Part 4 of 6
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Tonight, Ruby is forced to fend for herself amongst the staggering corpses that wander the countryside.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP263 - Ruby Departed: Wasting Time, Part 4 of 6
(upbeat music) - Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 263. This evening we present Ruby Departed, Wasting Time, part four of six. This week's episodes are brought to you by Hume Speaks, somewhere deep in the vast reaches of space is a man pounding madly at a keyboard. It's his universe. He built it from scratch. Find him at http/humespics.tumbler.com. (bright music) (sighs) (sighs) (upbeat music) Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to 10 minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, Ruby is forced to fend for herself amongst the staggering corpses that wander the countryside. Ruby Departed, Wasting Time, part four of six. Written by J.R.D. Skinner. Art and narration by Poponex, an audio produced by Jessica Me. (upbeat music) (upbeat music) August 6th. Dawn. I've been exiled, I guess. I'm currently sitting outside the master bedroom of a beast of a modern Gothic house. It actually reminds me a bit of the sort of place you might find the mayor of a Dracula movie's village living in, a lot of white paint and dark brown trim. I'm not terribly excited by the thought of prodding around inside, but the farmers gave me extra beef jerky and canned potatoes before they sent me away. And the balcony's hike gives me a view while providing some overhang for shade. Well, I say the farmers, but it was Rachel who handed over the food, and I don't know if she was supposed to be acting on anyone's behalf, or if I carried off her family's lunches for the week. I think she understood. When I was returned to the circle, the big John Deere was gone, but Dalton was giving a speech about his usefulness. His voice is breaking regularly, and he obviously believed deeply in its merits. Frankly, there's no denying the farm's lack of animals. Beyond cracker, there are really only chickens, which are mostly used for eggs and special occasion dinners. Apparently they had cows in the beginning as well, but they had to use the grazing land for more veggies. I'm sure the meat was pretty handy as well. Anyhow, I'm tired and getting sidetracked. The important thing is, Dalton had used the silence as an opportunity to launch into his crazy schemes for the tractor. His logic didn't worry me, but his appearance did. Compared to the asshole I had known the day before, he was a broken man. His words were delivered in a cracked wine and with shaking hands. Despite moving around the ring to try and sell his point to each person individually, I could see folks eyes dropping everywhere as focus turned. Like they were doing a shy version of the wave. The chief's statement about the noise being like a dinner bell to every dead jerk in the area clearly hadn't sunk in. That's when I had my first on-the-fly realization of the meeting. Dalton hasn't had an opportunity to know just how bad it really is out there. I've kept things relatively calm since the highway, and he's never had to starve away the daylight hours only to spend his evening trapped in a poorly blockaded room with nothing but a stale pack of juicy fruit to none. He's never had to kill an entire already dead family and push their rotting bodies through the window because the stink of decay was getting to be too much. He'd never hardened up. Maybe he didn't comprehend what a terrible plan he was attempting. Maybe the exhaustion had gotten to him. Maybe he wanted to feel like he was in charge again. I don't really care. None of it excuses his behavior. Eventually, the chief told him to shed it, but kindly, and Big Jog got ahold of Dalton's shoulders and made him sit down. That's when I heard the alternate series of events that he'd told me to wait on the building, that things would have been fine if I hadn't followed. He still would have escaped with the tractor and his daughter would still be alive. Hmm. The second realization was that, damn him, it was sort of right. But I couldn't have known it when I decided to try and help him after he ran into a stupid situation. I had my defenders by the fire, and once I explained myself, it seemed like Rachel was amongst them. The funny thing is, I wish Olivia was there, because I knew she would have called Dalton on his bullshit. As it was, the accusing stairs told me who most of the spectators blamed for her loss, and for the death of the shy boy. It's a horrible world when the best you can say is that at least the dead kid was an orphan, so that his parents didn't have to hear the news. It wasn't the arguments that sealed the verdict, though. There were also plenty of sad glances towards weeping little Mikey, who was crying over the loss of his sister and holding his young bride to be close. Dalton wanted to earn a place in the community with that tractor, and he managed to buy his way in, but it was at the cost of a daughter. By the time the chief gave me the news of my banishment, frustration had me ready to leave. I guess it really just means I'm back to the highway, which is what I wanted, I suppose. The fence is made of black metal and stands nine feet high. You can see between the bars, but I'm not sure I could climb it, even if I wanted to. The guy at the north end of the barrier was the only nibbling corpse to avoid. Since the gate is at the southeast end of the compound, that was a pretty easy job. Rachel presented me a bundle of food wrapped in a hand towel, and we hugged goodbye. Later. I fell asleep writing, napped maybe five hours, then the sound of the walking flood woke me. The wanderers are marching along the road on the other side of the house, and their dead stalkers won't be far behind. Worse, there's a moaning girl obviously burned, being pushed along in one of their shopping carts. I think it's Olivia. (upbeat 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. (upbeat music) ♪ Sunday is gloomy, my hours are stumbled ♪ ♪ Here is the shadows I live with are stumbled ♪ (upbeat music) (upbeat music)