by Black, D. S.
After hearing the story, Mary Ann stumbled to the bath room and vomited.
It was going to be a long day.
The New World gave no rest to the weary.
Just Another Day in the New World
1
He awoke to clanging and banging against his chamber door. Mary Jane's voice was wild and excited. “Open the fucking door! She’s going to kill him!” His dreamy flashback of yesteryear’s remembrances was all but faded and gone. He shoved himself out of bed and marched to the door. She certainly would not be up in such a fuss and a tizzy for no reason. The door creaked loudly as it opened, and the sweaty face of his end of the world girlfriend screamed at him. “You go in here and leave me to deal with that rabble! Every fucking goddamn night! Now that fool friend of yours has felt up one of the younger girls, and my sister has him held at gun point and is bat shit out of her mind.”
“The younger girls? Who?”
“I think she is only thirteen!”
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
“You told him not again! You told him not—”
He held his finger to her mouth, “And I meant it.”
He marched through the dark corridor. Some sunlight beamed through windows near the top of the hall. Again? Again! He rushed through the double exit doors and moved over the cobble streets. He could hear the crowd gathered and the people fuming. Mary Jane with her long strong athletic legs, darted in front of him. “Here he comes, Sarah!”
He walked up and pushed his way through a crowd of sweaty, excited spectators. And then, in the middle of the town’s courtyard was Vice on his knees with Sarah Ann standing a few feet from him aiming a sawed-off shotgun directly at his head. “Did she tell you what he did, Duras? The son of bitch got drunker than drunk last night. And guess what? He walked off and said he had to take a piss, but instead followed little Margie home and felt her up!” Sarah Ann said.
“Don’t fucking listen to that shit, Duras! The bitch is out of her mind. Too much drink and smoke if you ask me. Say, do your pal a favor and shoot the fucking whore!”
“Whore?! You’re a sicko!” Sarah Ann was fuming.
“Everybody just shut up for a moment! Where is Ice Man?”
The Ice Man came out of the crowd as if waiting. His golden blonde hair looking pert as ever. “Yes, sir; ready and willing.”
“Take him to lock up till I can figure out what to do.”
“Lock up? What the hell Duras? How long have I been your right-hand man? How fucking long?”
“And how many times have I warned you to stay away from the younger girls? Now shut up and pray! Because God is the only hope you have, if this turns out to be true.”
Ice Man along with Rhino held him down and tied his arms, then yanked him up and forced him through the streets. Mary Jane and Sarah Ann came up to Duras.
“So, what are you going to do with the cheating perverted snake?” asked Sarah Ann.
He rubbed his eyes and felt the heat of the early morning southern sun force its hot rays into his brain. “God only knows! Hell, I guess we can let the victim decide.”
“No trial?” Mary Jane asked.
“Trial for what? We know he did it. The only reason he got away with the last girl was because the poor little lassie along with her whole family got eaten by zombies,” Sarah Ann said.
“And I told you to deal with it then, didn’t I?” Mary Jane said.
“It’s too early for this,” Duras said.
Mary Jane glared at Duras. “You leave me to deal with this rabble every night. You go off into that dungeon of yours and feel sorry for yourself. You don’t think I know what you do? You think you are the only person that lost your family? Fuck you!” She slapped his face hard, then turned and walked away.
Holding his stinging cheek, he said to Sarah Ann: “Go with her, will you? When she calms down go find the girl Vice felt up and bring her to the courthouse. I will have the boys bring Vice down and we will deal with this once and for all.”
2
A few hours later, Duras sat in the judge’s chair staring out at the seats. The seats were filling up fast by the many people that wanted to know the fate of Vice. Word had spread quickly that the young girl had already made her decision, but refused to tell anybody what it was.
“What say you, young woman? What will the fate of Vice be?”
A hush fell over the entire room. She looked up at Duras with glowing blue eyes, then she turned and faced Vice. “The Pitts! Take him to the Pitts!” Duras grabbed the gavel and slammed it hard. “You heard the girl! She wants the Lord to choose this man’s fate.” He pointed the gavel at Vice. “Your fate will be decided by the Trail of the Damned!”
