APOCALYCIOUS: Satire of the Dead (9 page)

             
Meth had made her feel so alive and energetic and it was relatively cheap but as the recreation quickly evolved into addiction she found herself becoming more and more paranoid and apathetic toward others plights. She didn’t care about the screaming banshees that called her ‘mommy’. To her they were little more than a government paycheck and if it hadn’t been for that money to support her habit she would have gladly slit their throats and tossed them in the dumpster. She had tried this past summer to sell her kids to a young couple that had been desperate to adopt, but the secretive meeting hadn’t turned out well. When the couple came to her apartment they watched in horror as the oldest, Malik, joyfully ran through the place stomping on roaches and calling the smashed carcasses profane names while the pregnant Bethany sat on the couch and screamed profanities at the boy in her cigarette scarred husk. The couple had refused to sit on the stained couch, and as they turned to leave Beth cursed after them as they hurried out to their car.

             
The drug made her nerves jangle and her boyfriend, a former cop turned junkie named Carl Roberts was supposed to be here with a special treat of heroin. It would help take the edge off and if the taxpayers were stupid enough to buy, then why not?

             
“Shut up, Malik!” she screamed from where she sat, sinking into the thread bare cushion of the couch. The young boy had made a paper airplane and was holding it out before him making propeller sounds that just sounded to Beth like he was giving the raspberry. He had stayed overnight at one of his friends apartments the night before and had watched a war movie and now he wanted to be a pilot when he grew up. Malik was her oldest and already at the tender age of five had mastered the colorful language of low income housing projects.

             
“Shit,” he said as he slumped his shoulders, as he stomped into the kitchen to refill his sippy cup with some more red Kool-Aid.

             
“Don’t be drinkin’ all my juice either!”

             
Someone knocked on the door and she peeked through the nicotine stained venetian blinds to see Carl standing at the steel core door. He was looking around like he was making sure the cops weren’t after him then he hammered at the door again, harder this time.

             
“Hold on!” she screamed. “Malik, go to your room!” Beth figured that Carl had scored the dope and she didn’t want Malik standing there watching and asking a bunch of stupid questions. She slid the security chain and turned the lock in the doorknob, opening it for her boyfriend.

             
Carl burst into the room, slamming the door behind him. He fumbled for the chain, dropped it, picked it up again and this time slid it into its track, securing it.

             
“Carl…what the fush is wrong with you?” Crystal always slurred the word, drunk, tweaked or jonesin'; her missing teeth made the word sort of whistle from her decaying mouth.

             
He turned to her, his eyes wide and round. “Some weird shit’s going on Beth.”

             
“Crystal,” she corrected. His left eye twitched once then he back handed her across the mouth making her head snap sideways. She looked back at him as if he’d given her a playful slap on the rump.

             
“Shhh…shut up, shut up….” he said holding up a finger and peeked out the blinds. She waited quietly as the scrawny, unshaven, middle-aged man turned back to her. “People are biting each other out there.”

             
“I like to bite,” she said in her sexiest voice, as she dug with her broken nails at a scab on the side of her neck. Carl looked at her, twitching again. He contemplated smacking her again, but decided not to.

             
“Are you stupid? I just told you that people are biting each other…
eating
each other.”

             
“You can eat me if you want,” she said. The scab broke open and blood trickled down her neck. He backhanded her hard this time, leaving a red welt across her cheek and stinging his hand.

             
“Hey….” she said with an exaggerated pout.

             
Something heavy banged against the glass of the large living room window. A shadow of a man’s silhouette filled the center of the picture window and they heard it groan loud and long like the Gloom, Despair, and Agony guys from Hee Haw.

             
Carl hurried to the back door that led to the alley. He jerked it open, looked both ways up the alley and ran, leaving her standing by the couch, bleeding, confused and angry that the only ‘smack’ she had gotten was five across the face. She turned back to the window.

             
“Get offa my window you asshole!” she screamed, veins standing out on her neck and forehead.

             
“Mommy?” It was Malik; he looked scared and was holding his infant sister Candy in his arms. “Candy stinks.”

             
“Fush!” Beth yelled and angrily snatched the baby from his arms. She smacked the small boy in the back of the head. “You’re fushin' worthless!”

