Part 1 of 1
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The Skinner Co. Network
FP325 - Ruby Departed: A Pin Drop, Part 1 of 1
Some days, gloomy, my hours are slumberless. Dear is the shadows I live with by nonetheless. Little white flowers will never wake in you. Not where the bright culture solace's taking you. Angels have no fire ever turning you. Or they may angry if I so don't join in you. Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 325. This evening we present Ruby Departed, a pin drop, part one of one. This week's episodes are brought to you by Abort the Night Bus. Welcome to Abort the Night Bus. What do you get when you mix two Hufflepuffs? Oh, I want to go to Hogwarts so bad. A raven cloak? Oh, come on. A Slytherin. Look, I like my Hufflepuffs. Leave them alone. You want me a beat up, Hagrid, for you guys? And a guest host. A lavender, kind of creep me out. Well, I don't want to just say magic as the answer. That is a good question though. Actually, it's the board the night bus. The new chapter by chapter Harry Potter podcast dedicated to taking a light-hearted and fun look at all things Harry Potter. I'd wear my Slytherin kit every day. From chapter reviews to character analysis, we're taking a not so in-depth look at all the things that really matter. The trow. It's a fish. Join us each week for good discussion. That's scary that, like, every conversation they have from now on is, they have Peter Pettigrew their listening. I'm going to argue otherwise, but you'll have to wait till I do chapter eight in our next episode to find out why. A few games, chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, every flavour beans, and a bit of light-hearted banter. I don't think we'll get anything to add to that. No? Not that I feel like adding at the moment. Oh, okay. A board the night bus. Subscribe on iTunes. Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Right? Our heroine Ruby encounters two awfully unresponsive young boys amongst the throngs of the shambling undead. Ruby departed, a pin drop, written by J.R.D. Skinner, art and narration by Popodax, an audio produced by Jessica Mann. August 13th, noon. I was back on my bike this morning before I even realized I was awake. The sleeping conditions in a barn that smelled like fresh dung and the news of nearby survivors were enough to get everyone complainingly on the go. At first it seemed like we were traveling more of the same sort of back roads we'd grown used to, but rows of townhouses started sliding into view beyond the farmer's fields. Then, without much warning, we took a left, a right, climbed the slope to the top of an overpass. The abandoned junkers stretched to both horizons, but to the east, above their shining windshields, I could see the city's water tower. It stood against the rising sun like an oversized golf tee. I was still lost in my thoughts when Monroe, who was in the lead, spotted a lone kid further down our street. Alive. He was maybe ten, with brown hair and a black t-shirt that hung low over his khaki capris, and he was booting it like he'd just stolen Wilford Brimley's breakfast. I can't blame him though. There were five stumbling dead guys, not far behind his stubby little legs. We gave some half-hearted yells. We were trying to be loud enough to attract the boy, but not everyone else. But he must not have hurt us, because he kept on pounding pavement. Yet a pretty good lead, and before we could decide to do anything more about it, he hopped the ditch beside a gas station and disappeared into the parking lot of one of those 'traveler plaza places' that has a few different restaurants in a barely-off-the-highway stop. Now, we'd already been talking about turning back and prepping the rest of the group for reaching town. Apparently, we're only a few blocks away from suddenly being in the city itself, and an argument immediately broke out over what to do. Listen, I don't chase people. I've learned better, but I couldn't let him go like that. He had half-a-dozen shamblers behind him, but it was the crowd of maybe thirty milling around the parked cars that concerned me. Everyone spooked after the last couple of days, though. We argued, and for once, I lost, sort of. I went forward. They went back. Stupid. I know. I'm on top of the gas station now. There are too many to go visiting. I tried and was pushed back, so I'm going to wait. Well, at least until the circus shows up. Maybe ten minutes later. They don't look like brothers, but there's a second kid. He's maybe fifteen, shirtless and muscled. The sort of boy you don't quite call a man, but who a world-fearing grandmother wouldn't want to share an elevator with. Big for his age. They both came bursting from second-story window, waving their hands at each other like a couple of frightened Scooby-Doo characters, and then sprinted across the roof of the restaurant shack. There, they popped briefly out of sight. There's Motel 8 even further back in the shared parking lot, and when I saw them again, they were tugging up in the lobby doors. The shambles are all still occupied. Before anyone comes to tell me what a dumb idea it is, I'm going to try to scale the grease dispensary. Five minutes and one broken spine later. They came back into view as I was pulling myself up on my gutter. The teen was ducking through a side entrance, while the small one was motioning to him from an upper floor window. With the decaying Michael Jackson dance troupe bearing down on me, I figured I was running out of time to get their attention, so I tried shouting at them. Bad idea, because the gutter broke immediately after. Number 90 was a bald-headed man with a thick red beard, or it was thick once, but I think he lost some of it fighting for food. I've seen similar, they'll yank out tufts to get out a scrap of thigh that's already half in the other guy's mouth. Anyway, he was unlucky enough to be nearest when I fell. But somehow, once I had swung Bethany's tip through his forehead, I was able to haul myself onto the minivan and climb into the safety of the tiles. My back and shoulder ache from the tumble. Worse, the little bastards are obviously ignoring me. They must have heard me yelling. Every rotting meat puppet in the area certainly seems to have, but they both simply returned inside. Hmph. Ingrades. Nothing to do now, but wait till the party arrives. I don't know why being ignored is making me so crotchety. Jerk kids, get off my apocalypse. Dusk. Well, hell, I'm still on the same food court, but now everyone else. My people and delinquents are with me. The kids came out again while I was sitting around. They were headed my direction, but they paused when our eyes met. It was obvious from their gaping mouths that they were surprised, and I felt bad for thinking they were avoiding me. Their hands were blurs as they talked, or didn't talk. And I realized that their scuba and shaggy waving earlier hadn't been for humor. It was for communication. They're both deaf. The stumblers were almost on their necks, but they seemed more afraid of my spear than they were of the walking corpses. I did the only thing I could think of. I gave them a wave and my best fake smile. Even after the world ends, I guess a neighborly greeting goes a long way, because they were next to me in a flash. Better yet, once they were convinced I wasn't going to murder them, and they saw how many other folks I had behind me. The mooks revealed a large stash of canned food they'd looted. They seem happy to share, which has certainly made them popular with the rest of the gang. Alright, supper time. I'll have to spend the meal trying to figure out how to say thank you in the sign language. Flashpulp is presented by flashpulp.com, and is released under the Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 3.0 unported license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com, but be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the FreeSound Project, found at freesound.org. For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them, check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. (upbeat music) (upbeat music)