orangetoughguy | log post II

You're a regular fuckin' comedian. [Speaking of a comedian...they just had to leave the flamethrower back in the city huh? Freddy scuttles over to the next street corner.] Ever think about doin' stand up?

[Eyes peeled. Some of these stores have their windows broken through. Always a bad sign. Freddy's got at least one gun drawn.

"SeEEeeEeEsoOoOoOssSszZzz..."]

Oh fuck.

Not seriously. Though you think I should? Haha.

[Oh fuck what the-?! Larry is ready for whatever lies ahead. Two Guns won't fire until he sees a target.]

No gracias.

[If that is what he thinks it is. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.]

Get moving, kid.

["SeEeeEsoOoOoOssSszz..."

The short mustached man has an eyeball hanging out of the socket and a stump for a hand that still somehow manages to push his cart carrying rotten mango slices and sugar salts. The thing is crawling in ants. He must not have been moving until he heard two very live people coming close.

"SeEeeEsoOoOoOssSszz..."

A second voice, a little more wailing. She may as well be La Llorona.]

Shit shit shit shit shit I'm running. [See these feet fly towards 6th St. It looks so far away from here but the sign itself is within sight.]

[Larry sees those flying feet. Not as much as he sees these two motherfuckers. Three? No. Looks like...fucking shit.]

Book it. Now.

["PooOOoooooooorvaAAaaaavooooo000oor...."]

If I shoot em now more will hear...right?

[That's how it goes in the movies. The impulse to fire away though. Oh fuck.]

This ain't the movies.

[Freddy says just short of yelling. Shit Larry's got a point though. What to do what to do--oh hey. There's a husk of a corpse just sitting in a chair that Freddy now takes for himself.]

Stand back.

[It's a folding chair and he intends to fold the senor into it.]

[Brown eyes are looking behind counting every senorita and senor that's popping up. Oh wait. Looks like they're getting diverse there's a brother. He almost bumps into the kid.]

Hurry.

[Guns are still out he ghosts to aim here and there.]

[WHAM. BAM. NO THANKS MAN.

The kid's got comic book creativity on his side. Now the man's a zombie sandwich with legs going out in unnatural directions. Freddy ought to feel bad, but...well, he doesn't. Oh fuck a brother, and those guys are fucking fast.]

Just...walk away.

Walk?

[The old man's trigger finger is itchy.]

What the hell did you think caused this?

[Sure ain't food. Everyone eats different food.]

Goddamn.

[Is that a bottle? Yep. A plastic one but with the right throwing arm. The old man picks it up.]

If you run it's gonna know. [As if being a living breathing body doesn't already give them away shit.] Korea? Iraq? I don't know man.

[Onward. Freddy's taking a brisk pace now.]

Pink is gonna get it.

[Wait a second. The setting is sinking in now. This was a street he made sure to steer clear of walking on foot.]

Sixth street you said?

Yep.

[In fact here it is. Turn a corner and they'll lose sight of a brother only to see the mayhem up Sixth towards Wall. There are smoking squad cars, a bus, and fire burning from a dumpster or two. What the fuck happened here? Freddy can see (and smell) the bodies. Some are in uniform, some aren't.]

Jesus Christ...

[Cough, he has to breathe through his sleeve for a second.]

[Freddy said to trust him. And he does. Though the impulse to get the fuck out of dodge in any direction is right there. To leave the kid though? Hell no. Not an option.]

You sure?

[Please don't fucking take it to be doubt. Even though that's what it is.]

Fuck.

[Cops to gun down. Correction: undead cops to gun down.

[Keep it cool, Newendyke. If there's anytime to be a cop, now's the time. Your life and his life depend on it. Don't let Larry down.]

I'm sure. I don't think the city's changed that much. Come on.

[Down a side alley to avoid those undead badges, both to stay out of trouble and so Freddy doesn't have to see their faces. He's also revealing a trade secret of sorts to Larry; how to get into the Central Bureau Station undetected.]

[Firing now would start a frenzy. That's a given. A motherfucking given.]

Where are we going?

[Wasn't the entrance over-? Oh ho. Tricks of the trade.]

Inside?

[What about the inside? Goddamn, old man. What are you? You're no mouse. You've got a gun. The kid is taking a leap. Take one too. They got arms. Up the alley is a mean looking old homeless woman. It's hard to tell whether or not she's undead.]

Twelve o'clock and moving slow.

Inside.

[Freddy confirms. He's a mindreader, this old man. Whoops, those supercool feet come to a supercool stop (make that acrobatic by accident). The old woman's pushing a shopping cart full of cans and other essentials that would be a goldmine for a survivor...or a homeless sort. Real real hard to tell. Freddy looks at Larry, back to the woman, back and Larry. Okay.]

I see'er.

[The kid's going first. He approaches with his gun drawn but down at his side, if she's human and they spook her they're sure to cause a commotion. Wait wait, Orange has an idea. He tucks one of his hands deeper into his sleeve. Time to act like a crook. He's going in for the surprise from behind, covered hand ready to jam her mouth if she screams...or bites.]

[In the mean time the old man has to keep an eye on the other end of the alley. Back to Freddy.]

