by Stephen Biro
I caught the kid first.
Shot’im right in the fuckin’ face.
Fuckin’ Preppers…
Eyes down, back to the door, cannin’ in the kitchen, his mama takin’ a shit in the back of the house… I mean… What the fuck, these assholes are preppin’ for the end of the world with their fuckin’ pants down, balls on the table with a mouth fulla candy? Really? It was so easy...
Junior ate it with a grimace. I kicked the back of the chair so I could see the look on his stupid fuckin’ face when his mouth exploded into his neck. I didn’t bother with a 2nd round. He hit the deck chokin’ on his own teeth & gums.
Dumb, rollin’ around in a puddle of your own puke & chunks of tongue.
That’s no way for an American to die. Not no real American.
I moved deeper into the house. It was easy. Wait’d ten more useless minutes for Country Bad Mama Cass to get that big rig of hers power washed & ready to come out of the john. Passin’ by the garbage can fulla take out, the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, the crusty microwave, no wonder it took so long to wipe it down.
It was the fall of the empire. Rotten with excess.
The big cow’s smell hit me before the sight. I knew that bathroom was wrecked and their plumbing was power fucked without even lookin’. Didn’t wanna go near that stench. The stink… nothin’ worse than an American power dump.
Travel the world. Think your shit don’t stink? It stinks worst.
This one was a real walkin’ bovine. Her BO was worse than the shit. It offended me on principle. I shot her in the throat to hear her gurgle.
Shot her in the legs to watch the ripple.
Shot her in the arms ‘cuz it made me laugh… is that mean? Laugh, fuck, it made me fuckin’ doubled over roarin’. If her hubby had her six I woulda been shit outta luck… Joker dead. Shittin’ & a grinnin’… Fuck yeah I laughed…
That’s the way it was in the world.
When they caught me and held me down in that hole…. THEY fuckin’ laughed…
FOX would call it a cave but I call it a fucking hole.
Kicking & screaming, they dragged me from our scotched hop’n’pop… beered & geared up in the mountains making the world safe for opium war lords & broken dreams… phantoms… rumors… mouth fulla burnt smoke… couldn’t see shit… they got us… details classified… hand in hand we worked with the CIA keepin’ that pipeline open, yes sir, no sir, get that grid locked down… the fire… late in the night… rumors & sharp pain… just heard Dickie screamin’ about his legs… over & over until they got us… hard dirty hands draggin’ you out of the hot metal & broken glass like squishy grubs in their garden… I don’t know what the fuck they did to’im but Dickie screamed like I never heard a man scream before… then it was me doin’ the screamin’… first they busted out my teeth, broke my knees to keep me slow… blindfolded & scared down in the dark… I didn't know what I was eating… I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t fucking know… fucking bugs… crunchy shit that tasted like bad dirt… you ate it all… anything came within reach in the dark, under the blindfold you couldn't see nuthin’, iron bitin’ into your wrists… clothes rotting around you… at first they didn’t feed me nuthin’... Left me to shit & bleed in the black with the rest of the dead… fed me nuthin’ but screams… sometimes it sounded like Dickie… sometimes guys I knew from way back…
I thought about T.V… don’t tell me why… I thought about that bullshit they piped into us 24/7… Lies & bullshit…
Turns out the politicians back home just loved the sound of “We sent in the SEALS.” All the votes it got’em on election day… me… one by one… things stopped... the bleedin’… the shittin’… I was on my back, lookin’ at the back of my blindfold, slowly dying… then the hunger began in earnest…
Ain’t no trainin’ can prep you for hunger like this.
I think that’s where it started for them. Starve the fat American, the slow American.
