Chet & Floyd vs. The Apocalypse: Volume 1 Read online

  “Oh, yeah,” the big man said. “So there’s no fixation that way.”

  “That’s right. There’s a lot of shoulders being shot. But the bad guys’ deaths are always pretty creative. I’m, however, stuck on shoulders.”

  There were a few moments of silence before the big man realized that Chet was done talking. He shook his head.

  “Enough! It’s your turn to shoot.” The big man gestured to Floyd.

  Floyd looked at Chet and pointed the gun at his head. He then quickly turned the gun towards the crowd and fired.

  The people screamed and fell over each other in a small, cramped stampede. The big man punched Floyd full in the face, toppling his chair over yet again.

  Chet laughed a little when the noise calmed down. “You were way off on that one,” Chet said.

  “No I wasn’t,” Floyd said from the ground.

  Chet looked to where Floyd had fired and saw Stacey holding her stomach. She had been hit squarely by Floyd’s bullet.

  He turned toward Floyd, furious. He launched forward in a vain attempt to grab Floyd and fell sideways.

  “You shot my girlfriend!” Chet screamed. “I’m going to kill you Floyd.”

  “She was never your girlfriend. She is the reason we’re in this mess.”

  “Give me that gun!” Chet yelled at the big man.

  The man picked both Chet and Floyd up, took a bullet out of his shirt pocket, loaded the gun and handed it to Chet. The people crept back to their places.

  “Don’t do anything like that again,” the big man said to Floyd. Floyd was now bleeding as profusely from the nose as he was from the shoulder.

  Chet held the gun at Floyd and fired, hitting him square in the shoulder again. Floyd fell backwards.

  “Darn it!” Chet yelled.

  “Darn it!” Floyd yelled.

  “Darn it!” the big man yelled.

  “Chet?” Stacey sobbed from the corner of the basement.

  Chapter 26

  Chet heard Stacey’s hurt and distraught voice and turned his head toward her call. She was dying, plain and simple. The bullet had stuck something vital, and her blood wept fluidly from her stomach and pooled on the dirt floor.

  Chet held the still smoking gun to the big man who took it, loaded another bullet in the chamber and put in on the table. He picked Floyd up and told him it was his turn to shoot.

  Floyd didn’t look too well at the moment. Blood from his twin shoulder wounds and broken nose made him look like a white mink stole splashed with red paint. His body was a mess and he didn’t move at the moment, but his eyes were on Chet. They weren’t happy.

  “Chet?” Stacey said again. Chet looked away from the burning ire of Floyd’s eyes and turned to his ex-beloved.

  “Yes, my little tangerine?” Chet said. “I don’t know what you want from me. You’ve already taken my heart and ground it into a million pieces. I have nothing left but hurt.”

  “I’m the one who’s bleeding!” Floyd said.

  “Don’t interrupt,” Chet said. “I’m speaking of an inner hurt Floyd. Some wounds you cannot heal with a simple bandage.”

  “Are you calling me shallow?” Floyd said.

  “You’re just not vested in the ways of love like I am.”

  “This is like your first and only girlfriend ever,” Floyd said.

  “Love knows no sense of time or space Floyd. I am on an astral plane, higher than your typical dimensional plane. You’re down here in another dimension, with all the other lonely losers.”

  “Chet. Listen to me,” Stacey said. Chet turned back to her.

  “I’m listening,” Chet said. “What do you want to tell me? Should I bring your corpse back to your homeland and bury you next to your dad?”

  This startled her for a moment, but she regained her composure.

  “No. I don’t know how you could jump to something like that,” she paused. “I just wanted you to know that you were a fairly decent person in an odd and very unique way.”

  “What about handsome?” Chet asked.

  “You are a very unique person,” Stacey said. Her body fell limp, and she died. Chet turned to Floyd.

  “She said I was the greatest lover she ever had,” Chet said.

  “She didn’t say that. You never even had sex with her!” Floyd said.

