X-City

Leonardo - Mush in a Tuxedo

The blood drips off my chainsaw as I cut down another one of the freaks now haunting this city. I have been out every night for the past week trying to lock down the perimeter of this 9,000 square foot estate. The back up generator has kept the power on inside but the electric fence the owners installed last year to keep out petty criminals is no longer functioning. I need to find some warmer clothes, I have been wearing this tuxedo for two weeks, ever since the private Gala here, ever since....everything... well... everything just...I guess everything was going to shit in life anyway, the markets were crashing, the worlds was/is in a carbon crisis, although now that half of the people in this city are no longer spitting out Co2 everytime they exhale, the environment might be in a better place.

I wipe the blue blood off the chainsaw with an old rag I found in the groundskeeper's shed, I then use the same rag and wipe the sweat off my forehead. Its a full moon tonight, the stars are lighting up the sky, its amazing how much my eyes have adjusted through the combination of no longer looking at screens everyday and consistently going outside at night, I can almost see with full clarity, although there are no lights. I look left and right, no freaks in sight, I make sure to stomp through the weakened skull of the creature (that was once a fellow guest of the Gala) that I just put down, to ensure it does not come back...crunch, I can feel the rotting brain under my foot. I head towards the main house, it's time to rest.

I wake up. My Rolex says 12:00pm, it does feel like 12:00pm, "hm, time waits for nobody" I say outloud to myself. The sun is blazing through the skylight. I hop up, and head towards the shower, sometimes you have to be grateful in life, today I am feeling extremely grateful that the Chapman family made the main house on the estate fully self-sustaining in fear of an environmental crisis or war, I bet they would never have predicted this. The soap dispenser in the shower is still full...am I a bad person for stopping and using soap while there is probably people out there struggling to have a second to even think as they get chased by their unearthly flesh eating neighbors? I guess there is no excuse for poor hygiene!

I move the dresser drawer and drag it away from the door, where I placed it last night to prevent any unwanted guests from entering while I slept. As I walk down the stairs I can hear a faint but constant growl, there must be a fucker in the guest quarters. I enter the main kitchen and double check over my food inventory and pile it up on the quartz kitchen bench. I think back to the pure white kitchen in my penthouse and how I deliberately didn't choose quartz because I knew Greg Chapman had it here, i need to get back to the penthouse soon, my private helipad might be my only chance of getting out of this city alive. The food inventory lists as follows:

200 lemon meringue tarts

1 ham leg (going grey)

10 bottles of various condiments

10kg of frozen pork belly

200 bread rolls

300 boxes of 'Bread Stix, Bread Sticks'

Variety of cheeses

I guess I am lucky the Gala was being catered by an Asian Fusion caterer. The issue is, none of this will keep very well if I leave. I put the perishable items back into the fridge and break open a box of 'Bread Stix, Bread Sticks' and smash down 4 or 5 with some aged blue cheese, now to deal with my friend in the guest room.

The guest room is down a long, wide corridor from the kitchen. The light brown, oak wooden floor boards glisten under the light that pours in through the sky light, which stretches down the whole corridor, beams of light pour into the space like an old church on a Sunny Spring afternoon. I carry Greg Chapmans Titelist golf Driver, as I slowly creep down the corridor, it's very well balanced and much lighter then the Driver I use. I think back to the day of the Gala, I had just finished a golf lesson with Wayne Chalmers my local Golf Pro before leaving... Smacking Golf balls off the roof of a building in the middle of a busy city requires a special amount of nonchalance..and money. I step past the priceless art hung on the wall and the ancient ceramics and stone sculptures balanced on concrete pews, the growling gets louder and louder the closer I get to the door. The golden door knob is warm in my hand as I prepare to go in and take on the lifeless creature, I countdown to myself, 3, 2, 1 - I burst through the door and the previous Gala attendee dressed in a fitted tux looks me directly in the eye and comes straight for me, I quickly move my hands on the club to a baseball grip and swing like I am on a par 5 and I want a hole in 1, I hear the jaw break of the creature as I make a perfect connection, Wayne would be proud. The blue blood splatters across the curtains, I kick the creature on the ground with rage, it groans, still hungry for my flesh, but this is survival of the fittest, so I bash it with the club, until there is nothing left but mush in a tuxedo.