Happiness is a Warm Gun: An Interlude with Theo
by Scott Thurlow
Theo looked at his reflection in the house’s dirty mirror. The suit still clung acceptably to him, being only slightly ruffled. His appearance at least remained relatively presentable. Theo felt that even in times such as this, it was no reason to let oneself go. Or perhaps it was the way he had been raised. Though, he was becoming increasingly unsure those values were pertinent, but old habits die hard.
Theo went back to the kitchen and looked at weapon he had left resting on the table that the gruff stranger whose name was Ike (an odd name, but Theo gave it no further thought upon introduction) had given him before tromping upstairs with his "crew"—Dave, Ike's ugly, annoying sidekick who had slugged Theo in the face; and the quiet, brooding Jack who rounded out the trio. Theo was unsure if he should feel regret for allowing the weird little band into his new home, or draw satisfaction in the grim relief at possibly having found salvation in their cartoonish yet effective methods of survival.
“We all deserve an option...” Ike's half-sarcastic suggestion to Theo echoed in his mind.
Theo felt the option Ike meant wasn’t the one he was really looking for. But the words still rang true in a way. He was aware that he couldn’t stay where he was forever. Anyway, he’d be out of alcohol in a few days, especially if he was going to be soon “sharing” some as seemed likely, and sober sulking just would not do for Theo. Instead, he found himself staring at the gun between sips of rum. He had never had to use a firearm before, but he thought himself nothing if not an astute student. Plus, a loaded handgun would be a terrible thing to waste. Even worse than wasting booze or the suit he was currently clad in. Perhaps it was his upbringing speaking again, but in this case he suspected his instincts could be trusted.
Theo thought he heard raised voices from the little tribe shuffling around the upper floor of the house and went back out on the balcony to survey the surrounding scenery. None of the monsters seemed to be in the immediate vicinity at the moment. He thought back to the parade of roof-crossing earlier than had led to his eventual possession of the weapon he was currently contemplating. Theo was ill-equipped for such an endeavor himself; it would have to be the streets when the time came. He returned inside to pour himself another drink, and to hopefully avoid the squabbles of the three armed stooges now intruding upon his little slice of heaven. He wondered if there was anything interesting in the house’s medicine cabinet, and went to check on it, his sense of purpose renewed for the moment.
Inside, treasures abounded. Theo never had much use for medication of this kind, though not to say he hadn’t dabbled in it at certain times. He had just never found much appeal in the process. But what’s the antidote to the apocalypse? Perhaps the answer lied in the small plastic pill bottles lined up like gravestones (Theo inwardly admonished himself for that being his first image connection) in front of him. What did the people who were in need of these kinds of pills do now? What were they doing now? Just because the dead have risen against the living, doesn’t make going cold turkey any easier. In fact, Theo thought the opposite really ought to be the case. His own logic told him that there should be a fairly decent chance someone in the militia-like group that was now occupying the town would be a member of that demographic. Inspired, Theo began to take down a catalog of the items before hastily stashing them away and anyone had noticed.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Volume 6: A Walk in the Park 4
THE HOST FROM THE SOUTH
A Walk in the Park IV
By J. Ian Manczur
I once had friends who spoke of immortality. Of future, today. We were the chosen. We were the generation to become gods. Hubris before the fall.
I wondered, what had become of these dreamers, these visionaries, these conspirators against God. I prayed they had been spared their wish. We challenged Him and He smote us. He granted us our greatest desire, only for it to become corrupted by our sin. Godhood… Gods indeed. Gods of a wasteland, the hell of our own making.
The fear of death? Laughable. We conquered it. No need to worry about life after death, either, or the wrongdoings that might damn us or even heaven and hell. We were never going to die. And the fruit of our labors? An eternity of strife, hunger and bloodlust. My only fear was abandonment by God. The one chance for salvation in a deity long imagined dead. God, I beg of you, save us sinners.
