I was awake.
My head felt awful. My shoulder hurt like hell. But I was finally sitting up in bed.
“Oh thank goodness,” Alien Jones said. “The Mighty Potentate won’t vaporize me! Well, at least not for this, anyway. He’ll probably get me on something sooner or later.”
VGRF was holding onto me like I was going out of style. I should almost die more often.
There was a knock on the door.
In walked Mario, Janet, and a contingent of people wearing gas masks. Whoever they were, they were the same people who shot all the zombies dead (as in dead,dead not just undead) in the gym, saving me from filling their bellies with my flesh.
“Who are you people?” I asked.
One of them stepped forward and removed a mask to reveal the face of a kindly old woman.
“Don’t you even recognize your dear sweet auntie, bubalah?”
“Aunt Gertie?” I asked. “But how? We couldn’t find you at Decrepit Oaks! I assumed you were dead.”
“Of course you assumed I was dead, dearie,” Aunt Gertie said. “Everyone assumes that old people are weak and useless but that shows what you know. The old folks and I formed the East Randomtown Prepper’s Society years ago and we were completely prepared for a zombie apocalypse!”
“But how?”
“We all had bug out bags ready to go,” Aunt Gertie explained.
“Did you consult the sage advice of noted zombie fiction author and bug-out-bag expert Sarah Lyons Fleming too?” I asked.
“Nah,” Aunt Gertie said. “You know I don’t bother with your dumb blog anymore, BQB. I just grabbed some shit to eat, some shit to kill zombies with and stuffed it all in a bag.”
“Where’d you get the firepower?” I asked.
“I uh..” Gertie hesitated. “I know a guy. Let’s leave it at that, sweetheart.”
“Wait,” I said. “Who were those two bodies I found in your bathroom?”
“Hauser’s thugs,” Gertie said. “They tried to kidnap me and were going to hold me for ransom, demanding that you turn yourself into Hauser. I whipped out my bowie knife and made quick work of those sons of bitches, let me tell you. Too bad you were dumb enough to come here on your own anyway.”
“Wow Gert,” I said. “And here all this time I just thought you were all about knitting and bingo.”
“A gal can diversify.”
The remaining geezers removed their masks. One old dude with a sea of white hair shook my hand.
“Bob Northrup,” he said. “Sorry to give you the news this way, but I’ve been sticking it to your Aunt twice a week for awhile now. Nothing too serious, mind you. I’m only seventy-eight so I like to keep my options open.”
Gertie furrowed her brow.
“You could have just told him we were good friends, jackass!”
“At this point I don’t care,” I said.
Mario showed me a cell phone and clicked a button. Up popped a video of Hauser, George, and the DiStefanos loading boxes of supplies into the Compensator, the SUV my friends and I drove to the rec center.
“BQB,” Mario said. “Your aunt and her friends had been surveilling the area for a long time, devising a plan to rescue you. They shot this video that clears your good name. On behalf of the whole settlement, I want to apologize for ever doubting you.”
“Pretty lame, Mario. Pretty lame.”
“I know,” Mario said. “And I hope this makes up for it. We took a vote and the decision was unanimous. We’ve decided to change the name of this settlement from Fort Hauser to Fort Battler, and we’d like you to be our new Mayor.”
“Oh screw that,” was my instant response. I didn’t even take a second to think about it. “Like I want to lead a group of asshats who wanted to feed me to a bunch of zombies.”
VGRF, always the voice of morality, perked up.
“People make mistakes, BQB,” she said. “They need you now more than ever.”
Janet, who you might recall was a registered nurse as well as the settlement’s medical advisor, looked at me.
“BQB,” Janet said. “You created a WordPress site and promoted it to the point where it attracted an audience of 3.5 readers. No one could ever possibly repeat that amazing feat. Songs will surely be sung in your name for years to come. Please, you must take the wisdom you used to build a substandard blog that people only read when they click on it accidentally and use it to guide us.”
“Oh fine,” I said. “But on one condition.”
“Name it,” Janet replied.
“This place is not Fort Hauser. It’s East Randomtown. The thousand or so survivors on the property, they’re the last East Randomtownians left. No more cults of personality. No more dictatorships. We’re a town again. We’re a democracy. All important decisions are made through a vote and we’ll call for elections as soon as possible.”
Janet and Mario nodded.
“You’re a good man,” Mario said. “You really do deserve that statue.”
“I don’t want a statue,” I said. “Will you people let me rest now?”
Everyone poured out of the room except Alien Jones and VGRF.
“Congratulations, Mr. Mayor,” AJ said.
“This sucks,” I replied. “I hate politicians. Whoever they are, whatever party they’re in, they’re all out to pick your pocket, promise you the world and deliver you a bowl of hot steamy crap instead.”
“Maybe this is your chance to make a difference,” VGRF said.
“We’ll see about that.”
The space phone interrupted our conversation with a loud ring.
Bookshelf Battle 