The Fuckno Wars TFW CH 27 Lenny Eats

Seen drove forth in his stolen Jeep.  He was an infected Walk-In.  He was one of them strange entities, but he had lost his way, come what may.

Sven rode in his own stolen Beemer.  He had infected that Walk-In who had come to kill him, and he simply thought he was now somehow invincible.  A man without fear of death will be quite dangerous, until he finds out that he is wrong.

And Lenny Sustenuto, well, he just ran in fear.  He knew nothing at all, and even less now.  All that he had was fear to guide him.  That is the worst state to visit.

He did not know that he was now a Walk-In, and what opportunities this afforded him. 

Do you know, the memories of the leg torch burned in his mind, and also in his stomach.  He had been infected by Sven as well, through the infected original Walk-In, Seen.

Got it?

Good.

Glad somebody does.

Just kidding.

You know me.

The Fuckno Wars

Chapter 27

Lenny

Eats

Howl   by Beware Of Darkness

Lenny could not get the smell of the leg torch out of his mind.  He could smell it.  he could almost taste it.  A piece of calf meat is best when sizzled briefly in a hot cast iron pan with sautéed onions and shrooms and au jus poured over it.

But now, he considered that is might be best eaten when raw, and fresh.

He whimpered as he ran, instead of screaming in the horror that he felt from his own thoughts.

He needed to be very quiet in the black death of the south-side of Fuckno.

He did not know what the fuck was happening to his mind.

He did not know why his arm was numb and why it kept smacking him in the balls as he ran in full-on panic.

Do Not Panic.

He looked for a place to hide so he could sort it all out, and maybe cry like a baby for a little while.

There it was.


Under the light of the blood red moon, the streets began to make sense.  Of course he knew this place.  He had lived there for a few months, making his way along looking for more crack and heroin to appease them demons. 

Sherry was his girl, and she would help him with his deadened arm.  His dead end arm.

He had met her in the course of his intravenous travels, and she was very cool to him. She was of the same ilk, the same kind of person.  Just wandering along in the lost and hopeless state of the drug addict at the end of the rope, where only a noose knot kept you from falling into death and eternal silence.

Or Hell?

Which was worse?

Hell here, or Hell after?

Lenny saw a place that he could hide out for a bit.

He slunk into the shadows from the red moon overhead and caught his breath.  He stifled it, breathing slow and low.  He listened.

Indeed, he heard the voices of those who had watched him, a crazy man steaming at full throttle down the middle of the street in the dark, whimpering all along  the way, with his fat sausage arm swinging about.

“…pssst, he went in over there…”

“…what the fuck is up with that dude...”

“…he stole some good shit…”

“…they be looking for him…”

“…we taking it from him before they come here…”

Lenny knew the rules.

You just don’t make a spectacle of yourself like he had just done.  But he had been panicking.  He hadn’t been in his right mind.  And now, he needed to get the fuck out of there.  He would have company very soon.

He remembered where he was, and the first rule about being followed is that you never lead someone to your ultimate safe haven.  You safe that for last, after you have gotten rid of your followers, your trackers.


  Never lead everyone to your home, whatever it is that you may call home.

So he ran down the alley and turned left.  He knew exactly where the next place was that he would go.

It was the first place, and then he would go to some more.

He would lose them.

Yup.

While he ran, the urge to eat grew in his belly.  He had the most powerful hunger he had ever felt.   It almost made him turn back and face his trackers.

But what would he do with a deadened arm?  Swing it at them?  Hope for a good connect, and then pummel them with it?

Yeah, right. 

Lenny found the sewer grate that led down to a tunnel below.  It was like a highway off-ramp; a place for a rest stop.  Everyone knew about it, and it was a decent hiding place.  There were folks down there, he was certain of it, and they would be in various states of mind-altered realities from their intoxicants.

No one went there unless they had something to offer, or else were prepared to defend themselves.

But he knew everyone there.

Of course, he did not realize that he was not in his own body.  He had Walked-In to a young fellow who did not belong there.

Lenny slid the grate to the side and crawled in, and he left it open.  He climbed down the hand holds with his one good hand, stepping down and then pulling forward for the next grab below on the hand rails set in the cement of the tube for the sewer workers.  He hopped down in the dry bottom of the underground run-off canal.

There were lights off to his right.  Those were from lanterns and cigarette lighters, and smoking pipes.  He felt in his pocket for what little stash he might own, but the pockets were all wrong.

What the fuck?

He staggered forward, still breathing hard, and a shadow stood up as he got near the lights.

“Say your name!”

The sounds of boots scurrying to get up and also moans of “Wha?  Who dat?” greeted him.

He said, “I’m Lenny.  You guys know me.”

The voice said, “Lenny?  Smatta?  You got a cold?”

Lenny said, “Hey bud, I got your cold… in my fucking balls!”

There was laughter as his response, and the figure turned a bit in ease.

And then Lenny got to the light.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

Lenny stopped and about shit himself.

He saw more silhouettes in front of them lights, and they looked like they meant business.

He said, “It’s me, Lenny! Come on!  Be cool.  There is a blackout going on.”

It made no sense to them, those in the state of intoxication, in the darkened hole of the asshole of Fuckno, underground.

"Fucking invader!  Fuck you!"

Lenny turned tail and ran off in the other direction, and they ran after him.

As he passed the overhead entrance, he heard voices from up there.

“…he went down in here!...”

“…the hole?  He went in the hole?...”

“…I’m going down after him!  They gonna take that shit from him!...”

Then he heard many voices coming down that entrance as he ran off in the dark.  They started to holler after him.   The first ones to land in the tunnel saw the lights and those folks running after Lenny.  

Those folks must have thought it was a Police Raid, because they turned around and ran back to the lights.

The newcomers saw this and shouted to the others, “He’s over here!  He’s running to the lights!”

Lenny ran for a long time until he tripped and fell in the pitch black and landed on his fat sausage arm.

He saw stars.

When these dissipated, he looked back and saw a bunch of flickering back and forth across the tiny speck of light way off yonder down the tunnel.

He pushed himself up with his good arm and his stomach grumbled.

He kept looking at the spark of light.  One tiny speck, down in the depths of Hell.

His enemies fought among themselves, trying to make sense with senseless brains, looking for something that wasn't didn't exist.

Lenny was safe from them, but he wasn't completely safe.

He wasn't alone.

He had a new enemy.

It was himself.

His stomach gurgled.

He wanted to go back there and eat.

He wanted to eat them bastards.

He wanted to suck the drugs out of their blood vessels.

Lenny wanted a snack.

He smelled something on his lap.

It was heavy, freshly dead, and it had broken from his fall upon it.

His mouth salivated.

He felt the thing.

It felt like a big fat sausage.




 His stomach rumbled so loud it echoed down the tunnel.

Lenny ripped the sleeve from his dead arm.

It tasted pretty damn good to him.

Dirty Old Town   by Bettye LaVette

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.