I reached for the Bible secured in my pack. It was soaked through with blood, but maybe, just maybe, I could find an untainted passage. The action required more energy than I had and the tome slipped out of my fingers. Foolish. Now, I had to move. Just an inch to the side, a simple shift. If only the book wasn’t so heavy…
Claire picked up the Bible that Kat had been struggling with. It was ruined, but perhaps Kat still had some sentimentality attached to it. Claire noted, in her little pocket pad, to find Kat another copy at the first opportunity. Flipping it closed, she tucked it in her back pocket.
Kat was unconscious. A deep sleep she may never wake from. No amount of begging, pleading or prayer could save her now. Through all efforts to retain some semblance of dignity, tears formed in Claire’s eyes. Never before had she felt so powerless, her faith so shaken. Of anyone, Claire was sure Kat would make it. Kat, Ike and Dave… so sure in their own strength and each lost to the cruel hand of chance. The dam burst and Claire wept openly.
Their friendship had always had potential, but truly blossomed through the salad days of mid-morning. With a pastoral setting that was filled to the brim with flora, the two young girls, a fleeting description as youth had died with the world, had taken advantage of a few minutes peace to reconcile what had been stolen. Kat and Claire had joked and picked the wildflowers that had reclaimed the land in humanity’s absence and relived a childhood that was only a memory.
Claire had been there when Kat challenged John and Steve for making too much noise. She had supported Kat when she protested Hurley’s callous answer to the mysterious disappearance of the same two noisy boys.
Kat had shielded Claire when the first of the creatures broke through the ranks and Claire even saved her, for once, when the group was being overrun. And Claire had been there when Kat was finally cut down, not by the savages but by a few errant bullets. What Hurley would call friendly fire. Boys and their god damned toys.
Now, in relative safety, Claire would not abandon Kat. If she couldn’t do anything else, she would be a friendly face in Kat’s last few minutes. “I’m here for you, girl. Keep awake for me. Please. Stay awake.” She brushed aside some loose strands of hair from Kat’s face.
Kat shifted, letting out a labored groan. “Thomas. Where is Thomas?”
“I don’t know.” Claire looked around desperately. There were a lot of people, none of whom were Thomas. “I don’t know. I don’t see him.”
“Please. Can you.. find him.. for me?”
Though hesitant to leave her friend‘s side, “I will find him. I promise.” With little time and not much faith in her promise, Claire headed directly for the man who would know where Thomas was.
Claire had no problem picking Hurley out from the line of soldiers. Not only was he a foot taller than the next man, but he was flanked by his ever present lackey, Sgt. Howard. Hurley was busy directing his soldiers and giving orders to Howard… and David Shiner. Other Dave’s presence did not bode well for her search. “Lieutenant, may I have a quick word?”
He was a gaunt figure with grey eyes recessed deeply into his face and a few weeks growth of patchy beard. Lt. Hurley was not a pretty man. If anything, he could best be described as having caught the sickness yet somehow remaining human through sheer willpower alone, damn the ravages on the body. Still, through all his shadowed image, a great strength of personality existed. One that could lead men. It also helped that he had one of those voices. At loudest, cannon fire signaling war. At softest, whiskey and cigarettes. “I’m sort of busy right now, Claire.”
She drew her resolve to ask the question she already knew the answer to, “Have you seen Thomas anywhere?”
His look spoke volumes, “I’m sorry Claire. Father Thomas Sarnowski was killed during the course of the operation.”
Claire stifled back tears. There would be time to cry later. “How did it happen?”
Hurley looked over at his soldiers, as if judging whether he had time to answer her. “Most likely killed by one of the zombies.”
“Most likely?”
“No one actually saw it happen.”
Claire was bewildered. “No one actually saw? So, for all you know, he is still alive? What the hell!”
“Let‘s take a walk, shall we?” Hurley composed himself. “We barely held back the initial wave as it is and more keep coming. There is no way anyone survived outside our little bubble here. What you see around you is what is left of our group. Half of what we started with! So, yes. There may be a chance he is out there somewhere. But God himself would have had to intervene on his behalf.”
Howard adjusted his spectacles, “Well he was a preacher, sir.”
