AFM Presents: Eat My Scorch! by Mike Slabon [Part One]

Part Two:

A Painful, Burning Discharge

“Hey Jim… you up?” I whispered. I saw the dark figure turn towards me. The red glow appeared as he opened his eyes.

“Yeah, what?”

“You ever think we’ll find him?”

“Don’t know,” Jim said, as he looked up at the sky. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault.” There were no stars. Thick, dark clouds blocked out the sky. It had been a long time since I remembered seeing the sun. Jim’s words did not comfort me. I still felt bad about what happened to Dr. Vu.

***

A few weeks ago, Jim and I left Bunker 57, and wandered through this god-forsaken country. There was nothing left for us when we got to Fort Hood. The place was abandoned - no staff, no supplies; just a few skeletons. All we had were our orders – our “Secret Mission”. Since Fort Hood was empty, we began the trek to our next destination: Gamma Station, Roswell, New Mexico. It was along that route that we ran into Major Hoss Arnold, and we hitched a ride. Hoss was a portly man, full of freckles. He never looked comfortable in a uniform, unless that uniform was a pair of overalls. He never seemed like the Army type. Once Central Command was gone, most of the military disbanded. The brass in Bunker 57 declared themselves ‘the only active unit in the service.”

Hoss and those that remained loyal to him started running a supply train through the desert from Fort Worth to El Paso. They had converted a scavenged X-71 Recon/Research Vehicle (RRV) into a cargo rig. It still had the crew quarters and research bay, but they dismantled the rest, and added parts here and there. It looked strange, which was a good fit for the crew; they were even stranger. There was still Duke “Handbeef” Thomas, and Billy Freebase. Every time you ran into Hoss Arnold, those two were just three steps behind him. I was glad to see them all. I thought they were dead. There were a few grunts whom he had met in his travels – stragglers from lost and abandoned units. And then there was this Dr. Vu. He was some sort of genius. He knew everything about physics and chemistry and biology, and god only knew what else.

One day, just shortly after we met Hoss, we were all just sitting around on the deck. The X-71 RRV chugged along the endless desert sand. As usual, we waited for the sun to shine, and talked about life before the Scorching.

“Remember that fella, oh… the city boy from Houston,” Hoss said, as he leaned on the .50 caliber. “You know, the one that pissed his pants during the live fire exercise and thought he was shot an’ bleedin’?” Hoss started to laugh.

We all burst out laughing. Heck, even Billy, who I never seen smile, laughed so hard he drooled on himself. Handbeef almost fell out of the conning tower.

“Yeah, that fuck!” I said.

“I know who you mean,” Jim said, once he stopped laughing. “…Can’t remember his name though.”

“Ah shit!” Hoss cursed. “Well, he’s dead now!” Everyone was silent.

“Hey,” I said. “What about that guy named after Idaho… you know, the brother who liked hockey?”

“Oh yeah!” Hoss shook his finger at me. “The guy that went to some Hockey Hall of Fame up in Canada during his leave.” Hoss started laughing again. He sounded like a car that couldn’t start: heaving and wheezing. My uncle had a car like that.

“It was Iowa,” Jim confirmed.

“That’s right.” Hoss’s finger now pointed at Jim. “Autumn… or Utu.”

“Utumbwe!” I yelled, “Utumbwe Iowa! That was the guy.”

Hoss had tears in his eyes. “Utumbwe Iowa…Goddamn’ hockey lovin’ Afro-American. He was something else.”

“Anybody know where is he now?” Jim asked.

“Dead,” Billy answered. Hoss went silent. All of us were silent.

Just then the hatch opened and Dr. Vu popped his head out. “Hoss,” he said as he climbed up on the deck. “The power relay in…” Blah blah blah… whatever the fuck he said. I can’t remember exactly. He sounded like the engineer on that TV show my mom used to watch – Space Voyage. And he always talked in an angry monotone. I figured he was pissed off because he had no change of clothes. He always wore the same suit, tie, and lab coat. He had these glasses that made his eyes look ten times bigger. Now, it was damn hot during the day, but this man could sweat. I never saw him without beads of sweat on his brow. In fact, if you watched him close enough, you could see the sweat ooze out of his pores. He was always dabbing his forehead with this hanky.

“Well fix the fuckin’ thang, Vu!” Hoss ordered. Vu stood there and clenched his fists.

“I’m burning!” he spat in disgust as he marched himself below deck. “I can’t wait to be discharged!” The guy was always burning, and grumbling about being discharged. I asked Handbeef about it, and he said that Hoss saved Vu’s life. In exchange, Vu worked for Hoss ‘until such time that Hoss would discharge him from his services’. Vu was never happy – just burning. Every time you asked Vu how he was feeling, his response was, I’m burning!

“We got bogeys comin’ in! Three O’clock!” Handbeef yelled, and pointed to the north. Everyone on deck scrambled. I saw two vehicles racing hard across the desert toward us - a jeep and a pickup.

