Page 23 of The Mulligan Planet

that I'd like to check out, something I've always wanted.”

  I was curious to say the least, “Going to elaborate on that at all?”

  He shook his head as we passed a burning car, rain beating heavier down on us, “You'll see, trust me, you'll like it.”

  My hair had begun to layer itself over my head as we trod through the middle of the splashing street. Water was seeping into my shoes and soaking my clothes. “I know you're excited to get to wherever it is that we're going but we need thicker clothes, something better than what we've got, water resistance wise.”

  Harry nodded, abandoning his soaking beanie, “There's an Op-Shop over there.” He pointed toward a sign swaying in the increasing winds.

  “Looks good!” A low growl met my shouted response through the piercing rain and wind.

  “Don't get grunchy!” Another growl, deeper and angrier than the last, Harry looked over his hunched shoulders.

  “I thought that was you!” The growl got closer and we stopped, Harry pulling his revolver out while I waved my hands frantically and desperately mouthed 'No!'

  He shrugged, “What?” A hiss was all I could make out as I pointed to my ear and then attempted to mimic a zed, a point that was clearly going over his head, “What?”

  Frustration took over and I stormed over to him, “They have sensitive hearing you dense son of a-!” His hand clapped over my mouth as fear polluted him, his eyes staring at something behind me. I moved his hand and sighed as I grabbed his gu and turned to face four sets of blackened eyes staring at me over their frothing mouths.

  “See Har, this is why I wanted to be quiet-” I marched toward the dead now rushing at me, “It appears they can hear us-”

  I slammed my fist into a zombies forehead, crunching its skull, “And can differenti-” I'd pushed the revolver into another zed's eye socket while forcing another to the ground, “-ate between alive and undead, so can we please-” I caught the final zed in a headlock, popped its neck from the rest of its spine and let it slump loosely to the soaking gravel, “Remain quiet.”

  I turned to face a disgusted looking Harry who was nodding, “Yeah, you got it.”

  Blood dripped off of my fists and the end of the gory revolver as I pulled it out of the slack jawed zed. Following Harry toward the Op-Shop, his shoulders hunched, a shiver rattling through his whole body.

  The store had been barely touched by the chaos. A glass door where a red cross sat was still intact. The cross brought back sore memories of the hunters, the night of the attack seemed like a distant memory despite happening only days before.

  Harry prodded me in the back, “There you go again, zoning out, you ever going to tell me what you think about?”

  He pushed passed me and opened the door, “Maybe when we get the time.” I stepped into the store, the scent of baby powder and cheap laundry detergent lingering in my nose and mouth.

  “Time? What? You got somewhere you need to be?” A chuckle bounced from my throat to the dry plaster walls surrounding us.

  “I suppose not, but I would really rather wait until we don't have to constantly watch our back, it's a long story.” He accepted this as he started rustling through clothes while I started on a stand further away. Dozens of jumpers and jackets in an array of colours and tones stood out to me. Settling on a light brown jumper and darker leather jacket I dropped the duffel and chest holster before tearing off my freezing clothes. Down to my mostly dry underwear and t-shirt.

  I slid the jumper over the shirt and clipped my chest holster back on. The few seconds I had been without it had allowed my body to relax. Temporarily allowing the realisation that I had barely taken it off in the three days of the apocalypse.

  The jumper fit comfortably while the jacket was slightly over-sized, which was desirable as it had to fit over two layers of clothes and my guns.

  Pants and shoes were an easy decision. Faded dark blue jeans that sat a few centimetres too high and a set of old cadet boots that fit perfectly over the thick green socks that were buried in the right boot.

  As I tightened my laces Harry came bounding around the corner. “What do you think?” He'd taken to wearing a button up shirt, black jeans, joggers and a large woollen trench-coat.

  “Lose the coat.”

  He frowned at me while rubbing a fold of the coat in his hand “Why?”

  I stood and felt my feet sit in place as I kicked the ground lightly, “Because you'll get caught on something or by someone.”

  A loud, groaning huff came from Harry, “Come on John, it’s warm and dry. Plus, it looks awesome.”

