by Mark Tufo
To top it off, Sour-Puss Sarah of the electronics department was now covering a shift over in Meats.
“You again?” she asked checking out the devastation. “Have you ever thought about shopping over at K-Mart? They’ll let anybody in.”
“Are you seriously implying that I’m not good enough for Walmart? You do realize that they have an actual website set up specifically to show some of the people, and I use that term loosely, that shop here don’t you?”
“I’d say you’re going to be on it soon enough,” she said as she pointed to a sea of phone cameras that were capturing all the action.
I wouldn’t usually use the word “mortified,” but that seemed to fit pretty precisely what I was feeling.
“Hon, I, um, think I’m going to wait in the car,” I said.
“That might be for the best.” She had a hand in front of her mouth doing her damnedest to stifle a laugh.
I went back to the car, grabbed the box of baby wipes I carry around for unexpected messes and cleaned off. The events of that night eventually faded and we had a great Christmas. And to be honest, I never thought much about the incidents afterwards, doing my best to forget it had ever happened, although Tracy made that difficult with her constant retellings. Even that stopped, though, once the z-poc started up almost a year later to the day. The one thing I didn’t put together until I started dwelling on that night, was that the knock-off Pop-Tart hoarder was Tommy and the runaway hag was Deneaux. Fucking bitch was a pain in my side before I even knew her. Can’t imagine what she had against me before the zombies; maybe she’d just seen me around the complex and decided I was in need of a good running over.
Were the forces, even then, beginning to align themselves? Or was the crazy bat just mad at me because my dog had shit in her yard? I could only hope she’d stepped in it and dragged his wonderful remnants into her house and onto her expensive Persian rug, the one she’d salvaged from her bitter divorce proceedings. That seemed about the only way it would all be worth it. The picture of me that ended up on People of Walmart was taken completely out of context. I had ham goo and cherry chunks all over me. My mouth was open, in what looked like a scream and my hands were raised to the heavens. Cans of ham laid all around me. Of course the Ort-Tosser and the Renegade Rider were nowhere to be seen. I barely recognized myself. It had twelve down votes from people who felt the whole thing had been staged.
28
EPILOGUE FOUR
A meeting with Longinus - During the Lycan Invasion
“MY NAME IS Longinus. Do you know who I am?”
“Is there anybody that doesn’t?”
“There have been more than a few. I have walked this accursed world for centuries, unable to die, although I have tried many times. I have been struck through with blades of all manner. I have walked into fires, I have dove into volcanoes, my nerves and skin burning into ash, but regenerating nearly as fast. But not quick enough to keep the pain away. I have waded out into the ocean, sinking to depths that should have crushed me to the size of a child’s marble. As man has found more potent ways to kill his fellow beings I have watched, hopeful that someday he will become so efficient as to find a way to end my existence. I went to war in Germany, France, England, and Korea; I have been shot over a dozen times, I deliberately jumped onto a hand grenade and I stepped in the way of a rocket-propelled grenade, yet here I am.”
“Remind me not to go into battle with you. Will you help us?”
“I care not for the plight of man, and unlike you, Michael, I mean what I say.”
“The Lycan are a formidable opponent, maybe they can rip your head off or something.”
“There is not a mortal creature that can be my undoing.”
I was fearful that this might be the moment he decided to give me a go.
“I’m mortal,” I blurted out. “In so far as I can be killed.”
“Yet you converse with your God directly.” He seemed to take a great interest at this point, as if he’d just discovered something he’d previously overlooked. “Why is that? Hasn’t He given you the whole ‘I cannot interfere’ speech? You must be my instrument.”
He’d even given a good proximity of the voice. It was unsettling having a conversation with a figure that, for most of my life I thought to be more myth spun from allegory than a being with true physicality.
“Something like that,” I mumbled.
“There have been many like you before and there are many like you to come. You are not unique in this. Has He promised you anything of substance?”
I said nothing.
“Not even a vaunted place inside his home? No? I guess He can’t, being as you are soulless. Want to know something amusing? I still have mine. It isn’t worth much, but yet, there it is.” He laughed hard, throwing his head back as he did so. It was very likely he was insane; making a hasty retreat seemed prudent. “I wonder if aligning myself against you would win me any favor?”