“Bogeys at six!” Handbeef added. I ran to the back - four motorbikes from the rear. I raised my rifle and aimed at one of them. I saw this one guy through my scope. He raising an HK, and I ducked just as the bullets rang off the armored hull behind me. I cursed. The one bike closed in. The driver fired a pistol, while his passenger pulled himself on board. I stood up and fired three rounds into his face, then turned just in time to brace my rifle against the impact of the other man’s machete. He swung a second time, and again I parried. I jabbed the rifle butt into his stomach. He doubled over. I grabbed him by the seat of his pants and threw him over the railing and onto the tread. He rolled off, and then I heard the crunch and grind of bones and steel. I turned and ran forward. One of the trucks wove alongside the RVV. The occupants exchanged a volley of gunfire with Handbeef and Hoss.

“Grenade!” someone yelled. There was a blast and some screaming. I saw someone go over off to my left. There was so much smoke and dust! The bikes were circling. I turned and saw a pink-haired guy charging at me. I capped a few rounds into his chest just as he swung a hammer. The claw end hit me in the hand, then he tumbled into me and we fell. The hatch popped open. “Good God! I’m burning!” said Vu. As I pushed the body off of me, Vu climbed out of the hatch. A man jumped climbed over the railing and grabbed him. “I’m burning!” he yelled. I got up and charged, burying my shoulder into the man’s back. The three of us went over the side. I grabbed the handrail. Vu rolled off onto the tread, and into the back of the pick up truck driving alongside. “I’m burning!” he screamed. The truck drove off with Vu flailing about and a man subdued him. The other man had a hold of my leg. I slammed my knee into his nose. It reminded me of the time I played soccer with all the tomatoes in my Grandma’s garden. There was juice everywhere!

Jim appeared at the railing and grabbed me by the wrist. With his other hand he whipped a blade into the man's neck. More juice! The man clutched his throat as he slipped under the tread. Jim pulled me up, and I climbed back aboard.

“At ease!” Hoss ordered. “At ease!” I watched as the vehicles pulled away. Freebase fired a few rounds at the fleeing attackers. The RRV ground to halt. “Status?”

“We lost Abrams and Marshall, “ Handbeef said.

“Yeah, but we took out the Jeep and the bikes,” Billy added.

“We’re alright,” I said. I took a deep breath, “… but we lost Dr. Vu.”

“Billy,” Hoss barked, “get your ass below deck and see if Wierzbarski’s got ev’rythang under control!”

“Yessir!” Billy replied.

I looked at Jim. “Wierzbarski?” I mouthed the words. Jim shrugged and raised his eyebrows. I don’t remember ever meeting that guy!

“Jim! Ed! You two check out the carcasses in the sand.”

“Roger that Hoss! “ Jim motioned to me as he made his way to the rear. I followed.

* * *

It was during the third watch when it happened. The sun was just rising when Jim pointed out the red pickup on the dune ahead. I looked through the binoculars. It was the same truck I saw when we were attacked the day before. There was one guy standing through a roof hatch in the cab. Two others were on the ground near the tailgate.

“Jim, did you see that before?” I asked, pointing to the truck’s bed.

“No!” Jim squinted. “I don’t remember seeing that. I’ll go wake Hoss!”

In the back of the truck, there were many wooden and steel beams. They were lashed together, with an intricate array of rope and pulleys. There was one long, extended arm with a shallow basin on the end. It looked like the giant spoon they used on the billboard for Moser’s Mostly Meat Stew.

Hoss came up on deck, along with Jim. Billy and Handbeef were two steps behind.

“What the fuck is that?” Hoss asked.

“I think it’s a catapult,” I said, squinting through his binoculars.

“OCCUPANTS OF THE ARMORED VEHICLE!” a voice rang out. It sounded metallic. I swung the binoculars towards the cab. The man in the hatch had a megaphone pressed to his face. ”WE DEMAND THAT YOU SURRENDER YOUR FOOD, WATER AND POSSESSIONS IN EXCHANGE FOR SAFE PASSAGE THROUGH THESE PARTS! DISOBEDIENCE EQUALS DEATH!”

I looked at the catapult again. “Hey, y’all! I think there’s someone strapped to the end of that thing!”

“Ah… Fuck’em!” Hoss barked. “Fire!” He ordered.

“Wait! That might be…”

WHOOSH!! The missile flew right past me, pulling the rest of my sentence along with it. I watched the smoke trail as the missile spiraled towards its target. Smoke contours have to be one of the neatest things. One of the men near the truck ran, just as the vehicle erupted into a ball of fire. “Good shot Billy!” Hoss yelled. The driver blew apart along with the cab. The guy at the rear ate the tailgate, while the catapult’s arm flung forward, hurling a bright flaming mass across the sky towards us.

“I’M BUUUUUURRRRNNNNIIIIINNNNGGG!” The angry monotone voice screamed, as the flaming figure sailed over our heads and beyond the horizon. I looked at everyone. Jim, Hoss and Billy all shared the same perplexed look.

“I sure hope he had his hanky,” I said. Everyone burst out laughing.

“You know,” Hoss started, suddenly rather sad. “I was going to discharge him when we got to El Paso.” He became very silent. In fact, we all did.

Abomination