  “The greatest lover she ever had, Floyd. Imagine that! I bet nobody has ever said that to you before.”

  “Nobody has ever said that to you either,” Floyd said.

  “You are wrong Floyd,” Chet said with a sorrowful sigh. “Those who love speak to each other not just with words, but with an underlying meaning behind those words. When you have such a deep love and devotion, like the one Stacey and I had with each other, you speak volumes even when you’re not speaking at all.”

  “Look at my eyes Chet,” Floyd said. “Am I speaking volumes to you right now?”

  “Let me look.” Chet peered across the table in Floyd’s eyes. Then he sat back. “You are annoyed with me Floyd.”

  Floyd nodded. “You’re mad I shot you. Well you have the gun now. Time for a little social justice!” Chet took his free hand and pulled his shirt back from his shoulder.

  “That’s not what social justice means!” Floyd said.

  He turned the gun on the big man, and shot him in the forehead. The man toppled forward and landed heaving on the table. The people still watching scattered in alarm and made for the cellar door.

  Floyd shoved his hand in the big man’s pocket, where he knew he kept the bullets, and ripped out several. The bullets rolled across the table, most then falling onto the floor.

  Floyd loaded a couple in the gun and fired at the last remaining feet ascending the stairs. He missed.

  The cellar door closed with a loud bang. The candles fluttered but didn’t go out with the rush of wind.

  Chet and Floyd were left half trussed to chairs in the near dark cellar. The dead big man and the dead Stacey were their only company.

  Chet reached into his pants with his free hand and took out a knife. He sliced open his bonds within seconds and came around the table to undo Floyd’s.

  “You could have gotten out at any moment?” Floyd asked.

  “I didn’t think we were in that bad of trouble yet,” Chet said.

  He took the knife and cut a long strip of cloth off the big man’s shirt. He used it to tie up Floyd’s arm in a brace. He helped Floyd to his feet. “Not much I can do for your nose, but how does that arm feel?”

  “Actually, not too bad. I think the bullets went in and out.”

  “The shoulder man. I’m telling you, it’s the place to be shot,” Chet said.

  He checked Stacey’s vitals, shrugged and went over to the candles and lay down to rest. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere for awhile, Floyd. You mind taking first watch?”

  “No, that’s okay,” Floyd said. He sat down by the candles and watched the cellar door. There really wasn’t much to keep watch of, but at least when something happened, they would both be awake for it.

  “Thanks Floyd,” Chet said. “I would like to pay you three compli…”

  “No! No! No!” Floyd said. He grabbed his shoulder from the pain of his outburst. “I don’t need any nightly affirmation. Just say thank you.”

  “Floyd, this is good for you. I will not rest until you let me do this,” Chet said.

  “Fine, just make it quick.”

  “I would like to pay you three compliments for your nightly affirmation. First, you are nice to take first watch. Second, you didn’t cry too much when I shot you—very manful of you Floyd. Third, you didn’t try to move in on my lady. Thank you for respecting my boundaries, and I hope you have a nice sleep.” Chet finished and looked at Floyd expectantly.

  Floyd scratched his head.

  “My turn is it?” Floyd said. “Okay, I…” Floyd scrutinized Chet’s needful face and earnest body language. “You really need this, don’t you?” Chet nodded. “Okay here we go,” Flo
yd said, “First, you showed great restraint by not killing everyone in the cellar today.”

  “You noticed!” Chet exclaimed.

  “I always notice when someone doesn’t die after meeting you,” Floyd said. “Second, your girlfriend survived longer than I would have thought after meeting you. I would totally have lost the office pool on that one if, in fact, there were such things as offices anymore. Third, congratulations on being the greatest lover the world has ever known.”

  Floyd thought that Chet would pick up on the sarcasm of that one, but he didn’t.

  “Thank you Floyd for the affirmation. Goodnight.”

  “Good night Chet.”

  Chapter 27

  Floyd’s shoulder burned with agony. The pain was so exquisite he was almost thankful for it since he briefly forgot about the abuse the rest of his body had taken. It had been quite awhile since he was this much of a mess.

