by jboogy » Fri 14 Nov 2008, 20:13:35
They rolled into Arkansas on Rt. 30, just north of Texarkana. Wrecked vehicles had been mercifully scarce and Plantains group had had little trouble pushing what few stalled cars they had encountered off to the side. Happiness and a sense of hopeful optimism had occasionally tried to grab a foothold within their minds in the days since they had passed the Federal concentration camp. But it seemed whenever they were ready to block those images permanently from their memory, a new portent, sign, or some other reminder of the pain and loss that had occurred, would surface and demand their undivided attention once again.
In Livingston Texas, soon after the concentration camp, they had passed through what had initially seemed a piss poor road block attempt. A small group of young, undernourished rednecks had set two pick-ups nose to nose on 59. Unfortunately they had angled the trucks so their noses were aimed toward the direction Plantains semi was traveling. Downshifting, Plantain had slowed to about twenty mph and simply “popped” the trucks open, similar to how I imagine Bruce Lee could have opened a set of those old-style swinging saloon doors with a good front kick. They had whooped and hollered when it had become apparent the road-block was no match for fifty thousand pounds of semi, they had pumped and shaken their fists at the teenage hill-billy boys mostly hidden along the side of the road, peeking out from behind trees and the fenders of other empty and unmovable relics of a carbon-fueled past. They did not see, nor suspect, that young men with rifles were hidden a little better, some laying prone a few hundred yards from the highway, a few more well hidden in trees , with perfect vantage points with which to direct fire down upon the road.
From the econoline traveling behind the semi, Pstarr and Raphael saw the semi crash through the road-block and began their own little celebration. High fiving and shouting they at first did not understand what the THUNK sounds, quickly followed by distant cracks, could be. They knew quickly enough when the little side-vent window shattered inward and a 30.06 round deflected into Pstarrs knee. Screaming in pain Pstarr looked to his friend Raphael just in time to see his friends face change from a grimace of confusion into a quick, fleeting look of blankness. A small chunk of lead traveling at well over supersonic speed had pulverized the motor center in the base of Raphaels brain. Continuing in a slight upward trajectory the lead mushroomed and exited through Raphaels right eyebrow; depositing his eye as well as a good chunk of his forehead onto Pstarrs lap, steering wheel and dashboard. Raphael was gone, his clairvoyance and psychic abilities had apparently not seen this one coming.
In the semi Plantain, Madpaddy and the luscious ferret-babe had fared somewhat better. Plantain, having served as both a CIA “cleaner” and a big-game helicopter hunting guide before hiring onto Hugo Chavez’s refining outfit, recognized the sound of high-powered ordinance impacting steel immediately. “Get down”, he screamed grabbing the Ferret girl by the back of the neck and pushing her head down into his lap. Misunderstanding, the Ferret-girl reacted from a gut instinct level by twisting from his grasp and delivering a backhand karate chop into Plantains throat that narrowly missed collapsing his trachea. “I told you I don’t like you that way”, she cried before the continuing sound of impacting rounds finally made her realize what was happening.
” You silly quiff”, Plantain tried to say but only managed to squeak something along the lines of, “oo illy iff”, before racking spasms of choking threatened to cause an oxygen deprivation blackout.
Ferret girl helped steer the rig, just in case. MadP bent over with his hands cradling the back of his head. Plantain kept one of his hands on the wheel while shooting looks at Ferret girl. Pstarr mourned his friend, and Raphael began the long, slow process of decomposition. Thus this group of four people, two vehicles and twenty-thousand gallons of precious gasoline left the primitive but effective ambush and continued their way northeast through Arkansas, demoralized but ready to hope again.
The Boogeyman decided to tap the male first and see what happened from there, SOP actually. Often all that was required to turn defiant, headstrong females, into compliant, meek orifices was the elimination of their escort muscle. Seventy-five yards, piece of cake for the pistol. One click on the scope and he knew the slug would land within three centimeters of wherever he put the crosshairs. It really was almost too easy sometimes. He laid the barrel along the thick steel train track and sighted in, increasing the pressure on the trigger, he was perhaps one foot-pound from firing when he saw the flicker of a shadow and heard the whistle of displaced air. Shit, he had barely time to think before the steel pipe behind his ear turned the lights out. Pops stood over the assassin with conflicting emotions dueling for dominance. On the one hand he was excited and somewhat happy that he had eliminated a very serious threat, on the other hand he was reasonably certain that had civilization not collapsed that this poor, misguided soul laying prostrate before him, would probably be living an industrious, law-abiding life somewhere. His sidekick was not so sure. “ Nice shot Pops” his friend Gampy opined.
“Yup” Pops replied, not thinking it was a nice shot at all.
“I ‘spose his friends will be coming back shortly, partake of the spoils and what not.” Gampy continued, beginning to think time was perhaps beginning to grow short.
“Yup.”
“alright then, I’ll grab his arms and you can get his legs, okay?”
“Okay”, Pops answered and bent to the task.
Lateralus and Aaron decided to attempt contact with the dazed and injured young women tied behind the garage. When Threadbear told them she and Shannymara should also go simply to put the girls at ease Aaron could not argue the point, as much as he had wanted to. There was something dangerous here he could not put his finger on; something almost feral about the disorganized, reflexive way the captive girls were behaving. The four wannabe rescuers waded across the shallow stream, careful to cross upwind of the stinking, festering gut-piles polluting the stream. Once within clear obvious sight the zombie-like girls began to notice them, one by one. Soon all of them were watching Aaron’s group approach, and they were a little relieved to see that their arrival did seem to be evoking a somewhat more substantial response than the sound of their puking had. But again, the muted response was somewhat disquieting, the prisoner chicks had begun grunting and uttering soft mewling sounds at the groups approach. Surely this was not the reaction their rescuers had expected, these girls had obviously been abused, probably psychologically as well as physically, by rights they should be freaking out with gratitude and relief at the prospect of imminent rescue. But they seemed merely expectent at Aaron’s groups arrival. Slowly inching closer Aaron and Lateralus got within a few feet of the nearest girls and were at first shocked at the smell, and then upon noticing something else. All the girls had flat, glazed eyes, like dead fish. And they all had the distinct smell of decomposing death on them, not the smell of the slaughtered game carcasses down by the stream, this smell was coming from their pores almost. Something was seriously wrong with these girls , something none of them had ever seen before, something dark and wrong and tinged with an evil none of them had ever imagined outside a Stephen King novel. Shanny instinctively backed away, even though she had not gotten anywhere near as close to the girls as Aaron or Strider. She was sensitive like none of the others, receptive to hidden things in a clear,obvious understanding that most barely felt on the edges of their senses. Lateralus turned to ask Aaron something, what it might have been we’ll never know. The girl nearest Lateralus, a tall willowy blond with peach tits and a little boys hips, chose that moment to let just the smallest little smile adorn her dirty acne-scarred face, before stretching her tethers and her body way beyond what even the best engineer would imagine possible. Aaron saw it happen right in front of him and it really did seem like it happened in slow motion. The blond grabbed Lateralus by the hair and jerked him towards her with what seemed super human strength. Lateralus had time for one soft “whuuu” before the blond sunk her filthy, rotting teeth into his neck and ripped out a big, bloody chunk. At this the other girls grunted some slightly more enthusiastic approval and tried to stretch out to perhaps get a snack of their own. But the cat was out of the bag now and the would be rescuers backed away down the hill, Shanny and Threads crying/screaming, Aaron putting round after round into the girls, to no obvious effect, after all, they were already dead.
Perhaps the population would be less swayed to socialism if we had fewer examples of socialism from our "Free Market Capitalists". -----fiddler dave