questions, of any kind. I could hear Diablo clearly now.
“God will purify this world with pain, I am his instrument, I will cleanse the world of sin and deliver unto him souls perfected by pain, cleansed by the blood of the holy, for suffering is the face of Gods beauty…” Diablo kept on with his string of insanity at high speed, just one word after another.
I knew I needed to verbally engage him, interrupt his thought process and shift his fixation. If not, the moment I open the door he will rush me. It’s what I would do…attack at a moment of maximum vulnerability.
“What the fuck are you saying whack job?” I asked.
“I AM THE EMISSARY OF GOD. I AM HIS CHOSEN INSTRUMENT. I AM TO PURGE THE WORLD OF SIN THROUGH PAIN!!!” And then with almost a whisper he went on, “the word of God is me. I am the word, and the word is me… The blood is the sacrifice of the sinner to adorn God’s instrument.”
“To be honest Diablo, that is the most disturbing shit I have heard in, well, maybe ever?... real creepy… but listen here nut-job, you may be the instrument of God, but I am the left hand of Lucifer himself… You make one wrong move, and I will blow a crater through your grape, fuck what is left of your soul.”
Diablo stopped talking and just stared at me. Then he took a step forward. And much to his surprise I drew my gun so fast, that for anyone watching it probably appeared as though I magically manifested the gun in my hand by sheer will. I needed to engage him verbally, get his crazy to work for me.
“I believe you are the word and chosen of God, but how can you keep your power if you tell the instruments of Lucifer and sin who you are?” I was really hoping a little crazy of my own would get this guy to back off. While he definitely needed to be killed, I just didn’t have time for the bullshit that came with that: cops, news, questions… The world was still intact, for the moment at least, And rules still applied.
Diablo just stared blankly at me, cocked his head to the side then centered it again. It was a peculiar action that reminded me of a dog I had when I was young. It would cock its head in the same manner whenever I tried to get it to do a trick. Like we had a bad cell signal, and it was only hearing every other word but was still trying to extrapolate my commands from the broken words it was able to hear.
“You are right most high and vile demon. Thank you for showing me my sin.” Then Diablo got on his knees, stuck out his tongue so far out it was almost comical. And with one swift movement, he cut it off with
his knife. He let out an animal like howl, sprung up to his feet, dropped his knife, and picked up his severed tongue. He then slowly walked towards me with his hands outstretched, palms together, tongue in his open hand. He then gently placed the tongue on the hood of my SUV, put his hands to his face, bowed to me and walked off into the night.
I have seen a lot of strange shit in my life, but nothing like that. If this was an omen of things to come, we are all double-anal-gang-fucked. I didn’t lower my Glock 23 until Diablo was at least 50 yards out, then I swiftly re-holstered and got in the vehicle. I immediately locked the doors and started the Expedition, still unable to process what had just transpired, yet still unable to take my eyes of the homeless man’s tongue sitting on my hood.
As I pulled off into the night, I wondered how long the tongue would sit there, how fast would I have to go to get it to fall off. I was mesmerized by the insanity of that situation and grateful to be leaving it behind me.
Chapter 8
As I pulled my rig out of the parking lot, I immediately noticed the sway in my trailer. I had entirely too much weight in it. I had also forgot to check my trailer brakes to make sure they were properly adjusted for the new weight. Almost sliding out into the intersection was a pretty good indicator that I was as overweight as a Baptist preacher’s dinner plate at an “all you can eat” buffet. I put the truck in park at the red light and immediately dialed up my electronic braking system. Without time or a place to test the brakes, I just guesstimated the setting. When the light turned, I rolled on. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too high, so when I hit the brakes the trailer wouldn’t drag me…too much. Although after what had just happened with Diablo, I would count not spontaneously combusting as a major win right now, let alone even mildly working trailer brakes.
Recalling what had just happened brought my thoughts back to the tongue still sitting on my hood, in a very disturbing pose. The tip was pointed directly at me, top of it facing the sky. Sitting that way, whenever I took a turn or hit a bump it would sway back and forth, like a hippy chick at Grateful Dead concert.
As I merged onto I-40, I knew this was my chance to get the damned thing off my hood. I picked up as much speed as I could, thankfully, there was extraordinarily little traffic on the road. Sadly, I hit my top speed of 56 miles per hour, any faster and the uneven load in the trailer would cause the camper to start swaying harder than I was comfortable with. It turns out, a human tongue on the hood of an Expedition does in fact, not, create enough wind resistance at 56mph to fall off. So, I decide to ignore the ill-gotten trophy and resume my calls, I had 40-ish minutes at this speed until I was home. The first person I needed to contact was Dee. I hit the voice command button on the steering wheel and said, “Call Boss.” Boss was just one of many names I had set for her. My favorite was MILF. The funniest, in my opinion, was Pain-In-The-Ass, but which name I used depended on my mood.
The phone rang twice, and Dee answered, “Hey, how’s your shopping trip going? I bet it’s not as strange as mine!”
“I’ll take that bet Wife, and I will win… at this very moment there is a homeless man’s tongue waging at me on the hood of my truck.”
There was a long pause before Dee said, “a what?”
“A homeless man’s tongue. His name is Diablo,” I said with a morbid grin.
“Alright, you win. You have clearly had a far stranger night than I... How far are you from home?” she asked.
