Chet & Floyd vs. The Apocalypse: Volume 1 (3 page)

“Samurai didn’t use
shuriken,” Floyd said. “Ninjas used them against the samurai. It was beneath the samurai to use such a weapon. Throwing stars have no honor.”

Chet gave Floyd a pitying look.
“You just don’t know anything about samurai Floyd. I will have to teach you someday.” The sound of splintering wood came from the back of the store. “Do you think we’re in for trouble?”

“How many of those things do you have?”
Floyd asked. The worried look on his face that gave Chet the answer he needed.

“Plenty.
About half a backpack full,” Chet said. “Enough to annoy-urai them for a bit. Let me know when they start breaking through the back.”

“Will do
,” Floyd said. Chet went back to the front door. The blonde man was now standing and rubbing his head as he held on to the truck. Chet threw a star that bounced off the man’s ankle. He crumpled in a heap.

He screamed at Chet while clutching his ankle.
“YOU SON OF A B…AAAAG!” He didn’t get the curse out as another star hit him right in the front teeth. Or rather, where his front teeth were a second before the impact of cheap metal sent them spinning into the street.

Chapter - 4

“I refuse to say die Floyd,” Chet said. The now toothless man was lying in the gutter, groaning.

Where it was relatively boring at the front of the old tobacco store, it was a M
ardi-Gras size riot at the back. The remaining men were tearing into the back door and windows, trying to get inside.

“I don’t think you have much say in the matter
,” Floyd said. He was pointing his sawed off shotgun at the back door. He didn’t look to Chet like he had much of a plan.

“I think we do Floyd.
Don’t be such a
quitter
,” Chet said. “We have had a long relationship, and I don’t want to end out friendship at such a time as this.”

“Are you coming up with a way we can get out of here without ending up with on a spit?
I would really like to hear what you have in mind,” Floyd said. Chet seemed oblivious to the impending onslaught. Floyd didn’t like the look in his eye, as it usually meant that Chet was going to give some sort of speech. He was right.

“I have far greater worries then our current situation
,” Chet said. He was walked over to where Floyd was waiting at the back door and crossed his arms. A splinter of plywood landed at his feet where some smashing implement was whittling away at their fortifications.

“Do they have a sledgehammer?”
Floyd asked.

“I am worried about our friendship
, and all you can think about are basic hand tools. You are so negative lately. I don’t know what to do with you. You’re always crying about something. It’s hard for me Floyd. It’s hard for me because when you spend time with another person, you tend to take on that person’s mannerisms a bit. There is no helping it. Would you agree?” Chet asked.

“I would
,” Floyd said. And arm reached through a hole in the back window to unhook the latch lock. Floyd threw a piece of brick at the arm right above the elbow. The man shrieked, cursed and quickly withdrew his arm.

“I need you to be more positive Floyd.
I need some good feedback from you, or I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

“Are you sure about that Chet?
I think you have pretty good need for me right now,” Floyd said, picking up another rock.

“Let’s try a little exercise
,” Chet said. “I think for the next thirty minutes the only things we are allowed to say are positive or complimentary. Nothing negative is allowed. We really need to move our chi in the right direction.” A flaming wad of brush was shoved through the hole in the back door. To Floyd’s astonishment, Chet didn’t even seem to notice. The room was quickly filling up with smoke, and the debris was lighting so fast you would have thought the place was doused with lighter fluid. Chet’s right shoe caught on fire, but he would only stare at Floyd.

“Fine Chet.
I am positive that we are about to burn to death, and I would like to compliment you on your ability to catch fire.”

“A little sarcastic, but a start is a start.”
Chet calmly took off his flaming shoe and threw it in a corner. “I think we need to get out of here.” Floyd was thinking the same thing when he smelled it. That lovely, unmistakable odor wafted into his nostrils as clear as day.

“Chet!
Do you smell it? Is that what I think it is?” Floyd said. Chet inhaled deeply and immediately doubled over in a coughing fit. Floyd rolled his eyes and followed his nose to the locked tobacco cabinets against the far walls.

“There’s nothing in there
,” Chet said, coughing. “You’re just smelling the wood burning. This was a waste of time”

“Where’s your power of positive thinking?”
Floyd asked. He kicked in the false wall in one of the cabinets. It revealed boxes of cigars and bags full of pipe tobacco.

“Sweet mercy
,” Chet said. His lungs hurt too badly to say anything else. He felt sick from the smoke, and his eyes teared up painfully. “I think this is it Floyd. I don’t like the thought of being eaten. I hope I carry some weird disease that only my biology can tolerate but gives those that ingest me hallucinations and a torrent of painful diarrhea.”

“One can only hope
,” Floyd said. He was ripping out cigars and tobacco and throwing them in the center of the room. The burning cigars he threw in a far corner. “In the meantime, why don’t you take down that extinguisher and put out the fire.”