  I strained myself putting the duffel back on, for some reason I was exhausted after the brief fight, “You know what? Fine, it's up to you, but if you get snagged don't expect me to save you.”

  A smile launched onto his face, “Thanks.” Struggling a smile back through the waves of dizziness proved too difficult and I quickly found myself sitting on the floor with Harry rushing over to me. “You alright John?”

  Spots were invading my vision and I was swaying, I knew this feeling but couldn't define it. “I... Yeah, I think so.”

  A concerned tone had made its way into Harry, “When was the last time you ate something?”

  Hunger! That's what it was, “Oh, um... It must've been the day of the invasion.”

  Harry's brow furrowed, “Wait here.”

  I laughed a little as he darted out through the front door, his coat billowing behind him spectacularly. “It does look pretty good.” ‘Oh great, delirium has set in.’

  The base of the duffel acted as a support while I slumped forward slightly for a moment, a cold sweat settling under my skin. The door flung back open and Harry was soon spoon feeding me some kind of wheaty paste with milk and honey. The deliciousness detracting from how much shame I'd normally be feeling.

  The cold sweat was dissipating, the dizziness faded enough for me to take the bowl from Harry's hands. “When did you last eat?”

  He shrugged, “This morning I had carrots from the cold room. That was good. I just assumed you grabbed something as well.”

  I attempted to nod unsuccessfully as I slurped the remaining contents of the bowl, “It's my fault entirely, I've been too focused on finding the team.” Harry helped me to my feet, it was certainly less daunting than before. “Get us where you want to go before I get dizzy again.”

  The downpour was making it next to impossible to see across the road once we'd gotten back onto the covered footpath. “Let's stick to the path, for now, if there are any zeds we'll sneak around, I don't think I've got it in me for another fight, or running for that matter.”

  We moved at a brisk pace, occasionally peeking through shop windows and in the cars that littered the street. Searching for signs of survivors and zeds, I was coping at first but after five minutes I was losing steam again. Not as bad but it was definitely noticeable, “How far Har?”

  We stopped and he looked around for a moment before settling on a location across the street, “There.”

  I looked across and saw a comic book store, its neon sign still flashing pale blue.

  I nodded and made a face of acceptance which Harry caught, “Yeah?”

  My eyes darting between the geek safe-haven and Harry. “Yep. I'm going to kill you Harry. Creatively.”

  Instead of the slightest twinge of fear flickering in his eyes he just scoffed, “Come on, it's ins- get down.”

  Without questioning him I dropped down behind an overturned sedan in the street next to Harry. Running footsteps slamming against the gravel were barely audible under the rain. “What is it?”

  Harry peeked around the corner, “Survivor, few zeds on his tail.” I went to check for myself but Har grabbed my arm while shaking his head, “We let him go. He'll more than likely just end up being dead weight.” The survivor ran past the car followed by five zeds a few seconds later.

  I had a new admiration for Harry, I've made calls like that. But I've been do
ing it since the war, well, my first war. This was all new to him as far as I knew. A few minutes passed and we stood, more crouched slightly higher, and made for the store.

  “You ready?” I nodded, my bored expression not deterring him at all as he pushed the door open and ran giddily inside without searching.

  “Idiot.” Stepping inside I locked the door behind me, “Harry.” I yelled as quietly as I could.

  As I was about to yell a second time when he came from around a corner, hands tucked behind his back, “What have you got?”

  He was positively beaming, “I'll show you if you promise I can keep it.”

  I shrugged, “Fine, you can keep it, whatever it is, now show me.” He waited for a few seconds for what I guess was dramatic effect before revealing a sheath in his hands. It took a moment to process, “You didn't....”

  He nodded as he pulled a long sword from the sheath, “Samurai sword!”

  I was impressed by how cool the sword was but annoyed that he'd wasted time on this, “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

  He nodded proudly, dropping the sheath and swinging the sword like an artist with a paintbrush, carving through a shelf like it was nothing. He had skill, no denying it, and it meant we now had something that we were sorely lacking. Efficient silent kills that weren't so close quarters for me. “Alright then, you're talented, anything here I can use?”