The one who got caught, the one they didn’t torture to death for fun… Kept around for kicks & anal rape quickies… it wasn’t gay if it was rape… if you were raping an American… it wasn’t rape according to the Koran… the punishment could never be enough… that’s what they said after… not if it’s an American… fuck fuck fuck fuck… fuck … fuck.. those rat fuckers loved to fuck… angry & fast… fuck… fuck…
After a couple weeks in that cold shitty hole… food didn’t matter… I just bled and bled and bled… down in my hole…
When I was ignorant…
I didn’t know. It ain’t like no one told me. No one gave me a fuckin’ menu and took my goddamn order…. cold… stone… hunger…madness was nothing…
The hunger the hunger the hunger the hunger… the hunger ate you alive, consumed your nights, chewed up the days… soon you couldn’t stand… couldn’t talk shit, couldn’t be Mr. Tough Guy… just luke warm meat across cold stone, beaten by foreign cock, beaten by angry bitter cock, pounding ass, fast & angry, pounding your bleeding shattered ass… fast & angry, down in the dark… that was it… that’s how they lead you… amazing what a mind can twist around… twist… twist it until they get to do what they wanted to do all along…
Ignorance at first… A warm plate of chili… right?
That's’ what you told yourself…
Bare boned heels, clubs, fists, a long strip of I don’t know what the fuck… then the car batteries and greasy nickel covered clamps… they lived for it… I could tell… finally they had American toys to do with what they wished...
Then that cold light of day… when you saw the bones in the pot… screams of the carved bouncing from out of the firelight… down underground… where satellite uplink couldn’t save you… where jingles & slogans fell on slick ground where your buddy, not dead enough to be called alive, was being cut into ribbons for the pot…
Down… down… down… deep in the dark... a land of poppy fields & caves… The Russian’s folly…. Rambo fuckin’ III ala the Marquis De Sade… sometimes I’d collect the teeth of the eaten & think about that stupid fucking movie… Riding around on horse- back playing with the heads of goats… the flesh… I used to dream of all that flesh… When I could think… all of John Rambo’s wonderful rippling flesh… all I could think… all that flesh… rippling…
It was a game for them… some of them… loved it when I ate rats raw… would throw them into the pit with me… fat fuckin’ rat after rat… bet on how long it would take me to catch’em… if the American would puke again… screams… then the smell of fires… A steaming bowel of something… Something deliciously WRONG… Unlike anything you've ever had… it set my guts on fire…
I jumped when I heard Dickie’s voice roll out of the dark.
“You’re eating me.”
My chin was greasy… my smile sloppy… animal…
“One piece at a time, they’re cooking pieces of me… for you...”
A cough. A gurgle. Watery spit.
It was so small. in my mouth. The piece of meat they had given me.
“They… make me watch you eat…”
Chewing, I was chewing slowly… didn’t matter what he said… I kept chewing. He began to cry. They began to laugh.
I never stopped eating until the cave in…
Laughing through the roar, through the dust, past my broken shattered teeth, I knew I’d lost my mind. I’d lost everything they taught me about being an American, a soldier… Thunder rolled through the stone… Dust & Rock… I laughed because payback shrieked through the air and the walls all came tumbling down… deep beyond the blind fold, I found my way out… listening to their fear… pissing the dirt they forgot about me… until I killed one.
I got the idea from that stupid show…
Food source. Doomsday Preppers. Back in the world it was funny. Down in the dark the light bulb went off and I went to work. Catching rats bent over in fear, shivering & babbling in their slurred monkey talk as one by one I picked them off in the dark.
Skinny rat fucks. Tasted like shit! Absolutely shit; stringy, tasteless fucking rat food; actually worse than the rats. At least they fed on our garbage, fattened & gluttonous, prime beef… not like these fuckers. Nothin’ but wire & beard & sweat & stink…. Shit eatin’ but enough to survive… it’s what I told those shrinks in the world after I got my ass “rescued”…. Dug out of the pit of hell with bits of American leather between my teeth… no one could meet my eyes when the lights broke through… not after what they saw I’d eaten… fuckin’ RAW… like some goddamn vegan juicer bitch… painfully raw…
I ate it all.
But I didn’t tell them the truth. The truth about the flavor.
Under the shrinks, I didn’t mention the craving. The way I looked at the meat in the showers… nope. I kept it tight. Puked out of sight, out of mind. The Base Clipboard Cunts chalked it up to PTSD… after what I’d been through what the fuck else were they gonna call it. Write a script. Pop their pills. The base couldn’t wait to turn me loose. Said I twisted moral. Twisted? Moral?