Chet remembered the industrial grade extinguisher they had found under a pile of rubble in
the apartment above the tobacco store. Although he had thought it odd at the time that the place would have such a thing, he would have been a little paranoid about fire too, if his whole livelihood revolved around something combustible.

“Why didn’t you remind me about that earlier
?” Chet said.

“I
don’t like being chastised,” Floyd said. He leaned over a burning cabinet door, lit a Rocky Patel Vintage and smiled. He shoved himself backwards as Chet sprayed extinguisher on everything smoldering or burning. “Watch the tobacco.”

The tank emptied quickly and Chet was pleased that most of the fire was out or
smoldering. He chucked the tank against a wet wall where it thudded heavily. Then came the least expected noise. Silence.

“They must have gone
,” Floyd said, blowing a thick wad of smoke into the ceiling. Chet didn’t have the indecency to point out that Floyd was failing miserably at blowing smoke rings. No matter how much time Chet tried to work with him on it, the trick never caught on. “They’re probably going to come back with more people. They think we’ll be passed out from the smoke or already cooked. Easy pickings.”

“There’s nobody out front
,” Chet said. “All gone. The truck’s gone and that woman is too. It’s kind of ironic.”

“What
?”

“We took her from her family to eat her.
We let her go. She still gets eaten. Her family will think we did it.” Chet smiled.

“That’s not funny Chet
,” Floyd said.

“It’s not my fault that irony is such a clever thing, no matter how macabre.”

“‘Macabre’ is just a fancy word that keeps a person from sounding like a sick pervert,” Floyd said.

“Are you calling me a pervert, Floydykins?
Be careful. You might just hurt my feelings.” Chet picked through some of the cigars. “Oh, snap. Check this out.” Chet produced a straight briar pipe from the pile of tobacco. He brushed off the wood and blew through the bit.

“What the hell are you going to do with that Chet?
You’re no pipe smoker.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do with this Floyd.
I’m going to add a level of sophistication to us. We need to take this to the next level. I am now a pipe smoker.”

Chet regarded Floyd’s disdainful expression.
His cigar hung down from his upper lip. “And I think you should join me.”

“I’m good
,” Floyd said. “Let’s bag this stuff up and get out of here.”

“Agreed.”
Chet and Floyd packed the front compartment of the Super Beetle with as many cigars and pipe tobacco as they could.

“Luck be a lady
,” Chet said as he notice the marauder’s dog limping over to them and wagging his tail. “They forgot their dog Floyd,” Chet said.

“Indeed they did
,”“We don’t have any moral dilemmas regarding the use of canines as far as food?” Chet said. He didn’t move a muscle as the dog inched closer. It was hurt and wary but seemed to really need to trust somebody.

“Not yet.
I have grown quite fond of the taste,” Floyd said.

“We wouldn’t want this one to go off and join one of those wild packs now would we?”
Chet said. “A few weeks from now we could be his dinner.” Chet drew his long knife as the dog came up to him and sniffed his fingers.

“That would be ironic
,” Floyd said. Chet smiled that eerie smile of his as he plunged the blade through the dog’s skull and out his lower jaw.

Chapter - 5

It was all Chet and Floyd could do to not build a fire right on the spot and cook the retriever. Their starvation nearly overrode their survival instincts, but the thought of the men returning or an open fire wafting the smell of meat kept them focused.

They had lived long enough after the
Big Death to know that those who took chances were now dead. The key to survival was a delicate business consisting of equal measures carefulness with light sparks of insanity. Chet called it their ability to cheat death and ask for seconds. Floyd told him the phrase didn’t make sense, which put Chet in a mood.

They drove along the city streets looking for the quickest way out to the country.
Floyd was appreciative of Chet’s silence as he could better make out the sounds of their environment, no easy task over the indelicate thrumming of the Volkswagen engine. 

“We need to find a place to hole up for a
while,” Floyd said. “Think of anywhere?”

“One place is as good as another
,” Chet said.

“Bowling?”

“Bowling works for me. There’s got to be an alley around here somewhere. Let’s barbeque and bowl,” Chet said. His pout turned into a pleased look. Even with all the moments of turmoil, there were longer moments of monotony. Everything was pretty pointless. Everything but food. “Do you think they’ll have cosmic bowling?”

“I am not going to do cosmic bowling Chet
,” Floyd said. “Out of the question. Remember the last time we did that?”

“I do.
It was awesome!” Chet said.

“No. No it wasn’t.
It was totally embarrassing.”

“What are you talking about?
Your embarrassing pin total?”

“No.
Those guys who came in and saw us cosmic bowling and gave us that weird look.”

“Those guys who tried to kill us?”

“Yes, them. Just like everyone else,” Floyd said. “Cosmic bowling is for nine year olds. They could have easily gotten us too, if they were not struck incredulous at the sight of two grown men bowling at nine in the morning with neon balls, swirling strobe lights and techno music.”