  He scooped up the sheath and wrapped it around his mid-section, “Roger had a baseball bat behind the counter, might still be there.”

  I walked up to the counter and leaned over. Feeling around, knocking a variety of cups, containers and toys before finally grabbing a long metal bat and pulling it out into the dim store light.

  It was glorious, a long blue stripe running up along its side and a tightly woven leather grip. “You know something Harry?” He looked up curiously from a comic he had taken to reading in my brief absence. “I might just keep you around.”

  Waiting

  Neysor’s skin tingled as he paced the ancient metal hall. The white room Shenim had gone into, what felt like hours ago, was sealed behind a red mesh door.

  No matter what came from this test Neysor knew he was to be damned by his brothers for breaking their laws, laws that he had helped to write. He knew the consequences would be dire. But the commander did not care about things he knew of, it was the unknown that terrified him.

  The unknown of what was happening to his beloved in that room made him uneasy. He could trust everyone on this ship, he had known them since before he was given the Yuik. Over a thousand years he’d come to know every name and every detail of every single Gralari woman on this ship. They were all worthy of respect and trust.

  He had reaffirmed his trust in his crew and the doctor a dozen times but it did nothing to relax the tightness building in his gut. For a moment he remembered his brothers. How they had played when they were still young in the fields of Ju-il where he was born.

  Over fifteen hundred years had passed since then. The fire rains that burned his planet had come, the giant black-scaled creatures that were the Darilles along with it.

  Darilles were fast, unarmed beyond their massive paws and intellectual brilliance. They were set on expanding their colonies throughout the universe, starting with the Gralari home world.

  By the time Neysor’s father, Nilyan, had returned from an insurgent raid, the fire had scorched the land. The Darilles had taken the Gralari world from them. But they rose again as warriors in the skies, scorching the planet and fighting the Darilles ship to ship.

  For three hundred years Neysor’s father and countless other warriors had fought before the young brothers had reached manhood and joined the fray. Fighting alongside Nilyan aboard the Yuik when it was still his.

  Three hundred years of war before Nilyan was taken by a Darilles paw while Neysor watched. After fighting off the beast, Neysor captured it, tortured it, and experimented on it. Destroying its original self and leaving a smaller, broken and obedient beast.

  This action set off the chain of events that let the Gralari win the war with anger and vengeance. The Gralari captured thousands of the Darilles and turned them into the small creatures that were now scattered across the rock that Neysor hovered over.

  He missed his brothers, he longed to see them even with the knowledge that they would punish him after this.

  A shake throughout the ship forced Neysor from his distraction through remembrance. The storms that pelted the Earth had been making it difficult for the ship to maintain a perfect course.

  So far the artificial gravity had been irreparably damaged and the automatic weapons guidance systems had been fried. Neither of these things were concerns at the time, they couldn’t go anywhere after this anyway.

  The ship shook again, catching Neysor off guard, causing him to fall slightly before leaning on the red door as it rose quickly. Taking part of Neysor’s hand with it and into the slot in the roof.

  He stood with his hand jammed in the roof while the bewildered doctor looked at him. Neysor was traditionally a man of composure and precision. The trusted doctor had come to know this after working so closely and privately with him and Shenim over the past three months.

  After a few seconds of processing the doctor decided not to mention the hilarious spectacle that was in front of her “Commander, I have news.”

  Neysor ripped his hand free and dusted it off, “Yes?” he’d been waiting for this since Shenim’s vitals had changed and he’d ordered her to stop being monitored.

  “You’re going to be a father.”

  A smile leaped onto his face, nothing else mattered anymore, he was going to be a father. “Brilliant, when will she arrive?”

  The doctor smiled back at the beaming commander, “About seven months. Neysor.”

  He went to push past the doctor who grabbed his arm, an act that had the same ramifications as what Neysor and Shenim had done.

  “One more thing commander. It’s a boy.”

  Old New

  I’m going to skip ahead a little, believe me, you’re not missing anything.

  We spent most of the time running between buildings in silence, collecting a few odds and ends, hiding. Took out a few zeds every now and then.

