No one dared to speak as the car moved onto 95 south. Angela sat between Eric and Gopher, contemplating what exactly it was that she just saw. Eric was pretending to read the book, absently turning the page every minute or so. Steven watched the sun break through the trees and tried to think of something happy, something not the death of Iggy.
“It was my fault.” Eric said, finally breaking the silence in the car. “He was with… It was my fault. We shouldn’t… Don’t feel bad. You all didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“And neither did you, Eric,” Angela said, putting her arm around him. “There was nothing any of us could have done, and you know that.”
“No, it’s my fault he was in Jersey. If he had been back in Manhattan, he would have been fine. I know it. I think he knew it too.”
“That’s bullshit, Eric. Stop talking like that.”
“NO! He told me that he never wanted to come to my Copy Shop. He said that. And I can’t help but think that he knew something was wrong… I’ve killed their entire family line… That’s something tough to deal with, you know?” He said looking over at Angela with tears in his eyes.
“It’s alright, Eric. It’s all right. We’ll get through this. All of us will.”
He looked into her eyes and found comfort in her words, smiling for the first time since he left the dock.
Eric managed to fall asleep, his head on Angela’s shoulder. The sun was beginning to fall behind the horizon, Steven now reading the book that Eric had brought into the car. Fichter yawned, tiring out. They would have to stop somewhere for the night or risk him falling asleep at the wheel. While there were no other working cars on the road, falling asleep would still ram them into the guardrail… And Angela was the one not wearing a safety belt.
“Guys, we’re going to pull over somewhere, alright? We have to find a place to stay for the night. I’m going to take this exit, got some hotels. I’m sure they won’t mind if we stay one night, on the house,” he said grinning to the back, his smile cutting through the night.
The Holiday Inn express loomed in the distance, a monolith of safety; somewhat warming in the thought of it being a place to stay that wasn’t a car or outdoors. Eric awoke, grabbed his shotgun, and motioned for everyone in the car to come with him.
The lobby was empty. The standard blood trail graced the linoleum flooring, but there were no sounds coming from the back hallways. The lights were off, but everyone had a flashlight. The lobby wasn’t quite spooky either; perhaps they had been desensitized to the violence that had ensued after the invasion, or perhaps they had just grown more brazen with each passing day.
Fichter stepped behind the counter, grabbing a set of keys for the top floor. Eric stopped him, grabbing the keys for floor three instead.
“Closer to the exit, not too far to jump out of the things decide to pay us a midnight visit. Anyone have a digital watch with an alarm?”
“I got one,” Steven said, on finger extended and pointing to his watch.
“Alright, set it for 6. We’re going to get out of here early. Don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to. Fichter, will you be good to drive at six?”
He yawned and nodded, pulling his hat off.
“Alright, let’s get to our rooms.”
They transversed the hotel lobby to the stairs, drearily climbing up, stopping every time someone stumbled… Quite frequently in the unlit stairwell. The beams of light from their flashlights did almost nothing for illuminating the way up the stairs. At last, they reached floor 3, stepping into the hallway.
Eric expected to be ambushed, to have a Mind Melder come out of nowhere or to have a dozed Creeps charge, but there was nothing. The hallway was empty, silent, but not foreboding. He made his way down the hall, following the room numbers on the doors.
“Alright. Two people to a room. We have enough for that. Angela and Steven to a room, Gopher and Fichter to a room and Iggy and I-“ He stopped. “I’ll be staying with Gopher and Fichter,” he said, frowning. He dropped the extra key he had picked up onto the carpet and moved into the room.
It was a standard room. One would think that in these times of free hotel service and free everything else, they would have picked a larger room or some kind of executive suite. At least, that’s what Fichter was thinking.
“Why didn’t we get a kick ass room? It’s kind of cramped in here.”
“I’m sleeping on the sofa,” Eric said. “Besides, you have to take a series of elevators to the VIP floor. Their fire escape hooks up with the others… Would you really want to go through all the hassle to get up there?”
“Yes.”
“Also, the Creeps tend to like things that are nicer. And if they’re going to raze the building, they’re going to start at the top floor and work their way down.”
“I think you just made that up,” Fichter said, smiling.
“Oh yeah? You got a counterpoint to that?”
Fichter didn’t move. He began to laugh, clapping Eric on the back. He crawled into the bed, rolling to face the window.
“Is that really how it works in the hotel? The VIP floors being separate like that?”
