The Captain leaned back in his chair and put his shredded boots onto his desk.
“It hasn’t been an army for a long time,” said the Captain. “Not since I’ve been in charge of this ship. My predecessor was your grandfather, a stubborn idealistic fool who was so determined to build a grand army that he didn’t realize that we didn’t have the food and resources to support so many men. He overpopulated the ship. The men were starving, but your grandfather didn’t care. All he cared about was preparing for a war that was never going to happen.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed by his own men. After he cut their rations down to a fifth, his men couldn’t take it anymore. They shot him dead one night while he was sleeping. As his second in command, I took over the ship. I promised these people we would focus entirely on our own survival and forget about the war. You might think those men out there are starving and weak, but they are much better off than they were five years ago.”
Heinz slammed his fist on the table.
“Better off?” Heinz yelled. “They would be better off dead than the pathetic wretches they have become. Your men are the Fists of the Fifth Reich. They should have the intelligence to thrive even in the harshest of circumstances. If you were a proper leader you would not have let this become of your men.”
“What the fuck do you know, kid?” the Captain said. “Since birth you’ve lived in the luxury of the Platinum District. What do you know of hardship and survival? You’ve had everything you could possibly want.”
“I have not lived long in Platinum. I was born in the slums of the Silver District.”
The Captain laughed. “The slums of Silver? Any one of these men would kill the both of us just to live one year in Silver. Even the people in Copper have better lives than most of the men on this ship.”
“It doesn’t matter where I’m from,” Heinz said. “I am Aryan and I will not allow my people to live like scum.”
“Get out of my office,” the Captain said. “I’m through talking to you. You’ll learn soon enough.”
“And you’ll learn just what a true Aryan can do,” Heinz said on the way out the door. “The Fists of the Fifth Reich will be strong once again. Stronger than ever before. I will make certain of that.”
“Sure, kid. Just get the fuck out of here.”
By the end of his first day on the ship, Heinz decided he would make it his mission to bring pride back to these fallen people. He would bring them out of the muck and restore them to the great people they were destined to be.
When Heinz arrives at the lighted floor of the office building, the door to the stairwell is wide open. He looks up ahead to see the lights coming from an office a few doors down. He shuts the door behind him, and creeps toward the sound of voices.
“You’re making me sick,” says a female voice.
Another female voice giggles and moans.
“It’s so fucking hot,” says the other voice.
“It’s disgusting.”
When Heinz peeks around the corner into the room, he finds two women in punk clothing. The one with the green hair is facing the other, completely naked with her hands in her crotch, her back arched. Upon closer inspection, Heinz realizes that the green-haired punk has a severed zombie head in her lap. All of its teeth have been removed so that it doesn’t bite into her. She writhes and moans as the zombie licks and gums her clit and labia, trying to eat her flesh. Black slime leaks from the corpse’s cheeks down the girl’s inner thighs.
“Make me cum,” Gogo tells the zombie head, then she licks her lips at the camera ball floating above them.
Popcorn is sitting on the floor, cringing at her friend’s unsettling display. She watches as Gogo whimpers and sweats with ecstasy.
“Oh fuck,” Gogo cries. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
As she comes closer to orgasm, Gogo shoves the head so hard into her crotch that the zombie’s lower jaw breaks in half. She pulls the head beneath her body and presses all of her weight against it, crying out as she cums. The skull cracks open like an egg and her ass crushes it flat against the seat of the chair.
When Gogo stands up, stretching and rubbing the zombie goo covering her buttocks, she looks down at the remains of the zombie head. It is now just a puddle of bone and slimy meat on the chair. One of its eyeballs rolls to the side of the mush to stare at Gogo as she rubs its liquid flesh up her crotch to her breasts.
“That was amazing,” she tells the remains of her undead lover.
Popcorn drops her face into her hand and groans. It was bad enough her friend had sex with that corpse, but rubbing its rancid jellied flesh on her body goes too far. That smell is going to linger. Popcorn doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to handle being around Gogo for very long. When Popcorn takes her hand away from her eyes, she sees a man standing in the doorway over Gogo’s shoulder.
Heinz steps into the office with a look of disgust and rage on his face. When Gogo turns around to him, she goes for her submachine gun on the desk. Heinz kicks her in the chest and she falls back. He casually takes the machine gun from the desk and points it at them.
“You filthy whores,” Heinz says to them. “How can you degrade yourselves in this manner?”
Gogo laughs at him. Heinz steps forward and backhand slaps her so hard she falls to the ground. While the nazi isn’t looking, Popcorn flats her bangs into her face so that the guy doesn’t see the bullet hole in her head.
“My eyes tell me that you are Aryan women. Perhaps your ancestry is not Nordic or Germanic, but you look at least Celtic or Anglo-Saxon.”
The girls have no idea what he’s talking about. Those raised in Copper are usually ignorant of race and ancestry.
“You whores dishonor your race,” Heinz says. “It is bad enough that you defile your beautiful white skin with tattoos and metal jewelry, and conceal your blonde hair behind unnatural colors, but you also do
Gogo snickers again, but then holds her tongue when she sees the fury in his eyes.
“You are Aryan, you should be proud of your race,” Heinz told a group of teenagers about his age. They were on the deck of the ship, drinking homemade liquor and lying around when they were supposed to be working in the greenhouses. “You look like a bunch of pathetic mongrels. Your laziness shames your race.”
“Shut the fuck up,” one of them told him.
Heinz went to the boy who spoke, took the bottle out of his hand and tossed it overboard.
“What the hell did you do that for?”
Four of the boys stood up to him.
“I’m helping you become a proper Aryan,” he told them. “Liquor makes you weak.”
One of them pushed Heinz. “I’m going to beat the fuck out of you, rich boy. You come in here and tell us how to live? You lived on the island your whole life. What do you know?”
The boys closed in on him.
“I know that you’ve let yourself become weak and lazy,” said Heinz. “I know that you won’t be able to lay a finger on me, because all of you have forgotten how to be strong.”
One of the boys came at him from behind. Heinz dodged and elbowed him in the stomach. He punched two others in the face and tossed the fourth face-first into the ground. The rest of the boys got up and came after him, but one at a time he knocked them down. When it was over, Heinz was the only one standing. The others lay on the ground, gripping their sore ribs or bloodied faces.
Heinz went to the first of them, towering over him with his blond hair blowing in the ocean wind. The kid cowered beneath him.
“Brother…” Heinz said, holding out his hand to the bloodied kid. “Don’t cower like a worm. You are Aryan.”
The boy stopped cowering and took Heinz’s hand.
As the boy got to his feet, Heinz patted him on the shoulder and said, “Come with me. I will teach you how to be strong.”
The other boys stood up and gathered around him. It was the beginning of a new army of the Fifth
