Saturday, October 24, 2015

Trash



The junky sat on the hard wooden bench head on his chest; leaning precariously to the left I patiently waited for him to take the short fall to the pavement beneath him.


Five minutes; fucking five minutes of my valuable time; I kicked the fucking ass in the side of the head; he hit the ground hard with a puff of breath jolted from his body making a white cloud in the cold air. Rolling over his eyes partially opened and he found my eyes a short distance from his face. His mouth made a perfect “O” and without a surprise a shallow “OH” sound escaped his lips. “You stupid fuck! Where’s my money!” I shouted in his face. He looked confused; then he looked dead as I put a .45 round between his eyes; a second round closely followed that one made a nice little round hole in his forehead. My ears rang from the point blank shots. “Fuck you!” I said on deafened ears.

What the fuck are we doing giving money to these fucking junkies; we think we will get our money back with interest? Fucking crazy; it’s fucking crazy. We give them a hundred bucks and in a week I spend another .50 cents to put a bullet in their heads; a fucking $1 if I decide to double tap the fucks. What a business…… Then there’s the fucking hookers; yeah loan them a couple hundred bucks to buy their way out of their contract; sure a couple hundred will do it. Who you trying to fucking kid? You think a six hundred dollar a night hooker is going to give you two hundred bucks and you’re just going to let the bitch walk; I don’t think so; but the man still gives them the money? I don’t get it. I show up after seven days and demand our money with the heavy interest. The bitch’s get all teary eyed and want to suck my dick; I’m not there to have my dick sucked I’m here for our money. I rip their clothes off and find every dollar they have hidden in panties and bras; I ram my hands into soft spots and retrieve those hidden dollars too; they scream or fight I break throats and crush pipes; I want our money.

I push to the boss to make the pimps pay but he says it’s not their problem; what the fuck? My job is to collect monies owed and deal out punishment for nonpayment. I’m going through a box and a half of ammo a week; my fucking fingers smell of stinking bad pussy; I’ve about had it with this shit, a guy can only kill and maim so many people a month without getting caught at some point. There’s going to be a point where some slick dick'd punk cop is gonna hear one of those owing making noise before I put a round in their head or break a pipe and come running; then there’s going to be a dead cop and the place is going to go crazy with a dead cop on the street.

My time on this job is definitely coming to an end; I’m not going to be the fall guy here. I gotta come up with a plan.

I decide I’d better talk with the boss Tony Montana; yep that’s his name; it’s not his real name you dork, it’s just what the big boy’s call him. I guess he came out of Montana and must have impressed someone in the upper ranks. I think he’s a dumb ass and gonna get me caught one of these days. I tell him the cops are all over the place and the papers are calling our little clean up of the neighborhood a killing field of organized crime. I complain that I’m gonna get caught with all the heat and new man power they are throwing at my killing spree. Tony says he’s got it all under control and we’re gonna start to get some of our money back; I’m just glad the boy’s didn’t see me roll my eyes.

2am and I got my gun a few inches from a junkies head pulling hard on the trigger when my phone rings in my pocket. “OH what the fuck!” escapes my lips as I release the trigger. Holding the junky tight I dig and pull out my phone pressing it to my ear. “What” I whisper. “You got a meeting with Dominic at 8am in his Office downtown tomorrow; don’t be late” Click in my ear; I look at the junky and pushing him away put three quick ones in his forehead. “Now you’re talking!” Dominic is the big guy running the show all over the South end.

“You’ve been busy” Dominic says over his cigar and bourbon. “Yeah I’m covered in assholes blood and bad pussy, but I’m not getting our money back” I say with venom. “I think we are going to have to change that” he says picking up the desk phone. Murmuring into the hand set he looks at me across the huge desk and waves me out the door. “Carl will be talking to you shortly; you take the day off and go see a movie or something” he says with a wave as I clear the door and head for the stairs.

I don’t think I’m gonna be seeing Tony anymore; “Good fucking riddance fuck face!” I say below my breath riding the elevator to the bottom. I go out and down the street catching a cab back down to the south side and grab a couple beers in one of the cheap joints. No one gives me a glance; tomorrow’s gonna be a new game.

7am and my phone rings its Carl; “I’ve got a job for you today; we’re gonna get some of our money back.” A smile crosses my face; it’s show time.

The plan is they get the front guard outta the way and I go into the building and up to the third floor where the pimps been working out of. Kind of like an office for the spread of bad pussy; this is gonna be a blood bath.

I wait just down the street leaning against one of those Star bucks big painted windows looking down to my left and head that way as I see two cars pull up in front of the 915 building double parking and blocking traffic. My timing is perfection as usual and I make the front door just as the door guard goes into the back of one of the waiting cars; he didn’t have a chance to make any noise.

Elevator to the third floor the whole floor is taken up by a group of ten pimps running two hundred and fifty girls; this is the heart of the operation and all the money comes into this building from runners all night and day. It’s a 24hr a day operation and there are people everywhere; I push through the double glass doors and walk up to the reception desk; the skinny pretty girl looks up and with a smile asks who I’m here to see. I dump a round right between her eyes; not a sound with the new silencer spun tight to the treads of the barrel; her head snaps back and she spins twice around on the swivel seat before sliding off behind the desk her head gushing blood like a rain bird sprinkler.

Pushing through the main door I burn through magazine after magazine clearing my way to what I’ve been told would be the depository for all the money coming in; my surprise is that they don’t seem to have any interior security and my barrel is burning white hot.

Big guy looks at me as I turn the corner and walk with a smoking gun bleaching white smoke from its barrel; he steps back as two rounds catch in mid chest and he goes down without a sound in front of the double glazed glass doors. This has to be the place; I push the right door open and step into a room maybe twenty by fifteen, tables covered in money. Two guys and a gal are tying bundles of twenties together amongst stacks and stacks of cash. Two rounds each; fucking bitch tries to run but there’s no place to go she rounds the back corner and comes around skidding to a halt as she realizes that she just started to come my way. I’ve never had to make a shot over four feet before especially with a bulbous silencer in the way. Three rounds she’s down but making a ton of noise; screaming like she’s been shot; at least four time actually. I place the fucking smoking barrel against her forehead and pull the trigger twice; ahhh silence.

Pulling out my phone I push the call button and tell them it’s as clear as it’s going to be and bring extra bags. Our guys pour through the doors dragging stacks of money across tables and into large bags; this is a haul.

Carl tells me I’m on vacation and to go to Hawaii until I’m called for; it’s been five months and I’m thinking I just might be retired.

Slurping a beer in a Waikiki beach bar this fucking local calls me out for sitting in the local’s area; I try to make peace but the fuck stick isn’t having any of it. I pull my piece laying it up against his left temple; to my surprise he just looks at me raising his ham sized hand to the side of his head; so naturally I put one perfectly between his narrow pig like eyes.

It would seem my retirement will be sitting in a Hawaii prison for a piece of shit murder charge. Ninety nine years should be enough to do it without any good time or parole. Fuck me, this sucks.

From the Ramblings.



t

Thursday, October 22, 2015

WTF



“What the fuck?” That’s what I heard; 6:12am Wednesday 2042 and that “What the fuck?” was so very loud and clear in my head the question mark so clear; “What the fuck?” Yep that’s what woke me up with a start to the day we will all surely die; I jumped off my bunk and ran up the five steps of ladder to the surface.


How simple is that? “What the fuck?” “WTF.” “What da phouc.” Such a simple saying and it just has so much god damn gut wrenching meaning that you know in an instant deep in your soul that you and yours are about to experience a major fucking. How can a three word sentence have so much meaning?

“What the fuck!” Yep that’s what our long range observers said; and five minutes later all hell broke loose.

In my shorts I leaned against the dirt berm we’d dug and pushed up in a pile making sure that the raise in earth was shallow and extended out about sixty five feet so as not to show a major change in elevation in the flat desert. We’d dug down a good eight feet or so; we had a full two feet of earth over our heads in the hard pack desert we called home. We’d been planted here for six months; six fucking months we’ve lived in this hole we dug with little shovels and reinforced with shit; bushes and sticks we could find in the desert. We’d been bombed; had a few tanks run past our position but this was a whole new kind of shit we’d never seen before.

I pulled my binoculars to my eyes looking in the direction the scout was pointing and shouting “What the fuck is that?” In my opinion there is little difference between “What the fuck and what the fuck is that?” Both make my bowels turn to water and my heart rate race to two hundred beats in just a fraction of a second. We had about a five mile an hour wind from our rear kicking up a little dust so between puffs of dust and binoculars set at twenty power all I could see to begin with was dust devils with what looked like a huge pillar standing out straight from our dug in position some place around two miles in the distance. The dust died down for a fraction of a second and clearly I could see a two legged monster with a square looking top section above two long legs of about a hundred feet with knees about two thirds of the way up from the desert floor. It was clear that the legs were moving and the thing was moving towards us; as the feet stepped forward huge clouds of dust shot up from the landing of its feet on the loose dust.

“What the fuck?” slipped from my lips as I stared at the thing walking towards us. “Goggles!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I realized the top square was covered in weapons and dishes. I dropped straight down behind the mound wall and wiggled my way down the ladder into the relative safety of the dugout pit. Grabbing my laser goggles I raced back up the ladder; I’d seen those rotating round turrets that look like spot lights before, they were laser weapons that I’d been told by blinded solders “the light looked green” and then they went blind from the laser beams. Now under two miles away I could see that the top section of the walking machine wasn’t square but looked to be octagonal and had rail guns mounted in two’s along each flatten section. Infantry was clearly seen now surrounding the terrain running to keep up with the aberration making sure they weren’t in the path of the towering monster and its huge feet.