“Yes sir,” Eric said.
“Well, how do you know that?”
“I used to work in a hotel.”
“Really?”
“No. Goodnight, Fichter.”
“Goodnight, Eric. Gopher, goodnight.”
Gopher didn’t say anything, already fast asleep on the other side of the bed.
Eric kept seeing it happen, over and over. Watching the blood run from his lower lip to the dock, watching his legs go out from under him. In some of the dreams, he was the one being stabbed… At least in those dreams he felt happy in the thought that he wasn’t responsible for killing of Iggy’s family.
He didn’t want to sleep anymore. The room was quiet, small and smothering. Eric grabbed his gun and turned the light on, walking carefully to the door. He noted Gopher’s pants on the floor and shuddered, feeling very sorry for Fichter.
He swung the door open and almost fired at the person in the hallway.
“Angela, what are you doing out of your room?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Steven started snoring again… He used to do that frequently, but he had surgery. Deviated septum or something… Not quite too sure. But lately, him snoring has just been happening a lot.”
“Well, it’s dangerous out here. You should get back to your room.”
“I should say the same to you.” She said, pushing his shoulder.
“I’ve also got a gun… Makes things slightly more advantageous for me. What are you going to do, sass the monsters to death?”
“What do you think happened to my first husband?”
Eric laughed. It felt good, each breath feeling sweet in the dank hallway.
They stood in the darkness, Eric’s light precariously dangling near his feet, in silence. Angela wanted to say something, not quite sure how to phrase it. Eric could sense that she was about to speak and thusly kept quiet. He stared in the general direction of her eyes, imagining that he was looking into them. The silence continued for a few minutes until Eric finally realized that she was at a loss for words.
“Well, is there anything I can do for you?”
“What? What does that… No. I just wanted to say something.”
“Yeah, I know, Angela. You’ve been trying for about five minutes.”
“Oh, now who is going to kill who with the sass?”
Eric smiled in the darkness.
“Good to see you smiling again, Eric.”
“How could you tell?”
“My eyes adjust to the dark very quickly…”
“Oh. Oh really?”
“Mmm. I know you’ve been looking into my eyes, too.”
“It’s dark. I wasn’t really. I was just looking in your general direction. That’s all. I didn’t want to… There wasn’t….” He sighed. “Alright, guilty as charged.”
She began to laugh. “Can’t be guilty if there’s no law anymore, can you?”
“No, I don’t suppose you can…” He stepped forward, slowly, the light bridging the gap between the two. He pulled her in for a hug, embracing her.
“Thank you for saying what you did in the car, Angela.”
“It’s the truth,” she said, caught slightly off guard by the hug. “Nothing you could have done about it.”
They stood awkwardly for near a minute until Eric pulled away. “I think I need to get some sleep. I think you should too… Just… I’ll see you in the morning?”
She smiled, stepping up and kissing him quickly on the cheek. “In the morning,” she said, turning around and walking back to her room.
Eric stretched back out on the ratty sofa, content. That next dream he had was of Angela, not Iggy. He slept until the morning.
-
Steven knocked on the door hard enough to jar Eric from his slumber. Gopher and Fichter were still asleep in the bed, Gopher facing the wall. Fichter’s arm was sling over Gopher in a very loving spoons position. Eric laughed out loud.
Another knock on the door stirred Fichter. Eric fell over and pretended to sleep as Fichter realized what he was doing.
“Oh, crap…” Fichter looked around the room. “Thank God no one saw that.”
“Saw what?” Eric said, casting off the façade of slumber.
“Nothing. I dropped my… Pens… On the ground and they… Broke?”
“Your pens broke?”
“Really tragic. Come on, let’s go.”
Gopher slid out of bed, dropping his legs into his pants and pulling them up in one quick motion. Fichter shuddered and made his way to the door where Steven stood, beaming. The muffin Eric had gotten him cut into five sections, each in their own segment of torn wax paper.
“Continental breakfast worthy of the heroes we are,” he said, beaming.
The car started on the first try and slid out of the parking lot. Up in the VIP suite, a group of Creeps danced around, throwing the sating pillows into the air and stabbing them repeatedly. As the car moved further from the hotel, the Creeps began to make their way down the stairs, systematically, floor by floor destroying every room they came into.
Fichter reached down to turn the radio on, scanning the stations, hopeful that music would come pouring in. None did; nothing but static across the airwaves. He was hoping for maybe a click or some other recognition that there were more people out there other than the hunch of a half psychic, all dead teen. There was none. Good enough, for everyone was getting tired of bouncing around from radio station to radio station.