             
The window shattered and Malik cried out. He ran back to his room, crying and slamming the door shut behind him. Beth spun and saw a disheveled man that she didn’t recognize climb over the window sill. His head became entangled in the blinds and he fell clumsily to the floor. She could see that he was covered in blood and the smell that he exuded was putrid, even by her standards. The man thrashed his arms wildly as he stood again and shook off the blinds. He tilted his head back and yelled incoherently in a deep guttural baritone. From outside she could hear a chorus of groans, as if in reply.

             
She cradled the baby against her withered chest as Candy jerked her arms and kicked her legs, screaming in red-faced fury. Beth ran to the kitchen and grabbed a mold covered steak knife from the dirty water.

             
She ran back into the room and waved the knife before her. “I’ll cut your balls off, you freak!” she squalled.

             
She saw that the man’s eyes were covered in a thin film of white that gave him the appearance of having cataracts. Ruptured blood vessels covered the whites of his eyes in road maps of red.  His lips parted revealing a set of blackened teeth and he opened his mouth so wide that his lips split down the middle. She noticed that his pants were unzipped and dried blood stained the entire front of his jeans and it had ran down the inseam of both legs and covered his Jordan’s in brown and red. She lunged at him, planting the knife to its handle in his chest. The stranger didn’t react to the pain, but rolled its eyes, hungrily, to the baby who had wrapped her fingers in Beth’s oily, dyed blonde hair. The man’s jaws clamped shut and a thick line of saliva dripped from his bottom lip and hung there suspended like a miniature bungee jumper. It stretched its arms toward her and stepped, stumbling over the coffee table. It fell again, this time onto the couch.

             
Beth wasn’t about to let this creep hurt one of her paychecks. She turned to run for the back door; Carl hadn’t shut it when he had made his hasty exit but the way was blocked by her neighbor Denise.

             
Denise’s cheek and chin was covered in jagged teeth marks and her neck had a chunk the size of her fist missing below her partially eaten left ear.

             
Beth backed slowly into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. As the two dead bodies stalked slowly toward her she thought that she might have gotten a bad dose, maybe the meth had been laced with LSD. She watched as the two dead people’s jaws swung open to an impossible span. She could hear the tendons in their mandibles cracking as they stretched. In unison, the jaws snapped shut, then pistoned open again with a shriek of rage and desire.

             
Beth beat her fist on Malik’s door. “Open the fushin’ door!”

             
The dead stepped forward; then another step, another and another.

             
“Malik!” Beth screamed again and the dead screamed with her. The door cracked open and she saw Malik peeking through the crack with scared eyes. She eased her tone with the boy, “Come on, baby, mommy needs you to open the door.” She pushed her shoulder against the door but it wouldn’t budge any further. She could see the end of his bed in the gap. “Move your goddamn bed Malik!” she screamed in fear and rage.

             
The dead staggered forward another step and then another, their arms extended, fingers hooked into claws, set to rend flesh. Another step and they would have her. There was no way Beth was going to let them get at her. She looked down at the baby in her arms and Candy looked back up at her, finished with her tantrum, the baby smiled and cooed as if nothing was wrong. Beth had forgotten how blue Candy’s eyes were and how much trust lie in those cerulean pools. Candy was still smiling at her mother, blew a spit bubble and giggled.  Beth hated that sound, it grated on her nerves.

“Sorry kiddo but mommas gotta go,” she said in an oddly maternal tone as she ran a cracked and blackened fingertip over Candy’s soft fat cheek. Beth gave a long suffering sigh as the baby giggled again and tossed the baby at the dead man closest to her. The baby smacked against the dead man’s chest and fell to the floor with a sickening crunch as her fragile little neck broke. The two dead people looked down at the baby lying motionless at their feet and lowered themselves to the floor. They began to tear at the soft flesh with their teeth, ripping at it. They tugged at Candy and tried to wrestle the body from each other. Denise grasped the baby’s head while the man held fast to one of her feet. Loud popping sounds emitted from the infant’s body as her shoulders and hips dislocated.

              Beth heard the bed move across the floor. She burst into the room and ran to the window yanking it open.

             
“Mommy?” Malik asked, his chin trembling.

             
She climbed through the window as the cold swept into the room. From the alley she looked back into the room. Malik was still looking at her as the figure of the man loomed behind him. The boy was crying when she turned and ran down the alley. Everyone had to pay for the love of Crystal Beth, there were no exceptions.

                                              
Chapter 4 - Coffee and Christmas cookies

Kingston Mall

Parkersburg, West Virginia 

             
Malcolm Reynolds watched from behind his counter as the throngs of shoppers paraded past in their winter coats, toboggans and dour expressions, like ghosts of Christmas past. 