“I am probably 40-ish minutes out. I can’t go faster than 56 mph, as I’m carrying way too much weight. Hell, I’m shaking now. But I can handle it. What all where you able to get?” I asked.
“A lot…a whole lot! I cleaned out 5.11 and Duluth, but instead of going to Costco, I went to Gordons Food Supply. If this disaster doesn’t happen, we should start a grocery store or maybe a restaurant. I don’t know which.”
“Unfortunately, Boss, something is definitely happening, most of the campers at the storage facility by the labs are gone. That place is mostly used by the science types out there. I also saw a couple doing what we are, but at a far smaller scale. I think they were worried about drawing attention, but they had a few thousand dollars’ worth of food between their two hand carts.” I answered.
“Yeah, I ran into a few people doing the same thing as us, but not on the same scale as us. It was interesting.”
“How did you get what we needed then?” I inquired.
“Well Henry. Dear, I was diplomatic and practical… I didn’t even need to cut anyone’s tongue out.” she quipped.
“Hey, the hobo cut his own tongue out. But I may have suggested it, kind of… Anyway, I didn’t do it. He did, and it was unreal,” I said.
“He cut his own tongue out. This happened at Sam’s Club?” she asked.
“Yeah, well, behind Sam’s actually,” I answered.
“What is going on out there? Goodness, that is awful,” Dee said.
“How far out are you?” I asked as I took the right-hand merger to stay on I-40 at the 75/40 split.
Dee said, “I just left Gordon’s about 6 min ago, so, I’m probably 50 minutes from home.”
“Okay, take your time. Once you are here, I will wait for Matt before going back out.”
“Okay honey, I will see you in a bit. Oh wait! Have you heard from anyone else?” she asked.
“No, not yet…. Damn… I still haven’t sent out the email! I got caught up at the store and the whole hobo tongue thing. I have to remember to do that when I get home. Anyways, drive safe Wife. I love you.”
“I love you too Big Boy,” she said as she disconnected the call.
Chapter 9
I headed further down I-40, watching my headlights push back the dark that engulfed the road. The streetlights left far behind in West Knoxville. Out here all that can be seen is the occasional glow of ambient light bounced off the clouds from distant towns and the occasional gas stations lit up like small oases in a sea of night. Small mountain towns hidden away in the hills and valleys of Appalachia. I wonder how long until chaos pours down on them. I know major urban areas will be an extension of hell itself, in truth they already are. The only thing keeping them in some semblance of order was society’s current level of technology, government social nets, charitable organizations and programs. Hell, it’s “just in time delivery” and the miracle that is modern logistics that makes urban living possible on that massive scale. Cities for the most part are no longer required to have warehouses nearby to store goods, which means more room for condos and apartments; more and more people in less space…. Katy lives in a condo in Nashville. Nashville will burn, especially in her area which is filled with hipsters and organic beard oil shops. I cannot let myself go down that road. Her choices are her choices, and I need to keep my focus.
Back to the real question…how long until things burn? Welp, I suppose that depends on what happens… EMP, solar flare, something worse? This will be hell. I anticipate that 90% of the US population will be dead in twelve months. Nine out of ten will die. How in the world can I keep my family whole and safe?
As my mind wandered, I came up on the Baldman exit faster than expected. I hit my right blinker and gently slowed my rig down as I exited I-40. I merged onto the road from the off ramp without having to stop. Once again, my luck held and there was no one on the road in my sleepy little town. I pointed the SUV toward home and continued forward. I would be home soon enough. But I still had fourteen-ish hours to maximize and every minute counted.
I pulled through historic Hill Top slowly. I knew the best way to park the rig was to pull through my back yard, and the best way to access that was by the alley entrance nearest the community park. For a change I was happy to have this neighborhood planned and built in the 1890s, before cars and before air conditioning. Who knew how close we would once again come to that way of life? The thought was terrifying and somehow not totally unappealing. Simpler is not always better, but it’s not always worse. I figured we would know sooner rather than later which it
was going to be.
As I drove down the alley, instead of taking a hard right to park in the driveway I turned the steering wheel a couple of degrees, just enough to squeeze by my shed on the driver’s side and around the house leaving my camper angled in the back yard between my house and the remnants of the old carriage house, which I turned into a blacksmith/machine shop several years ago. This left the shed behind the camper and dead-nuts in the center of my back yard. That would have to be changed sooner rather than later as we will need that space for a garden. Once I felt it was situated good enough, I killed the engine and set the parking brake. Last thing I needed was the damn thing rolling down the hill.
I exited the SUV and hit the lock button on the key fob twice and took a bit of comfort from the loud “BEEP” echoing down the street. All my motion activated flood lights where on, good, one less thing to think and ultimately worry about. I definitely had enough to do for the time being. Then it hit me, the emails! “SHIT” I swore out loud.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and logged into the ProtonVPN, then my Proton Email. I sent out the confirmation. I had officially completed my part of daisy chain. It took almost six hours, but we never accounted for the rush and chaos of trying to get things done. I had been fighting off panic the entire night. I needed a couple Mexican Cokes and second to breathe.
As I entered the back-side door of my house, I heard the ding of the door chime and a chorus of “YAY!!!” This late at night and they all were still going strong. Amazing! I wish I had that kind of energy. Then I saw my three little monsters come around the corner and I knew why they were still up. They had Nutella all over their faces. Sugar was an amazing substance… I could not wait until I could get a couple of real cane sugar cokes in my system. Real sugar and caffeine…yes, please!