Part 2 of 3
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Tonight, Ruby Departed stops for a beverage and a conversation, as the zombie apocalypse continues on about her.
The Skinner Co. Network
125 - Ruby Departed: Local Hero, Part 2 of 3
(screams) (dramatic music) (dramatic music) (dramatic music) (dramatic music) (screams) (dramatic music) (dramatic music) - Dad, why is Mr. Duncan that machine, Dad? Dad, what's wrong? (dramatic music) Dad, I'm scared. (dramatic music) (crickets chirping) (dramatic music) - Who really needs to read anymore? Flashpulp, available on iTunes, or download a dose today at Skinner.FM. (dramatic music) (dramatic music) - Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 125. Tonight, we present Ruby Departed, local hero, part two of three. This week's episodes are brought to you by the Walker journals. Undead Boy Scouts may attempt to consume your brain matter. You'll need more than a pocket knife and a not-spag to be prepared. Find all the tips you'll need to survive the zombie apocalypse at http colon slash slash youtube.com/user/walkersombesurvivor. (dramatic music) ♪ Sunday is gloomy in my hour ♪ ♪ There's a number left, here is the shadows ♪ ♪ I live with our number left ♪ (dramatic music) (dramatic 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 Departed stops for a beverage and a conversation as the zombie apocalypse continues on about her. Ruby Departed, local hero, part two of three. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, art and narration by Opoponox, an audio produced by Jessica May. (dramatic music) (dramatic music) - July 28th, slept pretty good last night. I bunked out on the back seat of a four-door Lexus. It's not so bad. I bury myself under my sleeping blanket and they don't even realize I'm there. I did, however, learn the first evening that I've always got to find a way to crack a window a bit. Otherwise, steam collects on the glass and they figure out I'm inside. If telemarketers still conducted surveys, it would be interesting to see what percentage of survivors snore. Confession, I lock the doors, despite the fact that the rotors don't really have a mastery of handles. I'm actually in the back of a Volvo right now. I made good time today, but I'm behind. After I hit the road this morning, traffic was light, dead people-wise. I was keeping an eye on my fingers and toes, even though my thoughts couldn't stop returning to the family that passed me yesterday when I spotted something weird on top of two semi-trucks. There was a guy napping in a green and yellow lawn chair and he appeared to have built a bridge between the vehicles. It irked me. Not only was my theory about not climbing to see what was ahead blown, on either side of the road, there was nothing but unplanted farmers fields, so there was no way to make it further along the highway without him noticing me. My options were limited. I could try to sneak around the truck on the right, stroll on by and pretend it was just Sunday in the park, or try to mine being a shuffler and see if he'd just let me pass. Maybe it was the heat, but I decided to play dead. Hey, honestly, it looked like he was sleeping up there. When I was about 20 feet from being hidden by the edge of the trailer, he started counting. He didn't make it much beyond one before I threw my arms in the air. I'm jumpy these days. He said, "Wow, most times folks around here don't raise their hands. They just keep stumbling around like idiots." Still, you ain't the first one to try that trick. I sometimes wonder how many of the fellas I've shot were just pretend then. That's when he invited me up onto his raft. The two trucks had been locked in traffic in near but opposing lanes, and Jerry had used salvage from the backs of abandoned pickups and card trunks to build a rickety platform between them. He was actually the guy driving the Doritos transport, and when he'd found himself trapped beside an 18-wheeler full of Molson ale, he knew he was going to be all right. Or, so he told me as he handed me a beer. It sounded like he had opportunity to practice the story before. The other thing he said was, "First one's free," as he passed the room temperature bottle. I joked about Scurvy, but he didn't seem to get it. "What happened in the beer truck driver?" I asked. He pointed to a blue jacketed heap projecting from behind the other transport's front tire. I changed the subject. I saw a family on the road yesterday. Did they pass by here? Oh, the parkers? Sure thing. Had them all up for a soda as well. Except the old woman in the wheelchair, but we kept a close eye on her. It wasn't his eyes I was worried about. It was his lopsided grin. Where are you heading? New York? I like that people always assume I mean the city, and not just the state. Huh, I gotta stay right here 'til my munchies run out, and maybe I'll see if there's enough gas in this piece to get me back to the distribution warehouse. That is, if I ain't sick of cool ranch by then. You like suds and chips? You wanna stay on a while? I could give you supplies for services. He must have seen a look on my face, because he suddenly started trying to explain himself, which is about the last thing I wanted. Hey, I ain't a mean guy. I'm willing to trade. I'll give you the same rate as I quoted Dalton for Olivia. You offered him a case of beer to keep his wife? Oh, no, his daughter, and I don't support slavery. I just meant for a bit. I hate it, but I actually thought, why didn't they just kill you, and take your bags of nacho cheese? Hmm, what do you say? Oh, he got real red in the face. Double when he saw Mrs. Barker was teary-eyed. I was suddenly thinking about dad for the first time in a while, and I realized I needed to go. I sat down my untouched drink and gave my goodbyes. Jerry said, "Yeah, this is about when they left, too. "Least you ain't leaving crying. "Have a good one." As I mentioned, I think I made good time backtracking. It's almost dark now, though, and it's too risky to keep moving. The parkers are somewhere ahead of me, hopefully, and I need to help them. (upbeat music) Flashpulp is presented by HTTP colon slash slash Skinner dot FM. The audio and text formats of Flashpulp are released under the Canadian Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. Questions, comments, or observations can be emailed in text or audio format to Skinner@skinner.fm, or you can call in to our voicemail line at 206-338-2792. But please be aware that your message will likely be included in the next episode of our companion show, Flashcast. Big thanks go to Highland and Wood for the introduction at the top. You can find their fantastic bothersome things podcast at bothersomethings.com. Thanks for listening, and if you enjoyed the show, and tell your friends.