Part 2 of 6
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In this second chapter, Ruby discovers the nature of the armoured vehicle she encountered as the occupants were in the process of looting coffee.
The Skinner Co. Network
059 - Ruby Departed: Utopia, Part 2 of 6
[ Music ] Welcome to FlashPulp Episode 59. Tonight we present Ruby Departed, Utopia, Part 2 of 6. [ Music ] This week's episodes are brought to you by FlashPulp on iTunes. Join us to sample our work, a re-envisioning of the reboot of a remake to a prequel that never existed. Search the iTunes store for FlashPulp or find the link at Skinner.fm. [ Music ] Sunday is gloomy, my hours are stumbledless. Give it the shadows I live with our number less. [ 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. In this second chapter, Ruby discovers the nature of the armored vehicle she encountered as the occupants were in the process of looting coffee. Ruby departed, Utopia, Part 2 of 6. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, Art and Narration by Opoponax, an audio produced by Jessica May. [ Music ] 957 p.m., according to the alarm clock. I only put one of them down as I was going across the lot. [ Music ] I had a moment of panic after putting Bethany through his face, as she was being a bit stubborn about coming out. But once he was on the pavement, I put a foot on his neck, and after a quick tug, I was back in the stumbling race. For a split second, I felt like Arthur pulling his sword from the stone. Good thing too, I barely managed to reach the rig before Andy Leatherhead Mitchell came out the door and leveled a rifle at me. "Don't shoot! I'm not dead yet!" I said. I guess seeing a live person was less of a surprise to him than it was to me. He waved me off saying, "Get in the back." Then shot the emo kid who'd been crawling along behind me. The vehicle itself was kind of swamped, but I was so close I could smell the oil and grease of functional machinery. For a moment, I had a vision of driving the thing all the way down to Albany, and nothing was going to come between me and my ride. I didn't kill any of them, but there were probably four or five dead folk crawling around the lot, wishing they still had their lower legs. There was a small door, inset in the rear, and it popped open, framing a face that looked almost exactly like my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Silvestri. White hair maintained in a stylish bob, despite the circumstances. Black framed glasses, and a mouth built to tell kids to shut up and sit down. She wore deep red lipstick. She'd not seem happy to see me. I hopped in the back anyhow. As it was that, her turn around and risk being run over in Leatherhead's exit. I instantly pegged Andy as Leatherhead when he was coming out of the store with a duffel full of coffee. He dresses like a Mad Max character, but doesn't have the muscle to make it work for him. I couldn't hear much over the grinding, crunching, whirring, and Pantera, but once I'd realized I wasn't going to have a gun pulled on me or anything, I was happy to sit on the little side bench and watch the city roll by. Really, despite the dead people around us, it felt like I was in a Vietnam movie. We went a few blocks and Leatherhead pulled us into something that looked like an apartment building's basement parking structure. The thing is, we went down a few levels full of dusty volvos and Lexus' Lexi, then we came to another garage door. That one popped open, and it was more like a short descending tunnel. Then we stopped. "Hi, I'm Ruby," I said to the woman. "Andy Mitchell," Leatherhead replied, entering the rear and extending a leather creaking hand to me. He smiled, and it didn't seem too crazy. And I asked while turning to the woman. "Oh, this is Linda Belanger," he replied. "Nice to meet you," she said. She didn't smile. I asked a bunch of questions while we walked to the cafeteria area. The place is sort of built like an office building with hotel rooms all along the edges. Ottawa is a government town, and Leatherhead says he and Linda are government people. We're in a shelter that was supposed to be maintained in case of non-nuclear emergencies. Superbugs, as Linda put it, but they were the only two who showed up. Supplies are a little wonky though. Apparently they've got a lot of some things and very little of others, so they occasionally have to go out looking for specific items, like coffee. Anyhow, I've got my own room with a lock on it, and it's decked out like a honeymoon suite. And the smell of a cooked late seper is wafting down the hall, so I'm done with the righty-righty for now. July 6th, 6.32 p.m. Today I had non-congealed, non-canned milk on cereal. Listen to a couple, Andy and Linda, have an argument, like a normal couple, and it wasn't even about a life-or-death decision. I cooped without having to brace the door. Listen to music loudly with headphones on, and without needing to worry about what was coming up behind me. Drank two pots of hot coffee. Drank a cold coke. Eight til my stomach pops and rivets. Ran til my lungs and legs ached without being chased by or chasing a single dead or undead person. Read a green lantern comic. Leatherheads. I'm going to go cry, masturbate, and take a nap. Then maybe I'll see if they've got a little wine laid up. Something to worry about in the morning? What's the bill for this here, Hotel California? 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. [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music]