Political Humor

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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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.

This week Madam Trivia, Elm shakes up our on-line political satire novel.

Chapter 6  Welcome to the Tundra

I stared at my dirt bike- the first gasoline powered vehicle I had sat on in years. Gasoline was now like money, no, like gold. If you had a few gallons of gas you would be set for years to come. Since the dollar is essentially useless, bartering is the only way to go. And you can get just about anything you want with gas.

After a moment I revved-up the motor, thankful for that blessed sound. Rushing down this trash-ridden road with a mysterious stranger, could this day get any better?

We drove south for what must have been an hour. It was daylight now, and I had an easier time avoiding the garbage. At least the trash told me that I was on a road. All the concrete and potholes were completely covered by snow.

My stranger suddenly braked and I pulled up beside her. “What’s wrong?” I yelled over the bikes’ motors.

“I see a tree blocking the road up ahead,” she replied. “We’ll have to turn around. I know another way we can go.”

I smirked as irresistibly as I could and said, “No need for that. That’s not much of a tree, more like a few branches. I can have them off the road in no time.”

We slowly rode closer to the blockade of branches and cut off the motors. “You want me to help?” she volunteered.

“Oh, no,” I said, “I do this kind of stuff all the time.” What a liar I am sometimes. The last time I tried to move my bed I pulled a muscle in my back. And those branches looked like a hotel full of furniture to me.

With all the masculinity I could muster, I started to drag those heavy logs across the road. Under my breath I began cursing myself for being the vain guy I turned out to be. Worst of all, even in this icy world where man and woman often fight to the death for rancid table scraps, I couldn’t bring myself to ask that young woman for help. I wanted to show her what a real man would do back when life didn’t suck so much. When a woman needed help, the guy would rescue her.

I tried to make casual conversation since we were not being distracted by people trying to kill us. “So, you, um, never did tell me your name.”

“Do you need to know so badly?” she asked in an irritated voice.

“No, but it would be nice to know the name of the last person I may ever see, alive that is.”

She seemed to soften a bit as she stared at me. “Cynthia.”

“OK, Cynthia, that sounds better to me than ‘hey you’.” She continued to stare, which made me uncomfortable, but it also gave me the hope that she was just as interested in me as I in her. “Where exactly are we trying to get to? This place you‘re taking me must have a name, right?”

“It won’t be long. Another hour or so and we should be there.”

“Cynthia,” I said, “I have the distinct feeling that you are avoiding my question.”

She smiled a smile not seen in ages. A smile more mysterious and enigmatic than even the Mona Lisa’s. “And you would be correct,” she answered. I was about to respond when she raised her finger to her lips and “shh” came from her vocal cords.

“What?” I said, perhaps a bit too loudly.

Glaring at me with fierce eyes, “Shut up, God damn it!” she snapped. “I hear something.”

I stopped what I was doing and listened. Yes, I did hear a stomping sound. “Probably just a skunk or fox,” I whispered confidently. That’s when I was proved dead wrong

A massive polar bear had emerged from the wood line. Back when we were under a “global warming” threat, polar bears were the stars of every environmental group. There cute faces and teddy bear features were a gold mine. Environmental agencies began clever propaganda stating that the polar bears were dying at astronomical rates, due to decreasing arctic ice. They are one of the reasons why gasoline powered cars were ostracized.

This bear standing before me was probably a descendant of the ones that broke out of the zoo so many years ago. Now he and his arctic pals had all the ice and snow they wanted.

This giant raised up over nine feet in the air. It also looked as if this polar bear was doing just fine in the hunting and eating category. He began emitting a low, bottomless growl that shook me to the bone. It seemed as if this guy was nothing like a teddy bear after all.

Then I heard a blast and watched Goliath tumble to the snow covered ground. Red blood oozed out of a hole the size of a quarter in its chest. Turning, I watched Cynthia carefully walking up to the polar bear’s body; her gun still firmly embedded in her hands. We stood side by side, staring at that bear.

“It’s breathing a little,” I remarked after a minute of silence.

Another blast of gunpowder echoed through the landscape. She looked me hard in the eyes and said, “Not anymore.”

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