I had enough fucking troubles. This was one I did not wish to add.
“How so?”
Longinus laughed again. “Oh. I see you’re still hung up on Him.” He pointed up, placed his hands together as if in prayer and laughed again for good measure. “I was thinking to curry favor from other avenues.”
I shivered.
“Though, they do not want anything to do with me as well. I most certainly would be a prize of sorts, but as curses go, this is one of serious fuckery and even I am not worthy of too much of their consideration.”
“Yeah, can’t tell you how that is eating me up inside. So I’m going to pencil you in as a ‘no’ then.”
“If I change my mind I will let you know.” He walked away, leaving me to my thoughts. Did he mean for or against me? He was the ultimate opponent, one who welcomed death, yet could never feel its cold embrace. He could wipe out entire armies if he so desired. It was that thought that compelled me to follow him, to persuade him, and it was that thought as well that kept me from doing so. War should not be waged with immortals. They cannot, and do not wish to understand the brevity of life and are therefore unaffected by the catastrophes that they can manifest.
29
MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY
LOST CHAPTER 1
WE’D JUST GOT to Denarth. After the fall of Talboton, morale was pretty low. I wasn’t doing much other than taking up space and licking my wounds. Plotting revenge had become a full-time job that I was happy to relinquish. I brightened when I saw Azile coming my way; she was carrying something in her hands. A garment of some sort, it was a weird brownish hue.
“Can you talk to Mathieu, please?” Azile had sat across from me as she handed me what turned out to be a pair of pants.
“You want me to talk to another guy about pants? Seriously? This is not something that is generally done. And what the hell do you want me to talk to him about?” I asked.
“Pull on the material.”
I did; it stretched and then it stretched some more. “Holy shit,” I said as I kept on stretching them. “What the fuck are these made out of? Rubber? These are like pants Stretch Armstrong would wear! They’re awesome!”
“Thank you.”
“Wow. These might truly be the first One Size Fits All. Could you imagine how much you could have made on these? Some of those dumpling-loving women could have said they fit into the same size pants as those celery munchers. But I still don’t know what the hell you want me to do with them.”
“When Mathieu changes he shreds his clothes.”
“Yeah...so?” I got a little scared as I realized the direction this conversation was going.
“When he turns back into his human form he leaves little to the imagination before he can get a change of clothing.”
“That’s his problem. And maybe you shouldn’t be looking. We’re supposedly an item, you and I.”
“These are for him, not me. Have you ever seen how self-conscious he becomes when he reverts to human form?”
“No, I don’t pay attention to that
shit. No guy does. You’re the one that created them, maybe you should do the explaining.” I tried to hand them back, she was having none of it.
“He’s your friend,” she defended.
“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“You will do this for him. He needs help and it should come from you.”
“You suck,” I acquiesced.
“Great. I knew you’d see it my way.”
“Did I ever really have a choice?”
“We both know the answer to that.”
“Yup.” I stood and went to find Mathieu. It was actually pretty good timing as he was working on mending a shirt and some pants that he’d asked Lana for. “These are for you,” I said, tossing the pants at his head.”
“What? What are they?” he asked as he pulled them away from his head.
“Let’s not make this weird,” I said as I tried my best to walk away before we had to talk about it anymore.
“These are a very strange material.” He was pulling on them much like I had. “How far will they expand?”
“Far enough where I would imagine your junk will no longer be exposed.”
He lowered the pants enough so that he could see me over them. “Is that a problem for you?”
“See! This is why I told Azile she should just give you the fucking things. There was zero chance one guy giving another guy pants wasn’t going to head straight down an awkward path.”
“Maybe I prefer to have my genitalia air-dried.”
“Fuck me, man. I don’t care. I really don’t. If you want to sing arias and rock out with your cock out feel fucking free. I did my part.”
“Tell her thank you,” he said sincerely.
“I will.” I was happy this particular conversation was coming to a close.
“One more thing, Michael.”
I turned to look back at him.
“Is it a size thing? Are you intimidated?”
“I hate you both.” I flipped him off and left.
About the Author
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