Murder Drones: Death-Sides

Chapter 8: The Intrepid Adventures of Lizzy, Part 2

Huffing out a breath of exasperated air, Lizzy made sure her hair was perfect for the 493rd time as she waited for Thad to arrive in the lunchroom, where every one of the bunker dwellers and Low Eyes Party members had gathered. In spite of her denial, today was most certainly Saturday – the day that he agreed to hang out with her the way they did when they had less propane torches on their factoryday cake. Even though Lizzy was dressed rather casually – in her frantic attempt to not come off as extravagant, she resorted to wearing her usual cheerleader uniform – she couldn't help but feel she wasn't dressed right.

The sound of rowdy football players broke her train of thought. She turned and saw Thad in his usual attire and his usually cheerful, perfectly content aura. He was surrounded by his usual entourage of testosterone-propelled pals, entering the room; naturally, he was the center of attention. The MVP. The one person who, if you told a joke to a group of people and he was the only one laughing, would make you feel like a champion.

As the group drifted toward their usual seats, Thad seemed to excuse himself from the group – the hubbub of the cafeteria allowed only his body language the leisure of telling Lizzy his actions – resulting in a groan of disappointment from his team members. As he left their presence, though, his teammates did not speak amongst themselves as they usually did; instead, all of their eyes were fixated on him as he approached the now flustered Lizzy, who cleared her throat, straightened herself up to the best of her ability, and hoped her Maker would favor her on this day.

"Hey, Thad!" she said, forcing herself to initiate the conversation in the most normal way possible – if by normal, that meant beginning a conversation with the mother of all voice cracks. The football spectators collectively grimaced at this sight, sucking in air through their artificial teeth as they pitied the poor cheerleader.

Thad pretended not to notice it, chuckling as he returned the greeting: "Hey there yourself, Lizzy." He began to sit down but halted himself. "This seat taken?"

"O-oh! No, n-not at all!" Lizzy stammered.

"Alright, alright," said Thad, taking a seat and leaning forward, placing his elbows on the table and resting his head on his right fist, which he balled up in his left hand. "So... what did you get for lunch?"

Lizzy was somewhat stunned by the simplicity of this question – so much so, in fact, that as she looked down at the food she was provided, the names of these articles momentarily left her mind. After a beat, she finally found her voice and replied, "Uh... well... I've got some triple-A and quadruple-A batteries as per usual, since that's really all the bunker offers."

"Mm," said Thad. "Oh, that reminds me of something! See that guy over there?" He pointed over to a clean-shaven, elderly-looking, sky blue-eyed Low Eyes member sporting a dark blue three-piece suit, fedora, and tie; a white button-up; and black slacks. He was managing a rusty, decrepit food stand with a tattered, scarlet cloth attached to the top of the metal framework (even though there was nothing he needed to shield himself from). A small line had formed (with most of the customers being Low Eyes Party members), all of whom were treated to free horn-like cups containing a shimmering blue liquid.

"Uh – yeah, what about it?" said Lizzy, her curiosity piqued in such a way that she nearly forgot about how terrified she was.

"From what I've heard, he's handing out some sort of liquid battery formula that comes from the Low Eyes Party culture," Thad said. "He decided it'd be in his best interest to start sharing it with the bunker today, although..." He glanced around at some of the bunker dwellers consuming the beverage whose facial expressions were less than pleasant. "...it's not something I'm chomping at the bit to try out."

Somewhere off in the distance, a terrible retching sound could be heard.

"Well, at least the Low Eyes guys are enjoying it," said Lizzy, who had set her eyes on a group of Low Eyes members who were toasting with their cups filled to the brim; from a human perspective, one would imagine they were mead-craving Vikings who had just returned from the raid of a lifetime. "Maybe it's an acquired taste, you know? Maybe it isn't all that bad."