The first thirty days after the world ended were the worst, as those days were filled with blame.
Lynette had asked Robbie to help with stockpiling. Just as with the blizzards, as with the hurricanes, and with the tornadoes, he had waited too long and shown little to no effort in trying to accumulate food or water. That had left them to the rations that Lynette had been able to scrounge which had been pitiful at best. Prior to the virus, the stores were veritable wastelands due to trucks being stuck on the wrong side of the bombed bridges. Then, the virus had struck and the peninsula was quarantined.
Lynette had just declared Robbie “the death of them both” when he showed her the vomit gun.
“We will get what we want and it won’t cost us a thing or put us in any danger.” He grinned around yellowing teeth.
“Where did you even get that?”
“Dark web.”
She scowled, partly because his breath was bad and partly because she could not believe that she was stranded with this idiot. “When I asked you to prepare…to get us ready for quarantine…you went to the dark web and got some…gun?”
“Not just a gun, a vomit gun.”
“I heard that the first time.” She eyed the remaining products in her kitchen and estimated that they had five days of food remaining if they consumed only a few crackers and pretzels each day. The fruit and vegetables had gone quickly. They had gobbled all produce before it could spoil. They had no meat, not even canned fish, as domesticated and game animals had shown the effects of the virus first. “And how will a vomit gun help us, exactly?”
“I’ve been thinking…,” he began and Lynette hated that he started most conversations that way. Mainly because she knew that any type of thought was a struggle for him. “We shoot people with it.” He was more excited about this prospect than he should be. “They weaken, like they have the virus, or worse, and we steal their stuff. They are so busy yacking their brains out, that they can’t fight us.” He snapped his fingers. “It’s that simple.”
***
They invaded the community three blocks away from them first. The residents lived behind a gate; the gate was to keep people like Lynette and Robbie out. Even without a vomit gun, their type was not welcome in the high income community.
Robbie had not practiced with the gun. His ineptitude was evident when the gun jammed and they were chased to the other side of the gates, prodded by pitchforks like the monsters they appeared to be.
“The death of us both,” Linette reminded him as they ran back to their home, where Linette was forced to further divide the remaining crackers and pretzels.
***
The following day, Robbie set up target practice in their yard. He aimed for the unstable bullseyehe had constructed from an old sheet and Linette’s lipstick.
“I don’t understand it,” he called to Linette, “there’s no vomit.”
She leaned out the window and pointed to the sheet. “There is no mouth or esophagus or stomach on that sheet, either. Where would the vomit come from?”
Robbie considered this for a moment and then a sparkle reached his eyes. He crouched low to the ground and waited. Lynette went back to fussing over rations and contemplating ways to stretch them further when her tactics were interrupted by a bellow from Robbie.
“Well I’ll be!” he shouted. “It works, Lynette! Our problems are solved!”
She peered out the window to see a rabbit on its side. “What did you do?” she asked with alarm.
Robbie looked at the creature with a combination of regret and relief. “I guess it was too strong for him. It’s meant for people. But we know it works.”
He thought he would cheer her up by adding, “I’ve been thinking…we go back out tonight. In the meantime, we can clean and eat this, right?”
***
Lynette begrudgingly put on black clothes, a black knit hat, and a mask to return to the gated community with Robbie. The prior failed invasion informed this attack: they knew to have the gun ready.
They entered a lavish home by having Robbie wiggle through the dog door. He had lost enough weight that he had room to spare. Once inside, he unlocked the door for Lynette.
He started to explain something, but Lynette put a finger to her lips. She hoped they would be able to steal some supplies without notifying the homeowners. She had a bad feeling about the gun.
Robbie nodded and they headed to the kitchen. Lynette found boxes of pasta and bags of beans that she quickly slipped into the pillowcase she had brought. She was so engrossed in pillaging that she failed to notice Robbie stiffen beside her.
“What are you doing?” a man’s voice yelled. Lynette turned to see an older couple standing at the entrance of the kitchen. The man held a baseball bat and the woman cowered behind him.
“I’m hungry,” Robbie responded, as if this were a suitable answer to the question. He aimed at the man and pulled the trigger of the vomit gun. Within moments, the gun’s moniker rang true and the man bent over, clutching his abdomen and splattering vomit on the linoleum floor.
His wife shrieked and Robbie shot her, too. Lynette could not believe that two normal sized humans could produce so much vomit.
“Help.” The woman struggled to get the words out. She and her husband were obviously weakened and any type of ailment could prove deadly in this new world.
“Robbie, we gotta go,” Lynette said, finding it difficult to take her eyes off the failing couple.
“I’ve been thinking…. “ Robbie turned to Lynette, pointing the gun at her. “There isn’t enough here for me and you. I mean for long-term survival.”
Lynette had time to register that the couple had fallen to the floor and seemed eerily still when Robbie pulled the trigger. She realized she had been wrong; he wasn’t the death of them both.
∼ Elaine Pascale
© Copyright Elaine Pascale. All Rights Reserved.
Pen of the Damned 