Slapping both my Sergeants on the shoulder and waving for them to follow me I dropped down into the lower pit.

“Oh we’ve got a problem!” I shouted in their faces. Realizing that it was quiet in the pit I lowered my voice and ask “Got any ideas what the fuck we are going to do?!” Both stared at me with mouths open and blank looks of their faces. “What the fuck is that thing?” Ramirez offered with a baffled look on his face. “I guess it’s a walker or something; it’s covered in weapons!?” Sergeant James Rogers screamed spraying spit on both of us. “We can’t hide with all that infantry coming with it” I was again shouting in their close faces.

A huge whoop shook the earth raining down dust from the dirt ceiling. Two three four huge explosions shook the pit; buckets full of earth rained down from the fragile ceiling. Racing for the ladder it was clear the whole structure was going to come down in the next barrage. Running up the ladder and pushing against the dirt wall the walker had moved to within a mile of our dig and had clearly seen it for what it was. Two rail guns were walking heavy fire over our position and as they ran dry the upper turret would turn slightly bringing the next double rail gun mount around pointing directly in our direction and opening up with round after round of direct deadly fire.

Our fighting position was destroyed before the enemy infantry had gotten within a half mile. We really hadn’t even fired a shot when I ordered a white flag surrender hoping the heavy fire would stop and spare a few of the men that were left a live. We laid flat against any raised dirt area that gave some form of protection from incoming rounds.

The explosion of noise calmed leaving us with ringing ears as a cease fire was called. I could hear shouting as infantry moved to surround our destroyed position. One by one my men were pulled and dug out from collapsed fighting positions. Their huge walker stood off a hundred yards rail guns’ pointing point blank into what was left of our dig.

I’ve been in the Army now five years; one year in captivity; they treat us well. I hear the war is going well for our captures; I wonder where they found their technologies.

From the Ramblings



t

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Vladislav



Waking from a nightmare Vladislav rolled his head to the left; his left eye covered; buried by his only blanket. He strained and blinked his right eye to clear it so he could see down the long corridor looking for a nurse; if one could call them that. He gave up after a few minutes; it was very quiet on this floor; he was the only occupant. Looking straight up he could see that the I.V. bottle was empty again, finger prints stood out clearly on the dirty bottle. His arm ached where the I.V. tube disappeared into this arm; raised swollen and puffy he wondered how long he’d been out this time.

Vladislav Stefan Gushchin was born August 17th 1925 to peasant parents working a collective farm fifteen kilometers outside of Ukhta an industrial town in the Komi Republic. His father and mother lived meaningless lives with the exception of grooming their only son for a life in the military. His mother a seamstress dressed young Vladislav in the most up to date military uniform sized down to fit his youth. It was never questioned by anyone that Vladislav would someday be a high ranking Russia Officer.

Vladislav woke to the rumble of cart wheels against the broken tiles and cracked flooring of the 3rd floor ward. The male nurse pushed the cart up and against Vladislav’s bed jolting him to full awake. “You’ve run out of juice again old man” the nurse said with a smirk. “You’re hitting the bottle hard today; you’ll pay for it tomorrow my old man.” Vladislav’s eyes met the young man’s eyes and he looked away. “You have hard eyes old man; don’t hate me I’m the only one covering three floors and others need more than you.” The nurse’s eyes would not meet Vladislav’s and he hurried to change bottles and moved the I.V. line to the other arm. “Your almost out of veins my friend; time to get better or die I’m afraid.” The nurse spoke softly. “I will give you your pain medicine early so I can get dinner without your yelling and cursing this night; sleep and dream your dreams Captain of the Guards.”

Jamming the bayonet all the way to the barrel of his rifle Vladislav twisted the rifle left and then right making the wound cavity huge guarantying a quick bleed out; placing his boot on the German’s chest he kicked the dying German off his bayonet leaving him bleeding profusely.

Vladislav smiled in his drug induced sleep; he knew he was dreaming but loved reliving his conquests of his military life; he nearly awoke but fought hard against conscious wanting to relive the day again.

Looking from his second floor window Vladislav could see the tide and flow of the oncoming hundreds of German solders; he saw that the outcome of the battle would depend on stemming the tide of the enemy soldier’s before they reached the near hill and dug in defensive positions. He ran calling and tapping his unit’s men getting them up and running with him. Two streets left and one right he pointed to places he wanted his men to position themselves. He spread his men as thin as he thought would hold and waited for the Germans to advance. Taking a position on the corner window facing the coming Germans Vladislav could see down two streets making a V shape to the front ending in just smoke and dust in the distance. He knew the battle would be won or lost on this front; behind his unit was the top of the city center hill and if lost would give the enemy the high ground and positions to fire down on the remaining city behind his positions. He sent out messengers to fine tune the firing lines this will be a battle to the death no retreat was the order.

The German’s advanced in two and three’s; Vladislav waited patiently for the unit commander to show himself; unit insignia had long been removed but became clear in field glasses as unit commanders pointed and waved to advancing men. Vladislav had readied snipers for anyone who appeared to show that they might be in charges; men were cut down by the dozen as the German’s attempted to advance on the Russian lines. Thirty minutes into the battle the front lines over lapped pitting man against man in hand to hand combat. Leaving his second floor observation post Vladislav shouted to his men that the time had come to advance; leaving his cover he made twenty feet to a broke wall.

Fragments of concrete blew from thrown grenades, cutting skin and filling eyes with dust; rubbing fragments and dust from his eyes while deafening blows cascaded ears, Vladislav crawled through fallen broken concrete beams pushing forward towards the glowing light from the darkened expanse of the falling building. Dust choked out the light and air, his lungs gasped and heaved and fill with dust chocked breaths. Crawling forward coughing and choking on dust he pushed himself to the glowing light; a shallow southerly breeze cleared the dust from the face of the building as Vladislav reached the broken outer beams and fires.

A hard slap woke Vladislav to the morning rounds which consisted of watered down gruel and vodka if the male nurses hadn’t drank the lot the evening before. He was pushed up into sitting position with dirty pillows forced up under his stomach and chest; his shoulders pushed and caught by straps. He was forced upright his arms thrown to the side. Gasping for air from the rough treatment Vladislav swore under his breath and scowled at his tormenters.

“Breakfast my Commander Vladislav” sang the male nurse as he deftly evaded a coughed up slag of lung from Vladislav’s right lung. Gasping Vladislav cursed the bile offered breakfast and nurses who pushed it. “Eat or die my warriors.” sang the nurse.

A bullet whispered passed Vladislav left ear; he barely noticed; many had been much closer. He pulled back waiting for the second shot; passing he leaned further out and using his dusty binoculars he just caught the flash of the snipers next shot seeking his men. Pulling his rifle to his shoulder and leaning far out he viewed the German sniper as he racked his bolt ramming another round into his firing chamber. Vladislav slowly squeezed the trigger and was surprised by the recoil of his rifle; he again found his sight and saw the German slouch down from his fighting position dead.

Slapping gently left and then right cheek Vladislav came to wake looking into the the face of a Doctor he’d never seen before. The Doctor waited patiently as Vladislav’s eyes cleared and spoke slowly into his face. “My comrade commander Vladislav the people of the Soviet states of Russia are now here to help you, please allow my staff to make you comfortable.”

Firing left into two German infantry and then sweeping right cutting down three German solders Vladislav knew his magazine was exhausted of live rounds.

Pulling a grenade from his left breast he pulled the pin and counting to five slowly and tossed the grenade around the corner where the last five German’s had come from, he dropped to his knees as the explosion ripped the adjacent room to pieces. Dust and the reek of torn bowels rushed his nose.

“Comrade Vladislav we are here to help you please wake up” Vladislav fought the intrusion into his private war memories. Gently stroking the left and right side of his head Vladislav woke to the face of an angle looking into his eyes.

Russia has looked deeply at the treatment of its war hero’s and found lacking. I hope our County will do the same.

From the Ramblings.



t

Monday, October 12, 2015

Messages



I’m watching the Oklahoma game on TV and it’s a darn good game but I just have this heavy uneasy feeling; It’s like a stone sitting on my chest and my head seems fuzzy. I don’t know what it is; the game is a Red River Rivalry and is really getting good but dang if I can’t stop feeling like shit. I just can’t clear my head and get into the game.

Half time and I haven’t thought about the Middle East, Boca Rama or the ISIS ass holes for at least a half hour or so; I’m a news nut, the fresher the better.

I’m watching a short news clip during the half time show and it’s like I can hear talking just under the voice of the news caster. I turn the sound down and nothing? WTF is that? Freaking annoying as hell; I turn the sound back up and sure enough I can just barely hear the voice under the news jockeys voice; can’t tell if it’s a woman or a man’s voice, it’s just there. Damn if it doesn’t make my head ache worst; like a clamp slowly being turned tighter and tighter. Fuck this I’m taking a nap.