Careful.

[Like he didn't know. But come on. Larry's gun is hidden in his coat. He will blow her away if there is any chance at all that this bitch will bite him. So what if it attracts attention they'd make time to get out. Zombification of either of them will not happen. Right behind on the approach.

She smells horrible. Not quite death. Just horrible.]

[Okay this is it Newendyke. You gotta do it, there's no other way. So 1...2...3...! The kid jumps at her from behind with his fist aimed to stuff her mouth. There's some muffled moaning and groaning from her but she goes down pretty easy. Freddy thinks he just took down a civilian. If he knocks her out they can put her in the cart and roll her to a holding cell at the station for safety. Yep, thinking like a cop.]

It's cool.

[The kid whispers to the old man. Hell he can't even feel her biting down on his hand. Oh fuck what if he just gave her a heart attack?!] Let's take her in--

["Hssssssssssssrrrrshhhhhhh!"

The bitch, freshly made undead, goes straight for Orange's chest.]

[They could shoot her. It would be better for her after all. She's probably sick and who the fuck is gonna help her out here? They could take her with them but a liability. Besides, they don't know her. She could be crazy.

Worse than that! She's a zombie sand nigger and she wants to take a chunk out of the kid. Not on Mr. White's watch. Especially when he gets a rapid fire memory of the lady reaching into the glove compartment of her car.

The old man doesn't even think. He just acts. BANG! Her head is coming to pieces all over the brickwork. Brains and blood don't smell any better than before. Flecks of red now stain his shirt.

So much for not making noise.]

Fuck!--?!!

[The blast of brains takes Freddy completely by surprise. It gets on his face and he's careful to shut his mouth and eyes while trying to scramble away from the dead bitch. Holy shit her limbs are still moving but they don't know where to go. Goddamn. The kid wipes his face with his now unimmaculate shirt. They'll have to check if he's been bit later.]

Thanks. [No need to thank him he knows but he does it anyway.] We gotta go, come on.

[Is it a sign of reliving the past or building upon it? This time Orange puts his gun against White's shoulder to usher him towards the station in record time.]

[Is any of that blood his? He can't see with the rest of the damn mess.]

You okay?

[The building is dark. His gun is still ready. There a light switch in this place? The kid needs to be checked.]

Did she get you?

[To be in here, to not be cuffed it makes him even more anxious.]

I don't...I don't think so.

[Freddy shakes his head while searching for the switch. They're in a side entrance that wasn't barred which doesn't bode well for the rest inside. A couple lights are flickering, hanging from the ceiling, shit the station looks the same as it did in 92. Freddy can see a corpse or two, some civil servants, some not. Most of them appear eaten out so at least they don't have to worry about them coming back. Right? He tries not to look at their faces, their name plates, he tries not to look at the pictures not only because he doesn't want to know the future but also because Freddy Newendyke, Officer Newendyke, doesn't want to stumble upon someone he knows. Damn, will you look at that? In one corner it looks like a cop and a perp died together, differences set aside from humanity's last stand, but they didn't make it. Freddy would feel a little more sentimental if he wasn't already on edge.]

Down this way.

[Thank Christ for general access codes. Someone ought to tell the precinct captain that shit should be recycled every ten years instead of twenty. Yeah.]

Are you sure?

[Is he even checking at all? Fixating on Freddy and his personal health makes it easier to stomach that he's standing in the fucking heart of the LAPD. The stench of death is around them.]

What are we doing here?

[If the kid isn't gonna answer the first question.]

Getting more equipment.

[And going past the evidence room though they can look there after they grab a couple rifles. Down down down this part of the station seems untouched thanks to the code. Aw hell there's a boy in blue huddled on the floor but upon closer inspection the kid looks like he offed himself.]

Shit this is fucked up...

[But voila, the cage. Some of the rows are empty however there's still enough artillery left to outfit two guys on the run. Assault rifles, clips, magazines, tear gas. The works. Now might be a good time to check Freddy for wounds, there's an obvious rip in his blazer at the breast.]

Oh man.

[That cop doesn't even have a face anymore. That's what he wanted to do rather than get caught up in the bullshit going on around him. If that is what it'll take to kep shit from getting worse for the whole damn kid... Hold that thought. They're nowhere near there right now. In fact look at this. They hit the jackpot.

Tear? Is that blood. Paws are on the kid right through the rip.]

Hey. Lemme see.

[God, if you're listening to a crook right now, don't you fucking hurt this man.]

What? I'm okay, Larry.

[Freddy insists yet his brow is knitting because he's afraid he might not be and then they'll have to go through all that backseat bullshit again. What they forged there as two men is something special, but to have to bleed to death or plod along knowing any second now he might be doomed? It scares the shit out of him, it scares him for Larry's sake too. But lookie here, a tear in his blaze, right into his breast pocket, right up against an Iron Man Tranformer. Tony's in fighter jet form and with the mangling he took from being bitten it doesn't look like he'll be returning to mecha form anytime soon.]

Jesus...

[Unfuckingbelievable. You better thank whatever higher power you do think exists, Lawrence Dimick.]

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