Emeralda: Resurrection

Keep Me Alive   by All We Are          

Emeralda ran back to her body lying there on the ground and pulled it over, front-side down.  It was quite heavy for a lithe, toned body, like pulling a bag of wet sand.  She thrust her big, meaty hands into the tiny rear pocket of the pants to grab the vehicle keys inside.

This startled her.  It felt like she was touching a part of her own body that had fallen asleep, like when you awaken in the night to discover that your arm has gone numb beneath you.

Such a cute little behind.  Hell, she’d worked out on her body after the two kids she birthed, and she did it for the right reason: to be strong and healthy for come what may.

She felt like a pervert on her own body.  That was also quite weird.  It is the bane of the new Walk-In to find their own dead body, from the vantage point of the new, borrowed body they now inhabit.  It can cause shock. A drop in blood pressure, cold sweats, and dizziness…

She began to feel faint, but she growled and she pulled those keys out and she stood right the hell up.  She breathed in a deep breath to chase the sparkles of fainting away.  She saw folks running towards her from the side of the house.

Fight or flight?

She made the wrong decision minutes before, and she wouldn’t let this happen again.  Her wrong decision was a late decision.  When you wait too long, then the decision will be made for you.

She ran to the vehicle and reached it and fumbled with the keys to slide the right one in and unlock the door.  This time, it worked.  She did not drop those keys.

She slid her huge body in and found that the front bench seat of the Suburban was pulled way up close to the steering wheel.

She slammed the door shut, locked the door, and pushed the key into the ignition and started the engine.  It growled: alive.

That was when the hungry cannibals arrived at the vehicle and began to try to bust the windows to get at her.

Her baby cried, it wailed in its carrier on the seat beside her.  It was hungry.

Everyone was hungry, all around her.

Then she saw their heads turn to the rear of the vehicle.  Through the busted-out window of the smashed rear-end, her baby’s cries rang loud and clear.  

An opening?  A way inside?

She saw them run to the rear, to climb in, to devour her baby. 

Her panic made her want to drive off, but they would chase the heavy vehicle, and some would clamber inside.

She made an executive decision that only a mother can do.

She waited for a moment as they pushed against each other and clawed to get back there, as she slid the transmission gear into reverse, and held one foot on the brake pedal, and hovered the other over the accelerator. 

She held her breath, biting her lip, and she resisted the urge to cry.  It was too much.  How could this be happening?  Was this truly the end times?

 

Fuck all, she thought, if I just pushed my own dead body over to get my own keys, then I am either losing my mind, or this is all too real.  Either way, we are all fucked.

Those bastards had killed her other daughter in that damned house---

NO.  (push this thought away for now, just make it through this...)

She began to shake as she waited for two seconds that felt like a pebble drifting downward in a far of honey. She pushed panic away.  (For just a gawd dayamned minute or two, pleeeease)

And then a change in her occurred.

How dare they?

How the FUCK Dare They?

  

WHO THE FUCK DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?

She growled low and long. It came from her guts, and she did not even know that she was doing this.

She saw that they were en masse behind her, fighting to be the first to climb inside.

She screamed, and it roared from the diaphragm of the large man whose body she now inhabited.

She said, “FUCK YOU TO HELL.”

Emeralda stepped on the throttle.  The tires squealed and the huge vehicle leaped back in a burst of speed. 

The thump of faces smacking the metal and the smack of heads hitting the asphalt made her grin.

She kept going, feeling their bodies tumble under the chassis in a dance with each other; a tango of bloody roses.  The large vehicle hopped and bounced in angry joy.

She skidded to a halt with bloody, wet tires, and she saw them writhing in pain.   It was a red salad of broken bodies trying to untangle, to crawl back onto the lawn with smashed arms and legs. 

She saw flattened faces with tire treads on them.

This made her smile even more.

Other people ran from across the street and dove at this mess, and pulled flesh up to their mouths.

Emeralda said, “Huh.  The end times have come.  There is nothing left.”

Then she pushed the transmission into Drive and she ran over the crowd of hungry Walk-In cannibals, and she drove off down the sunny lane.

+   +   +   +   +   +   +   +   + 

Up on the north part of the ugly megatropolis of Fuckno, where the air blew fresh and sweet, we damned punks rode in a huge white utility truck, stolen from the electrical power company.

Indeed, only a couple of us had witnessed the army of blue ghosts that stretched off in a line a mile wide.

Katheena had brought them to us.  Glinty McFlintlock was their preacher, and their savior.  He revealed the door to their salvation, but it was war that held the key.

After how they had each perished at the hands of them Purple Robes a century ago, they were ready to make war.  It was time for retribution.

Joey looked at me and said, “Weeeeeee-ill.  You up for this shit?”

I said, “Joseph, I am up for this shit.”

---willies out.

In The Heat of the Moment   by Noel Gallagher  

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