Nine minutes and thirty five second left in the fourth as I rejoin the game. Heads better; clamps been removed and the game is a nail biter, this game is going to be decided in the last few second or into OT for sure. Time out with twenty seven seconds left and off to commercial break we go; damn if it isn’t going to be a special report bringing in CNN news for a special spot on the ongoing war in Syria. I’m glued to the TV special report; not to hear the news special but to see if the damn voices are still there. Sure enough between every word the ass says I can hear someone else just below my hearing level talking away. This time I turn the TV up loud; freaking news caster is just drowning out what the other voice is saying; or is it two voices?

What the hell? Nothing during the game, but extra shit during any news cast? You can guess what I’m doing after this game is over; yeah you’re right, I’m going straight to the first news station I can get on and see if the damn voices are on all of them.

I’ve found if you turn the volume down to just below normal speech levels you can just start to make out what the voice behind the scene is saying; I’m not getting all of it by any measure but I’m starting to be able to make out a few words here and there it’s incredible and a little scary. Heady stuff makes me sit back and think about what they are saying; important things to think about. I find myself nodding in agreement; I wish I could express myself as well as the voice does; we are like two minds thinking the same thoughts.

It’s four o’clock in the morning; where has the time gone? The station has gone off the air hours ago but even with the grainy blank screen I’ve been in constant contact with the voice on the other side. Soul searching things to think about but guided through them as though your own brain is giving you all the questions and answers; it’s just so clear to me know, all the questions I’ve asked and never got an answer that made much sense to me before now. The clarity; finally it’s all so clear.

Benson Auto Mall manager Bill Strat attempted to contact his number one salesman John Marks three times this Monday morning without success; John having never been late for work in twelve years with the dealership. Perplexed Mr. Strat contacted the local Police Department and asked if they could do a welfare check on his employee. The Junction Police Department found Mr. Marks dead after what Doctors described as an apparent stroke. Mr. Marks was pronounced dead at 9:45am this Monday morning.

From the Ramblings

t

Thursday, October 8, 2015

End Game, The Zombie Wars





Isn’t it ironic the beginning of the end of mankind would happen on Friday the 13th? A news brief came out of the darkest part of Liberia Africa that a hunting party had burst from the bush in hysteria claiming that three members on the hunt had gone mad. Dated the 16th of May on CNN; taking in account the delay in reporting and transmission, it makes the date sit straight smack dab on the 13th; Friday the 13th.

Genius.

At first I laughed it off dismissed it as one of my guesses that never really go anywhere. I knew better, I sat still for a few minutes thinking about it and what I knew; shaking my head a dread fell over me knowing very well the Ebola crisis had made the turn. I’d been expecting it but I really didn’t think it would happen so fast. The Ebola outbreak had run its course. Then after two months with no new cases a couple people had sprung up out of nowhere with Ebola again, then it died down again. All the high paid Doctors and scientists worried that Ebola would turn into some type of flu like strain; becoming airborne passing from one person to another; not at all what I was concerned about.

I’d done a lot of study on this type of pathogen and with the incubation period being so incredibly short I was concerned that the disease would make the leap to hours/minutes not days as it so far had been. The other worry I had was the disease in its natural state made the sick lethargic in past cases. With the news that stricken members of the hunting party had gone mad and attacked the remaining members made me sit straight backed with concern; this was a whole new game.

Information after the initial news reports became sketchy in the next few hours and then came a video from TmTV News12 from Johannesburg. Two reporters sitting on top of a five story building videoing the street below showed the new sickness sweeping through the city. They captured the wave of the sickened as it swept through the mobs of people along the street below. People ran over the tops and between the stalled cars running away from the growing roar of madness. As the sound intensified on the video you could see a wall of running crazed people jumping on the backs of those sprinting in front of them; falling rolling piling up in two’s and three’s then springing up and continuing the chase after leaving those fallen with throats ripped out. The undead just sprang up from the killing and continued running showing no signs of fatigue or injury from fighting and killing those they had caught. Those who made the choice to try finding refuge in their cars were surrounded by masses of the sickened; windows were broken out.

The video panned in close on the piles of bodies taken down by the attackers, they lay twisted and crumpled on the pavement where they’d fallen pools of blood covered every inch of pavement. Before the camera moved away the newly dead began to twitch, flail rolling around on the pavement; setting up they’d howl like wolves jump to their feet spinning in a circle finding the direction of the running hoard they’d join the mass of undead chasing the living.

The camera scanned right following the onslaught then pitched down showing the undead climbing the side of the building towards the news crew. Some fell backwards landing on undead on the sidewalks, others crawled over those clinging to bricks and window casings using them as footholds. The camera backed away from the edge as a reporter screamed “zombies, their zombies” a wave of the undead flew over the roof railings.-

I’m not the smartest guy in the world, but those that know me always want me on their team when it finally gets down and dirty. I seem to be able to think outside the box when things get testy; I think my time to shine has come.-

I was looking at property in the outer limits of the dingy down town area; I needed one of those older buildings that you can get for cents on the dollar since everyone has moved out of the inner city. I had just found what I was looking for in a three story stone and brick building constructed in the late forties sitting alone, a short distance from the other buildings. It built when it was cliques to build in the old style with brick, stone and steel.

The first floor was planned to house a business with one large display window across the entire front; entrance door squeezed against the left wall. The left and right sides of the first floor were smooth brick, clear of windows or doors expecting buildings to be built right up against the existing buildings walls. One small door fed the rear of the building giving access to the alleyway, wasn’t a single window opening that direction either; perfect. The second floor was made for storage only, a large open space with no windows; the third floor was for a single family, living quarters having widows facing both front, side and towards the rear of the building broken up into a small three room apartment. It was the perfect building for what was fast approaching.

I signed the papers immediately and paid the full asking price; I knew, yes I knew I’d never make a payment.

I contacted three contractors in the area and had all three working on the new building in five days at a fevered pitch. The plan was very simple, close off the first floor display window and door with cement, blocks and rebar.

The first floor rear door into the alley was reinforced with concrete and steel; a vestibule of heavy wire set within a cage of steel posts cemented into the black top covered top and both sides of the door opening out ten feet and five feet wide protected the door; the vestibule cage ended with another door of heavy wire set in concrete.

I had the third floor windows covered with heavy weaved wire like tight spider webs and the casings reinforce with steel welded to the building steel framing. The roof edges were sealed off with heavy wire fencing then eight feet of no climb fencing laying flat at a 90 degree angle to the roof protruding out from the side of the building. You might be able to climb the side of the building but it would be nearly impossible to reach out the eight feet of no climb fencing and grab the edge and pull yourself up and over onto the top of the fencing covering the roof. The roof door was heavily reinforced with concrete and steel with extra heavy wire fencing closing it off leaving a large area about fifteen by twenty of fenced in area sectioning it off the rest of the fortified roof.

I had the contractor smooth the sides of the building with light concrete filling in crevasses between stone and brick making it smooth; impossible to climb. I’ve never heard such crying as the crews complained of the hard work hanging off of the scaffolding; I promised huge bonuses and threw the guys a few twenties to quiet them down.

All three floors were separated with heavy steel doors at the stair opening; closing one floor off from the one below.

The first floor was mostly taken up by shelving for storage; the rear area was closed off and housed a generator powered by a small diesel engine with a single five hundred gallon tank hidden in the ground just behind the building between fences. The exhaust pipes I had run up to the roof through the interior of the building and huge mufflers clamped in place to quiet them down; you couldn’t hear them fifty feet from the building. I had the building rewired to a 12 volt system and installed a couple solar panels on top of the highest point of the roof over the stairway roof and door going out onto the roof. Next to the diesel engine I had six huge 6 volt batteries wired together making the 12 volt system. I could now have power completely off the grid.

The contractor said it would never fly with the city but I wasn’t too concerned with building codes and money talks when permits are nonexistent. During the second week of construction a city building inspector stopped by and wanted to see my permits. I told him a bunch of bull shit and he with a smile on his face handed me a stop work order and walked to his car. The stop work order blew in the wind as I slowly shredded it in my hands as he disappeared around the nearest corner.

Three weeks it was done with the addition of a hardened garage port along the South side; a stroke of genius is what I was thinking when it came to me at 2:30am one morning that if I wanted to bug out I’d better have a vehicle that wasn’t covered in the undead when I might need it. Biggest problem was how to make an addition to the side of the building that didn’t allow the zombies to climb up over it and use the roof to get higher up on my building sides. I decided that the only way to stop possible climbing would be to have the roof run at a steep angle to the side of the building; 60 degrees or steeper would stop most climbing. I had them install smooth metal roofing without the normal ribs most metal roofing used for extra strength. I didn’t want any hand holds available for climbing and since the carport was only twelve feet wide the roof at the steep angle only reached midway on the second floor side where it attached to the building. I also had them use round topped screws instead of the normal flat topped that might be used as a foot hold.

I lay there in my new building the first night thinking I’ve never really had a job; working for someone else just didn’t work out for me most of the time. The bosses I had never seemed to have the vision to see the things that I see; they mostly think my ideas aren’t worth pursuing or considering, but I’ve always been an idea kind of guy, I watch trends then make a few bucks getting in on the ground floor until they die off, then I sit back and watch for the next thing as it comes to life; it keeps my bank account happy and I just can’t get up every morning and drive into a real job. I think it’s going to really pay off this time.-

I called Safeway and asked if they could deliver a big order. The manager was more than happy and didn’t even ask too many questions about case after case of food stuffs delivered and stacked on the first floor shelving. I’d forgotten about water knowing the city water would stop flowing within days but between selves and corner areas I managed to store hundreds of gallons of bottled water. I think I’m ready to set back and watch what happens. I don’t think it’s gonna be pretty.

