Back again by popular demand, Alex L.

Chapter 7  Chatterbox

Yeah… he… well,” I said in reply desperately searching for some sort of quip or pun to endear myself to Cynthia. As usual though I was left standing by myself in a pool of blood scratching my head… I’d lost count how many times I’d been in that situation in my life.

There were still a few branches left on the road so doing my best to seem tough I cleared them and formed a path for the bikes to fit through. It had to be done quickly to, you never knew who or what was lurking out in the snow, plus the delightful fact that I had some rather nasty people following me.

“All right Cynny I’m done lets go,” I said casually fetching my dirtbike off the tree it was leaning on. She rolled her bike on over through the gap then waited for me on the other side, I soon joined her.

“Thanks,” she said smiling, for a second, which ended when I felt a sharp pop to the left side of my face, my god she could punch hard “And never call me Cynny.”

“Roger that,” I murmured under my breath as I rubbed the spot she’d hit. She was busy kicking over her bike so I did the same it was probably wise to stick together out here.

I’d forgotten what it was like to travel at speed, it was great the wind in my face, breezing through my hair, for once I forgot that it was constantly below zero freezing outside, and just enjoyed myself.

I had a bike and a woman, forget the fact she may hate me, I’d kill to see her naked and once again the smell of two stroke filled my nostrils. Good times. We rode on for some time winding around the roads past the old relics of society.

Around a bend ‘my woman’, a name I’d given Cynthia that I was definitely going to keep to myself, pulled into a storm drain, I followed a little curious as to why we’d stopped.
“What’s going on?” I asked.

“We’re stopping,” came the blunt response.
“I can see that… why?”
“The next bit will be safer in the dark, less chance of being spotted,” she said
“Ok, so what now?” I asked leaning my bike up againt the side of the tunnel.

“We sleep.” Cynthia replied as she wandered over to the entrance to the storm drain, and removed an iron bar from a latch holding a large steel gate in place it slid down and slammed into place, she put the iron bar into another latch to hold it shut.

“We’ll be safe in here, the tunnels blocked from both sides” She went on walking back into the tunnel. She took her bag off her shoulder and pulled a canteen from it, taking a few swigs she then threw it to me for a sip or two. It was only water but it was still refreshing.

There was an alcove in the tunnel a hidden compartment where we ducked out of sight and laid down to sleep, well she did, I sat there with my eyes open wondering if it was safe to question her. Finally I tried then drifted off to sleep. I dreamed for the first time in a long time about happy things, Cynthia’s thighs mainly. When I awoke, she was leaned up against the wall hiding us, sneakily peaking out into the pitch black night.

“Eveni…,” I said before she looked down at me scowling giving me the quiet gesture. I snapped up immediately outside I could hear voices when I did. They milled around a holed out Prius talking, were they after us? No, I don’t think so, they weren’t trying to get into the storm drain.

We sat and listened to their conversation for a while, obviously a gang of some sort, and they probably wouldn’t take to kindly to us wandering through their territory.
Suddenly though there was a different noise, a rattling from the distance, I looked at Cynthia and my heart stopped, she looked worried, and not just a little either, it was almost terror.

The men outside hadn’t heard it yet, they talked loudly until one of them shushed the others. But by then it was too late, from the sky, out of nowhere, in dropped a figure.  It landed hard on the roof of the Prius bottoming out the already busted shocks.

The men stood there silent, the figure on the roof standing motionless, it was facing away from me so I couldn’t see its face. I wish it stayed that way. I’ve eaten rats, stabbed people in the neck, hell a few hours ago I blew some fruits head off, but this, this brown trousers territory even for me.

It span eerily slow, and faced the two men closest to us, finally I saw what had come to scare Cynthia so much. Under the blue helmet really lay nothing, nothing but a mouth, it was enormous though, the teeth looked to be the twice the size they should have been.

Its jaws were huge and distended, muscular to the point where you could hear the ligaments working when to opened its mouth, the rest of its body though thin and bony its dark, wet skin showing through its ripped clothes. And then the noise, the creature looked down on one of the men who still stood there frozen, it’s teeth began to chatter, it was as if that was the only noise that had ever existed, it echoed through the tunnel, almost unbearably.

I covered my ears and kept looking, but it only got loudly… and then it attacked, it was vicious to the point where I couldn’t look, you haven’t been afraid till you’ve heard the noise of a skull being chewed into powder.

And then… nothing like the whole event had never happened, if it weren’t for the remains of a Prius and an terrific amount of blood and gore it never would have happened. I looked up at Cynthia she still stood there leaned against the wall ears covered staring straight at the other wall in front of her. Pale and shaken to an incredible degree. I grabbed her hands and ripped them away from her ears

“What the fuck was that?” I said slowly
“Chatterbox... UNknown… we should wait a bit till we move,” she said slowly coming back to reality.
“So its true… are they all like that?” I asked siting back down.
“No… their not all that bad… but then again there is also a lot worse,” she said going back to her bag and pulling out a few morsels of food.
“Great,” I replied, worse than that… something to look forward to then.

If you wish to write a chapter in our ongoing, political satire novel, please head to Mild Max for all the details.

Category: Political Humor Tags: Climate Change Satire, Global Cooling, Global Warming, Humour, Mild Max Novel, Political Humor