Fichter had begun to daydream about ice cream and movies. He didn’t notice the four people making their way slowly across the street. By the time he had fully regained composure, he had barely enough time to slam on the brakes. He stopped a mere inch in front of the first man, who did not falter. The man had been standing in front of the car with his hand outstretched, calling something. Fichter swung his door open and caught the tail end of it.
“SHALL NOT PAAAASSSSS!”
Angela was rubbing her sore shoulder as Eric stepped out of the car.
“What are the odds of finding four survivors in the middle of nowhere?” He asked back into the car. No one had an answer. He leaned down and grabbed his shotgun, winking at Angela. She rolled her eyes and he shut the door.
Fichter was already trying to talk to them, to no avail. He turned to Eric. “Alright, you try and reach em’. I can’t. I’m going back into the car.”
The men were dressed strangely, and after scrutiny, Eric realized that they were no men. Boys Iggy’s age, yes… Not quite men yet. Two of the four had donned capes, looking cheap in quality as if found in a discount costume shop. One of them was wearing armor, stage armor from the looks of it. The third was in a bright purple robe. He still had his hand outstretched to the car, preparing to yell again.
“YOU SHALL NOT PASSSS!”
Eric sighed. “Alright, Gandalf. That’s quite enough of that.”
The young man turned to him. “How did thoust knoweth my name?”
“It’s from the… You’re kidding, right?”
“A wizard is never late nor early; he arrives precisely when he means to.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No, Gandalf does not kid.”
“Alright… Gandalf, who else are you traveling with?”
The man in the purple robe motioned to the rest of the group. He pointed to the two wearing the gaudy capes. “These are the Strife twins; born under the blood red moon and unto this earth to cast spells. Igdo Strife casts spells of primary offense, and Agdo Strife only casts status afflicting spells.”
“Oh. That… makes sense,” Eric said, growing angry. He hated Final Fantasy… And this was just pissing him off.
“What about that guy? The one in the armor?”
The twins clicked their heels and moved their arms in a wide circle, before parting. The man in armor stepped through ceremoniously before collapsing to his knees.
“That is Varia the brave. He conquers all with his mighty sword, which has been anointed with a plus seventeen against groundling monsters. He is mighty! He is adventure incarnate! For he is our Lord Protec-“
“Gene, stop. I don’t want to anymore.”
Gandalf dropped his arms. “What was that? Did you just call me Gene?”
“Yes, Gene. Stop. I can’t wear this armor anymore. It’s suffocating me and it doesn’t even help against them. Just help me take if off.”
Gene the Gandalf began to wave his staff around in the air, chanting in a language the Eric could only assume was Elvish. The twins moved behind Varia the Brave and started to remove his armor. Gene the Gandalf said his final magic words, eyes closed, and the armor dropped to the ground.
“You cannot stand the might of Gandalf’s Magic!”
“Shut up, Gene. Taylor and Jamie helped me take it off. Could you stop being a moron for ten minutes?”
Gene the Gandalf turned back into Gene from Kentucky and frowned.
“My name isn’t really Varia. It’s Michael Gettings. These two over here are Jamie and Taylor, but they won’t give me their last name. And that MORON behind you is Gene Torvald.”
“Oh. It’s a pleasure. My name is Eric,” he said, extending his hand. “Are you sick or something? You don’t seem like you were going 100 there.”
“No, one of the things bit me. It was a little different from all the other one’s I’ve seen. It didn’t chase us or anything. I thought it was docile, and it reached out and bit my hand. I think it got me sick. It didn’t even look like the other ones.”
“Oh… Shit,” Eric said.
“What?”
“We are just venturing to the next town to upgrade our weapons and armor! For when we find a potion shop, we shall purchase an antidote and cure our fried of whatever poison is plaguing him!” Gene turned Gandalf said sharply from behind them.
“No, I know what you have. There’s no cure for it… Not even in the next town over,” he glanced back at Gandalf the Gene.
“What are you talking about?” Michael said, gripping Eric. Eric couldn’t help but look into his eyes and see the white begin to overtake the pupils.
“Zombies. You got bitten by a zombie Creep.”
“Oh… What does that mean?”
“Do the words ‘standard zombie rules apply’ mean anything?”
Michael collapsed to the ground. “Yes.”