I kind of figured it’d come quickly but I had no idea. By the time the Fed’s decided that there really was a problem the skies were filled with sick people trying to escape doom. They closed down the airports as they filled up with zombies. Army troops laid down thousands of rounds of bullets cutting zombies in pieces just to have what was left crawling forward biting soldiers making more zombies. When the zombies hit the big cities it spread like lightening, millions on millions of zombies searched for fresh meat. The government fell in three days; the last hold outs on TV claiming that they now held Office and everything would be ok. It was startlingly to see them run down and killed on live TV as the nation watched. It grew as an unstoppable wave from the East to the West coast, one city after another swept under the hoard. TV, facebook, even Twitter stopped as the zombie wave laid waste.

The very last radio station I could find went dead as the host preached and screamed damn nation upon the zombie curse and had his throat ripped out while still yelling bible quotes.

I was alone; with the exception of the thousands of zombies that surrounded my small building. There was a sea of the undead in rings surrounding the base of my little building. Zombies stood and starred towards my building from adjacent buildings; some ran and jumped from roof tops trying to span the distance between buildings landing amongst the growing thong of undead. The closest to the base of the building scratched and clawed trying to get a hold to climb the building walls. I could see the broken and twisted fingers and white bones as they fought for a hold but they sled back down into the gleaming faces below.

I thought early on I’d yell or wave to them for sport but they’d start piling up against the building base in a cone of zombies stacking on top on one another then rolling down but the stack would grow taller pilling up until the stack would tip and fall down just to start up again with one zombie climbing the back of another on the back of another. A dangerous game to play I stopped fearing they’d build a tower of zombies covering my building from top to bottom.

I found if I let them be and caused no ruckus the hoard would tone down and each zombie would go into a state of rest. They’d stand still and calm but every couple of minutes or so the whole swarm would shake and make a growling sound then go back into their state of slumber; it’d start way out and move like a wave through them until it hit my building and pasted by continuing as far as I could see. I found it nearly impossible to sleep without ear plugs by the systematic roar of unrest amongst the zombies in their resting state.

Sitting under cover out of sight on the roof observing the zombie hoard I noticed that a few individuals did not follow the systematic movements of the other sleeping zombies. They would stand still and then push forward between the packed zombies towards the building base each and every time the zombies would rouse in their sleep mode; I saw maybe fifteen with this trait as they slowly moved towards my building.

The first special zombie that weaved his way to the base of my building stopped, looked up the building and then found a stone under foot and begin to tap the side of the building, as the zombie hoard would rouse every couple minutes he’d hit the cement with the stone harder. After an hour or so he was really pounding the wall. I watched as a few more of the special ones, unscripted ones made their way to the base of my building and start up with the tapping then turning it into pounding. Two hours of this and I could actually see damage being done to the light cement that I’d had installed to stop possible climbing; they were pounding the no climb cement off the building.

I ran down stairs grabbing one of my rifles bringing it up to the roof; looking though the scope I quickly found one of the unscripted zombies in my cross hairs. Having the rifle sighted in for one hundred yards I had to hold high since the yardage between me and the zombie nearly straight down and no more than thirty yards without having any need to compensation for angle or gravity. I had no idea what the effect would be on the sleeping zombies but felt that I had to see what the results of shooting one of the unscripted zombies would be on the assault on the base of the building. Pulling very slightly on the trigger I was shocked by the huge explosion as the rifle fired the bullet down and into the head of the unscripted zombie. The recoil of the rifle pushed my eye back and away from the scope, I was able to see the the rippling effect the gun shot report had on the sleeping zombies. It was like dropping a stone into a smooth pool of water the outward racing wave rippling effect was like a huge wave through the sleeping zombies shocking them to alert of fresh meat. They immediately pushed forwards climbing on each other’s backs pilling up against the walls of the building. Within seconds they were stacked beyond the first floor and the top of the pile was teetering midway of the second floor. I had to retreat to the protected door way as the pile reached the third floor roof extended wire. Before escaping into the third floor door I saw the pile lean towards the left and fall into its self just before grasping the out stretched wire of the third floor. I close call.

I stood in the doorway thinking I’d just missed having zombies on the roof when I saw a flash from two buildings down on the fifth floor of a six story building; it was followed by a huge bang from a large bore rifle. I dove on the floor getting out of the way of the bullet; realizing that no bullet had tore into my roof area I slowly made my way over to the roof edge and looked down. The zombie swarm all turned looking towards where the gun shot had come from. They slowly started moving in that direction looking for the fresh meat that had made the bang. As they moved away from the base of my building I could see that there were now two dead zombies side by side at the base. Whoever had made the shot had killed another one of the unscripted zombies that had been banging on my walls. I waved in that direction and with both hands up with palms facing towards the building down the street holding the rifle up between forearms I looked through the scope and was looking directly into the face of a person with binoculars looking at me. I pulled the rifle down and waved like a mad man at the other person. I put the rifle scope back up and the man was pointing down towards the bottom of his building. I scanned down and five floors down I could see five or six unscripted zombies working on his defenses. I gave him the fist pumping up and down motion and placed my sights on the hardest working zombie and pulled the trigger.

We worked on the unscripted zombies for the rest of the afternoon clearing close to fifty of them off his and my walls. The hoard turned one way and then the other confused where the fresh meat was located as we shot time and time again giving just enough time between shots to get them all turned around and moving in the right direction before shooting and having them all turn around again. As the light faded we both waved at each other and let the zombies quiet down for the evening.

The sun was just coming up when I heard a rifle shot. I ran to the roof top with my rifle and as many boxes of shells as I could carry. I raised my scope to my friend’s window; he was looking at me through the field glasses and pointing up. I scanned up from his window and saw hundreds of zombies on his roof just one floor above his. Zombies were climbing down the fire escape ladders and along pipes running to the roof. Somehow they’d gotten on his roof and he had little to no defensives between him and the roof. I played my scope back on him and he was pointing towards me and giving me the shush sigh with his index finger over his mouth. I waved at him that I understood. He picked up his rifle and shot the closest zombies off his building then threw the rifle down at the crowded zombies at the base of his building. He waved a quick goodbye and stepped through his door into the building. Two minutes later I heard a whoosh sound and the windows blew out of his floor as flames shot from the windows catching a bunch of zombies on fire as they made their way towards his porch. I watched as hundreds of zombies jumped from the roof in flames as the entire building went up in clouds of black smoke and bellowing fire; he’d taken a few hundred of them with him as they overran his building.

I always try to be upbeat, even with the end of mankind I’ve kept a pretty good attitude keeping myself busy with figuring out my next move and improving my building defensives. But sitting the rest of the day watching the building burn I couldn’t but lose hope that I’d ever leave this building unless it was as a zombie or as they carried my “for real dead body” from it. As I closed the heavy roof door my last look at the burning building I noted that it was now burning all the way to the ground floor and the zombies had backed away as burning remnants fell from above having to push back against the crowded packed zombies behind them as the flames burned closer; crowds work the same with zombies and it does with live people.

I woke up at about six and climbed the stairs to the roof to see how far the building had burned over night. As I walked to the roof edge the first thing I noticed is that there wasn’t a zombie in sight. I circled the entire roof; no zombies in sight anywhere. The building down the street still gushed out thick clouds of black smoke but it was internal fires burning and I couldn’t see any flames from my roof top.

It’s been five days now without seeing a single zombie; there are still scores of dead zombies where we’d shot them and hundreds of burnt zombies ringed the base of the burnt out building down the street, but not one moving zombie to be seen.

I’ve decided to put a single 12 volt light bulb at the top highest solar panel on my roof; it should be able to be seen from a long distance but not if you’re too close to the base of the building. I’m dedicating it to my friend that gave his life to get the unscripted zombies off my building and as a beacon to anyone else that maybe out there.

It didn’t take long; sitting on the roof in the late afternoon sun basking in the last few days of nice weather before fall would hit I couldn’t but instantly notice a flashlight shining from the building across the street at the same level as where I had been sitting directly into my eyes. I jumped to my feet and waved but quickly gave the silent jester that I’d been given by my friend such a short time ago. From the shadows a figure stepped forward into the faint light illuminating enough to see it was a beautiful woman of maybe five and a half feet tall with flowing red hair falling to just below her shoulders. On each side was a small child clinging to her waist; a boy and a girl. She had two rifles and what had to be a shotgun slung over her shoulders and the shotgun at port arms slightly pointed in my direction. It was clear she wasn’t taking any chances.

This building faced towards the rear of my building where I had secured my back door with a heavy wired in vestibule between it and an outer door and my building. I motioned down towards that door and pantomimed a half hour; she slowly shook her head yes clearly worried she was making a mistake.