God bless us everyone.
It seemed strange to him that these people, who were wearing all the expensive name brands and had parked their new SUVs in the lot, all looked like they would rather kick you in the balls than say ‘good morning’. Wasn’t Christmas supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year? If the Kingston Mall was any indication, then that would be a big, fat negative. Malcolm had worked
Joe’s Java Jubilee
for five years and had managed to secure a job as assistant manager. The title sounded cool, but it really just meant an extra fifty cents per hour and he had the privilege to work whenever the boss didn’t feel like it. Malcolm didn’t really mind though, he got to hang out with two of his best friends; Ralph Denton and Bobby Clink. The three of them shared an apartment together and looked out for each other like brothers from different mothers.

Malcolm had almost gotten a football scholarship to
Penn State, but he had torn his ACL and MCL his senior year of high school and had hung up his cleats for good. Football had been fun but he preferred a more simple life. Ralph had also been on the football team, but had never had a shot at college, and Bobby had been the equipment manager. Bobby had Down’s syndrome and Malcolm loved the guy like a little brother. Bobby had always been underestimated, but Malcolm knew how smart, funny and capable the man was. All three of them were twenty-four years old and when they weren’t at work they played euchre together or plugged in the Xbox for hours on end. The thing about Bobby was that he liked routines, which was why
Joe’s Java Jubilee
had been playing Mariah Carey’s Christmas album since Thanksgiving. While Malcolm thought the singer was a fine looking woman; after hearing ‘All I want for Christmas is you’ about eight hundred times he was ready to strangle her with one of her stockings that had been hung with care. Still, he couldn’t deny Bobby. It was nearly impossible to say no to that sweet untainted smile. People often asked him why he and Ralph hung out with him and the answer was simple…because he was a genuinely good guy. Malcolm had heard of disabled people referred to as
special,
but until he had gotten to know Bobby he had never really understood just exactly what they meant.

             
Malcolm watched Bobby as he darted between tables in the food court, rapidly taking orders on his black flip book, and giving that great big crazy smile to everyone, being sure to tell them Merry Christmas before they left.

             
Malcolm saw a woman and teenage girl sit down at one of the tables and he frowned. He had seen the teenage girl here in the mall before and he didn’t like her. She was one of those spoiled brats that would make fun of another just to make them feel better about themselves.

             
Bobby rushed over to them with his warm, open smile and told them Merry Christmas.

             
The girl laughed in a loud shrill titter and looked to her mother with a delighted grin that showed of her braces. “He thinks it’s Christmas! Is he retarded or something?”

             
Malcolm watched the smile wilt from Bobby’s face. “I’m not retarded; I have Down’s,” he said. Even though Malcolm could not hear him from where he stood, he watched as the scene unfolded.

             
Malcolm called over the bank of espresso, cappuccino and coffee machine to Ralph. “You wanna watch the counter for a minute?”

             
“No prob, Mal,” shouted Ralph. “Gimme a couple minutes to finish with the filters.”

             
Malcolm hoped Ralph was quick, but he couldn’t tell Ralph what was going on or he would probably walk over and punch the thirteen year old girl in the face. Management frowned upon assaulting female patrons and especially minors in their store.

             
Malcolm watched as the girl gave Bobby another smirk and said something he couldn’t hear although he could hear her high pitched laugh that came after. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He knew her type; he’d seen it so many times before. Spoiled little rich girl that would never be pretty and tried to make up for what she lacked by trying to make others look bad. He was beginning to seethe, which was rare for him. As one of the few black kids in Point Grove High School in Parkersburg, West Virginia he had put up with his share of wanna be bullies. Mostly he had used his superior intellect, but occasionally he had been forced to use the physical gifts that God had given him. This time called for the former even though the girl could probably use a well-warranted trip to the dentist.

             
Ralph emerged from the back, his white shirt stained with spilled coffee. “What’s up Mal?” he caught his friend’s gaze and started to go to where Bobby stood. Malcolm grabbed his blonde haired friend by the shoulder. “Hold up, Ralph. You know that Bobby doesn’t like us stepping in.”

             
Ralph glared at the girl. “I know that little bitch…she goes to my mom’s church. No one likes her, but the other kids are nice to her because they’re afraid she’ll start running her fat yap about them next.”

