Chet & Floyd vs. The Apocalypse: Volume 1 (9 page)

Chapter 19

Hundreds of perturbed miles later, Chet and Floyd arrived at their destination. The building loomed large over the road. Its boxy brick frame sprung up three stories and eclipsed the surrounding single-family homes. Floyd drove the car past the school and took a right at the next turn.

Both men scanned the building and surrounding streets for signs of life.
The back of the school looked more the worse for wear than the front. The rusty playground equipment was broken, full of garbage and debris.

“There’s your childhood
,” Floyd said.

“If only I could go back.
So many good memories,” Chet said. “Maybe the swings are still okay.”

“Give it up Chet.
That playground is a tetanus jungle. The only thing you’re going to get there is infection, fever and eventual death.”

“I think I see someone in there
,” Chet said. “On the second floor. I see movement. Do you see it?” Floyd looked to where Chet indicated. Shadows moved behind the filth covered windows.

“I think I did.
That means they have definitely seen us. What do you want to do?” Floyd said.

“We have to go in there
,” Chet said.

“That is not what I meant.
I’m not going in there. That would be the same as if a turkey walked into our car, plucked, stuffed, cooked and ready to eat. The fly doesn’t look for the spider, Chet.”

“We came all this way
, and you’re just going to turn this thing around and go back.”

“We don’t have to go back
,” Floyd said. “We can go anywhere.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.
This is where it all began for me. Within these walls I began to wonder at the thrills of life with my fellow children.”

“
Your fellow children are all dead and gone by now. We have no idea of what’s going on in there,” Floyd said. “We’re going.”

“We’re not going.
Don’t test me Floyd,” Chet said.

“Chet, I have had enough of this.
You are just one psychotic episode after another, hurtling us towards death at every turn. If you try to get me in that building, I will resort to physical violence. I will strike you Chet.”

“You wouldn’t strike a Zen
master,” Chet said.

“I wouldn’t strike a
samurai,” Floyd said. “I respect their ways. However, I find Zen to be very pretentious, and I would no qualms hit practitioners. I wouldn’t think twice.”

“Zen masters are not pretentious.
They are poor and detached from material things,” Chet argued.

“Exactly!
They are all high and mighty with their minimalist consumer styling. That pisses me off even more,” Floyd said. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Chet was a little worried.
“I cannot deny my Zen master-ish-ness,” Chet said. “It is not in my way to fight you.”

“You are the most violent, deluded and depraved person I know.
I think I have to hit you now Chet.” Floyd tried to hit Chet with a back fist to the throat, but Chet’s raised hands locked his blow.

The two struggled for a while.
Then they separated and got out of the car. A 1971 Volkswagen Super Beetle, although roomier than the earlier bug models, was not place to have a proper fight.

Chet and Floyd were on either side of the car.
They were panting heavily and seemed unsure of what to do.

“Have a grenade
,” Chet said and tossed it over to Floyd. Floyd caught it, turned around and threw it away from them. It bounced once on the street and exploded a safe distance away. Chet frowned.

“I have never fallen for that and never will
,” Floyd said. “You always think I’m just going to throw it back to you like everyone else.”

“Someday you will Floyd
,” Chet said.

“How many of those things do you have left anyway?”
Floyd asked. Chet shrugged. Floyd swore and shook his head.

“Let’s call a truce
,” Floyd said. “Look, we’re here anyway. Let’s just get it over with, go inside and die.”

“Thank you Floydems.
This means a lot to me,” Chet said. He closed the door to the VW, slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked towards the back door of the preschool.

“I need a weapon
,” Floyd said. “The barrel of my shotgun has finally disintegrated.”

“I have just thing
,” Chet said. He stopped walking and rummaged through his backpack, pulling out a nunchaku. He threw it to Floyd who dropped it. A nunchaku is a very ungainly thing to throw.

Floyd picked it up.
The weapon was a very heavy wood, painted black, with metal studs nailed in various places.

“I don’t know what to do with this
,” Floyd said.

“Looking my gift horse in the mouth?”
Chet said.