I had to question myself if I was the one making the mistake; was I opening my door to be killed by a beautiful woman taking no chances with the safety of her and her children. I ran down the stairs two at a time and stood at the rear door waiting as I waited for my wristwatch to count down to the thirty minute mark. I threw the multiple locks and ram bars off the heavy steel door and stood so just part of my body would show to the outside through the tangle of heavy wire of the vestibule area. I quickly peeked out the door both ways to make sure no zombies had somehow snuck back to my building and were now planning their attack. Across the narrow alleyway a door directly across from my door slowly opened and the woman stuck her head out slowly looking both ways before looking me in the eyes. I shook my head yes slowly and stepped out into the open vestibule about two feet showing her I had no weapons on me. She looked me over and stepped back into the building; I took an involuntary step back into the doorway behind me looking for cover. She stepped into the doorway again but this time with both children clinging to her and weapons slung over her shoulders. I jumped out into the vestibule and looking both ways ran to the outer wire door fighting to find the correct keys. I motioned her to stay where she was and gave the just a second motion. Getting the keys into the multiple locks as quietly as I could she stood patiently waiting as all the chains and locks came open. I swung the heavy wire gate open and waved to hurry; she crossed the alleyway in an instant the children not taking their eyes off of me. I whispered to her to get the children inside and secured all the chains and locks. She was waiting just inside of the building door with tears running down her beautiful face in steams. I with numb lips asked her to take the children up to the third floor as I locked all the locks on the outer door and checked everything twice.

She was sitting on one of the couches bear hugging the two children when I finally had checked that I’d made the building secure again. Her shot gun was leaned up against the couch at the ready. I walked in past her and the kids into the kitchen area; poured her a glass of red wine and two glasses of cool aid for the kids. Handing the glasses out we all had rivers of tears running down our faces; I only asked her if they were hungry.

It’s been three weeks and no one else has contacted us; we are becoming a family as we talk out what has happened and told our stories of survival and loss of loved ones. Trust is a slow thing to build with four people that have been so traumatized by the world.

With four mouths to feed it won’t be long before we have to venture out in search of more food so our danger levels will be going up shortly, but we live for the minute and the next hour at a time in this new world and hope for the best.

From the Ramblings.

t

Monday, June 8, 2015

Tic



Lem Simmons was twenty seven years old in chronologic time, in whole time he is four hundred and seventeen years young.

His time shifting if that’s what we can call it to help understand his world started at his chronological time age of seven while swinging on a hemp rope hung from a strong limb jutting from an old oak tree outside of his families tar paper shack. The Simmons’s were dirt poor matching the dirt floor of their one room windowless home. Summer had come early and Lem, short for Lemuel was up at first light swinging so high the wood seat fell nearly straight down for several feet before coming tight on the rope and snapping back into a high arch in the air before falling and snapping again. He kicked hard forcing the seat even higher making the rope crack like far off thunder, he could nearly see over the roof of the house. Frayed from daily morning before chores and evening after long sweaty days in the small field his parents owned from swinging the rope finally snapped. It held together past the initial snap on the down swing forward but gave out as the full weight of Lem plus his added G weight from falling and arching forward making the back of his head take the full brunt of the fall.

He woke a full five days later with his mother standing over him toweling off his forehead covered in sweat. His head was remarkably clear, no head ache, no blurred vision. He was about to ask his mother what had happened but stopped in mid sentence as a strange sensation started in the back of his head slowly growing stronger, moving forward in his skull feeling like running water. He raised his hand to his forehead his mother asking if something was wrong.

Tic

The sun blinding in one eye the other covered by his hand was scorching hot, his left eye slammed closed blocking out the blistering brightness. Lem now with both hands over his eyes slowly adjusted to the glaring brightness. The heat was unbearable, his butt instantly on fire; jumping to his feet he stood ankle deep in smoldering orange sand his feet bare turning a bright red from the burning sand. Hopping on one foot then the other he crossed several feet of hot blistering sand sliding under the shade of a large cactus its arms making long slim shadows. The air simmered under the cactus shade; a strange bee shaped bug circled his head making a low bussing sound then darting off under heavy wings. Lem squatted and stared at his new surroundings, cactus, some low lying brown grasses and sand.

Tic

“…wrong? Does your head hurt?”

Lem was staring into the face of his mother. “No no I’m fine.” “What happened?”

“You fell from the swing; we’ve been so worried; thanks god your back!” Lem’s mother cried.

“No I meant….. I mean the desert, it was so hot?” Lem said confused.

“What honey, no no desert, your home it’s just hot outside.” She crooned holding him tight in the stifling stagnate air of the house.

Running water, rushing forward.

Tic

“What are you doing kid; you can’t lie there on the floor!” The store clerk said shaking his head. “Get up and get out hell out of here!”

Lem stood on wobbly legs, head spinning. He reached out and grabbed the counter to keep from falling. Something buzzed under his hand and a voice said “Please enter your code!” Lem jerked his hand away from the credit card reader never seeing anything like it in his world.

“Get out of here kid, what are you drunk? Now get out of….”

Tic

“Let me get you a glass of water.” Lem’s mother scurried off to the water bucket sitting on the main table.

Watching her back as she hurried across the one room house Lem realized she didn’t know he had left, left twice to some other place. It was as though he’d never left; he was gone then came back at the same moment. He clearly remembered his mother starting to ask if he was alright, then gone, then back as she finished the sentence.

Twenty years later; in chronologic time.

Working the family farm pulling the last of the root crops in late fall Lem now sole owner since his mother had joined his father in the family cemetery just last month felt the familiar rushing wash.

Tic

The market place was busy and buzzing with countless conversations about the holy man’s execution later in the morning. “I hope they burn the lying false prophet, a pox on his soul.” A ragged old man shouted in the face of a heavily robed man. “You’re an old fool you wouldn’t know a false prophet if he kicked you in your ass.” The robed man pushed him a side. Lem stepped out of the man’s way also, he’d been looking for a way out of the market place its narrow lanes and countless stalls wound in circles. He’d been in this place and time for months, having to learn and adjust to this way of life and try to find ways to feed himself.

There seemed to be a steady flow of people all heading in one way. Lem joined the flow hoping it would take him outside of the market and into the city to an area he hadn’t been in before. The crowd slowed and spread out in what appeared to be a huge town square one end opening out into rolling hills along a wide dirt road. Lem was shocked to see crosses lining the road fading into the far distance. Many of the crosses already occupied by hanging bloody corpses; a huge crowd of people surrounded a cross in the near distance. Lem pushed his way through the crowd getting within fifty yards of the cross. Leagues of Roman soldiers in full battle uniform guarded the road as far as the eye could see; a contingent walked slowly alongside a slender filthy man keeping the crowd back making sure no one gave comfort as he carried his cross upon his back.

“That’s Jesus of Nazareth their going to hang him up!” A feeble old woman croaked pointing a twisted finger towards the man. She smiled a mouth empty of teeth and pushed through the crowd. “I hope he screams like the rest” She muttered as she disappeared fighting her way closer to the cross.

The Roman soldiers kicked the frail looking man to his knees and untied him from the heavy cross. They man handled him and forced him up the scaffolding standing twelve feet in the air. He was held tight as a soldier pounded a metal nail through his right hand pinning him to the cross arm. The man Jesus hung his head down on his chest making not a sound as his other hand and feet crossed at the ankles were pinned with nail to board.

Tic

Lem shuddered and shook his head; He’d been all over the world, sometimes at a place for mere seconds and others for months. He smoothed the dirt from the hole he’d pulled a radish from and looked up at the glazing sun; he wondered where he’d be going next.

From the Ramblings



t

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Idog



James West ordered six Idogs from MaxRobots on December 1st 2020 for the sum of $8500.00 using the new and improved PayPals Universal. He went through the catalog carefully knowing exactly what he wanted if he could find it. On the third page about two thirds down he found exactly what he wanted.

James’s house had been burglarized four times in the last year. The last time his wife had been raped by two intruders and beaten half to death over a three hour period; they have not been identified or caught. Donna wanted to move out of the area and start a new life far from the horrible memories she now suffered from twenty four hours a day.

James loved their house and adored the area they’d picked to live in. He pleaded with Donna to give him a chance to stop the intrusions explaining it had to be people that lived in the area and that the neighborhood in general was a great place to live. He promised to fix the problem and make her feel safe; just give him some time he pleaded.

A large freight truck pulled up to the curb in front of the house and James rushed to meet them before the engine was even turned off. He’d taken the day off from work as he watched via the internet the shipment cross the United States and the shipper promised today’s delivery before noon. They unloaded three large heavy pallets to the curb and James tipped the two men fifty bucks to move the pallets into his garage. He signed the delivery sheet and closed the garage door the second the men cleared the garage with fifty bucks cash in hand.

Three weeks of serious labor every minute he wasn’t at his job; working late into the evenings he completed the final assembly of the sixth Idog late on May 7th. Tomorrow he’d start the programming and plugged all six into the wall multi strip. Full charge was said to take twelve hours initially and six hours after that to keep the batteries up for ten hours of top performance.

“Honey their done” James called his wife from the family room. “I think you’re gonna like our new security system!” James was so excited. He’d researched Idog for hours even calling listed customers on the sites reviews section. He’d been told time and time again that it was the best investment they’d ever bought, plus a couple said the bad guy would never be back, with a little nervous laugh under their breath. They refused to answer any question about how they’d scared off the “bad guy” but he wasn’t deterred.

Donna hadn’t ventured into the garage to see the new Idogs even with James pushing her to see them as he labored to put them together.

