Part 3 of 3
Read the full text, and the show-notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, Harm Carter, and his fellow survivors of Hitchcock’s Disease, find themselves once again on the cusp of a difficult decision.
The Skinner Co. Network
185 - The Murder Plague: Buggy, Part 3 of 3
(upbeat music) - Welcome to FlashPulp episode 185. Tonight, we present The Murder Plague. Buggy, part three of three. This week's episodes are brought to you by The Treeed. - Tree, it is the power of numbers. - Treeed, it is a journey to other worlds. - Tree, it is the wisdom of the beloved. - Treeed, it is media, communication, news, social network, Chuck Norris. - It is all these things. - Treeed, it is, a bit strip, what now? - A bit strip, it's a type of comic strip that you can create online at a site called bitstrips.com and share with the whole world. This is one of them. - Oh, well that's stuff you said before. - All true and all contained within the bit strip created by Thomas Reed called Treeed. He's a math teacher podcast enthusiast and bit stripper from San Antonio, Texas and has some pretty sharp observations about things like social media, interpersonal relationships, the strange secret lives of podcasters, breaking news, Chuck Norris, and of course, math. - So what is it called? - Treeed, Thomas Reed, T-R-E-D, treeed. - Treeed, okay, I got it, geez. - So you're gonna read it or not? - Well, you've got my undivided attention, so I guess I'll give it a whirl, we're gonna find it. - Glad you asked, just go to bitstrips.com/user/122. - I think I can remember that. - And if you can't, just go to bitstrips.com, click on the search window and type in Treeed. - Is that T-R-E-E-D? - That's the one, and now that my work here is done, I must return to my own world. Do I'm gonna call you a cab? - If you would please. (upbeat music) (upbeat music) - Flash pulp 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, harm Carter and his fellow survivors of Hitchcock's disease find themselves once again on the cusp of a difficult decision. The murder plague. - That you, part three of three. Written by J.R.D. Skinner. Art and narration by Popenax. An audio produced by Jessica May. (upbeat music) (upbeat music) (upbeat music) (upbeat music) (upbeat music) (upbeat music) (upbeat music) (upbeat music) (upbeat music) - What do you do with a temporarily unconscious homicidal child? Keeping the flashlight on her eyes, I silently wished I'd brought my empty pistol and resolved to bluff if need be. Frankly, I was tempted to tip her rig, rip out a few of the important bits, then retreat to the seclusion of Newton's camp. With luck, she might've simply wandered off to pester some other cutthroat. As Jeremy and I stood in silence over the girl, oddly, I suddenly found myself in the middle of just another night. It's funny what your mind will do when drowning in stress. It was a chill on the wind and a rustle in the trees, but that wasn't quite it. Maybe it was the resurgent crickets, or the feeling of standing in the dark, and in the open countryside. I looked up at the stars and took in a lungful of crisp air, and for a brief moment, I wasn't having to consider murdering a seven-year-old. Then she said, "Snerk!" and began thrashing against the racing buckles that had held her in place during her airborne acrobatics. With the light still in her face, it was easy to make out the jagged row of exposed teeth between her snapping mandibles. She'd foul them down with something, but poorly. The gaps and misshapen points had given the young miss a jar like a cartoon shark. Many, who was much closer an age to the child than she was to Newton, hustled from behind us, towing the strongman by the hand. "Be quiet or I'll put a bullet in you," I said to our apparent captive, hoping she wouldn't notice my lack of a weapon, much less spare ammunition. Wasn't exactly the sort of threat I had used in my years of parenting, but it brought the flailing to an end. "What now?" said Minnie. "Your boyfriend should cave in her skull, snald jammy. Can he need to unbuckle her helmet first, though?" "Well, we'd been on the road for a while, but even I found the statement shocking. "You can't seriously be advocating for the death of a juvenile," I said. "No, for the death of a murderer. What else do you suggest?" he replied. There was another while of standing and crickets in the ninth breeze. Finally, when it became obvious to jammy that we weren't going to supply a response, he turned on the big man. "What's it gonna be? Maybe we tie her up and leave her here to starve? Or to be discovered by another nutter? What happens to her then? Just as bad as killing her, isn't it? Or we can let her go, see if she can't find some more healthy, innocent people to slaughter?" She's infected, but what's your excuse for murder?" asked Newton. "That crazy killed your friends. Survival is what will separate us in the end. You need to punish her, to make it right." Was jammy's sullen reply. At that point, Minnie, while still holding the giant's meaty paw, interjected. "You may not be infected, but that doesn't mean you aren't a psychopath," she said. "Screw you," the team continued, despite the insult. "If you're so excited about seeing this kid kill, you do it." There was another pause. Now, prisonists' feral eyes kept trying to pry beyond the edge of my blinding being. She likely believed she was dead, no matter who won the argument. "Fine," said jammy. Part of me wanted to intervene, but I just couldn't puzzle another solution to the problem. Was he sick? In truth, I'd rather believe our gas bag would step down, begin to wind himself up for the dirty work, and shrug and commence moping. Thirty seconds, I thought, and we're clear from the scene and continue along our miserable way. That's not what happened, though. Approaching the go-kart, he made a move to reach Ford's driver. At the same instant, the intended victim punched the ignition, hoping to restart her vehicle. Seeing her motion, jammy lunged to restrain his prey, and she closed her bristling mouth on his forearm. The jalopy, responding to her summons for action, turned its engine over once, then the combustion climbed out of the engine, down the apparently leaking fuel line, and the rig burst into flames. The girl was screaming around her clenched fangs, but she refused to let go. Most of her attackers' clothes were burned away before I could grab him by the spruff and yank him from the infertor. I dragged him onto the roadway, while Mini retrieved my drop lantern. He hadn't been trapped long, but the heat was immense, and the majority of jammy's chest and face had more in common with scorched stakes than the young man we'd known. Fear was driving us then. Fear that the ruckus and blaze would draw attention from some other corrupted assailant. With Newton propping up the injured lad's far shoulder, we stumbled back through the woods, not stopping until we'd returned to the sheltered site at which we'd blazed the day away. We spent the night taking turns watching over the blistered husk of our companion, occasionally soaking a shirt in the stream, so he might drip water down his rasping throat. But by dawn, it was obvious he was a lost cause. As the sun rose, jammy rattled his final gasp. Soon after, we buried him, along with what remains we could collect from the ashes of the lethal machine. And the same sandy turf as Newton had laid down his other former associates. Mini and I wept as we said our goodbyes. (dramatic music) (dramatic 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 flash cast. 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, please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. (dramatic music) ♪ One day it blew me ♪ ♪ My hours are stumbled ♪ ♪ Here is the shadows I live with are stumbled ♪ (dramatic music) (upbeat music)