Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Doin' Needful Things


Favoring speed over gentility, Jake rolled the body off the lowered tailgate of the truck, stepping back as it fell. The boy’s head struck the blacktop with a meaty thud that made Celia cry out.

“Jeez, Jake, ya gotta be so rough? T’ain’t as if he gonna run off.”


“Hells bells, woman, this is no Sunday school picnic! If’n this goes off like we planned, whether he got a con-cushun  gonna be a real moot point come sundown.”

She looked away and whispered, “’Bout that, Jake….Ain’t there no other way? Once’t we ring this bell, ain’t no unringin’ it. Do we really wanna be the kinda folks survived this way?”

“Aww hell, Celia, ain’t the time nor the place fer debatin’. Ya know if’n his kin had holdta our Junie, they’d be doin’ the same blasted thing.  What we doin’ here is what’s called ‘needful’ and ain’t no two ways ‘bout it.”

“Okay ya made yer point, dammit. Let’s jest git this done an’ back ta camp. I got me no more stomach fer this.”

Jake nodded and bent over the unmoving body. His Bowie traced deep furrows in the boy’s cheeks, blood welling up at once.

Stepping back, he pulled the radio from his belt, “Frank, this here’s Jake. The bait be out…the bait be out. Ya’ll best git set up afore them critters commence ta swarmin’.”

He and Celia drove slowly away as the makeshift attack force opened up on the undead abominations shambling out of the treeline. 

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