He took her by the arm and slowly they walked through the family room and kitchen into the garage. Donna balked as the Idogs came into view. They took up half the garage floor space, each being six foot long and two feet wide; standing four feet tall, all had short black faux hair. All six were standing staring directly forward at the closed garage door, as James and Donna stepped down the two steps into the garage all six heads turned towards the movement. Donna gasped and stopped dead in her tracks. Six Idogs slowly turned towards them closing the distance to five feet moving on silent feet. James gushed “Aren’t they great! I’ve programmed them with special hand signals and speech reconnection for our voices!” Donna was looking up into six dead scary faces.

“Watch this!” James said in his excitement. He raised his right arm and snapped his fist shut. Six Idogs reacted with vicious snapping jaws showing four inch canines and ear splitting growls. Donna fled into the house. Idog #4 moved two feet forward to attack but was stopped by his programming in a jerky half stop. He stood shaking making a metallic jiggling noise as his programming fought the stop command. James made a mental note to check the Q & A section for any possible problem #4 was showing in programming.

He followed Donna into the house leaving the Idogs after giving the instructions to power down. He found her in the bedroom shaking like a leaf.

“What’s wrong honey? They are here to protect you twenty four hours a day” James hugged his wife.

“They scare me.” Donna said in a low voice. Everything scared Donna now after the attack.

“I’ll leave them turned off until you have a chance to get use to them; it was silly of me to have them give the attack warning without you getting use to them first. I just wanted to show you how they will scare off anyone that comes around. They’re guaranteed; I’ve talked to a bunch of people that swear by them!” James felt sick to his stomach seeing Donna being scared night and day. He’d leave the instruction manual and his written voice and motion programming for Donna to read while he was at work tomorrow. He hoped she’d read and with time begin to trust and use the Idogs.

At 6:40pm James pulled into the driveway and hit the garage door opener. He wanted to check the programming on Idog #4 and make sure all were plugged in overnight. As the large door opened his parking spot was open for his car, the Idogs were not in the garage. He pulled into the garage and closed the large overhead door behind his car. Stepping out of the car he called to the closed entry door that he was home. Opening the house door he stepped in and started to call out again for Donna, he was met by two Idogs in full alert stance showing huge teeth and growling; large heads held low bodies ready to spring. “Donna” James called softy, the Idogs recognizing his voice, standing down.

Donna walked into the kitchen followed closely by two Idogs at her heels. James smiled in surprise. “You’re using them!” James exclaimed as a large smile filled his face.

“I read the manual and went to work with them; it’s hard to tell they aren’t real dogs after you get use to them. But don’t let them step on your foot they must weigh two hundred pounds.” Donna smiled.

“One hundred and eighty five actually” James said happily as he’d been in months. “Where are the other two?”

“Just walk into the living room and you’ll see.” Donna said with a smile on her face.

James stepped into the living room and immediately saw why she was smiling. Both Idogs stood in power saving mode on each side of the front door ready to spring into action.

“They can stay in power saving mode for twenty hours while the rest recharge or are working!” “We can have at least two up and running all the time!” Donna was very excited by the new Idogs and had taken over their control in mere hours of James leaving for work. She now had her confidence back and feeling safe.

Three weeks later.

James returned home from a rough day of work; parking the car in the garage he mindlessly stepped into the kitchen through the garage door exhausted; he barely noticed that the door handle had been removed from the garage door. He froze in place as low rumbling growling hit his ears and two large mussels stopped inches from both sides of his head, snapping jaws pushing whiffs of cold air against his temples. He knew not to move; “Donna” James whispered over the growling.

Two more Idogs flew into the kitchen skidding to a halt in front of James ready to pounce leaving large scratches in the linoleum floor.

“Donna” James called just louder than the growling Idogs; “Donna it’s me, please power down the dogs.”

“Oh your home.” Donna said walking into the kitchen, two dogs at her heel both at high alert status and showing teeth. “I reprogrammed the dogs today; I got scared by a delivery man at the front door.” “I raised the attack level to eight and dropped the program restraint levels; I really like their new aggression levels.”

“Donna please!” James whispered.

“Back off girls!” Donna snapped. All six Idogs stopped growling and moved ever so slightly away from James but kept him surrounded at the ready.

“Don’t you think that’s a little scary having them on high alert all the time?” James said getting his breath back.

“You weren’t the one that got raped and beat up where you!” Donna snapped raising her voice. All six dogs jumped in a flash of blinding speed stopping inches from James. The room echoed with growling shaking Idogs as programming barely kept them from tearing him to pieces.

“Donna you’re scaring me, please get them off of me.” James pleaded.

“OH you’re the scared one now are you?” Donna barked. Six Idogs moved forward, the shaking intensifying jaws snapping sending metallic ringing bouncing off the walls. Idog #4 shaking the worst drew blood as snapping jaws caught flesh along James right ear.

“Donna!” James cried. “Please!”

“Dogs level two.” Donna commanded. James dropped into a chair as the six Idogs moved to the outer walls of the kitchen keeping eyes trained on him.

“Normal duties!” Donna snapped and dogs moved swiftly to their programmed duty stations. Two left the kitchen and took up positions at the front door in the living room while two others pushed through the garage door and went to their charging stations.

James watched the dogs leave the kitchen being well aware that two dogs continued to be at Donna’s side watching him intently at a heightened level of aggression.

James stood heading to the sink to wash the blood off his neck from the nip. Both dogs showed teeth at his movement but stood still at Donna’s side. “Don’t you think we should talk about programming before just changing it? I could have been killed! They are nearly out of control!” James was becoming angry with what he’d just been put though. “I come home from working all day and get attacked in my own house by dogs I bought to protect both of us? Can you tell me what the settings are now so I don’t get torn to pieces?”

“I’ve just turned up the aggression levels to protect me better. The delivery man brought the new batteries I ordered to give each dog extended power.” Donna replied showing no remorse.

“The levels are too high I’m turning them down.” James said now clearly angry as he carefully cleaned the blood from the cut on his ear.

“I’ve hacked the system.” Donna shrugged making herself busy at the counter. “I’ve shut you out.”

“You’ve what?” James said. “You’ve hacked the system; you mean you’ve changed their programming at the core level? You blocked my access?”

“I’ve added a seek and attack mode in case someone tries to break in and then runs away. They will now actively pursue and attack as long as their batteries hold out.” Donna explained. “I also raised the attack and aggression model so they are more protective, plus I raised the bite level to two thousand pounds per square inch.”

“You’ve turned them into killing machines! We can’t have them chasing people and attacking! James said alarmed.

Both dogs stepped forward at the new level of James’s voice and showed more teeth. A low growl filling the kitchen space again. Donna didn’t seem to notice.

“You can’t protect me, you’ve proven that! My girls will protect me now! Donna snapped raising her voice in anger.

“I’ve done the best job I can I bought these dogs for you!” James shouted now openly angry.

The garage door flew open ripping the hinges from the studs throwing the door against the kitchen wall and then falling to the floor. Five Idogs ignored their stop programming being over ridden by the loud noise of the falling door. In full attack mode they pulled James to the floor tearing him into small pieces blood covered the walls. One Idog stayed glued to Donna’s side ready to protect her if her litter mates couldn’t.

Donna would make excuses for James missing work until finally the Police were called and Donna set the pack to work protecting her and her home from them.

The long battle with many casualties made the national news two nights in a row. Donna awaits sentencing and MaxRobots Idogs sales have been suspended in the United States pending Congressional Reviews.

From the Ramblings.



t

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Savaged


Ahhhhh……….. What the fuck? Oh my head it hurts like no other. Where the fuck am I; I’m blinded by wet layers of goo covering my eyes.




My head is spinning, pounding; what the fuck is going on? There’s bright light shining red through my glued shut eyes; sand fills my eye sockets. I dig at my eyes with numb fingers; I hear music playing low over the sounds of traffic; horns honk with the sounds of rush hour. I rip at the sheets; cool wet sticky clinging tightly to my arms and legs. I kick as hard as I’m able; I’m so weak, sweat comes easy, I lay back wet in exhaustion, delirium flows over my body.

Wakening soaked in sweat I shake my head, my eyes still covered in chunky goo that clings to my lids like glue, fingers unable to clear the wet soaking sticky film I utter a sickly low grunt as waves of twisting spinning sickness wash over my body; with great effort I raise my left arm from the tangle of sodden bedding throwing off the last tangle of sheets, I rub a terrible ache in my upper right arm, my finger dig deep in rough tangles of globs scabs of dried and wet sticky clumps cling to my skin. I hear a slow drip of water; my legs are twisted in ropes of soaked cotton; a horrible stink over whelms the other senses it reeks of bright coppery electricity with lower tones of beaten loamy heavy earthy scents. I smell a sour sweet stench of busted bowels its taste itch’s the tongue as whiffs float through the air of fermented foods half digested opened to oxidation on breezes coming from an open window. I dig franticly at my eyes.

Waking now to soft sounds of traffic my arms feel sedated laying limp at my sides; my right arm trapped, wrapped in a tangle of stiff sheets. Peering from my left eye I swivel focusing on the area of the bed towards the left pillow; I see a slicer of meat about four inches square with long blond hair flowing across the crumpled pillow; edges dulling of drying meat; a peninsula of long tissue ending with a neatly preserved left ear lobe adorned with a shinning brilliant diamond ear ring glistening in the bright late morning sun. I gag…………

Soft shadows; brighter lights to my right; I awake on my back to the murmur of soft traffic and a strong gagging odor of perforated bowel and lingering death. My left arm seems to be awake as I force it to lift into view from my side; shakily it wavers inches over my face. I will it to rub my left eye clearing dried chunks of debris fall from my face. My upper lip feels bloody and ripped, my hand shakily pulls a long torn red fingernail from between my teeth waving it before my eyes.