Eric stood over him, watching the twins and Gandalf, looking for any signs of reaction from the grouping. They all had fear in their eyes; clearly they knew what those words meant as well.
Eric looked down at the ground to Michael. “Sorry,” he said, pulling his shotgun up to his shoulder.
“Wait, don’t shoo-“
Angela, Fichter, Gopher and Steven all turned in the direction of the gunshot. They saw Eric standing with his weapon pointed at the ground, a frown on his face.
“Can’t he go for twenty minutes without shooting something!” Fichter cried as he stepped out of the car.
“Fichter, watch your step. Michael’s all over the road.”
Fichter gagged and Eric turned to the group.
“There is no cure. Get that in your brains: There is no cure. Don’t let anything bite you. Don’t let anything touch you. And for the love of God, get some guns. You’re not going to last much longer if you don’t start showing some common sense. Especially now, because,” he motioned to the ground, “Your muscle is currently out of the picture.”
“We have magic and Mana on our side,” Gene Gandalf called out.
“You have bullshit on your side. You can ride with us if you want to, but it’ll be cramped. We’re heading to Virginia. You all up for it?”
“We shall not set foot inside of that iron gas powered beast! The illusion would be shattered! No, hark, we shall continue on to the next township and buy and meet women and drink ale! Huzzah!”
“Huzzah! Huzzah!” The twins cried out.
Gandalf looked at the ground. “Don’t worry, Varia the Brave! We shall be back with a phoenix down! And you shall be with us again!”
“This isn’t some role playing game! You all need to cut that out!”
“Castum deltrio MUTE!” Gandalf screamed at Eric. He motioned for the twins to follow them. They obediently began to move, marching with Gandalf over the guardrail and into the woods.
“Well… Let’s go,” Eric said to Fichter.
“Did you have to shoot him, Eric?”
“He was bitten,” Eric responded, climbing into the car. “There is no cure for that. I would rather him be gone than have him come back to haunt anyone. No one should have to live like that.”
The car doors slammed and the engine turned. The car lurched forward and into the left lane, avoiding the body that lay strewn across the street. The armor glinted in the rising sun as the car disappeared beyond the bend.
Gandalf would later pass in a bar, drinking month old ‘ale’ with the twins. The Creeps would set fire to the building, and Gandalf’s “Ice 2” spell would fail him for the last time.
-
Mal
“It was my fault.” Eric said, finally breaking the silence in the car. “He was with… It was my fault. We shouldn’t… Don’t feel bad. You all didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“And neither did you, Eric,” Angela said, putting her arm around him. “There was nothing any of us could have done, and you know that.”
“No, it’s my fault he was in Jersey. If he had been back in Manhattan, he would have been fine. I know it. I think he knew it too.”
“That’s bullshit, Eric. Stop talking like that.”
“NO! He told me that he never wanted to come to my Copy Shop. He said that. And I can’t help but think that he knew something was wrong… I’ve killed their entire family line… That’s something tough to deal with, you know?” He said looking over at Angela with tears in his eyes.
“It’s alright, Eric. It’s all right. We’ll get through this. All of us will.”
He looked into her eyes and found comfort in her words, smiling for the first time since he left the dock.
Eric managed to fall asleep, his head on Angela’s shoulder. The sun was beginning to fall behind the horizon, Steven now reading the book that Eric had brought into the car. Fichter yawned, tiring out. They would have to stop somewhere for the night or risk him falling asleep at the wheel. While there were no other working cars on the road, falling asleep would still ram them into the guardrail… And Angela was the one not wearing a safety belt.
“Guys, we’re going to pull over somewhere, alright? We have to find a place to stay for the night. I’m going to take this exit, got some hotels. I’m sure they won’t mind if we stay one night, on the house,” he said grinning to the back, his smile cutting through the night.
The Holiday Inn express loomed in the distance, a monolith of safety; somewhat warming in the thought of it being a place to stay that wasn’t a car or outdoors. Eric awoke, grabbed his shotgun, and motioned for everyone in the car to come with him.
The lobby was empty. The standard blood trail graced the linoleum flooring, but there were no sounds coming from the back hallways. The lights were off, but everyone had a flashlight. The lobby wasn’t quite spooky either; perhaps they had been desensitized to the violence that had ensued after the invasion, or perhaps they had just grown more brazen with each passing day.
Fichter stepped behind the counter, grabbing a set of keys for the top floor. Eric stopped him, grabbing the keys for floor three instead.
