After a few weeks off, Max is back! So let’s pick up where we left off.

Chapter 8: The Giant Killer

by Les James

“Can you kill those things?” I whispered to Cynthia.

She stared past me at the UNKnown. It had just ripped apart the last of the guys we had heard out there earlier. It stood like it had just finished eating a sandwich, or taken a leak. Almost anything other than what it had just done.

The smell of blood, spilled, crushed and flung guts and other body parts was thick in the air. The screams were gone, but they still echoed around in my head. I’ve heard a lot of men die, but never like that.

“I killed the polar bear, didn’t I?” she said.

I didn’t actually mean her when I said “you”, but what could I say to that? Before I even knew what was going on, she quickly thrust her sidearm into the small opening we had been looking though and popped off two rounds. She could have frikkin’ warned me! That gun wasn’t a foot away from my head!

The screams were replaced by a loud ringing in my ears. Son of a bitch, that’s one insanely large caliber handgun. How could such a petite chick even handle something that big? Made me start to wonder how well she could handle… Ah shit, let’s face it, I couldn’t handle it.

Cynthia was outside. She stepped around the bigger chunks in the red splattered snow, as she made her way toward the giant figure. The Chatterbox was face down. Another loud report and its head all but disappeared in pink mist and gray chunks.

This was just too much like what had happened in my room in the back of Thunderdome, not all that many hours ago. She turned and walked into the woods. I figured I was supposed to follow.

“I guess we’re on foot now?” I ventured, after about an hour of busting through the wet undergrowth of the coastal range. She didn’t say a word. I suppose it was a stupid thing to ask.

We continued in silence until it was almost dawn, but we weren’t exactly being quiet, all the crashing through bushes and snapping branches made us kind of an easy target. If anyone was out there, I’m sure they’d have heard us. Well, if we had run across another one of those mushroom eating bastards, I’d have almost felt sorry for it. Almost.

I couldn’t take the silence much longer. “So, are we about to wherever you’re taking me, or what?” I asked. “You said we’re going to see your boss, right?” Still nothing. Damned if she wasn’t just trying to push my buttons. I was about ready to give her a piece of what was left of my mind. There wasn’t much there after everything that’d been going on.

Then the brush abruptly ended in a small clearing. On the other side was a small, run-down cabin. It looked like it had been abandoned some years ago.

“We’re here,” was all Cynthia said. I turned to look at her and noticed she had pointed that massive handgun in my direction. I figured she hadn’t brought me all the way out here just to kill me. I took a chance. “Brigham .62 Magnum?” I asked as I stared at the huge opening in the end of barrel. “I’ve only hear about ‘em. How’d you get it all the way from Utah?” She just smiled.

“Take off your coat. Put it on the that branch over there,” she said as she motioned to the left with her free hand, “and take off your shirt.” I did as I was told, I could see where this was going and it wasn’t headed toward my fantasy life.

“I suppose it’s my boots and socks next and I would guess you’d like me to drop my ah… peashooter strapped to my right ankle too.” I was getting a little cocky.  I needed a good night’s sleep. Cynthia let out a little, low chuckle. It wasn’t supposed to be funny.

Once she was satisfied that I wasn’t packing anything that was even close to lethal, she let me put my shirt back on before we headed to the cabin’s front door. It was still frikkin’ freezing, walking barefoot through the snow. That was a lot more effective than any cold shower. What was wrong with me?

I opened the cabin door and stepped inside. It took only a couple of seconds to realize I wasn’t alone in there. It may have been dark, but I’d know that fruity cologne anywhere.

“Hello Max, we’re so glad you could make it,” a deep, lisping voice within that dark said.

“Hello Steven. Just out of curiosity, how pissed are you at me for taking the head off of your little, leather-clad play toy?”

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Category: Flame War Parody · Political Humor Tags: Climate Change, Global Cooling Satire, Humour, Mild Max Novel, Political Humor, Political Satire Novel