"We're all gonna die, aren't we?" asked Mbu. He backed his rolling chair away from the kitchen table. "I don't know how or where the stereotype started about the black guy always dying first, but I already beat that one cuz the old lady died first."
"You're rambling, man. You in shock or sumpin'? You said the same thing at the Copper Queen Hotel in Bisbee. Did you die then? And remember the gun fight at Old Tucson? You was freaking out, hiding behind trees and shit. Did that save you? Did it kill us?"
"But they always say the black guy dies first!"
"They also say Chinese people really love fried chicken." I looked down at my dinner plate full of chicken bones. "But anyway, we've spent our whole lives trying to overcome stereotypes. Why are you going to give in to them when it matters the most to be strong no matter what someone thinks about you?"
Juanita walked into the kitchen. "Daddy, the monk is outside."
We all just sat looking around at each other. Just then there was a scream from the living room. We all ran in there. There was a rotting Mexican looking lady attacking Helen. The dead thing was busy gnawing on Helen's hand when we arrived.
"Yvette!" cried the man we had thought was a monk. He rushed over to grab the dead woman. Once released, Helen ran off outside the alleged safety of the building to God knows what fate. The dead woman, with a chin dripping blood, turned to face the monk. A hint of recognition crossed her face. Her head tilted like a dog listening to a dog whistle. Then one last gear seemed to slip into place and the hunger kicked in. Her arms reached out toward the monk.
He was in tears, but had the poker from the fireplace in his hands. Showing no fear, the dead woman attacked. He brought the poker down on the top of her head. The impact of the poker had broken her neck. She fell to the carpet with her bloody mouth still snapping harmlessly.
We were no longer under the impression that the man before us was a monk. With a primal roar, he swung the poker wildly all over the place. His third swing caught the young Asian lady under the chin, ripping her head completely off. The neck stump left arcs of blood on the ceiling and the wall before the head landed without a hint of a bounce on the carpet.
Desmond grabbed the two children, but the monk swung the poker, ripping a path through all three. There was no thinking any of them was going to make it with huge gaping holes through their torsos. Mbu and I ran out the door, just barely missing the other dead things outside.
The monk came out, still brandishing the fireplace poker. Boxers stood there in a solid and imposing stance, facing him. The monk stood holding the poker like a baseball bat. The two obviously had a past. "You call yourself a monk! You judge me, call me a pathological liar and a sociopath! What about you, you hypocrite? You stole my lover. My dear, sweet Yvette. And then you killed her. You let her fall, you son of a bitch! You stole her from me then you killed her. But I'm stronger than you. I killed you once, I'll kill you again."
Boxers grabbed a stone and threw it at the monk. It hit him in the shoulder, causing him to drop the poker. Boxers stooped down to grab another stone. The monk used the other hand to retrieve the poker from the ground. As Boxers stretched his arm back for another throw, the monk swung the poker and severed Boxer's throwing hand. He then swung the poker, catching Boxer's eye, ripping out his eyeball and exposing skull. This didn't stop Boxers.
All the other dead things had stopped what they were doing and were watching this confrontation between their leader and the robed man.
Boxers used his good hand and grabbed the monk's shoulder. The monk dropped the poker and took Boxer's head in both hands, pushing both thumbs deep into his exposed eye socket. Liquified brains seeped out of the violated skull opening. Boxers fell to the ground, motionless.
With hands freshly bloodied from the kill, the monk let loose another bellow of primal rage. Mbu and I expected the dead things to close in on us after witnessing the death of their leader, but they stood enrapt by the savage monk. The three of us were the only survivors. Mbu and I looked to the monk to see what he was going to do next. He looked in our direction and pointed at us. We thought perhaps he was going to address us, but instead the dead things started toward us.
Mbu and I looked at each other and fled. We ran down the road for almost a mile until we were too tired to run anymore. Mbu stopped and I used that as an excuse to poop out too. "What just happened back there?" Mbu asked.
"The guy in the boxers was the leader of the pack of dead things, yeah?"
"What are you in love with him?"
"No, don't you see? The monk ain't a monk. He was a guest of the monk. He killed the real monk, stole his clothes and pretended to be a monk. The real monk came back to life and became the leader of the dead pack. Then the fake monk killed him, becoming the new leader of the dead pack."
"Why are you explaining all this to me like I'm an idiot?" asked Mbu.
"I'm really just speaking it out loud to myself. Trying to make sense of all this."
"So he's joined the greater number, though he remains among the living?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"So what are we going to do?"
"You remember what that old lady said?"
"We're going to Mars?"
"Chee kon yeh mom weh. We've gotta go west. The emergency broadcast said there was some sort of safe place there. I mean, that monk and his pack of dead things are still after us. We'll need to find some place to hide where there are other people who still have a pulse."
"I can't believe he killed Desmond."
Having that memory brought back to me winded me almost as much as the running had. "I can't believe he's gone. He's joined the greater number."
"That means he's coming after us too."