“Cosmic bowling saved our lives Floyd.
You’d better recognize,” Chet said and crossed his arms. “Meat, smoke and bowling. Heaven-to-Betsy, Floyd! If only we could get our hands on some booze. There’s an alley. Pull into there.”

Floyd turned the car into the bowling alley parking lot.
The lot looked like every other parking lot. Dead vehicles, debris and dust.

Chet and Floyd got out of the
Skull Beetle. They didn’t see anyone as they picked up the dog carcass and smokes and went up to the bowling alley’s front door. Emblazoned over the chipped green paint on the alley’s large wooden door was a crude painting of a dog’s head with a circle around it done in orange.

“We can’t go in here Chet
,” Floyd said.

“You really don’t believe that
that’s
true do you?” Chet said gesturing to the dog painting. “It’s an old wives’ tale. A fib. It’s just meant to scare us.”

“I don’t know about that.
There are still dogs around, and I don’t want any part of that.”

“Don’t be such a scared
-y-puss Floyd. There’s nothing to worry about except our impending death by starvation if we don’t get this Old Yeller cooked and in our bellies. I’m hungry and I’m going in. Forget the damn sign.” Chet shoved Floyd and walked brazenly into the building.

Floyd took one last look around and went in himself.

The alley was fairly dark when Floyd entered
, but he could easily follow the sound of Chet’s voice coming from several feet in front of him. “Glad you decided to join me Floyd. I am so glad you’re willing to keep our partnership going. Sometimes you have to just be willing to take a little risk. You have to walk right thought that door Floyd with nary a look back.”

“You do know what that dog in the circle sign means.
Don’t you?” Floyd asked.

Chet lit up a small propane camping lamp and put it on one of the alley tables.
He took his pipe out of his pouch and filled it with tobacco.

“Can I have a smoke?”
Floyd asked.

“Patience!
This is a process of relaxation and reflection!” Chet gently tamped the tobacco in his pipe with his finger, struck a match and lit the tobacco with extreme flourish. Floyd rolled his eyes.

“What are you smoking in there?
It smells like tapioca pudding,” Floyd said. Chet dug a cigar out of his sack and threw it at Floyd overhand, hitting him in the forehead.

“You couldn’t possibly understand me now that I have become a man of the briar
,” Chet said. “Next time we go past an antique store, I’m getting a pince-nez.”

Floyd lit his cigar and blew out a large volume of smoke.
“I’m trying to talk to you about that sign,” Floyd said.

“I already told you there’s nothing to worry about.
How many dogs have you seen lately? I haven’t seen many.”

“We have
a dead one right here!” Floyd said, thumping the dead dog on the breastbone. “Give me your knife.”

Chet pulled out his knife and threw it to Floyd who caught it deftly.
Floyd cut the skin from around the dog’s paws and proceeded to break each of them off, roughly twisting them and throwing them to the side. He then slit a line through the dog’s skin from posterior to throat, readying it for the messy ordeal of skinning.

“We haven’t seen any
, and that’s probably why we’re still alive,” Floyd said. “We’ve heard plenty of news about packs of wild dogs roaming around. Vicious animals too, if what I’ve heard is true. Tear a man to pieces in nothing flat. If you ask me, men were too busy killing each other after the Big Death, when we should have used all those bullets to kill off the animals. One knife isn’t going to help you with a whole pack of starving dogs that are looking to make you their dinner.”

“What about it?”
Chet said. He was making a loud racket, breaking up a couple barstools for firewood. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“There obviously are still dogs out there
,” Floyd said. He gutted the skinned dog and dropped the entrails on the floor. “Where there are dogs, there is dog fighting. Where human lives are no longer held sacred, there is dog fighting involving humans. I, for one, don’t want to be thrown in a pit with several hungry beasts.”

“I don’t either Floyd, but I know what I would do.
I would spread a story about some black market dog and human fighting pit society, replete with an ominous looking logo. It would be sure to make anyone think twice before raiding my hiding spot.”

“You didn’t seem to hesitate much
,” Floyd said. He left the skinned dog and went over to a billiards table in the bar area, grabbing a cue off the rack.

Chet turned away as Floyd crammed the stick in one end of the dog and out the other.
Floyd had to struggle a bit as the cue became crammed halfway through the dog.

“I’m done.
You can turn around o’ squeamish one,” Floyd said.

“About time
,” Chet said.

“Got stuck in the middle.”

“My dad always taught me to roll the cue on the table to make sure it’s straight. You probably got a bent one.” Chet helped Floyd heft the dog into place over their fire.

“Your dad spit dogs with billiard cues?”

“The
principal
is the same. It’s going to get smoky in here,” Chet said.

“I don’t care.
Let’s get this baby cooked,” Floyd said. He knelt to start the fire.