Part 2 of 3
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Tonight, Harm Carter and his accompaniment must weigh the choices presented by a world full of homicidal psychotics.
The Skinner Co. Network
184 - The Murder Plague: Buggy, Part 2 of 3
[music] Welcome to FlashPulp, Episode 184. Tonight, we present The Murder Plague, Buggy, Part 2 of 3. [music] This week's episodes are brought to you by The Flash Mob on Facebook. It's like a game of Twister, with a thousand participants. Find it at http colon slash slash ON dot FB dot ME slash MMO capital I, capital Q, capital C, or click the link at FlashPulp.com. [music] [music] 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. Tonight, harm Carter and his accompaniment must weigh the choices presented by a world full of homicidal psychotics. The Murder Plague, Buggy, Part 2 of 3. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, Art and Nineration Biopoponax, and Audio Produced by Jessica Mann. [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] "So," said Jeremy, his hands ringing the hem of his t-shirt like a professional sponge cleaner well on his way to a personal record. "You're saying you just sat there, listening to your friends being killed?" "There was nothing I could do," replied Newton, his face moist from his recounting. "I mean, honestly, I did try setting up a barricade on the road once I was done cleaning up the pieces. Figure he'd smack into it in the dark, but, well, it came by and stopped. It sounded as if it went around. You didn't even watch it happen? You could have jumped the bastard. It was pitch black. I would have probably caught a bullet in the belly or an axe to the face. Mini placed a hand on the weeping man's sizable bicep, and Jeremy stalked to the furthest edge of the camp to plow at us from the clearing's edge, while muttering to himself. The day largely passed that way, which, frankly, was fine by me, as it was a change of pace from ducking live ammunition and madmen's ill intentions. I spent the day lounging in the sun, an ignoring smart talk. Finally, a supper neared, and Jeremy's stomachs complaints grew loud enough to overcome his bent nose. We reconvened over some open cans of unheated, dinty mole. We chatted around mouthfuls, which eventually led to consideration of future plans. "Tomorrow we should start trying to hitch out of here," said Nathan. "We aren't going to find any help locally, and if we can hook up with another group, we could be at the government blockade in a day or two." Mini nodded her agreement. I couldn't help notice how closely she positioned herself to our new companion. "Yeah, there's safety in numbers. At least if we see a bunch of people together, we know they aren't infected." "Unless," replied Jeremy, "there are a bunch of looting rapist murderers where everyone gets infected, and it turns into a 12-way shootout." "We should certainly watch for any drug-addled baby murdering nearedie wells," they said. "But it seems to me it's a slim chance that we'll run across a barbarian horde amongst the cow patties. I think we ought to go for a stroll." "We'll have to find a way through the woods for a bit, to avoid our rifle-toting friend up the road, but I don't relish thumbing a ride with a potential Norman Bates." "We could stick to the trees after we're around them, and walk till we find a suitable vehicle." "Oh, better yet, some spacesuit-wearing government fellows." "Jammie dropped his empty container of meatball stew." "Before we run away we should destroy the death machine, make it right for those folks who want to be Charlie Atlas here abandoned." "The sunset, while we went from debate to argument, there was only the sound that stopped us." "Quite a lot happened at once. Many hugged Newton. Jeremy went crashing into the forest that blocked our view of the road, and I grabbed the flashlight." "I was unenthusiastic about chasing the hooligans through the dark, especially when I dared not use the light source in my hand." "I had some ideas regarding what he might encounter, and I couldn't figure any other option that didn't require digging another hole in the site's makeshift burial ground." Its approach became a cacophony as I had busied myself with dodging aggressive branches, but even as I arrived, the things engines began to fade into the distance. However, I was pleased to find Jeremy lying on the grating at the edge of the road, still alive. I believe the idiot thought he was hidden. I suppose he can't be blamed. There was no moon, and below the pintops, the world was nothing but milk. As I helped him to his feet, there was a change in the nature of the fading shriek. It took us a moment to realize it had turned around. Scrambling to the timber, I staged whispered that we should waste no time with greetings. Jeremy would have none of it, however, and he simply returned to his prone posture. The climber was approaching too quickly for a reasoned argument, and before I could muster any words in my convincing to run, it was on top of us. There was nothing to see, the night was opaque, but it was imperative that I wait as long as possible from maximum effect. I guess it could be no further than 10 feet off. I flipped on my light. I was wrong. It was a good 20 away, but its speed was such that it flung itself into my beam. They caught a glimpse of what looked all day like a large steel insect. Then the rig plunged down the far ditch, flipped once, and went silent. Huh. While we sprinted towards its landing spot, Jeremy scooped a set of goggles from the pavement. Was there a bloody Walmart special or something? Where are these hillbillies all getting night vision? The beast of legend was a homemade go-kart. Collection of kitten knives, farm implements, and lawnmower blades had been affixed to the running boards, and nails driven through its tin hood, giving it the look of a metallic porcupine with flaking yellow skin. At the wheel, with a nose bleeding onto a denim jacket, I was unsurprised to find a stunned seven-year-old. 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] Sunday is gloomy, my hours are stumbled. Here is the shadows I live with are stumbled. [MUSIC PLAYING] (upbeat music)