“Howard, you will keep your mouth shut from now on or I will put you on point when we leave this hellhole.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now Claire, what do you need Thomas for? Maybe I can help in some way.”
Normally, she wouldn’t have shared what she did, but Claire was a defeated woman. “It’s Kat, Katrina. She was shot by one of your soldiers.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Whatever. She wants a priest before she… before she dies.”
“Looks like I can’t help after all. I suggest you head back and provide her with as much comfort as possible. And make sure she doesn’t have any bite marks. I don’t want anymore surprises tonight.”
She ignored the remarks. “Oh, one more thing, Hurley.”
“I prefer Sir or Lieutenant, Miss Lombardo.
“Yes, sir.” She added with the most venom she could muster. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of Other Dave’s time.”
“You’d be doing me a favor. Shiner, front and center!” Other Dave waddled to them as quickly as he could move. “Claire would like to have a quick word with you. I expect you back to work immediately after she is done. Got it, soldier?”
“Yes, sir!” Other Dave saluted briskly.
“That a boy. Miss Lombardo, a pleasure.” With a tip of his cap, Hurley resumed his war.
“What’s up Claire?” Other Dave’s shit eating grin was even more pronounced than usual. Claire didn’t want to imagine how, but it seemed Other Dave had grown fatter with the end of the world.
“What the hell, Dave? Since when were you a soldier? And what about Thomas?”
“If today has taught me anything, it is the need for vigilance. Thomas may have believed that God would save us, but I now know that bullets do a heck of a job as well. I’ve been already promoted to sergeant, taking over writing operations reports for Little.”
“Steve’s dead, too? Oh, God.” So many dead today. Then again, so many over the past couple of weeks. What would tomorrow bring?
“Twice over. Killed his zombified corpse myself.”
Claire had heard enough. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he panted running to her, “I had a point to this conversation.” He tossed her a small pamphlet. “A book of psalms that Thomas gave me. I think you will find something in Psalm 3, for her and all of us.” Other Dave scurried back to his new master.
Claire returned to her charge, thinking that Other Dave wasn’t such a bad of a guy after all, just a little bit skeevy, and how much she missed the real, better Dave. A terribly selfish thought for the circumstance. “Kat, honey, Thomas.. well you’ll be seeing Thomas real soon. But, I’m going to say a blessing in the meantime. I’m sure God will forgive whatever sins you might have done. Is that ok, Kat?”
Kat was in no shape to respond.
“Lord, how many are my foes! How many rise up against me! Many are saying of me, ‘God will not deliver him.’ But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the one who lifts my head high. I call out to the Lord, and he answers me from his holy mountain. I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me. I will not fear though tens of thousands assail me on every side. Arise, Lord! Deliver me, my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked. From the Lord comes deliverance. May your blessing be on your people.”
When she finally looked up, she realized that guests had arrived. Five soldiers had their heads bowed down in prayer, among them Hurley, Howard and Other Dave. Hurley was the first to finish his prayer and stepped forward, grasping Claire by the shoulder. “That was beautiful, Claire. Thank you.” Hollow sympathies.
Dave was the next to approach. “He’s right, Thomas would have been proud.”
“He will be proud.” Claire hastily corrected.
“Right. Speaking of Thomas, he wanted me to tell you something in case… in case of the worst.” Other Dave pulled her away, with the pretext of something that needed to be said out of earshot. Claire was hesitant to follow, she didn’t want to leave Katina alone, but if Other Dave was going to the trouble, it might be worth it. Dying surrounded by strangers and soldiers was as lonely a death as any.
When they were finally away from the others, Claire hastily started, “What does Thomas want me to know?”
Other Dave seemed uncertain, constantly glancing behind him. Claire suddenly felt like an idiot for leaving Katina behind. Something was wrong, she knew it, and her intuition was punctuated as Other Dave grabbed her shoulders, “I’m so sorry.” Claire broke his grasp and ran back only to find Hurley bent over Katina’s body, wiping a bloody knife on a rag.
