Buck was on the opposite side of the craft near a window and watched as the first of the infected impacted the cement walkway below. He leaned back in his seat and stared at Hatcher. “I didn’t think they’d…” he trailed off, his throat suddenly dry.
Hatcher watched the color drain from the young man’s face and glanced out the window. Pools of blood were forming around the heads of the fallen Zulus. He could only imagine what the boy had seen.
Simon sat outside of his tent on a folding chair, a long stick dragging through the coals of a now dead fire. The bottle of whiskey at his feet was nearly empty, and his eyes looked like he had drunk the grand majority of the spirits himself.
He stood and unzipped his pants. Fishing his pecker out, he swayed while he tried to piss on the remaining coals. He smiled with a degree of satisfaction at the hissing sound he created.
“Boss, that ain’t cool. There’s little kids all over the place.”
Simon spun and dribbled urine down his leg. He stared at the minion who dared speak to him while he drained his royal lizard. “Fuck ’em. Little shits will learn soon enough what’s what.” He tried to tuck his member back into his pants, but had too much difficulty. He knew from experience not to pull the zipper back up too quickly when he was three sheets to the wind. He had a permanent scar across the top of his Johnson from the last time he did that.
“What do you want, anyway?” He staggered toward the man and nearly fell.
“We found Scar, boss. He’s deader than shit.” The man pointed across the compound. “He was a sentry over there.”
Simon stared at the man, his face unreadable. Finally, he nodded and leaned against the back of a pickup truck. “Okay.” He turned and stared out across his small kingdom. “So?”
“So?” The man approached slowly and talked softer. “Boss, he’s dead.”
“I heard you, fucker.” He spun and pointed a finger at him. “I’m the king, not the messiah. I can’t bring his sorry ass back to life.”
The man stopped advancing and stared at him cautiously. “Well, should we do something?”
Simon shrugged animatedly. “Strip him of anything usable and toss his ass to the ragers.” He broke into a toothy grin. “Maybe if they’re chewing on his lousy carcass, they won’t bother with the rest of us.”
The man nodded slowly, unsure if Simon actually meant what he’d said. “Yeah, sure. Okay, boss.” He backed away slowly and looked around the compound for one of Simon’s lieutenants. Surely there was somebody that could make a rational decision.
He spotted Savage’s trailer and sighed. He glanced back at Simon who was barely hanging onto the rear of the truck. He suddenly bent over and his back lurched. The man could only assume he was throwing up.
He backed away slowly and worked toward Savage’s trailer. He approached with caution and knocked lightly on the door. When there was no answer, he pounded harder.
“Who the hell is it?”
The man jumped at Savage’s grumbling voice. “It’s Jerry.” The man stepped back as the door was flung open.
“Who?” Savage stared at him with more than a degree of anger and frustration in his eyes. He had a thin blanket wrapped around his middle and Jerry saw the tiny woman suddenly appear behind him, playfully tugging at the wrap and giggling to herself.
“I, uh…I’m Jerry.” He almost seemed embarrassed. “Simon hasn’t changed my name yet.”
“So, what the fuck do you want?”
Jerry hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Dude, I just found Scar. He’s dead and I—”
“So report it to Simon. I’m busy!” Savage reached for the door and Jerry had the audacity to catch it first.
“I tried, sir. I really, really tried. But Simon is so drunk that he’s…” He shook his head at the mental image of the man staggering around and peeing on himself. “He’s literally piss-drunk.”
Savage sighed and stared down at the much smaller man. “Fine. What do you want me to do about it?”
Jerry’s eyes widened. “He’s dead.” He glanced from side to side. “Does that not mean anything to anybody anymore?”
Savage yawned then scratched himself, bouncing the business end of his happy stick practically in Jerry’s face. “People die.” He dropped the blanket and stepped down from the RV doorway. Jerry suddenly found something very interesting to stare at on the ground. “Look around you, Jerry. This is the new world. The new reality. Heaven is a heartbeat away and people are just dying to get there.” He smiled broadly at the smaller, balding man.
Savage stepped closer to Jerry and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, feeling him suddenly stiffen. He knew he was making the situation as awkward as it could be. “Why don’t you go and gather up a few more of the unnamed ones, drag Scar’s lazy ass out to the edge of the compound and leave him for the buzzards?”
Jerry swallowed hard and nodded vigorously. “That’s pretty much what Simon said, too.”
Savage slapped the man’s back and pushed him away. “I’m sure Simon will have a completely different line of thinking once he’s sobered up a bit.” He stepped back onto the steps of the RV and reached for the door. He paused for a moment and scratched at his bearded chin. “That’s assuming he does sober up.” He shrugged and pulled the door shut behind him.
Jerry walked away on shaky legs, his mind still unable to fathom that nobody cared that one of their sentries was just found dead. What was the sense of having a sentry if no one cared when weird shit happened.
Savage peered through the curtained window as the man wandered away. “What’s wrong, baby?”
He held a