  Three weeks went by like that, the ship stayed in place, the rain had been on and off. It was definitely getting colder, some mornings were minus four or five degrees. But other than that nothing interesting happened.

  We were in a department store with fluorescent lighting rigs flashing above our heads, I was surprised at how long they had lasted. Trampled bodies, broken items and glass surrounded us as we made our way to the generator room.

  It was as if it was some decorator’s job to come through and smash stuff. Harry sighed to my left, “I thought there’d be more…”

  I shuffled the bag around and checked that I still had a round chambered in my rifle for the twentieth time. “More what?” Harry rested his shotgun across his shoulder as he turned to face me.

  He’d grown a short beard by this point, as had I, to keep our faces warm while heavier clothing kept the rest of us comfortably toasty.

  I’d kept to the same jumper and jacket clothing scheme for the past few weeks. While, despite much disagreement on my end, Harry kept the woollen trench-coat. It looked good, but I was still waiting for him to get snagged. He’d also kept the sword in a scabbard that hung loosely around his waist, his hand usually resting on the hilt.

  “More survivors. It’s been about three weeks now, yeah? Three weeks and the only living soul I've seen that wasn't two seconds from getting chomped is your sorry ass, and I don’t even think you count.”

  I laughed while rolling a body over with my foot, a screwdriver wedged in his temple, “I take care of us, and I haven’t munched on you, have I? Be thankful for that.”

  It was weird, I hadn’t been craving blood as often, any food seemed good since the gassing. Harry poked a body with his
recently acquired shotgun, “We should clean these up, get them out onto the street or in a pile somewhere, just so they aren’t… incubating.”

  I was about to agree with him when something shuffled in the distance, “Harry, two o’clock, eyes up.”

  Dropping to my right knee I looked through my rifle’s short-range scope toward the disturbance and caught a head quickly ducking from view, “Don’t shoot!” I looked at Harry who was already staring at me, lips moving under his ruffled beard as he mouthed ‘Bullshit.’

  Returning my vision back to the over-turned shelf that the survivor was hiding behind I caught another quick glimpse of a hood, “Who are you? What are you doing here? Come up slowly, hands behind your head!”

  He came up with his hands cupping his head tightly, “I’m looking for a John?”

  I relaxed slightly, “Why?”

  The survivor’s voice was one I recognised but couldn’t quite pick, especially while he was facing the ground, “Because he left me in a hospital bed.”

  I smiled, and dropped my gun to my side, “Steven?” He let go of his head revealing part of his head under the encompassing hoodie, he looked healthier but definitely paler.

  He crushed the mismatched and broken items under his stained white sneakers as he made his way toward us, his gaze meeting mine when he was a few feet away, “How’d you fi-”

  His fist cracking against my cheek cut me short, “You had no right to do this to me!”

  I spun my head back to face him, “Oooh… Well, I suppose so, but it feels pretty good doesn’t it?”

  He hit me again, “Ten days I’ve been looking for you and you’re cracking jokes, fantastic. Where are the others, where are my friends?”

  Harry was looking slightly skittish, his gun aimed at Steven’s hood while I wove my hand to dissuade him, “I don’t know, I got left behind. Nice punch by the way, you been working out or something?”

  He went to hit me again but I caught his fist and cracked it back causing a yelp of pain to echo through the store. I stood up straight and applied more pressure, dropping him to his knees, “I don’t like getting punched, it hurts. Now, how did you find me?”

  He growled, his teeth glistened as the lights flashed again, “You were the last one to make communication, for some reason that’s been making a slight ping in the system that we’ve been able to track you with.”

  His words coming out in between pained breaths and hisses before I let his hand go, “Who’s we? Who else made it out?”

  He grabbed his hand and stood, “Marcus, we were the only ones to make it out. Anton got us on a plane, all of us. But he was bitten, a few minutes after take-off he was gone.” Two, two of them were definitely still alive, I had someone left.

  “Hate to interrupt this reunion John, but we’ve got company.”

  I looked around to see that there were dozens of figures shambling out of the darkness, sniffing the air, “Grab a weapon from the duffel.”

  I brought my gun to my shoulder as the bag on my back got unzipped and