Floyd saw his friend’s eye twitch a little.
Chet hadn’t been getting much sleep and his nerves seemed to be shot. It was never a good thing when Chet got this way. He decided not to push him.

“No.
I love it. The studs are a nice touch,” Floyd said.

“You’re welcome
,” Chet said. He shouldered his backpack and continued to the back door of the school.

Floyd walked closely behind, tucking the nunchaku into his belt.
On his way through the playground he picked up a three-foot pole of steel that had rusted off some of the equipment.

The back door was locked.
Floyd put his finger to his lips, motioning Chet to keep quite.

Chet knocked
, his knuckles rapping the thick wood of the door in constant and continuous time. With each knock he hit the door harder.

Chapter 20

Within moments the door opened a crack. A small woman’s face appeared behind several rows of chain that stopped the heavy door from opening further.

She looked both Chet and Floyd over a minute, then asked in a hushed voice.
“Who sent you here?”

“I have been here before
,” Chet said. “I used to almost live here when it first opened. This is kind of my homecoming.”

“I don’t remember you
,” she said. Her voice sounded quiet and scared.

“Trust me.
I know this place like the back of my hand. Except I don’t remember much of these.” Chet tapped one of the lock chains with his finger.

“Things have gotten rough of late.
People attack for food and not what we have to offer. We have to be careful,” the woman said. Her voice was still on edge although it began to lilt with familiarity.

“I can understand that.
A good education is nothing on an empty stomach. That’s why I always eat a good breakfast,” Chet said.

“Can you pay?”
the woman said.

“I have food.
I would love to see what you have done with the place,” Chet said.

The woman looked at him warily.

“Don’t I have a face you can trust?
My mother always said so.”

The woman nodded and closed the door.
They heard her undoing the chain locks from the outside. The wooden door opened enough for Chet and Floyd to walk in.

Chet kissed the woman’s hand with flourish.
She gave Floyd a sideway glance.

“My mother always said I had a face too
,” Floyd said. “Know something? She was right.” 

The woman smiled at him and laughed courteously.

“You’re dressed interestingly
,” he said.

The woman was wearing
a skimpy-yet-chaste negligee, dirty and worn at the edges.

“Do you like it?”
she asked. “You can be after your friend.”

Floyd gave her a knowing look and then glanced at his friend.

Chet didn’t seem to notice.
He was walking around the room with a look of fondness, running his hands along the decaying wallpaper.

“I used to line up right here to go outside
,” Chet said. “During the winter, I put my boots here so that I didn’t track water on the wooden floors.”

“Having a good time?”
Floyd asked.

“I am just
swimming
in memories, Floyd! I could just burst!”

“Would you like me to show you the upstairs?
I can show you everything up there,” the woman said.

“I would just love it!”
Chet said. “I want the full tour! There is nothing I don’t want to see or do.”

She held onto his hand and led him up the creaky old stairs.

Floyd heard his voice from
upstairs. “This is my old classroom! I don’t remember there being a bed in here.”

Floyd heard a door close
, and his friend’s voice was lost. Just as he heard the door close, a couple men emerged from the side room. Floyd raised his steel bar and smiled.

“Business has been slow of late, hasn’t it?”
Floyd asked.

The men
were barefoot. Torn and tattered clothing matched their unshaven and mud streaked faces.

Floyd wrinkled his nose at their smell.
They walked in the room not saying anything. They spread out and leaned against either wall, watching Floyd.

“The brothel thing used to work for you didn’t it?
Sex sells really well. Even in a recession you can count on liquor and women fetching that dollar. An apocalypse is a different animal, though, isn’t it? Things become different and fetch a different price tag. What used to cost millions could be had for the meat from a dead cat.” Floyd let his words fall to silence.

The men stayed in place and watched with slightly open jaws.

Floyd didn’t like how they looked.
It wasn’t their appearance but rather the nothingness he saw behind their eyes. It was something that Floyd had noticed more and more since the world fell apart.

When people looked at
each other there was something there. Recognition. Like one soul regarding another. It was a deep and limitless thing, a bond between humans.