  The candles sputtered out within an hour, leaving him in complete darkness. Worse than the darkness was the smell the two corpses were starting to give off. Floyd knew he must be contributing mightily to the smell, but personal care must wait. Escape needed to come first.

  He felt his way over to the basement stairs. Floyd climbed up the stairs and put his shoulder to the cellar door. It didn’t budge, and the effort sent pain through his body from the wounds.

  Feeling utterly exhausted, he went back down to wake up Chet for his watch. He never made it. Sleep overtook him as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and he passed out on the dirt floor.

  Chet was lying on the dirt floor next to Stacey. He was deep in sleep and dreaming.

  He knew he was dreaming because of the David Bowie music he could hear in the background. All Chet’s dreams had a David Bowie soundtrack, and this was no different. Tonight was the song “Cat People.” A classic. A smile crept over his face as he slept. His dreams were always interesting, and he was ready to watch the show.

  See these eyes so green

  Chet opened a beer and drank it. He absent-mindedly picked at the bottle’s label before throwing it out his third story apartment window. He got another beer, drained it and sent it flying after the first. The smash and tinkle of glass gratified him.

  I can stare for a thousand years

  Chet lit a cigarette and popped the top on another beer. He heard a soft swishing outside and looked out his window. An elderly man was slowly sweeping up the broken glass.

  “What the hell is that old guy doing out so late?” Chet thought.

  Colder than the moon

  Chet drank his beer. He held the empty bottle in his hand. The swish of the broom and the scraping of glass annoyed him. He closed the window. Turning around he flung the bottle against his living room wall. The smash and tinkle of glass gratified him.

  It’s been so long

  The sound of breaking glass woke up the baby in the apartment next to his. The baby began to wail.

  Chet closed his eyes. He heard his neighbor enter the room and sooth the baby softly. The baby continued to cry. The soothing voice became sharper. The baby cried louder. Chet heard the sound of a slap. The baby cried now in pain instead of fear. Another sound of a slap. The child sobbed. Quiet now.

  Chet got up and left his apartment.

  And I’ve been putting out fire

  Chet knocked on his neighbor's apartment door. A tired looking woman half his size opened up.

  “What the hell do you want?” she asked.

  “Those soothed with violence will in turn become violent. Someday your boy will be bigger than you.” Chet answered.

  “That may be so,” the woman said. “But I still have today.”

  I’ve been putting out fire with gasoline

  Chet woke with a start. It was always good to wake up from pleasant dreams. He felt refreshed.

  Some light was shining through the cracks of the trap door of the basement. He saw Floyd sleeping at the bottom of the stairs.

  “He let me sleep all night,” Chet thought. “What a good friend.”

  Chapter 28

  Chet shook Floyd awake. “I want to get out of here,” Chet said. “I don’t think they’re going to come down here and feed us or anything. I think they’ve locked us down here to stay.”

  “They think you’re going to shoot them when they open the door,” Floyd said.

  “They are pretty shrewd. I will give them that,” Chet said.

  He walked up the stairs and banged his fist against the door. “Let me out of here!” he yelled. “I promise not to shoot anyone. I just want to go out to my car and leave everyone here alone.”

  “You can just rot down there and starve,” a man’s voice called through the door. “You’ll kill us if we let you go. You have a gun.”

  “You were right Floyd,” Chet said. “They are smarter than I thought.”

  “You would really have killed them?” Floyd asked.

  “Probably,” Chet said. “I don’t like to lie. I don’t want to be made out to be a liar. It is not a desirable trait in a man. I do lie on occasion, but only when I think it will serve a purpose for me. I only lie when I think I can gain from it.”

  “Oh, yeah. That makes you real original about lying. Most people only lie when they think it will hurt them.”

  “Your sarcasm is noted, Floyd, and it’s none too appreciated,” Chet said. “I don’t lie when there’s a chance it will hurt other people.”