             
The young black man with shoulder length dreadlocks saw the girl start pointing her finger at Bobby. That was a no-no. For some reason Bobby couldn’t handle people doing that to him and Malcolm saw the tell-tale reddening of Bobby’s round face. It was time to intervene. He walked to where Bobby stood and gently laid his hand on the red haired boys shoulder. He could feel Bobby shaking. “Everything OK, Bob?”

             
Bobby looked up at his tall friend with his smooth, unlined face and Malcolm could see the hurt there in his sleepy-looking eyes.

             
“Everything’s fine,” Bobby said. The girl laughed again in that brash, clamorous pitch and although he didn’t
know
what the joke was he knew
who
the joke was about.

             
“Mackenzie…” her mother whispered.

             
“Oh, I’m just playing,
mother
,” said Mackenzie in a tone of voice that made Malcolm physically tense. He looked at the girl’s mom and she offered a weak smile that told him everything he needed to know. She would not admonish, let alone discipline the petulant little brat; this was a woman who
served
the pimply faced child. Malcolm gave her a look that silently asked,
are you kidding me?
The woman looked away, ashamed, but still not daring to say anything.

             
“Hey! You!” Mackenzie shouted

             
Bobby started to turn back to the two women but Malcolm stopped him and whispered, “Why don’t you let me take this one, buddy?”

             
Bobby smiled up at his friend appreciatively and, in that moment like so many others he had witnessed; Malcolm wondered how anyone could treat such a good guy like this. “That’s OK, Malcolm. I’ve got it.”

             
“You sure?”

             
“Yes.”

             
Malcolm patted his friend on the shoulder, proud to have this young man as one of his two best friends and proud of Bobby’s refusal to let this little punk impede him from doing his job.

             
“OK, Bob,” he said, then walked back to the counter where Ralph still stood openly glaring at the teenager with the Mr. Peanut shaped head. Malcolm raised a hand to Ralph, motioning that everything was under control. Ralph raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

             
“Hey …
Bob
…. A little service, please,” demanded the girl in her haughty voice. Bobby readied his pen and glanced up at her, meeting her eyes. “I want a double latte, with extra cream and extra sugar. Can you remember all that?”

             
Bobby nodded and scrawled on his pad. “And you, Mrs.?”

             
“
Mrs.?”
blurted the girl and snot blew out from her left nostril as she laughed. Bobby watched as the snot hung from her top lip and she frantically wiped at it in utter humiliation. “What are you looking at?” she yelled, “Get me a napkin!”

             
Bobby managed to keep a straight face and tapped the napkin dispenser on her table with his pen. She snapped one up in a dramatic manner and wiped at her face, smearing her red lip stick. Her mother saw the red streak across her cheek.

             
“Dear...”

             
“Shut up, mom!” screamed Mackenzie and her mother did.

             
From behind the counter Ralph said, “I am glad I have this bitch of a cold because she is getting a latte of snot.” Malcolm looked at the short, muscular blonde man with the patchy blonde beard and shook his head. He would have liked to help Ralph muster up a few snot rockets of his own, but he took his job seriously. “OK, OK… jeez, Mal. I was just kidding.”

             
“No you weren’t.”

             
Ralph smiled broadly. “You’re right, pal of mine. I wasn’t.”

             
“Go back behind the machines before that goofy looking beard of yours starts to chase away my customers.”

              “Mrs.?” Bobby asked again to Mackenzie’s mom.

“Just tea, please, with sugar.” she said, a blush rising on her old tired looking face.

Bobby diligently wrote it down. “Would you like any Christmas cookies with that?”

“No, thank you,” said the mom.

“I do…
Bob,
” Mackenzie said, looking strangely like the Joker from the Batman movie although she was oblivious to the fact. She heard people around her laughing and assumed they were laughing at her witty repartee and not the fact that Bobby was looking like the champ here. “Gimme a couple double fudge cookies.”

Bobby noted it in his pad, nodded, smiled and said, “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He walked briskly, because he walked everywhere briskly, to where his friends stood.

“Did you see his face? He looked
sooo
stupid!” Mackenzie exclaimed and burst into another wild gale of laughter.

A department store Santa limped past their table and upon seeing him and the way he walked Mackenzie exclaimed “This town is raining ‘tards.” She laughed again, but was disappointed that her mother didn’t join in. “Come on, mom, lighten up; it’s not like they can understand me.” She grew more snappish, “You don’t honestly think that that fat retard was actually writing our order down do you? He was probably drawing stick people or playing tic-tac toe.”