He left the courthouse with mixed feelings. Vice was a loyal friend and soldier, but he was also a pervert. He walked over to what used to be a pub. It was still a pub of course. A post-apocalyptic drinking hole where his men drank and blew off steam.
The smell of home grown tobacco and whiskey hit him as he walked through the double glass doors. He sat down at the bar, “Whiskey.” Rhino filled a shot glass and handed it to him.
“Come on, Duras! What the fuck!” Ice Man said behind him.
Duras turned and stared at him, took a drink of whiskey, and slammed the shot glass onto the table and stared at him.
Ice Man continued. “Vice has done more for this community than that little girl. Maybe he did wrong, but he is still a loyal soldier and we need him.”
“What we need is harmony. Without harmony, this community will perish. If I let him keep getting away with this, I risk losing the trust of the people. If I lose the trust of the people, this town will fall.”
“Hell, I ain’t never liked his ass anyway. Let him die,” Swirly said. Swirly was a wild-eyed African American girl with frizzy hair. Her pupils were always larger than the white part of her eye.
“Shut up you damn whore!” Said Rhino.
Swirly rose, and charged him. He grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, forcing a kiss onto her lips. “Now get your ass back over there!”
“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” Swirly left the building.
Duras took another shot of whiskey, then one more. “Gentlemen!” he started. “The Vice issue is second hand compared to the Tree Folk. Listen to me!”
All his men were there, except Vice of course. He was locked away in the courthouse holding cell till the hour of his judgment. Without Vice, his men turned to Rhino and Ice Man for their guidance. It’s a group of men with unknown, or well-known backgrounds. Some maybe were military. Others perhaps convicts.
Someone handed Duras a joint and he gladly took a long drag blew out the smoke, and coughed hard for a moment.
One of the men was smiling. “They call that the Blue Moon boss,” he said.
Another soldier said, “What about Vice? No matter what he did, we can’t do this to him. I say kick the girl out! Hell, it's Vice that keeps ‘em all safe!”
Duras looked at his slather of filthy soldiers with arms crossed. “Soon we are going to battle!” He threw back another shot of whiskey. “We are going to burn Okona out.”
“Yeah, but it sure would be nice to have Vice!” Rhino said.
He knew they were right. Vice was an invaluable asset. “He will survive the Trail,” he said.
He sat there for a moment. No one spoke. “Well… the Seekers should be ready by now.”
“Dirty rats! I hate those bastards!” Screamed Ice Man.
“They are necessary,” he said.
“It’s not normal,” said Rhino.
“They do enjoy their job, but sacrifices are necessary in this world. In this environment, only the wicked survive. It is deathly important to show both cruelty and justice during these darkest of days.”
“I caught one of ‘em eating the flesh right off the fucking bones. The guy's strapped to a table. He was screaming while that blonde headed Seeker carved him up like a roast.” He stopped for a second. “Then you will never
believe what the asshole did next. He fucking hissed at me! Literally fucking hissssssssed.” Ice Man said.
A nervous laughter filled the room.
“I just don’t get it boss. Why?” Another soldier asked.
“Evil wins the day. It is that simple,” Duras said.
“Why not just bring those folks into the community? Why hack ‘em up and use ‘em like that?” Ice Man asked.
“You know what Vice would say?” Duras asked.
“What he always says. People need entertainment. People need religion. People need justice and punishment. The Trail gives them both, and the Seekers make the trial possible.”
“That’s why he is my right-hand man. When the Seekers find people wandering out there—those people are lost, starving, and going to die anyway.” He took another drag from the joint. Smoke filled the air.
“Why don’t we just use the ones that are already dead?”
“The Trial is a spiritual experience. It must have a certain level of depth and mystic appeal. Sacrifices help create that. Hell, sacrifices have been part of humanity’s existence for millenniums. Plus, we can’t take in anymore than we have. We don’t have the food or resources. Speaking of the Seekers. Time for me to pay them a visit.”
