Blood Magik: A Cold Day in Hell (Book One)

14: Still Warm Leftovers

1

Terry kept his eyes peeled like onions in a paranoid stew.

The streets were empty, buzzing eerily with an electric hum. Every light in the city reflected off the crimson clouds to illuminate the blocks with a deep, rustic aura, and the deafening quiet that suffocated the neighborhood amplified the hiss of the city's manmade power. Tara climbed into the backseat to grab three bottles of water as Terry pulled to the curb, giving Jimmy a supportive pat on the back when she passed. He'd scooted to the backdoor's edge when they parked – half in, half out – heaving throat-loads of chunky vomit onto the asphalt.

"I...... I.........bllaaauuughaarrrrrgggguhh..."

"That's it, sweetie. Get it all out."

Tara set a water bottle next to him before crawling back into the front seat. When she settled in, she handed the other bottle to Terry, having to bump him on his arm with it for him to notice. He was intent on keeping a sharp eye patrolling the blocks. Knowing he was so focused made her feel marginally more comfortable. Jimmy on the other hand, figured the horrendous sounds coming from his larynx would be enough to kill the appetite of even the hungriest of man-eating zombie Lemurs.

"I... I...just...reuuahh...blluuuaaaghhh...ulllaghhh...*cough*..."

"Say again, Jimbo?" Terry grabbed the bottle from Tara's hands and cracked it open. He almost took a sip but then thought twice as he looked back at his buddy who was, quite possibly, up-chucking the last bit of civilized meal he'd ever have the pleasure of regurgitating. "... Didn't quite catch that last part."

"I said...*cough*...uughaakk *cough*......uuhhhggg..." He took a breath between yacks and wiped his mouth. "I said...I just...*cough*... I just...realized something terrible..."

"That it's the end of the world?" Tara was just taking a shot in the dark.

"That you got the alcohol-tolerance of a fourteen-year-old girl?" Terry figured he might as well take a stab at it too.

Jimmy hacked again and gazed down at the vomit-street-pie that made a surprisingly symmetrical circle off to the side of the truck. He shook his head and sighed.

"...I may never have another deep-dish, sausage and artichoke pizza at Sal's Italian Subs & Stuff again..."

Terry almost laughed but thought better of it, thinking that, knowing Jimmy, he was probably genuinely depressed over it. So he shrugged and tried to cheer him up instead. "That's not so bad..."

Jimmy shook his head. "That's not the worst of it." He still had more on his mind.

"Then, what is?" ...Because it couldn't possibly get any worse than never having Sal's deep-dish sausage pizza again, Tara thought.

Jimmy opened up the bottled water next to him, swished out his mouth and spit before he answered.

"The fact that I'll miss the pizza more than I'll miss my parents." He took in another mouthful, rinsed and spewed.

Terry shook his head. "Come on, man... Don't be so grim." He looked back at his friend gargling the lukewarm water. "They live in Utah, right? They'll be fine. This whole, red-eyed zombie-thing won't get past L.A. The ex-Governator will show up any minute now with a minigun and a squad of ass-kicking US troops to blast the piss outta the filthy bastards."

"Yeah? Well where the hell are they? This shit's been goin' on for at least four hours now. How long's it take for our great, sovereign state to dispatch a little help out here? Those things are killing the shit out of people and turnin' their leftovers into man-sandwiches... You'd think Schwarzenegger would've had all sorts of contingency plans set in place for this type of shit... He was a goddamn action hero, for fuck's sake."