They didn’t like it when I laughed in their Clipboard Cunt faces. Not even fulla meds could they cover up the stench of their fear. The eyes shine. I used to watch those shiny penny eyes, flat & stupid and fulla copper. Bitter to the taste those shinny eyes. They bothered me. I kept it to myself. I watched that fucking show in the day room. Just like before… it happened.
The light bulb went off.
Food Source.
I quit watchin’ that show and started watchin’ other shows. Shows with girls, hot, bitchy, young, oh yeah… Told the Clipboard Cunts I wanted to get better, get back in the show, meet some girls, have some fun, put that crazy shit over THERE behind me… They liked that. Young stud wanted to hit the field. Bury his wounds in pussy. They could wrap their stupid bleeding cunt minds around that idea. It was easy.
The War Hero was out in the world again. It was easy to get the weapons, the gear. Especially the fuckin’ FLIR… That’s wet dream shit. Stored in with all the “get back to nature” shit I sold the base for my hittin’ the road & out of touch for a week adventure to get my mission agenda sorted out… Then I was gone.
Out in the world as a War hero, it was so fucking easy to go to ground. I hit the wing nut states first, worked my way through the private networks; the ones off off off off the grid. Disgruntled War Hero opens a lot of doors. People love to talk. You can feel the vibe when they’re ready to pop. Especially good in the bars… at night… circling… watching… They all like to talk. Like an itch that won’t stop oozing puss.
Once I did the first Prepper the rest were easy.
For all the isolationist yap yap yap they loved their networks. Talk talk talk. They loved their private clubs. All of them; talk talk talk. Little doggies in their yard barkin’ at you so you’d know they were oh so tough. Talk Talk Talk…
I killed my way through Montana before I went to ground for winter at a camp in Kentucky. It was easy. They’d been in town buyin’ up on survivalist shit, puttin’ a hold on their fuckin’ mail… I mean, throwin’ up every red flag in the book talkin’ up their “winter drill” all summer long on the pirate beat. Stupid is as stupid does. I ate them all.
The Father’s and the Mother’s, then the stupid fuckin’ kids.
Field stripped them under their own hide-away nets on their “compound”… Goddamn beautiful… all that hanging meat, slowly, so slowly swayin’ in the breeze, salted & aging just right… Under the snow I ate… and slept… and ate… and slept down in my darkness.
That first winter the silence was glorious. In the spring I came up from my hole, shook off my fatty predator stench and began MY hunting in earnest. Moving from Prepper to Prepper, quietly and mostly by night. After the blindfold I preferred to eat my food in the dark… on stone…
Glorious.
Golden.
Perfect.
Full…
SOPHIA AND THE AMAZON QUEEN
Brent Lorentson
The tour bus bounced and shook its way down the narrow dirt road. The stench of diesel fuel seemed to stick to the interior of the bus. Sophia stuck her head outside the window, her long yellow hair flapping in the air. She hoped to catch the faintest gulp of fresh air but instead was smacked in the face by the local vegetation.
This year’s family trip was to be the one her mother and father had talked about for as long as she cared to remember. Her father had obsessed over telling the family stories of the Amazon. These were the stories that filled her dreams of wonder throughout her childhood. It was nearly impossible to contain her excitement as well. Her brother Arthur was a different story. Since leaving the airport; he had been complaining about the lack of air conditioning and the numerous shows he was missing back home.
Sophia stared at her little brother as he escaped into his handheld game while his iPod blared over the buses engine. She hoped he could appreciate what they were experiencing along the great river but she also considered herself a realist as well. In the front seat, her parents played the role of tourist dutifully in their ridiculous jungle garments and were constantly snapping photos. They were happy and that was more than could be said about the parents of her friends back home. With the exception of all the bugs that seemed to enjoy feasting upon her; there was not a thing she could find to complain about.
While peering down the cliff side and through the towering trees she caught her first glance of the great river. Several fishing boats traveled along the river from the busy port that seemed to be their destination as the bus continued its downward descent.