3
He stood and made his way out of the building. He crossed the peddled roads and heard his men behind him. He walked around to a side entry door on the east wing of his churchly castle. The Catholics that built this place went out of their way to create a majestic and medieval building.
He banged on the large mahogany door. Foots steps were heard, then the peep slot unlocked and opened.
A man with long blonde hair and a scar-ridden face stared out. His eyes were hollow and black. “Welcome, Duras. We are almost ready. Would you like to come to the séance?”
“Sure, what the hell.”
“Hell has no fury like the power of God.” The door unlocked and opened. He entered a long hallway lit by torches mounted on either wall. Paintings of dead saints and apostles hung between each torch. The blonde Seeker wore a brown robe with a black hood. He carried a small lantern as he led the way. Duras's boots clicked against the gray stone floor. As he got closer to the end, another doorway came into view. Beyond the door, growls were heard.
The Seeker opened the door. “This way, Duras.”
“After you, Rusty Ray” he said. He put up with the Seekers, but he didn't trust them. He walked through the door and followed Rusty Ray, never taking his eyes from him. Rusty Ray was the leader of the Seekers. He gave Duras the utter creeps.
The smell of death hit Duras hard. He was in a large circular room filled with chained dead men. They growled, howled, and reached out for flesh. Their eyes burned a hot white and their skin hung loosely from their faces. The Seekers had adorned their body with Kevlar.
“Today’s Trial must be different. It calls for a level of difficulty due to who is to enter the pit. Duras, why the face? He broke our community’s laws. Laws given by God. He has shown himself to be without faith.”
“Just get on with it.”
Rusty Ray looked back at Duras with a smile, but underneath that smile, Duras was quite sure he sensed hatred.
More Seekers entered from another door. They were all wearing the same brown and black cloaks. They began sprinkling water on each dead man’s head and chanting something he could not understand. Their chant echoed off the stone walls along with the moans of the dead. They then began hoarding the dead out of two separate doors that led to the gates that connected to the pit.
Duras motioned for the Rusty Ray to get on with it and to lead the way out.
4
The bells were ringing. People were gathering quickly.
Inside, Duras made his way to his balcony. Mary Jane waited along with her sister. Her sister had tears streaming down her face. “I love him. I still love him!” She held a bottle of wine in her hand. Her hair was disheveled. Mary Jane held her like a child.
Down below the crowd roared, “Duras! Duras! Duras!”
Duras stood and picked up the megaphone.“Today, God brings us together for a very special Trial. Vice has been a loyal soldier and friend to many of us, but no one is above the laws of our community. Our children are special. They are gifts from God. They must be protected.”
“Let him die! Let him die! Let him die!” They screamed.
“That is for God to decide, not us! Therefore, God gave us the Trial. If he survives his sins are forgiven. If he dies, then may God have mercy on his soul.”
The crowd roared. The balcony shook under his feet from their bellowing. He saw the door to the pit open, and Vice was pushed down into the bowl. His face looked mean and ready. Duras had seen that look before while engaging in battle with the dead and the living—maybe he would survive this ordeal after all.
The sword lowered; Vice removed it from the chain. The doors creaked open. The dead men stumbled out. Their armor was fitted tightly against their skin dripping bodies, and their eyes burned hot white. Their hungry moans were barely audible over the raging crowd.
The first group charged Vice. He swung the sword, it barely cut into the hard Kevlar. The Seeker’s had taken the liberty of wrapping it around their necks and put helmets on their heads. Vice shoved them off him and circled fast around. He jumped onto one of their backs and jerked backward on the helmet. It came off along with half the skin. Vice stepped back, swung and cleaved its head.
“He’s going to make it,” Mary Jane said to her sister.
“God. I still love him so much,” her sister said with thick and drunken sobs.