“Closer to the exit, not too far to jump out of the things decide to pay us a midnight visit. Anyone have a digital watch with an alarm?”
“I got one,” Steven said, on finger extended and pointing to his watch.
“Alright, set it for 6. We’re going to get out of here early. Don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to. Fichter, will you be good to drive at six?”
He yawned and nodded, pulling his hat off.
“Alright, let’s get to our rooms.”
They transversed the hotel lobby to the stairs, drearily climbing up, stopping every time someone stumbled… Quite frequently in the unlit stairwell. The beams of light from their flashlights did almost nothing for illuminating the way up the stairs. At last, they reached floor 3, stepping into the hallway.
Eric expected to be ambushed, to have a Mind Melder come out of nowhere or to have a dozed Creeps charge, but there was nothing. The hallway was empty, silent, but not foreboding. He made his way down the hall, following the room numbers on the doors.
“Alright. Two people to a room. We have enough for that. Angela and Steven to a room, Gopher and Fichter to a room and Iggy and I-“ He stopped. “I’ll be staying with Gopher and Fichter,” he said, frowning. He dropped the extra key he had picked up onto the carpet and moved into the room.
It was a standard room. One would think that in these times of free hotel service and free everything else, they would have picked a larger room or some kind of executive suite. At least, that’s what Fichter was thinking.
“Why didn’t we get a kick ass room? It’s kind of cramped in here.”
“I’m sleeping on the sofa,” Eric said. “Besides, you have to take a series of elevators to the VIP floor. Their fire escape hooks up with the others… Would you really want to go through all the hassle to get up there?”
“Yes.”
“Also, the Creeps tend to like things that are nicer. And if they’re going to raze the building, they’re going to start at the top floor and work their way down.”
“I think you just made that up,” Fichter said, smiling.
“Oh yeah? You got a counterpoint to that?”
Fichter didn’t move. He began to laugh, clapping Eric on the back. He crawled into the bed, rolling to face the window.
“Is that really how it works in the hotel? The VIP floors being separate like that?”
“Yes sir,” Eric said.
“Well, how do you know that?”
“I used to work in a hotel.”
“Really?”
“No. Goodnight, Fichter.”
“Goodnight, Eric. Gopher, goodnight.”
Gopher didn’t say anything, already fast asleep on the other side of the bed.
Eric kept seeing it happen, over and over. Watching the blood run from his lower lip to the dock, watching his legs go out from under him. In some of the dreams, he was the one being stabbed… At least in those dreams he felt happy in the thought that he wasn’t responsible for killing of Iggy’s family.
He didn’t want to sleep anymore. The room was quiet, small and smothering. Eric grabbed his gun and turned the light on, walking carefully to the door. He noted Gopher’s pants on the floor and shuddered, feeling very sorry for Fichter.
He swung the door open and almost fired at the person in the hallway.
“Angela, what are you doing out of your room?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Steven started snoring again… He used to do that frequently, but he had surgery. Deviated septum or something… Not quite too sure. But lately, him snoring has just been happening a lot.”
“Well, it’s dangerous out here. You should get back to your room.”
“I should say the same to you.” She said, pushing his shoulder.
“I’ve also got a gun… Makes things slightly more advantageous for me. What are you going to do, sass the monsters to death?”
“What do you think happened to my first husband?”
Eric laughed. It felt good, each breath feeling sweet in the dank hallway.
They stood in the darkness, Eric’s light precariously dangling near his feet, in silence. Angela wanted to say something, not quite sure how to phrase it. Eric could sense that she was about to speak and thusly kept quiet. He stared in the general direction of her eyes, imagining that he was looking into them. The silence continued for a few minutes until Eric finally realized that she was at a loss for words.
“Well, is there anything I can do for you?”
“What? What does that… No. I just wanted to say something.”
“Yeah, I know, Angela. You’ve been trying for about five minutes.”
“Oh, now who is going to kill who with the sass?”
Eric smiled in the darkness.
“Good to see you smiling again, Eric.”
“How could you tell?”
“My eyes adjust to the dark very quickly…”
“Oh. Oh really?”
“Mmm. I know you’ve been looking into my eyes, too.”
“It’s dark. I wasn’t really. I was just looking in your general direction. That’s all. I didn’t want to… There wasn’t….” He sighed. “Alright, guilty as charged.”
She began to laugh. “Can’t be guilty if there’s no law anymore, can you?”