“You bastard. You rat bastard. I trusted you.” She tried to hurt him, verbally and physically, ineffectual as either were. “Look at what you did! Look, damn you! See what you have done. All the dead who believed your promises: that everything would be ok. They all died for you and you do not give a damn.”
“What do you think I am made of? Stone? I am tortured for every man, woman and child who has died. A thousand times for every one of them that I sent to his death. She was dying. There was nothing any of us could do. I did the only humane thing and put her out of her misery. I’m sorry, I truly am, and if it is heartless so be it, but I cannot waste manpower on the dying when the living still need me. Now, leave me be and find something useful to do.”
Claire drew out her pocket pad and opened to a new page.
To do:
1) Survive the apocalypse.
2) Avenge Kat’s death. Preferably by fucking Hurley, and not in the way he would want.
…
3) Find Dave and Ike. They were her best bet for following through with a malicious plan.
Goals set, Claire gathered her things stealthily. The group of survivors were no longer her own. All her friends were dead or missing. Her thoughts drifted to the two young girls that had helped her with cooking and daily maintenance, but she couldn’t bring them with her. They would be as safe here as anywhere. She knew it was a justification, a lie, but her path was dangerous. It was time for something brave, something reckless. This is what Kat would have done.
Hurley did not even notice Claire’s departure. He fought back a sigh and took one last look at Katina. “Howard, add her to the list: Ivanova KIA.”
A Walk in the Park IV
By J. Ian Manczur
I once had friends who spoke of immortality. Of future, today. We were the chosen. We were the generation to become gods. Hubris before the fall.
I wondered, what had become of these dreamers, these visionaries, these conspirators against God. I prayed they had been spared their wish. We challenged Him and He smote us. He granted us our greatest desire, only for it to become corrupted by our sin. Godhood… Gods indeed. Gods of a wasteland, the hell of our own making.
The fear of death? Laughable. We conquered it. No need to worry about life after death, either, or the wrongdoings that might damn us or even heaven and hell. We were never going to die. And the fruit of our labors? An eternity of strife, hunger and bloodlust. My only fear was abandonment by God. The one chance for salvation in a deity long imagined dead. God, I beg of you, save us sinners.
I reached for the Bible secured in my pack. It was soaked through with blood, but maybe, just maybe, I could find an untainted passage. The action required more energy than I had and the tome slipped out of my fingers. Foolish. Now, I had to move. Just an inch to the side, a simple shift. If only the book wasn’t so heavy…
***
“Come on girl, I need you to stay awake for me. Please, Kat. Please stay awake.” Claire hadn’t left the side of Katrina Ivanova since they had been assigned partners that morning. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Not only was Kat funny and down-to-earth, but she was one hell of a fighter. All that Claire wanted to, but could never, be. Now, it was her turn to carry Kat and she was grateful for that blessing.Claire picked up the Bible that Kat had been struggling with. It was ruined, but perhaps Kat still had some sentimentality attached to it. Claire noted, in her little pocket pad, to find Kat another copy at the first opportunity. Flipping it closed, she tucked it in her back pocket.
Kat was unconscious. A deep sleep she may never wake from. No amount of begging, pleading or prayer could save her now. Through all efforts to retain some semblance of dignity, tears formed in Claire’s eyes. Never before had she felt so powerless, her faith so shaken. Of anyone, Claire was sure Kat would make it. Kat, Ike and Dave… so sure in their own strength and each lost to the cruel hand of chance. The dam burst and Claire wept openly.
Their friendship had always had potential, but truly blossomed through the salad days of mid-morning. With a pastoral setting that was filled to the brim with flora, the two young girls, a fleeting description as youth had died with the world, had taken advantage of a few minutes peace to reconcile what had been stolen. Kat and Claire had joked and picked the wildflowers that had reclaimed the land in humanity’s absence and relived a childhood that was only a memory.
Claire had been there when Kat challenged John and Steve for making too much noise. She had supported Kat when she protested Hurley’s callous answer to the mysterious disappearance of the same two noisy boys.