I roll my swimming head from side to side red then white light fills my face from the bed side lamp. Starring into the light I see that the lamps shade was once white but now painted red by thick blood at the top then condensing into streaming drying blood that flowed towards the bottom of the shade, the base of the lamp are pools of drying coagulated blood once bright red now a sickening color of brown. Chunks of pale flesh make islands where blood once flowing seeking lower places to cool and pool; my eyes stop and rest upon a severed breast sliced free sitting up right with nipple facing the brocade ceiling. My stomach spins I puke into the stained bottom sheet at my side. I gag and puke, dry heave until I’m sure I’m going to die; large chunks of my last meal rip and tear my throat spewing across the sheets. Aching I lay panting right side of my face laying flat facing the light; in the center of my stomach content lays a beautifully manicured woman’s right index finger with a bright red painted finger nail ragged and torn; my mind flashes to my ripped torn lips.

Rolling away my eyes slowly adjust to the low light of the sixty watt bulb of the night stand. The room just over ten by twelve is in shambles, broken chairs and table washed up against the door to the hallway like a log jam. The mirror over the table is broken into a myriad of pieces glistening sharp pin points of light into my eyes. Closer twisted into the bedding is a large glistening section of lower intestine undulating between white and grey disappearing over the edge of the bed onto the floor. I see chunks of ripped flesh scattered across the once tan carpet now stained dark brown, viscous ropes of humanity twist and turn between chunks of torn meat. I gurgle a muted scream.

Lying on my back panting for breath I see splattered blood across the ceiling thickening towards the walls. Small pieces of flesh stick to the walls, larger chunks have peeled away leaving painted outlines where they once stuck. Nooks and crannies are jammed with flesh, blood oozing leaving red brown lines trailing to the floor. The over head fan slowly turns casting revolving shadows; red stalactites of cold blood are angled into the spinning motion of the fan.

Voices from the hallway harsh; echoing pounding on the door jars my senses rattles my ears. Flashlights sear sun blazes into my eyes.

My hands are cuffed as I lay cold on the hard floor, Sirens loud, curses, questions of why, bars.

I lay still with swirling answerless thoughts, I wonder what will happened, what will come.

From the Ramblings



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Thursday, February 5, 2015

Bitten




Mitchell Corpsman; Mitch to his friends and co-workers knock softly on the heavy wood door; muffled he heard “Come in” Pushing the large door open he stuck his head into the large room; finding the Director sitting behind the huge desk Mitch quickly checked to make sure she was alone.

“Mitch, come in, come in.” Director Bell said in her friendly tone. The CDC chief was easy to work for; “do your job and join the family” was what she’d told him two years ago when he joined her staff.

“Chief we have a problem.” Mitch took the seat the chief was pointing at. “It’s Florida again, the keys.”

“Not more snakes, or is it the rats this time?” Director Beth Bell said shaking her head. Bell joined the CDC in 1992 working as an Epidemic Intelligence Service (EIS) Officer in Washington State. Later promoted to Director of NCEZID she’d been chasing emerging zoonotic infectious diseases for the last few years. “Not snakes or rats?” she said as Mitch shook his head slowly looking at his hands.

“I wish it was snakes; that I could handle. It’s rabies.” Mitch said lifting his head with a sick look on his face.

“Rabies? Oh shit; how many cases? We’re talking one case right?” Director Bell said, as she too began to mimic Mitch’s slow sickened side to side head motions of no.

“No Chief, we’ve got seven at the moment and two more just taken in for testing.” “It’s looking like an epidemic and its picking up speed real fast!” Mitch slowly lifted his head and looked into the shocked eyes of the Director.

“What the hell’s going on down there Mitch, we only had two cases in the whole Country in last few years. It’s almost unheard of for someone to get rabies in the States.” “Anyone have an idea what’s the carrier?” Bell said her voice filled with dread.

“No not yet; I got a report five days ago when the first diagnoses came in. Guy from Key Haven came into a hospital in Miami sick and they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. They had him for two days when he went crazy and bit two nurses and a Security Officer. They didn’t get it figured out until he started foaming at the mouth.” Mitch said in a low drone. “He’s dead and all three that he bit are not responding to treatments.”

“Not responding?” Beth said wide eyed. “So we have three cases not responding to treatment?”

“No we have those three and three more at small hospitals down in the keys that don’t seem to be responding either, Plus the two that came in today.” Mitch said as his right hand worked its way up and began to rub under his left eye. “One of the cases today is John Thomas EIS from the Atlanta Office, I sent him down three days ago to have a firsthand look.”

“Oh no, I worked with him in Washington State during the E. coli outbreak; wait, isn’t the incubation period normally two to twelve weeks?” Beth said astonished.

“That’s the way I read it, but this is something special it’s looking like a super bug, fast and drug resistant.” Mitch’s right hand was now rubbing roughly around his eye, the skin turning red and raw looking.

“I’m calling everyone in; Mitch get on the first plane down there and get me some answers.” Beth said as Mitch turned and was out the door in a flash. I hand wave was his only reply. “Be careful!” she shouted as the door closed.

Picking up the phone she sent out the alert everyone hoped they’d never get.

“Ok ok quiet down!” Director Bell shouted over the roar of the large crowd. “Let’s get to it people! We have a lot to cover; take your seats!”

Two hundred and fifty people, Doctors, PhD’s, Assistants, Lab workers all sat in unison; it was clear they were all equally worried by what they’d been able to find out to this point; the silence was deafening.

“Let me give you some back ground on what we are up against.” Bell said as the overhead lights went low and the projector came to life and brightened the large screen. “This is rabies.” A gasp filled the room as nearly five hundred plus eyes stared at the most frightening disease of third World Countries filled the screen. “It’s 99.9 percent deadly if not caught before the first symptoms appear. Only three people have been saved using the new Melbourne protocol; this disease is a slate cleaner.” You could hear a pin drop in the large auditorium the only sound was the hum of the projector. “It appears to be a super bug version and is at this point is not treatable with any known drugs or treatment.” “We currently have nine dead and seventeen under level five containment in Miami. The carrier is not known at this time.” “Two of our own investigators are dead with this disease and we expect the numbers of stricken to rise.” A low murmur drifted across the large room in a slow wave. Heads turned and people looked at each other with solemn faces; this was indeed serious.

Day ten; Tuesday.

The radio crackled, Jones strained to hear and understand what was being said. The fan of his respirator covered the scratchy radio and the double layer of plastic of his hazmat suit made it all but impossible to hear or read the radio display face.

“Can you fucking understand any of that?” Jones shouted to his partner Collins. Collins was just a white blob of hundreds of white blobs in space suits moving through the white walled neighborhood; the only difference being a short section of medical tape with his name pasted to the front right breast of his suit.

“Yeah the guy said the fucking National Guard just shot three more people. Those fuckers are useless and scared shitless!” Collins shouted in Jones face mask.

“What were they expecting? The poor fuckers with rabies go crazy and attack anything that moves! All the fucking animals have rabies too! The National Guard guys are supposed to shoot any animal they see. I want the fuck out of here!” Jones screamed at Collins fogging up his clear plastic face plate. With a wave Collins turned into another court yard looking for anyone still alive. Jones followed him cussing under his breath.

Day fifteen; Sunday.

Miami CDC control center

“We’re fucked!” Matt Jason said a little too loud. Three heads turned and looks of disapproval crossed all three faces. Lower and closer to Michael Deems ear “Fucking mosquitoes, can you fucking believe it? Fucking mosquitoes!” “How you gonna stop a cloud of fucking mosquitoes!?” Matt Jason whispered.

After a short side bar conversation Director Bell addressed the vector control Officers.

“Ok this is what we’ve got. The FDA approved the release of five hundred thousand GMO mosquitoes on Raccoon Island exactly thirty days ago. These mosquitoes were genetically modified to breed with the Islands Aedes aegypti local mosquitoes population with the plan that the local mosquitoes would lay eggs that would not hatch ending the cycle of many if not all the local mosquitoes on Raccoon Island.”

“What has happened is that they succeeded in the breeding program but the GMO mosquitoes are breeding with each other; something they thought couldn’t be done successfully. The new GMO super mosquitoes have the ability to transfer living viruses to animals and humans they bite; this is nothing new. What’s new is that they can now transfer any viruses they carry to their off spring; meaning the baby mosquitoes come hatched with a number of viruses from their parents. One or many of those GMO super mosquitoes have bitten a rabid animal and we have thousands of their off spring carrying a viable rabies virus which they can transfer to humans or any other creature they bite.”

A roar went through the grouped Officers bouncing from wall to wall. Everyone in the room was talking at once. People got to their feet; arms waving, a number of people walked out the meeting room door dropping name tags and I.D badges as they left.

Yelling at the top of her lungs over the thunderous outraged voices; “Ok ok let me have your attention!” “Please everyone; please give me your attention!”

“I’m as outraged as you are!” “But we have to get this under control before it spreads to any further Islands!” Bell shouted.

People sat shaking their heads; murmurs continued to cross the room picking up in intensity then dropping.

