will fire!”
Reynold and Divey exchange ‘oh shit’ glances. Pete is getting suspicious. Oh shit, indeed.
“ Wait a second, you two fucks are trying to set me up! The zapper’s been rigged and that’s why you don’t want me to go first, right?!”
Reynold and Divey stare ahead blankly and slowly shake their heads ‘no’.
“ Right,” Pete says. “Give me the gun.” Divey hands the gun over to Pete, butt-first.
“ Fuck it. We’re still doing this. But I’m going to go first.” Pete holds the gun up to the remote sensor installed in his in his left temple. “You guys have t’wake up pretty early in the morning to outsm—” Pete pulls the trigger. His skull explodes and brain sludge erupts from the crater, spraying along the side wall of the van. His body falls limply to the ground.
“ Holy shit! I thought you said the gun wouldn’t go off until the third pull of the trigger!” Reynold yells.
“ Fack, but yeah, that was when I thought the generator was working right! Shit! I wasn’t expecting that!”
Reynold holds his hands over his mouth, shaking, and takes a deep breath. After a moment of silence, he says, “Shit. Why did it have to be Pete, Divey? Why not either of us ?”
“ I told you before, he’s bigger than the two of us put together. The business could run nearly three times as long from the meat off of his bones than it would from either of ours.”
“ You know what I mean . . .”
“ Oh shit, you’re not going to get emotional on me, are you, Rey?”
“ I just want to know. Why Pete? I mean, fack, we rigged the zapper to go off on him, it didn’t work out the way we planned, but the bloody thing still went off on him. It’s not just that the odds were stacked against him, no, he really had no facking chance.”
“ Fate.”
Reynold wipes the sweat from his upper lip. “You know, I never believed any of that shit before today, but I think you’re right, brother. Fate. Damn.” Reynold bends down and removes a pack of fags from Pete’s jacket pocket. He puts one up to his lips and lights it. “Do you think we have the power to change our fate?”
Divey unfolds his palm. The coin is facing heads up. “No, brother, we don’t.” He places the coin in Reynold’s hands.
“ But what if this is just some sort of lucky coin? What if it has nothing to do with fate . . . only luck?”
“ You’re asking questions that I can’t answer, Rey.” Divey puts on a pair of canary yellow kitchen gloves.
Reynold holds the coin up to the light. The Japanese writing shimmers in a way he hasn’t noticed before—as if it possesses some sort of magic. He presses the coin up to his lips.
“ Hey, once you’re done snogging with that coin, you think you could give me a hand ’ere?” Divey begins hacking Pete’s limbs off with an axe, tossing the bloody hunks of meat into the back of the van.
Reynold stuffs the coin into his pocket and ties a surgical mask around the bottom half of his face. “I’ll get the trash bags.”
THREE
PINK DEATH XXX
Reynold fingers through a case of loose cassette tapes, plucks one from a litter—a white one labeled, ‘Z. STARDUST’—and pops it into the tape deck located in the back of the van. The deck pops and whirrs. The sound of a bluesy rock guitar shreds through the air as “The Jean Genie” boom-rattles through the speakers and causes the pots and pans hanging above the stove to hum along with the drumbeat.
Divey sits up front, driving. Destination: Terratown. He doesn’t hear the music - his brain is a clogged pipe of thought and steam. Thoughts of survival. Thoughts of Pete. Thoughts of flesh, blood, and bone. Thoughts of remorse. Thoughts of surviving in this god-forsaken post-apocalyptic world of Japan in this year of our Emperor 209 [E209]. If the van could travel at the speed of thought, they would have
Reynold and Divey exchange ‘oh shit’ glances. Pete is getting suspicious. Oh shit, indeed.
“ Wait a second, you two fucks are trying to set me up! The zapper’s been rigged and that’s why you don’t want me to go first, right?!”
Reynold and Divey stare ahead blankly and slowly shake their heads ‘no’.
“ Right,” Pete says. “Give me the gun.” Divey hands the gun over to Pete, butt-first.
“ Fuck it. We’re still doing this. But I’m going to go first.” Pete holds the gun up to the remote sensor installed in his in his left temple. “You guys have t’wake up pretty early in the morning to outsm—” Pete pulls the trigger. His skull explodes and brain sludge erupts from the crater, spraying along the side wall of the van. His body falls limply to the ground.
“ Holy shit! I thought you said the gun wouldn’t go off until the third pull of the trigger!” Reynold yells.
“ Fack, but yeah, that was when I thought the generator was working right! Shit! I wasn’t expecting that!”
Reynold holds his hands over his mouth, shaking, and takes a deep breath. After a moment of silence, he says, “Shit. Why did it have to be Pete, Divey? Why not either of us ?”
“ I told you before, he’s bigger than the two of us put together. The business could run nearly three times as long from the meat off of his bones than it would from either of ours.”
“ You know what I mean . . .”
“ Oh shit, you’re not going to get emotional on me, are you, Rey?”
“ I just want to know. Why Pete? I mean, fack, we rigged the zapper to go off on him, it didn’t work out the way we planned, but the bloody thing still went off on him. It’s not just that the odds were stacked against him, no, he really had no facking chance.”
“ Fate.”
Reynold wipes the sweat from his upper lip. “You know, I never believed any of that shit before today, but I think you’re right, brother. Fate. Damn.” Reynold bends down and removes a pack of fags from Pete’s jacket pocket. He puts one up to his lips and lights it. “Do you think we have the power to change our fate?”
Divey unfolds his palm. The coin is facing heads up. “No, brother, we don’t.” He places the coin in Reynold’s hands.
“ But what if this is just some sort of lucky coin? What if it has nothing to do with fate . . . only luck?”
“ You’re asking questions that I can’t answer, Rey.” Divey puts on a pair of canary yellow kitchen gloves.
Reynold holds the coin up to the light. The Japanese writing shimmers in a way he hasn’t noticed before—as if it possesses some sort of magic. He presses the coin up to his lips.
“ Hey, once you’re done snogging with that coin, you think you could give me a hand ’ere?” Divey begins hacking Pete’s limbs off with an axe, tossing the bloody hunks of meat into the back of the van.
Reynold stuffs the coin into his pocket and ties a surgical mask around the bottom half of his face. “I’ll get the trash bags.”
THREE
PINK DEATH XXX
Reynold fingers through a case of loose cassette tapes, plucks one from a litter—a white one labeled, ‘Z. STARDUST’—and pops it into the tape deck located in the back of the van. The deck pops and whirrs. The sound of a bluesy rock guitar shreds through the air as “The Jean Genie” boom-rattles through the speakers and causes the pots and pans hanging above the stove to hum along with the drumbeat.
Divey sits up front, driving. Destination: Terratown. He doesn’t hear the music - his brain is a clogged pipe of thought and steam. Thoughts of survival. Thoughts of Pete. Thoughts of flesh, blood, and bone. Thoughts of remorse. Thoughts of surviving in this god-forsaken post-apocalyptic world of Japan in this year of our Emperor 209 [E209]. If the van could travel at the speed of thought, they would have
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