Kat had shielded Claire when the first of the creatures broke through the ranks and Claire even saved her, for once, when the group was being overrun. And Claire had been there when Kat was finally cut down, not by the savages but by a few errant bullets. What Hurley would call friendly fire. Boys and their god damned toys.
Now, in relative safety, Claire would not abandon Kat. If she couldn’t do anything else, she would be a friendly face in Kat’s last few minutes. “I’m here for you, girl. Keep awake for me. Please. Stay awake.” She brushed aside some loose strands of hair from Kat’s face.
Kat shifted, letting out a labored groan. “Thomas. Where is Thomas?”
“I don’t know.” Claire looked around desperately. There were a lot of people, none of whom were Thomas. “I don’t know. I don’t see him.”
“Please. Can you.. find him.. for me?”
Though hesitant to leave her friend‘s side, “I will find him. I promise.” With little time and not much faith in her promise, Claire headed directly for the man who would know where Thomas was.
Claire had no problem picking Hurley out from the line of soldiers. Not only was he a foot taller than the next man, but he was flanked by his ever present lackey, Sgt. Howard. Hurley was busy directing his soldiers and giving orders to Howard… and David Shiner. Other Dave’s presence did not bode well for her search. “Lieutenant, may I have a quick word?”
He was a gaunt figure with grey eyes recessed deeply into his face and a few weeks growth of patchy beard. Lt. Hurley was not a pretty man. If anything, he could best be described as having caught the sickness yet somehow remaining human through sheer willpower alone, damn the ravages on the body. Still, through all his shadowed image, a great strength of personality existed. One that could lead men. It also helped that he had one of those voices. At loudest, cannon fire signaling war. At softest, whiskey and cigarettes. “I’m sort of busy right now, Claire.”
She drew her resolve to ask the question she already knew the answer to, “Have you seen Thomas anywhere?”
His look spoke volumes, “I’m sorry Claire. Father Thomas Sarnowski was killed during the course of the operation.”
Claire stifled back tears. There would be time to cry later. “How did it happen?”
Hurley looked over at his soldiers, as if judging whether he had time to answer her. “Most likely killed by one of the zombies.”
“Most likely?”
“No one actually saw it happen.”
Claire was bewildered. “No one actually saw? So, for all you know, he is still alive? What the hell!”
“Let‘s take a walk, shall we?” Hurley composed himself. “We barely held back the initial wave as it is and more keep coming. There is no way anyone survived outside our little bubble here. What you see around you is what is left of our group. Half of what we started with! So, yes. There may be a chance he is out there somewhere. But God himself would have had to intervene on his behalf.”
Howard adjusted his spectacles, “Well he was a preacher, sir.”
“Howard, you will keep your mouth shut from now on or I will put you on point when we leave this hellhole.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now Claire, what do you need Thomas for? Maybe I can help in some way.”
Normally, she wouldn’t have shared what she did, but Claire was a defeated woman. “It’s Kat, Katrina. She was shot by one of your soldiers.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Whatever. She wants a priest before she… before she dies.”
“Looks like I can’t help after all. I suggest you head back and provide her with as much comfort as possible. And make sure she doesn’t have any bite marks. I don’t want anymore surprises tonight.”
She ignored the remarks. “Oh, one more thing, Hurley.”
“I prefer Sir or Lieutenant, Miss Lombardo.
“Yes, sir.” She added with the most venom she could muster. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of Other Dave’s time.”
“You’d be doing me a favor. Shiner, front and center!” Other Dave waddled to them as quickly as he could move. “Claire would like to have a quick word with you. I expect you back to work immediately after she is done. Got it, soldier?”
“Yes, sir!” Other Dave saluted briskly.
“That a boy. Miss Lombardo, a pleasure.” With a tip of his cap, Hurley resumed his war.
“What’s up Claire?” Other Dave’s shit eating grin was even more pronounced than usual. Claire didn’t want to imagine how, but it seemed Other Dave had grown fatter with the end of the world.
“What the hell, Dave? Since when were you a soldier? And what about Thomas?”