“We’ve lost Raccoon Island and we’ve evacuated six close by Islands and keys.” “We can stop this in its tracks if we move fast.” Bell pleaded.

Day sixty; Wednesday

CBS Evening News:

Rabies continues to spread across the lower half of Florida tonight with no end in sight. The CDC insists there is no reason to worry and says the spread of this deadly disease is in its last stages and the number of new cases will slowly drop in the next few days. One case of rabies has been reported in Alabama but the CDC has ruled out that this case is connected to Florida’s outbreak.

Also in the news………….

From the Ramblings.



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Saturday, January 17, 2015

Ice



I remember fondly back to the early to mid 2000’s when the U.N. was working feverishly on climate mitigation. The UNFCCC had a huge budget and was pressuring large and small Countries alike to cut emissions to 1970-80’s levels regardless of economic upheavals it caused. They screamed that since record keeping started in 1880 that global warming was spinning out of control; the warmest years on record since 1880 was 2001 to 2011.

It all start to unravel in 2010 with the Iceland volcano Eyjafjallajokull eruption and over the next two years the eruption of Bardarbunga, Grimsvotn and finally in 2015 the monstrous eruption of the dormant volcano Katia. Air traffic came to a sudden stand still as volcanic ash filled the skies; temperatures plummeted as the ash scattered and absorbed solar radiation.




December 8th 2015; I’m still mourning the passing of my beloved wife of 38 years. The tunnel I dug from the garage door to her place of burial has since caved in from the weight of the snow over head. What’s left of the tunnel, about five feet I now use to store our supplies from the useless freezers. It’s been a month since we last had power and all the houses myriad of electrical appliances are now of no use. I’m having a small celebration after tunneling and cutting down one of our 30 year old oak trees a task that has taken the most of the last two months to complete. The wood shed is again full of seasoned wood and with the addition of the old oak I should have wood to cook on and heat for the next six months if I ration correctly. I have two more old oaks in the yard so I should be able to obtain a supply of wood that will outlast my supply of food if I can find them buried in the snow.

January 12th, 2016; I was a woken last night by a woofing crackling sound; I combed the house and attic and can find nothing out of sorts. I will check on my two neighbors after first light.

After clearing two cave ins along the tunnel to my lower neighbors house, the last being just a few feet from their front door, I’ve found that their house has collapsed under the weight of the snow. Calling their names at the top of my lungs and banging on fallen beams I hear no responses. It would be impossible to dig and search the destroyed structure and I’ve returned to my house with a heavy heart.

The longest tunnel of the two is towards the street, then a good hundred feet to the Nichol’s house at street level. I’ve found that tunnel is completely blocked with solid ice and packed snow. I am totally alone now.

I’m so happy and I have to say proud that I realized early on that we were facing a nuclear winter brought on by the volcanic activity. While the internet was still up I researched different ways to protect the house from the weight of heavy snow and ice. So far it has worked; packing snow and ice, constructing what could only be called an igloo over and around the house. It was a huge project but day by day as the snow built up I raised the walls and slowly cleared and shaped the tightly packed snow over the top of the house, finally beating the snow to solid ice and reinforcing the walls and top daily until it was packed tight to six feet deep, deeper on the walls. As the snow fell and continued to get deeper, I made trip after trip to the grocery stores in the area and other big box stores and filled two bedrooms full of canned and preserved foods. When the Government finally decided to tell people to stock up I was finished and working on saving my house. I stocked up on pure gas in a number of cans to run my generators if the need arises. I spoke with my primary Doctor and begged and cheated until I managed to stock up large quantities of my two prescriptions. I’m pretty set.

January 25th 2016; my bedroom clock says 10:15am but the windows are dark; I’m going to the surface today.

Five hours of digging and packing snow on the sides of the tunnel stairway towards the surface and I’m exhausted, I’ll hold off on breaching the surface until tomorrow morning.

January 26th 2016; finished the dig and the weather is beautiful up here; bright sunshine with a gentle breeze. I’m going back down and get a lawn chair and sit in the sun for awhile. I can see from this angle that my neighbor’s house at the street also has collapsed and is covered in a thick blanket of snow. From what I can figure with just the tops of the trees showing in our area the snow has to be about thirty five feet deep and I see no structures above the snow level. I’m a human sun dial; I haven’t sat in the sun for four months or so now; the suns heat is putting me to sleep.

January 27th 2016; I’ve found a friend; or should I say she’s found me. I haven’t heard scratching at the door since our dog passed five years ago; I knew that sound as soon as I walked into the garage. She’s a mixed breed of about forty pounds with dark brown black thick hair. I’ve spent the whole morning thawing her out and working the clumps of ice out of her feet and lion like mane. She is kissing me to death and I have to say I had no idea I was so lonely. With a belly full of food she’s sound asleep in the family room and seems to have taken over the couch.

I’m going to take this opportunity to return to the surface and look around a bit. Jamie my new dog’s tracks come from the south. Looks as though she carefully checked out the ruins of the Nichol’s house and then must have smelled me from where I’d been sitting. Her trail in the snow works back and forth until about fifteen feet from the opening into the snow and then a straight line to and down the snow stairs. I see no other tracks in the fresh snow that had fallen over night and her tracks should be covered within the hour by the looks of the dark clouds. I’m covering the entrance with a piece of plywood and let it be covered in snow. As a precaution I’ve reinforced the garage door and have stationed one of my 12ga. shotguns within easy reach and on that end of the house; I’m still alive today from thinking safely and thinking of all possibilities I can.

January 28th 2016; I have a problem; I have completely forgotten how often a dog has to go outside to go to the bathroom. It’s also leaving a clear sign that we live here; deep under the snow but someone lives here.

February 1st 2016; Bear tracks at the snow stairs entrance; a big bear, I don’t see him but he has to be nearby. Jamie is whining and wants to go back underground; I wonder if she’d been hunted by bears before finding me?.

February 2nd 2016; More reinforcements; I spent all day yesterday and most of today working on traps and doubling the strength of all of the doors leading into the house along with hardening the new door to the outside at the stairs entrance to the surface. The windows I can’t do a thing about but they are thirty five feet deep and on the inside of the solid ice I packed to make the igloo; I’ve spread my remaining firearms throughout the house and in doorways for easy access. I don’t leave the safety of the house now unless I’m heavily armed. I spent a couple hours cleaning the area around the snow stairs of dog poop and raked the snow erasing as many paw and foot prints as I was able; I’m hoping for a heavy snow fall. I love Jamie but she has put us both at great risk if our area is now patrolled by bears or other critters; we will have to be very careful now. I’ve dug a small area into the snow from the back door of the house and I’m following Jamie around until she’s done with her duty and picking it up and throwing it into the area under the deep snow and inside of the igloo footing.

March 15th 2016; nothing to report other than Jamie continues to enrich my life. I finally figured out to turn one bathroom into her private bathroom and made the shower into her own toilet area. It’s easy to clean and we’ve stopped marking our home with our scents. The bear activity has slowed and it’s been two weeks since seeing any tracks in our immediate area. I’ve began to lightly patrol our surrounding area and being on the surface for extended times it would appear that the sky is lightning, still filled with heavy clouds and snow but defiantly lightning up. The new fallen snow is now completely white where for months it had been a shade of grey. I figure the snow depth to be nearly forty feet deep and deeper in heavy drift areas.

April 3rd 2016; snow depth has dropped to thirty feet deep by my estimate; we are defiantly in the spring thaw and snow is falling and dripping off the tops of the trees. I’m worried about pooling water pushing on the igloo but I’m hopeful that it will find a way to run off and around the sides.

April 20th 2016; I dug out and buried both my neighbors without fan fare; grisly work. Snow levels continue to drop and the sun is out most days; if feels so good.

May 1st 2016; Global warming is back and I’m so happy. Most areas have dropped to ten feet or less of snow cover and the weather is in the 60’s. I haven’t found one house that wasn’t collapsed under the snow on our hill; I hope to begin to reach further out as the snow melts more.

May 10th 2016; I now have a snow cleared spot in my backyard; if I get down on my hands and knees I think I can see green starts of lawn. My supplies are getting lower but I had planned on a much longer winter wonderland than what’s actually happening now. At this rate I might be able to plant a garden for this summer.

May 30th 2016; I see a contrail in the clear sky; somewhere there is a working airport. There is much more damage than I was realizing; houses smashed, trees down, most of the telephone poles are down crossing streets with cables and blocking the roads as they clear of snow. 70 degrees this afternoon and plants are poking their heads out from under the last of the snow banks.

June 1st 2016; it’s over; an Army truck drove slowly up our street today clearing power poles and trees. They stopped and asked if I needed any help; we all laughed until my stomach hurt. My house is the only house in the County they said that was still standing. I offered to barbeque them a steak; huge laughs all around. One solder noticed all the crosses along the driveway; “neighbors” is all that was said. He nodded and shook his head as he walked away.

Things are almost back to normal now unless you count losing seventy five percent of the population in one major disaster. I have a new neighbor that is building a house half way down the street; it’s going to be nice to have someone close to talk too after this. Jamie has found they have a nice Germany Sheppard male dog; I think we are going to be having puppies in short order by the looks of things, I can’t wait.

This ends my short diary of most of the disaster; I wish my wife was here to see the end.

Jamie had her puppies last night; I worked through the night as midwife. Seven new lives; four females and three males, all are already asked for. Things are getting back to order.

From the Ramblings



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