Conquer the Wasteland

Alone

"You have got to be joking!" I shrieked. "YOU LOUSY SON-OF-A-BACHELOR!" The response he deemed worthy was a horrifying bellow, with slobber and some unknown type of goo-like liquid. If I had not hated the creature, or been running from him for so long, I would have admired the effects with curious disgust. He seemed very confused at my choice of language as well. See, everytime I screamed at him, he would just angrily roar back. When I cried pathetically, his roar seemed to mock me, and when my language became colorful his bellows grew even more amused; From what I heard, anyway.

"URGH!" His stanky breath seemed to wilt the plants all around us as he chased me noisily through the thick, needled pine. I didn't dare turn my head, for the chance of me stumbling on air and face planting in the dirt. My anger seemed to be the only fuel I had at the moment. My adrenaline had long since run out, just like my original store of wimpy energy; but whenever that stupid beast angered me, my body seemed to have a new relinquished burst of speed. Maybe I am just crazy. "OH STOP WHINING!" I hollered back, "You are dead! You don't GET tired!"

A few heavy pants, a curse, and a sharp left turn later I found my solution. Well, hopefully a solution. I burst through the last of of the heavy forest, tree needles whipping me sharply in the face causing my cheeks to sting with pain. My anger seemed to die out, and my energy levels plummeted with a comical sound. My legs shook violently and my lungs just couldn't get enough air, no matter how heavily I inhaled. My feet slapped roughly on the ground and I realized I had made it back to the main road. I felt like cheering but my throat was raw, and I knew that it was too early for celebration. The roars from behind me continued to grow louder, and louder. I wanted to run, but I couldn't anymore, I was just too tired. So I made a choice.

THUMP. His large form burst into sight, his head lashing around in unnatural directions, searching for me. I stood very still in the center of the abandoned road, the mist and evening chill causing goosebumps to rise along the flesh of my arms and neck. He did not have to search long, for within seconds, his eyes found mine. The bloody red sclera of his eye only accentuated the deep black pupil, his lips curled into a horrible snarl; saliva dripping from his chops. He wasted no time in attacking me.

Before I had even the slightest chance of preparing, or reaching for my Iron Beauty, his body hit me with the force of an elephant. What little air I had gained was knocked out of my chest instantly and my head cracked sickeningly on the asphalt. Black and red dots clouded my vision, leaving me confused and terrified.

He wasn't on top of me, however, for being the stupid brute that he is he had hit me and then continued to run like he was in a marathon. Hysteria caused a manic chuckle to escape my lips. That small laugh led to a fit of painful chortles and eventually I was crying at the ridiculousness of it all. Tears leaked from my eyes and my manic smile was wide. He seemed to realize that he was no longer chasing me, instead running in circles like an idiot. He proceeded to whirl around, his broken leg snapping and crackling; it reminded me of the sound of popcorn popping. I flinched in disgust, but scrambled to my feet anyway, my legs shaking and my head pounding.

He had stopped though, and was staring at me in a very creepy fashion; his head cocked to the side, his eyes unblinking and shadows across his decayed face. Although chills ran down my spine, and my first instinct screamed at me to run, I stood my ground and stared right back. "Stare hard, retard." I muttered. It felt like a western, with those standoffs where they reached for their guns and whoever shot first won...except I had a frying pan...so I could wack him to death. Although the idea pleased me monumentally I realized that if I lost, It wouldn't be death from a simple gunshot, but to end with the meat ripped from my bones.

How lovely.

My quivering fingers fumbled with the leather strap on my pants, unlocking the pan. The monster's eyes flickered demonically and his head cocked to the other side, he seemed to be...studying me. My hands gripped the cold metal, a sense of confidence washing over me as I slowly lifted the Iron Beauty and pointed it like a gun at the zombie. "Pew" I mouthed, pretending to shoot him, glaring hatefully. His bloody eyes seemed to narrow. What was left of his face turned a lovely shade of red, I could just imagine a steady stream of steam coming from his ears. His face contorted violently, his body shook, his broken leg tremored and popped horribly as he lunged in my direction.

He had made it nearly halfway, when I charged as well. Swinging my pan, it collided with a hollow crunch. His head whipped to the side, blood and unknown liquid spraying me and splattering the pavement. Holding in a gag, I attacked once more, swinging and beating the tar out of him with my Iron Beauty. He struggled plenty, but after a few swats and a resounding echo of metal later, he stilled. His head was so smooshed, it seemed to blend into the pavement. My legs shook and my head hurt terribly...but a joyful smile caressed my lips.

"HAHAHAHA!" I cackled. "SEE THAT!" I cheered, "CHUCK NORRIS WOULD BE JEALOUS!" My feet skipped like that of a child doing hopscotch, and I danced crazily around the body, my arms flailing around me. I never was good at dancing, but that didn't stop me!

Eventually I tired, though, and settled for smiling evilly at my handiwork. "That deserves a picture" I said, to no one in particular.

It took me quite a while, marching all the way back through the trees, and to the house. I took note to take a picture of the bed, which currently lay splintered on the ground. My bag lay where I left it, on the floor of the room I so desperately tried to hide in. Ah, good times.

I took my bag with me, thumping down the blood smeared steps, and staring in awe at what remained of the poor, splintery door. I had to duck to get through the massive, yet short hole in the door. The floorboards of the front porch creaked as I walked heavily down them and marched through the gravel driveway. My grip loosened and I dropped the backpack unceremoniously on the hard ground I smiled at the jangle of miscellaneous objects from the backpack and kneeled down, unzipping it and pulling out my polaroid. Aiming it in direction of the shattered wooden bed, I clicked the button and the flash went off. Whirring, the camera produced my lovely picture. Now time for the main event! I zipped my bag up and hiked it on my shoulders.

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I made a face. "You're not very photogenic."

Silence.

I looked at him, then raised my hands in a sign of surrender. His smashed face looked very offended. "Sorry! I mean, you have your quirks; like your terrifying bloody eyes, and your unlimited slobber...." I hesitated, unsure of how to say this. "I'm sorry, but you just don't take good pictures dude." now the smashed head looked depressed. "Hey," I comforted him, "It happens to everyone! I mean look at me!" With a haughty scoff I gestured at myself. "I know I am obviously drop dead gorgeous, but it happens to me to, believe it or not!"

Smooshed face seemed unconvinced.

I sighed.

The picture of the body seemed like a horror film in the firelight. The flickering heat and light of the fire dancing across the film of the photograph. The crackling heat of the fire was music to my ears, every crackle like a twinkle of wind chimes in my soul. I had made camp on the road, sitting cozily next to the form of my previous attacker, watching the stars. "Beautiful isn't it?" I whispered. "Such a pretty sight for a world filled with things so ugly." Sighing, I turned and stared at the body next to me. "Don't respond now, you seem like you need some rest. I mean jeez, your head ain't doing too hot. You HAVE to have a killer headache right now." I inquired.

Nothing.

It was then that I felt a sense of understanding and mentally face-palmed myself. "I mean, sorry you must need some quiet time." I motioned a pointer finger in a swirling motion at my head. "With the crushed head and all."

Silence.

Sighing, I lay down on the hard asphalt, listening to the crackling of the fire.

I really needed to work on my social skills.