Blaze of Glory

them as carry them. “What are you trying to do? Start a fight?”

Samuel grinned broadly. “Nope. No fight. I’m just fucking with you.”

“Just fucking with…” MacHenry glowered and stomped towards the kitchen.

When he left the room, everyone’s attention switched to Samuel.

“What?” he shrugged. “It was a slow pitch across the plate. I had to hit it out of the park.” He pulled the rest of the cellophane off and began wiping the sweat from his skin with a towel. “Some people just beg to be fucked with.”

Buckley finished stripping as well. “And you’ve been put on the planet to do it.”

“Why not?” Samuel asked, passing the older man a towel. “There’s no television. No radio. Not even any Kiss, Eminem, Snoop Dog or Kid Rock. We’re back to caveman times.”

“So you think the cavemen fucked with each other as much as we do?”

“Hell yes! After a long day of trying to invent the wheel and chasing pterodactyls, what else would they do?”

Buckley stared at Samuel and had nothing more to say. It was the pterodactyl comment that did it. Or was it the gay Kiss comment? Whatever it was, he was happy to dwell on the evilness of Richard Simmons or the homosexuality inherent in choosing to wear makeup as a rock star rather than dwelling on the grayish-red sludge that now covered his body. If he thought on it, he’d remember that he was infected and would most surely die. If he thought about it, he’d realize that the gray sludge was none other than the result of maggies coming into contact with the layer of salt that had surrounded him beneath the cellophane armor. If he thought on it, he’d recognize that the red tinge was from his own blood, seeping from exit wounds as the maggies escaped his body. So with studied persistence, he decided not to think on it, instead remembering the energy and vitality of Richard Simmons who’d once been the King of Infomercials and the salvation of fat chicks worldwide.

Back when there’d been infomercials.

Back when there’d been fat chicks.

CHAPTER 20

Thirty minutes later, Buckley had changed back into his clothes and once again stood in his little circle of salt by the door. The difference was that this time it was by choice. The sludge he’d wiped away had more than scared him. It had energized him. Time was as much an enemy as the maggies. If he was going to be any help saving these people he’d gathered together, he’d need to switch things into high gear.

He'd explained to MacHenry and the others his idea about the super soakers. Even now he and Gert were busy in the kitchen widening the holes the water fired through so they wouldn't get clogged with the salt crystals.

Meanwhile Samuel and Sissy were filling every container they could find with lighter fluid and salt water. Samuel had only managed to find about a dozen pints of the fuel in the Piggly Wiggly, but what they had was being put to good use. Buckley wished they had more, but there was nothing they could do about it. As it stood, even with the loaded water pistols and the Smokey Mountain Cocktails, they might not make it.

Then again, he reminded himself that he hadn't seen even one maggie on their recent excursion. A small silent part of him hoped that it was all over. Another larger part of him scolded him for even thinking such a thing.

Buckley's attention was drawn to Little Rashad who sat at the feet of Grandma Riggs. As she rocked in her chair staring at the blank television screen, he cleaned his trumpet. The boy's actions reminded Buckley of a soldier going out to war. Just as a soldier would lay out the pieces of his rifle — barrel, butt stock, magazine, firing pin, carriage assembly- Little Rashad had laid out the pieces of his trumpet. With wrinkled brow and pressed-together lips, the boy wiped each piece, then lay it down careful.

So much like a little soldier it was scary.

Truth be told, he was a soldier. His weapon, that trumpet and the notes he'd learned to play, were as deadly to the maggies as anything they had. In fact, if there was one weapon that could be said to be their weapon of last resort, it was the boy and his trumpet.

Thermo-nuclear Trumpet Player.

Buckley liked the sound of that. He was sure the boy would too. When it was all over, he'd share his private thoughts with the kid, if they lived.

Buckley looked at MacHenry again, now almost finished rigging the super soakers. He hadn't believed in the idea at first. Once they'd gathered together after the supply run, Samuel had made a beeline to the bags. While Buckley explained his salt-water propellant concept to MacHenry, Samuel had pulled one of the super soakers out of one of the bags. The high school jock had leveled the orange and green rifle at his hip and pretended to shoot down a line of people, ala gangster-style, sub-vocalizing the brraaaaap of the real life weapon.

MacHenry still didn't understand. 'It's just a toy,' he'd argued.

And grandma, in all of her magic wisdom had said the perfect thing that Buckley still remembered. 'What better to kill things that aren’t supposed to exist than a toy gun that shoots water?'

To that MacHenry had no answer.

CHAPTER 21

An hour later they were ready to go.

They'd planned and prepared. But like green soldiers before a battle, none of them are sure how they'd act. Buckley could see it in their faces- their inability to look at each other, their shifting of feet, sweaty palms, and rapid breathing. But they were as ready as they could be. Now all of them wore the cellophane armor, a thin layer of salt like Kevlar between their skin and the plastic.

After inspecting each one of them, Buckley was finally ready for them to leave. With one last look behind him, he gave the command to leave.

Samuel kicked the door open revealing a hallway filled with the bodies of Bennie, Lashawna and Sally. Flesh stripped from the bones. Organs all but gone. All that was recognizable of Sally Struthers was her blonde hair.

Samuel and MacHenry left the apartment first, spraying liquid death from their Super Soaker water guns. The few maggies still clinging to walls in search of food sizzled as the water struck them.

Next in line came Buckley with Grandma Riggs taped into a kitchen chair that’d been roped to his back. With head down and his hands holding the ropes of the chair, he searched for any sign of the deadly creatures along the ground.

Close on his heels, Little Rashad held his trumpet to his lips, playing for all of his worth. The theme to Rocky filled the hall and stairwell, camouflaging the nervous screams of MacHenry and Samuel who were firing at every movement, flash of light and shadow.

Sissy and Gert exited last, covering the retreat with their own pair of Super Soakers. Their eyes were wide as they saw maggies in every nook and cranny. Sissy bit back a scream as she slipped on Sally Struthers’ hair. Gert kept glancing to the front, as worried for her man as she was for herself.

And as they began down the stairs, one voice rose above even the trumpet as Grandma Riggs began to sing.

Little Bunny Foo Foo,

Hopping through the forest,

Scooping up the field mice,

And bopping them on the head.

Halfway down the stairs, Samuel and MacHenry ran out of water. But they were prepared for that. Letting go their Super Soakers which fell to the length of the straps, they then pulled two more from their backs. Less than a second passed before their path was once again blessed with salt water.