And he did survive, much to the bloodthirsty crowd's disappointment. Vice killed each one with precision. He then stood proudly; he mocked the crowd. They jeered back at him. He laughed.
Then the next gate creaked open. Ten heavily armored dead men marched out.
In the same fashion, Vice ended each one. As he reached the final dead man, he gave the crowd the middle finger and swung with a victorious scream.
5
Later, Vice celebrated with the rest of the men. Sarah Ann sat on his knee and held onto his neck. A long and fat blunt dangled from his lips and a shot of whiskey sat in front of him.
Duras stepped into the old run down bar and was greeted with thunderous drunken applause. “Here! Here! Duras has joined us!”
The men danced around him and shouted a song of triumph.
“We fight, and we dance at the end of the world! Nothing can kill us now! We dance, we prance, and we chop off their fucking heads!”
Mary Jane followed behind him and wrapped her hands around his waist. He turned to her. She stared into his eyes. A warm breeze blew through the open doors. She looked up at him “Never forget this moment. This is a great moment,” she said.
“A glorious moment.” he said.
She kissed him. He kissed her back. And they danced, drank, and smoked till the sun came up.
6
A few hours after dawn, Duras woke with a jump. Screams and then a loud siren shot through his ears. “Jesus! Can’t I have one day! Just one fucking day!”
Vice stood above him, “A few of the people made off with a large stash of food and slit the throats of five men!”
“Fucking bastards!” he rose fast. Sunlight glistened through the bar’s windows and burned into his eyes. He rubbed them. Rhino came charging in with his Springfield, gave it to Duras, and through the door they all went.
“Gas up the jeeps! We’ve got some thieves to kill!” He charged through the streets and joined a group of his men at the front gates. He loaded into a Jeep Wrangler. The previous owners, now long dead had been kind enough to install a lift kit and massive wheels. Rhino drove, Vice sat in front, and Duras and Ice Man took up the back seat.
“The fucking fools! I’ll gut them before this day is over! I want them alive gents! I want to make them suffer!”
They charged forward in the Jeep. The air was hot as it blew through the open win
dows. The seat fabric was warm. Duras stared out into the world. The sky was blue with a few clouds.
He saw them. In the wide open, hauling the food on their backs. “You would think they’d have a better escape plan!” Rhino said while he laid on the accelerator.
They saw them and turned. They dropped the food and whipped out pistols. Rhino slammed on the breaks and brought the Jeep to a skidding halt. Duras jumped out and aimed his rifle. A gunshot pelted the side of the Jeep; he saw one of their kneecaps in his site and pulled the trigger. The guy went down with a scream.
Rhino blew the brains out of one of the others. “Fuck! I didn’t mean to kill him!”
“Can’t win ‘em all!” Duras said. Vice took out the legs of two others and Duras finished off the final one with a well-placed shot in his lower torso.
“Tie ‘em to the top!” Duras said.
The sun burned hot against his back as he kicked one of them unconscious. The guy fell to the ground with a lifeless thud. Blood oozed from his hip; he wore handmade pants. It reminded Duras of the outfits Star Trek characters wore when visiting pre warp societies—medieval, but not anything that anyone wore during the medieval ages … just something the costume crew was told to come up with to avoid looking like anything anyone had seen before. The guy's hair was long and dirty. His chin sharp and his face underfed. Dirt and blood smeared across his cheeks.
One of the other ones looked like he used to be fat. He had stretch marks down his neck. Duras was surprised he made it this far. Most of the fat and out of shape people died early on. His eyes were closed from where Rhino had knocked him cold. He wore the same handmade clothing as the other guy. His hair was chopped short, probably with a knife.
Vice punched out a third. Skinny as a rail, the kid fell easy; his hair, black and filthy and his pants didn’t fit well around his waist. A handmade rope was used as a belt; a poor excuse for clown pants. He stumbled and staggered. A long nasty scar running down the side of his face caught the sunlight, highlighting that and the dimple on his chin.
“We’ve got company,” Vice said.