It was but only ten minutes later that Sophia stepped off the bus, her eyes wide with excitement taking in the expansive river. The port bustled with excitement as fisherman, traders, and other tourists moved about. Several stands were set up selling everything from live chickens, lizards, clothes, batteries, anything one would need for a journey along the river. “Stay close to your mother and me,” her father chimed in as he stood, befuddled where they were to even go. The excitement of the port had even gotten Arthur to put away his game and music.
“Are we the only white people around here, everyone is looking at us funny?” Arthur asked as he stared back at all the people looking upon Sophia and her family ever so curiously.
“It’s only because they’ve never seen something as hideous as you,” Sophia teasingly replied.
As the family moved through the market area, Sophia noticed how everyone had taken notice of them. All eyes seemed to follow them as they moved through the deep sea of people. Sophia took Arthurs hand as he shuffled behind her quietly staring at all those he passed. Suddenly her arm felt a tug of resistance.
“Arthur come on you heard what dad said.” She turned back to see what her brother was gawking at. A boy, no older than her brother, was removing an albino constrictor out from a dirty sack. The boy clutched the large head tightly as the mouth hung open with two sharpened points along with its pink cavernous throat. The serpent wriggled in the boys grasp as he slapped it across a blood stained cutting board. In a single swift motion the boy swung a cleaver severing the head. Sweeping the head aside into a small basket the boy went through the motions of skinning and gutting the snake.
A hand clasped on both the shoulders of Sophia and Arthur startling them both. “What did I tell you about wondering off? The boat is just ahead at the end of the docks.” Their father steered them toward the river where a large rust ridden riverboat awaited, The Amazon Queen.
You could believe at one time The Amazon Queen was a beautiful riverboat when she was first setting out upon her maiden voyage some 50 years ago. But time has not been to kind to this vessel. Charring and bullet holes riddled the riverboat. Bits and pieces of other boats maintained its integrity and ability to stay afloat.
“You can’t seriously be thinking we’re getting on this. The bus was one thing but my god Wesley. This hardly appears to be staying above water.” Hannah said to her husband with more than a twinkle of concern in
her eye.
Wesley on the other hand looked upon the riverboat with a more optimistic eye, able to recall the sense of adventure that had brought him to the Amazon. “If she’s made it this long I’m sure one more trip couldn’t do anymore harm.”
“Honey there is a fine line between adventure and suicide and I believe stepping aboard this boat is dipping our toes too deep into the inferno.”
Wesley turned to his wife seeing her concern but feeling already they have come some far to turn back now would not only be foolish but an unwarranted hit to their pocket book. His attention shifted to his children who looked upon the riverboat with the same uncertainty as his wife but hoped their sense of adventure could cloud their judgment long enough till they were safely down the river. “How about it gang, do you want to head back the way we came or do you want to show this river there is nothing a Lean can’t do?”
“There’s no way I’m missing out on this, besides if the rust bucket does sink we can always swim to shore.” Sophia smiled to her mom though after looking over the water lapping against the dock she hoped taking a dip in the muck wasn’t in the near future.
Arthur looked up at his father knowing what this trip had meant to his family and truth be told he was having a good time even if the heat was starting to get to him.
He shrugged, “Whatever,” rocking on his heels, “I just need to go to the bathroom.”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll find you a bathroom onboard.” As though just on cue The Amazon Queen belted its horn calling for final boarders.
“Well, what are we waiting for… we have a boat to catch?”
Their third night aboard the Amazon Queen brought Sophia and her father a nasty stomach virus. The two had been on rotation between their beds, toilet, and side of the boat purging what contents remained in their bellies. Her fever had finally broken but still she could hardly keep down the water her mother continued to give her. Her father had barely managed to maintain consciousness as delirium set in as his fever edged its way beyond the 102 mark. The family had been assured that they would be taken to the closest medical facility but it would still be another thirty-six hours of travel. To make matters worse the captain had warned of a storm arriving which would lead to more hostile waters and could present more obstacles to hinder their arrival.