  “You’re lying so the people will unlock the trap door. Then you’re going to shoot them. How is that not hurting people?

  “The lie isn’t hurting people. I am,” Chet said with a wink. “It doesn’t matter anyway. They aren’t going to open up. We’re going to starve. I’m going down in the prime of my life Floyd. Do you want me to shoot you and end your misery?”

  “No. I don’t think I’m ready to end it all yet,” Floyd said.

  “Well, consider it an open invitation. If you want to commit suicide, I am more than willing to shoot you.”

  “Noted,” Floyd said.

  “I will shoot you,” Chet said.

  “I said ‘noted.’”

  “Right in the face.”

  “I said I’ve damn well ‘noted’ that you’re more than willing to shoot me!” Floyd yelled. “Shut the hell up about it.”

  “Dang,” Chet said. He walked toward the back wall of the cellar. “You try and be a good friend and you get yelled at. I swear you’ve lost all feelings for me, Floyd. You are a black hole of emotion.”

  “Noted,” Floyd said.

  “An endless void of eternal desolation of feeling.”

  “I said, ‘noted’!” Floyd yelled.

  Chet shook his head and leaned against the back wall of the cellar. He looked as though he was about to say something else when the wall swung inward, and he fell hard onto the stainless steel floor of a secret room.

  A florescent light blinked on, almost blinding them with light. As their eyes adjusted they saw what the room contained.

  “Sweet mercy,” Chet said. “We have entered the matrix.”

  The room was spotless. The metal walls, ceiling and floor were illuminated with florescent lights. The only dust came from the cellar where Chet had clumsily fallen in.

  The room contained wall-to-wall weaponry. Every inch of space was covered with guns of all shapes, size and strength. A glass table in the middle of the room was littered with knives, swords and even a battle axe.

  “A secret armory?” Floyd said. “What kind of crazy militia dude lived here before the Big Death?”

  “My kind of crazy militia dude,” Chet said. He had already stuffed several guns in his belt and was busy shoving knives into his boots. “I think I finally have enough guns here. I just may be able to sleep at night.”

  Floyd still hadn’t stepped into the room. He gazed in awe at all that glistening metal.

  “Is that a bazooka?” Floyd said, pointing.

  Chet picked it up and struck a pose.

  “Come in here
Floyd,” Chet said. “Feel the power.”

  Floyd walked into the room and shielded his eyes from the glare. He went right over to the glass table and picked up the battle axe.

  “That’s my boy,” Chet said. He and Floyd armed themselves and walked out to the center of the room. “Hey up there!” Chet called up the stairs. “If you don’t let us out of here, I’m going to blow up the whole bottom floor with a bazooka.”

  They heard laughter from above. Chet put the bazooka on his shoulder.

  “I don’t think you should do that,” Floyd said, suddenly afraid. “I thought you were bluffing them.” Chet looked through the bazooka’s sights.

  “You probably want to find cover, Floyd,” Chet said.

  “This cellar can’t be more than twenty feet square!” Floyd said. “You’ll kill us.”

  “You’ve said that before, and you’ve never been right so far. If I do kill us, then you have the right to say ‘I told you so.’ Take cover.”

  Floyd rolled the big man’s stinking body on its side and got behind it. He just hoped the body was fleshy enough to stop anything coming at him that would kill him.

  Chet fired.

  The whole world flashed in a blinding light that pierced through Floyd’s closed eyes. He felt an intense heat as debris rained down on him in a torrent of fire and destruction. His ears almost exploded with the blast. Floyd covered his damaged ears and screamed, but he couldn’t hear his voice.

  “I am dead,” Floyd thought. “Chet fired that thing with us all in the kill zone.”

  Floyd waited within the rubble. His mind was full of lights and stars, interrupted by moments of complete darkness. Every now and then he heard a scream or a sob. None of those voices he could place. They seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

  There was also the pain. His body screamed with every passing moment. Every place felt like it was being burned by a white-hot iron. Pain was in him, and he was pain itself.