“No, I don’t suppose you can…” He stepped forward, slowly, the light bridging the gap between the two. He pulled her in for a hug, embracing her.
“Thank you for saying what you did in the car, Angela.”
“It’s the truth,” she said, caught slightly off guard by the hug. “Nothing you could have done about it.”
They stood awkwardly for near a minute until Eric pulled away. “I think I need to get some sleep. I think you should too… Just… I’ll see you in the morning?”
She smiled, stepping up and kissing him quickly on the cheek. “In the morning,” she said, turning around and walking back to her room.
Eric stretched back out on the ratty sofa, content. That next dream he had was of Angela, not Iggy. He slept until the morning.
-
Steven knocked on the door hard enough to jar Eric from his slumber. Gopher and Fichter were still asleep in the bed, Gopher facing the wall. Fichter’s arm was sling over Gopher in a very loving spoons position. Eric laughed out loud.
Another knock on the door stirred Fichter. Eric fell over and pretended to sleep as Fichter realized what he was doing.
“Oh, crap…” Fichter looked around the room. “Thank God no one saw that.”
“Saw what?” Eric said, casting off the façade of slumber.
“Nothing. I dropped my… Pens… On the ground and they… Broke?”
“Your pens broke?”
“Really tragic. Come on, let’s go.”
Gopher slid out of bed, dropping his legs into his pants and pulling them up in one quick motion. Fichter shuddered and made his way to the door where Steven stood, beaming. The muffin Eric had gotten him cut into five sections, each in their own segment of torn wax paper.
“Continental breakfast worthy of the heroes we are,” he said, beaming.
The car started on the first try and slid out of the parking lot. Up in the VIP suite, a group of Creeps danced around, throwing the sating pillows into the air and stabbing them repeatedly. As the car moved further from the hotel, the Creeps began to make their way down the stairs, systematically, floor by floor destroying every room they came into.
Fichter reached down to turn the radio on, scanning the stations, hopeful that music would come pouring in. None did; nothing but static across the airwaves. He was hoping for maybe a click or some other recognition that there were more people out there other than the hunch of a half psychic, all dead teen. There was none. Good enough, for everyone was getting tired of bouncing around from radio station to radio station.
Fichter had begun to daydream about ice cream and movies. He didn’t notice the four people making their way slowly across the street. By the time he had fully regained composure, he had barely enough time to slam on the brakes. He stopped a mere inch in front of the first man, who did not falter. The man had been standing in front of the car with his hand outstretched, calling something. Fichter swung his door open and caught the tail end of it.
“SHALL NOT PAAAASSSSS!”
Angela was rubbing her sore shoulder as Eric stepped out of the car.
“What are the odds of finding four survivors in the middle of nowhere?” He asked back into the car. No one had an answer. He leaned down and grabbed his shotgun, winking at Angela. She rolled her eyes and he shut the door.
Fichter was already trying to talk to them, to no avail. He turned to Eric. “Alright, you try and reach em’. I can’t. I’m going back into the car.”
The men were dressed strangely, and after scrutiny, Eric realized that they were no men. Boys Iggy’s age, yes… Not quite men yet. Two of the four had donned capes, looking cheap in quality as if found in a discount costume shop. One of them was wearing armor, stage armor from the looks of it. The third was in a bright purple robe. He still had his hand outstretched to the car, preparing to yell again.
“YOU SHALL NOT PASSSS!”
Eric sighed. “Alright, Gandalf. That’s quite enough of that.”
The young man turned to him. “How did thoust knoweth my name?”
“It’s from the… You’re kidding, right?”
“A wizard is never late nor early; he arrives precisely when he means to.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No, Gandalf does not kid.”
“Alright… Gandalf, who else are you traveling with?”
The man in the purple robe motioned to the rest of the group. He pointed to the two wearing the gaudy capes. “These are the Strife twins; born under the blood red moon and unto this earth to cast spells. Igdo Strife casts spells of primary offense, and Agdo Strife only casts status afflicting spells.”
“Oh. That… makes sense,” Eric said, growing angry. He hated Final Fantasy… And this was just pissing him off.
“What about that guy? The one in the armor?”
The twins clicked their heels and moved their arms in a wide circle, before parting. The man in armor stepped through ceremoniously before collapsing to his knees.