When the world ended and the food became scarce, that look slowly faded from behind the eye.
Whenever Floyd got that look from another person—that hollow look—he knew he was much less human and much more prey.

He kept his hand loose on the metal pipe.
“What you didn’t account for was the bottom line. Paper money isn’t the bottom line. Creature comforts aren’t the bottom line. Sex and drugs aren’t the bottom line. Food and water, my friends, food and water are the bottom line. In the end there’s nothing else. And you guys don’t have it.”

“There’s more of us here
,” the man to Floyd’s right said. “They are sitting in the other room waiting. If we wanted to kill you, we would have already. We have food for you and your friend. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t think you understand what kind of trouble you’re in
,” Floyd said. “My buddy Chet has been a little down lately, and I don’t know what he’s going to do when he finds out this isn’t his preschool.”

The men dropped their blank looks for a moment looking puzzled.

“Preschool?”
the man said.

“It’s a long story.
It sounds odd talking about it now, but it makes sense in a very odd way. You just have to know Chet. He’s kind of eccentric,” Floyd said.

“Drop the damn pipe
,” the other man blurted.

“He just wants to make sure you
’re not meaning to hurt anyone,” the first man said to Floyd.

“But he’s wrong
,” Floyd said, looking at the second man with venom. “I’ve hurt lots of people, and I don’t mean to stop now. I didn’t come here to hurt anyone, but I will if you take one step towards me. Oh, here are your friends,” Floyd called to the shadows that appeared over the men’s shoulders.

He counted seven or eight newcomers to the conversation
, all looking as dull, haggard and hungry as the first.

“More welcoming committee
,” Floyd said. “I see that you are all men here. Makes me laugh. That must be the last girl you have up there with my friend. This must have been some boys club in the near past. Where are all the other girls I wonder?”

“We’ve eaten them
,” the second man said. “I’m through messing around with you. You have no chance. Give up the pipe, and we’ll kill you quick.”

“Which one of you guys will be the first man to feed the rest I wonder?”
Floyd said. “Who is the weakest of you? You must know your time is almost up. All of your times are. One by one you’ll make alliances and kill the others off, but it has to end sometime. I don’t know how long you can hold out, but in the end it will be only two of you, starved and insane. Which of you will that be? Which of you will claw the other’s eyes out for that one last taste of human flesh before you die as well and descend to the hell?”

“Enough words.
Give up,” the second man said. He took a step towards Floyd, who dropped his pipe with a loud clatter on the floor.

“I give up.
Come and get your dinner,” Floyd said.

The man stepped towards him.
Floyd reached behind his back and pulled out the nunchaku. He spun the weapon in a huge arch, smashing the man in the side of the face. The blow caved in his temple in a spray of blood, bone and teeth.

“You underestimate me!”
Floyd screamed. “With me there is no hitting bottom! I will fight you to the last. You may beat, rend and burn my flesh—I will not die! I am Floyd. I am your hell! Come and taste my wrath!”

Floyd stood tall and spun the nunchaku behind his back and twirled it upwards.
He misjudged the flip and hit himself in the back of the head, knocking himself unconscious.

He fell to the floor in a heap.

The men looked at each other and back at Floyd’s prone body.
A couple of them moved forward and picked up senseless Floyd and their dead man off the floor. They began hauling the bodies to the kitchen when they heard a manic voice scream from upstairs.

“What the hell is going on here!
I don’t want that. That is unbecoming of a lady! Is this a place of ill repute? …It is! You are a lady of the evening? I will not have it! My temple should be a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves!

“
Don’t worry. Don’t you cry. I am the cleanser! I will cleanse you of all your transgressions.

“
Wait till I tell Floydorama about this! He’ll be so surprised!

“
Floyd! Where are you!”

Chet ran out of the room to see the men carrying his friend.

He turned back to the woman in the room. “Vile succubus!
I will be back for you later.”

Chet skipped to the top of the stairs and called down.
“This is just what I needed. I was Just telling Floyd that I needed to get back to my roots. Find my center. Get ready guys. Chet is a comin’ downstairs!”