Part 2 of 3
Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, Will Coffin, urban shaman, and Bunny, professional lush, approach a blackened pit in the wilds of rural Oregon.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP269 - Coffin: Infrastructure, Part 2 of 3
[music] Some days glue me my hours are slumberless Dearest the shadows I live with by nonetheless Little wife flowers will never awaken you Not where the brach ultra-sol is taking you [music] Angels have no fire ever turning you Or they'll be angry if I sort of join in you [music] Welcome to Flashpulp, Episode 269. This evening we present Coffin, Infrastructure, Part 2 of 3. This week's episodes are brought to you by Haywire, by Justin McCumber. When the aliens known as the Hezrin invaded our solar system we were defenseless against them, but from the mind of a machinius they came out salvation. The Titans, super soldiers encased in nanotech armor with the strength to share starships in half. They not only repelled the alien invaders, but vowed to chase them across the galaxy until the Hezrin were destroyed. That was 100 years ago. Now, finally, the Titans have returned, but they've been infected by a virus that's driven them insane, compelling them to destroy everything they'd fought so long and hard to protect. Haywire is a science fiction novel written by Justin R. McCumber and published by Griffin Woodpress. It's available in print and e-book formats from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and the iBook store. To learn more, go to Justin McCumber.com [Music] Flash pulp was 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. Tonight, Will Coffin, Urban Shaman, and Bunny, Professional Lush approach a blackened pit in the wilds of rural Oregon. Coffin, Infrastructure, Part 2 of 3 Written by J.R.D. Skinner, Art and Narration Biopoponax, and audio produced by Jessica Met. [Music] Bunny was alone at a white top table, sipping from the chip mug that held her morning coffee. She knew she'd put too much whiskey in, but her irritation at her traveling companion had made her pouring hand heavy. Across the motel lobby's sitting area was a freshly showered man, whose black suits stood sharply against the wallpaper's pastel floral pattern. His cologne was for a reaching, and there was a laptop bag at his feet, so she guessed he was likely staying on business. He was rifling the breakfast buffet's selection of muffins, hoping, Bunny thought, for any that might contain chocolate chips. She knew there were none, as she'd eaten the last three. Through the entrances sliding glass doors, she could see Coffin occupying the battered phone booth at the edge of the parking lot, but there was too much distance and filming dirt between them to speculate on how his call was going. Finally, as the cloud of cologne receded through a side exit with a lump of brain in his palm, Will returned the receiver to its cradle. Moments later, they were in the rented Volkswagen Golf and heading south. Since stepping off their sudden cross-country flight, Bunny had attempted a passive-aggressive silence, but she was beginning to realize it was akin to teaching a kid proper eating habits by allowing him to devour as much chocolate icing as he wanted. Outside her window, Bunny watched an unending procession of rocks and trees slide by. "Nice chat?" she asked. "I suppose," he replied. "Excellent, excellent." And if I might inquire, what the fuck are we doing in Oregon? We've come to visit some people I know, and the canary they take care of. So what was that hotrod bullshit last night? And who do you keep talking to on the phone? The people were heading towards the sort of folks you don't want to surprise. It's always best to give them plenty of notice before you approach, and it doesn't hurt to do them a few favors first either. Bunny's bottle of Jim Beam gave out as she was considering her reply. "Got a few bucks for, um, coffee?" she asked. Mine's getting a little low. They don't sell booze in the gas stations here, but I happen to know there's a store ahead. By the time she returned to the car, Tom waits with singing too loudly to allow for further conversation. The cold marked the season as unarguably winter, but snow had yet to touch the thick evergreens beyond the gate at which they perked. The fence stretched into the distance on either side of them, though a majority of it cut through the greenery and was thus invisible from the road. Cough and paused at the entrance gave a badly faked stage-cough and produced a key. Though the chain link looked freshly raised, despite the weather, Bunny could see no sign of rust on the razor wire that ran its length, the lock was flecked with red and hanging from a too flimsy chain. Once inside, she couldn't help but remark on the fact. Seems like a waste he is such an ancient piece of junk, considering how much the rest of the security must have cost. That thing doesn't look like it would keep out a determined toddler. The surprise it didn't come apart in your hands. The clasp isn't corroded, it's had a bassie voiced sprawling pine on her left. It's always been crimson. It used to be a heavy necklace, a locket of sorts. It was originally built to keep a queen safe, but it does well as our door stop. "Ah, shit!" replied Bunny. "Is this an ant mo?" We'll suggest that she drink her coffee. From within the shelter of the Boughs appeared a set of hazel eyes under which hung a pair of pressed lips. The needles began to shiver, and the form of the youth pulled free of the timber. Bunny realized his invisibility was achieved through the clever combination of makeup and rags. "You're a few months' late sheriff," the newcomer told Coffin. "I've been busy," replied the leather jacketed shaman. "You think that means it's been nothing but a slumber party here?" "No, I suppose it hasn't." "How's this?" "I'll go apologize to your paw, and maybe I'll let you beat me in a few rounds of chess." "That is, unless you've got too many competitors already lined up." "I'd lead you in, but," started the teen. He allowed his sentence to trail into a smile. "I know the route," replied Coffin. They shook hands in parted ways. Five minutes down the thin dirt path, Bunny was damning herself for having been so easily silenced earlier. "Who are these guys?" "I think Spooky," she asked. "Yes and no. They're berserkers of the old school. They're dangerous, but nothing mystical." Ten generations of otherwise normal people raised on rage, ritual, and magic mushrooms. Matthias back there was the middle child, with a living sister on either side of him. "Hmm, and same particularly angry." Hard to stay mad when the ice cream guy comes. Besides, I happen to know his younger sister, who could likely take us both on at the same time in a bare knuckle boxing match, is getting married. Being so isolated, the keepers are very family-oriented. We caught them in a good mood, which is lucky, and a bit surprising. "What are they keeping?" "And what are we doing here?" "We're going to hold a party." "These people only have two holidays a year." "The waking." "And the feast." "Just be glad we're here for the feast." Before you gorge yourself on cheap beer and overcooked roast meat, however, we've got to check on an angry 1,200 pound canary. [Music] FlashPulp is presented by FlashPulp.com and is released under the Canadian Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to Skinner@skinner.fm or the voicemail line at 206-338-2792. But be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the free sound 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, please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. [Music]