“That is Varia the brave. He conquers all with his mighty sword, which has been anointed with a plus seventeen against groundling monsters. He is mighty! He is adventure incarnate! For he is our Lord Protec-“
“Gene, stop. I don’t want to anymore.”
Gandalf dropped his arms. “What was that? Did you just call me Gene?”
“Yes, Gene. Stop. I can’t wear this armor anymore. It’s suffocating me and it doesn’t even help against them. Just help me take if off.”
Gene the Gandalf began to wave his staff around in the air, chanting in a language the Eric could only assume was Elvish. The twins moved behind Varia the Brave and started to remove his armor. Gene the Gandalf said his final magic words, eyes closed, and the armor dropped to the ground.
“You cannot stand the might of Gandalf’s Magic!”
“Shut up, Gene. Taylor and Jamie helped me take it off. Could you stop being a moron for ten minutes?”
Gene the Gandalf turned back into Gene from Kentucky and frowned.
“My name isn’t really Varia. It’s Michael Gettings. These two over here are Jamie and Taylor, but they won’t give me their last name. And that MORON behind you is Gene Torvald.”
“Oh. It’s a pleasure. My name is Eric,” he said, extending his hand. “Are you sick or something? You don’t seem like you were going 100 there.”
“No, one of the things bit me. It was a little different from all the other one’s I’ve seen. It didn’t chase us or anything. I thought it was docile, and it reached out and bit my hand. I think it got me sick. It didn’t even look like the other ones.”
“Oh… Shit,” Eric said.
“What?”
“We are just venturing to the next town to upgrade our weapons and armor! For when we find a potion shop, we shall purchase an antidote and cure our fried of whatever poison is plaguing him!” Gene turned Gandalf said sharply from behind them.
“No, I know what you have. There’s no cure for it… Not even in the next town over,” he glanced back at Gandalf the Gene.
“What are you talking about?” Michael said, gripping Eric. Eric couldn’t help but look into his eyes and see the white begin to overtake the pupils.
“Zombies. You got bitten by a zombie Creep.”
“Oh… What does that mean?”
“Do the words ‘standard zombie rules apply’ mean anything?”
Michael collapsed to the ground. “Yes.”
Eric stood over him, watching the twins and Gandalf, looking for any signs of reaction from the grouping. They all had fear in their eyes; clearly they knew what those words meant as well.
Eric looked down at the ground to Michael. “Sorry,” he said, pulling his shotgun up to his shoulder.
“Wait, don’t shoo-“
Angela, Fichter, Gopher and Steven all turned in the direction of the gunshot. They saw Eric standing with his weapon pointed at the ground, a frown on his face.
“Can’t he go for twenty minutes without shooting something!” Fichter cried as he stepped out of the car.
“Fichter, watch your step. Michael’s all over the road.”
Fichter gagged and Eric turned to the group.
“There is no cure. Get that in your brains: There is no cure. Don’t let anything bite you. Don’t let anything touch you. And for the love of God, get some guns. You’re not going to last much longer if you don’t start showing some common sense. Especially now, because,” he motioned to the ground, “Your muscle is currently out of the picture.”
“We have magic and Mana on our side,” Gene Gandalf called out.
“You have bullshit on your side. You can ride with us if you want to, but it’ll be cramped. We’re heading to Virginia. You all up for it?”
“We shall not set foot inside of that iron gas powered beast! The illusion would be shattered! No, hark, we shall continue on to the next township and buy and meet women and drink ale! Huzzah!”
“Huzzah! Huzzah!” The twins cried out.
Gandalf looked at the ground. “Don’t worry, Varia the Brave! We shall be back with a phoenix down! And you shall be with us again!”
“This isn’t some role playing game! You all need to cut that out!”
“Castum deltrio MUTE!” Gandalf screamed at Eric. He motioned for the twins to follow them. They obediently began to move, marching with Gandalf over the guardrail and into the woods.
“Well… Let’s go,” Eric said to Fichter.
“Did you have to shoot him, Eric?”
“He was bitten,” Eric responded, climbing into the car. “There is no cure for that. I would rather him be gone than have him come back to haunt anyone. No one should have to live like that.”
The car doors slammed and the engine turned. The car lurched forward and into the left lane, avoiding the body that lay strewn across the street. The armor glinted in the rising sun as the car disappeared beyond the bend.
Gandalf would later pass in a bar, drinking month old ‘ale’ with the twins. The Creeps would set fire to the building, and Gandalf’s “Ice 2” spell would fail him for the last time.
-
Mal
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