I looked Mbu straight in the eyes. "There's nothing we could have done for him. Now we have to still fight for our lives. We're not out of this yet." Without any real plan, the two of us headed west.
"You're rambling, man. You in shock or sumpin'? You said the same thing at the Copper Queen Hotel in Bisbee. Did you die then? And remember the gun fight at Old Tucson? You was freaking out, hiding behind trees and shit. Did that save you? Did it kill us?"
"But they always say the black guy dies first!"
"They also say Chinese people really love fried chicken." I looked down at my dinner plate full of chicken bones. "But anyway, we've spent our whole lives trying to overcome stereotypes. Why are you going to give in to them when it matters the most to be strong no matter what someone thinks about you?"
Juanita walked into the kitchen. "Daddy, the monk is outside."
We all just sat looking around at each other. Just then there was a scream from the living room. We all ran in there. There was a rotting Mexican looking lady attacking Helen. The dead thing was busy gnawing on Helen's hand when we arrived.
"Yvette!" cried the man we had thought was a monk. He rushed over to grab the dead woman. Once released, Helen ran off outside the alleged safety of the building to God knows what fate. The dead woman, with a chin dripping blood, turned to face the monk. A hint of recognition crossed her face. Her head tilted like a dog listening to a dog whistle. Then one last gear seemed to slip into place and the hunger kicked in. Her arms reached out toward the monk.
He was in tears, but had the poker from the fireplace in his hands. Showing no fear, the dead woman attacked. He brought the poker down on the top of her head. The impact of the poker had broken her neck. She fell to the carpet with her bloody mouth still snapping harmlessly.
We were no longer under the impression that the man before us was a monk. With a primal roar, he swung the poker wildly all over the place. His third swing caught the young Asian lady under the chin, ripping her head completely off. The neck stump left arcs of blood on the ceiling and the wall before the head landed without a hint of a bounce on the carpet.
Desmond grabbed the two children, but the monk swung the poker, ripping a path through all three. There was no thinking any of them was going to make it with huge gaping holes through their torsos. Mbu and I ran out the door, just barely missing the other dead things outside.
The monk came out, still brandishing the fireplace poker. Boxers stood there in a solid and imposing stance, facing him. The monk stood holding the poker like a baseball bat. The two obviously had a past. "You call yourself a monk! You judge me, call me a pathological liar and a sociopath! What about you, you hypocrite? You stole my lover. My dear, sweet Yvette. And then you killed her. You let her fall, you son of a bitch! You stole her from me then you killed her. But I'm stronger than you. I killed you once, I'll kill you again."
Boxers grabbed a stone and threw it at the monk. It hit him in the shoulder, causing him to drop the poker. Boxers stooped down to grab another stone. The monk used the other hand to retrieve the poker from the ground. As Boxers stretched his arm back for another throw, the monk swung the poker and severed Boxer's throwing hand. He then swung the poker, catching Boxer's eye, ripping out his eyeball and exposing skull. This didn't stop Boxers.
All the other dead things had stopped what they were doing and were watching this confrontation between their leader and the robed man.
Boxers used his good hand and grabbed the monk's shoulder. The monk dropped the poker and took Boxer's head in both hands, pushing both thumbs deep into his exposed eye socket. Liquified brains seeped out of the violated skull opening. Boxers fell to the ground, motionless.
With hands freshly bloodied from the kill, the monk let loose another bellow of primal rage. Mbu and I expected the dead things to close in on us after witnessing the death of their leader, but they stood enrapt by the savage monk. The three of us were the only survivors. Mbu and I looked to the monk to see what he was going to do next. He looked in our direction and pointed at us. We thought perhaps he was going to address us, but instead the dead things started toward us.
Mbu and I looked at each other and fled. We ran down the road for almost a mile until we were too tired to run anymore. Mbu stopped and I used that as an excuse to poop out too. "What just happened back there?" Mbu asked.
"The guy in the boxers was the leader of the pack of dead things, yeah?"
"What are you in love with him?"
"No, don't you see? The monk ain't a monk. He was a guest of the monk. He killed the real monk, stole his clothes and pretended to be a monk. The real monk came back to life and became the leader of the dead pack. Then the fake monk killed him, becoming the new leader of the dead pack."
"Why are you explaining all this to me like I'm an idiot?" asked Mbu.
"I'm really just speaking it out loud to myself. Trying to make sense of all this."
"So he's joined the greater number, though he remains among the living?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"So what are we going to do?"
"You remember what that old lady said?"
"We're going to Mars?"
"Chee kon yeh mom weh. We've gotta go west. The emergency broadcast said there was some sort of safe place there. I mean, that monk and his pack of dead things are still after us. We'll need to find some place to hide where there are other people who still have a pulse."
"I can't believe he killed Desmond."
Having that memory brought back to me winded me almost as much as the running had. "I can't believe he's gone. He's joined the greater number."
"That means he's coming after us too."
I looked Mbu straight in the eyes. "There's nothing we could have done for him. Now we have to still fight for our lives. We're not out of this yet." Without any real plan, the two of us headed west.
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