“If today has taught me anything, it is the need for vigilance. Thomas may have believed that God would save us, but I now know that bullets do a heck of a job as well. I’ve been already promoted to sergeant, taking over writing operations reports for Little.”
“Steve’s dead, too? Oh, God.” So many dead today. Then again, so many over the past couple of weeks. What would tomorrow bring?
“Twice over. Killed his zombified corpse myself.”
Claire had heard enough. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he panted running to her, “I had a point to this conversation.” He tossed her a small pamphlet. “A book of psalms that Thomas gave me. I think you will find something in Psalm 3, for her and all of us.” Other Dave scurried back to his new master.
Claire returned to her charge, thinking that Other Dave wasn’t such a bad of a guy after all, just a little bit skeevy, and how much she missed the real, better Dave. A terribly selfish thought for the circumstance. “Kat, honey, Thomas.. well you’ll be seeing Thomas real soon. But, I’m going to say a blessing in the meantime. I’m sure God will forgive whatever sins you might have done. Is that ok, Kat?”
Kat was in no shape to respond.
“Lord, how many are my foes! How many rise up against me! Many are saying of me, ‘God will not deliver him.’ But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the one who lifts my head high. I call out to the Lord, and he answers me from his holy mountain. I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me. I will not fear though tens of thousands assail me on every side. Arise, Lord! Deliver me, my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked. From the Lord comes deliverance. May your blessing be on your people.”
When she finally looked up, she realized that guests had arrived. Five soldiers had their heads bowed down in prayer, among them Hurley, Howard and Other Dave. Hurley was the first to finish his prayer and stepped forward, grasping Claire by the shoulder. “That was beautiful, Claire. Thank you.” Hollow sympathies.
Dave was the next to approach. “He’s right, Thomas would have been proud.”
“He will be proud.” Claire hastily corrected.
“Right. Speaking of Thomas, he wanted me to tell you something in case… in case of the worst.” Other Dave pulled her away, with the pretext of something that needed to be said out of earshot. Claire was hesitant to follow, she didn’t want to leave Katina alone, but if Other Dave was going to the trouble, it might be worth it. Dying surrounded by strangers and soldiers was as lonely a death as any.
When they were finally away from the others, Claire hastily started, “What does Thomas want me to know?”
Other Dave seemed uncertain, constantly glancing behind him. Claire suddenly felt like an idiot for leaving Katina behind. Something was wrong, she knew it, and her intuition was punctuated as Other Dave grabbed her shoulders, “I’m so sorry.” Claire broke his grasp and ran back only to find Hurley bent over Katina’s body, wiping a bloody knife on a rag.
“You bastard. You rat bastard. I trusted you.” She tried to hurt him, verbally and physically, ineffectual as either were. “Look at what you did! Look, damn you! See what you have done. All the dead who believed your promises: that everything would be ok. They all died for you and you do not give a damn.”
“What do you think I am made of? Stone? I am tortured for every man, woman and child who has died. A thousand times for every one of them that I sent to his death. She was dying. There was nothing any of us could do. I did the only humane thing and put her out of her misery. I’m sorry, I truly am, and if it is heartless so be it, but I cannot waste manpower on the dying when the living still need me. Now, leave me be and find something useful to do.”
Claire drew out her pocket pad and opened to a new page.
To do:
1) Survive the apocalypse.
2) Avenge Kat’s death. Preferably by fucking Hurley, and not in the way he would want.
…
3) Find Dave and Ike. They were her best bet for following through with a malicious plan.
Goals set, Claire gathered her things stealthily. The group of survivors were no longer her own. All her friends were dead or missing. Her thoughts drifted to the two young girls that had helped her with cooking and daily maintenance, but she couldn’t bring them with her. They would be as safe here as anywhere. She knew it was a justification, a lie, but her path was dangerous. It was time for something brave, something reckless. This is what Kat would have done.
Hurley did not even notice Claire’s departure. He fought back a sigh and took one last look at Katina. “Howard, add her to the list: Ivanova KIA.”
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