Tag Archives: Jerm

Road Trip (Revised) and North (New Chapter)

I’ve been changing around the zombie novella a bit. In particular, I’m doing an overhaul of the Jerm/Micah story arc.  Here’s a revised chapter and a new teaser chapter to whet your appetite:

ROAD TRIP

Jerm keeps pushing the CD into the Buick’s deck.

“Micah… hey Micah!”

“What?”

“CD player’s busted!”

“Shouldn’t be. Just got it installed last year. It’s probably the CD.”

“Well, keep better care of ‘em, jackass. I keep telling you that you need one of those books to keep all your CDs in it.”

“Hey, if you want music, then just sing something. Give me a break there, man. I’ve been drivin’ since Oklahoma.”

“Hey. Don’t worry about it, boss. Yer doin’ such a good job innyway.”

“Fuck you, man. Take the wheel. I gotta take a piss.”

“Ahh, bullshit. We should open a lemonade stand, we got so much stored back there.”

“You know we can’t take any chances openin’ the window, Jerm. One bug flies in and we could be zombies, too. So just take the wheel and shut yer trap for a sec.”

“Man, yer paranoid.”

“You gonna take the wheel or do you want to hold my junk for me while I go?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Jerm sighed, awkwardly switching over to the driver side and almost taking the car off the road.

“Careful, man! Keep it straight while I’m going or this car’s gonna smell even worse than it does.”

“Yeah, okay, Micah. Whatever, man… hope we can get to New Mexico soon.”

“Desert’s the place to be, Jerm. Not enough life around there to be zombie food.”

“Speakin’ of, we got ourselves a hitchhiker.”

“Just drive by.”

“But she’s hot.”

“Dammit, Jerm! Just drive!”

“What are you, gay?”

“At least let me put it back in my pants. Hand me the gun.”

“What? She ain’t a zombie.”

“She still has teeth, don’t she? We don’t know if she’s turning or what. Just hand me the gun.”

Without opening the windows, Jerm signalled for the woman to crawl into the passenger side.

“You guys are life savers. Name’s Jaclyn.”

“Jeremiah. This one’s my brother, Micah.”

“Kinda queer bein’ stuck all the way out here,” Micah said.

“Only one queer is you,” Jerm mumbled.

“My car ran out of gas a few miles back. I’m from Odessa, but I hear North is the way to go right now. I still can’t believe it, the dead walking around and everything. It’s crazy. I mean, I keep thinking it’s all just a bad dream I’ll wake up from… thanks for picking me up, guys. I was worried I wouldn’t see anybody out here.”

“Me an’ Micah are both comin’ outta Little Rock. Damn skeeters are turnin’ people into flesh eaters! Desert’s dry enough so they don’t breed at all, but Micah’s still paranoid. That right, Micah?”

Micah fishes through under the back seats for water bottles with actual water in them. “Yeah… so, Jaclyn. You up here all by your lonesome?”

“Well, I have some family headed up to the Northern states, see if they can get into Canada. I took longer getting out ‘cuz my boyfriend wouldn’t leave. I don’t know. Guess I was bein’ dumb wanting to stay with him in zombie country.”

“Naw. We were the same way. We all heard about it in other places but we thought we could all just shoot ‘em all dead and have a few beers to celebrate. It wasn’t like the movies, though. Even covered in DEET and holed up with boxes of ammo, we knew we weren’t gonna last against a third of Arkansas.”

Jaclyn pulls her sleeve down over her arm. “It’s terrible out there.”

“Here’s some water,” Micah offered.

“Thank you.”

“That rash on your arm… that’s from the heat?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s nothing much.”

“I can take a look at it.”

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

Micah pulled out his gun. Jerm swerved the car over to the side of the road. “Whoa, Micah! Holy shit! Quit playin’ with that thing!”

“I ain’t playin’. That’s a bug bite.”

Jaclyn shook her head. “No. It’s not–”

“Don’t lie to me, bitch. Our daddy had a bite like that before we found him gnawing on one of ma’s arms.”

“It’s just a little bite! I mean, it probably wasn’t even infected. Most bugs are just normal bugs, okay? I mean, if I start gnawing on people, you can shoot me.”

“Yeah, Micah! Maybe it’s not the end of the world. Just hold off for a sec!”

“Can’t take any chances. You and I both saw what happened to Little Rock, how fast it all happened. Jaclyn, please get out the car. You can keep the water. Here’s a few extra bottles, too. It’s not water, but you’ll thank me when you get thirsty enough.”

“You can’t be serious. Please! Just drop me off in the next town.”

“Micah–”

“Shut it, Jerm. Just step out of the car and there won’t be no trouble. You’re better off than when we found ya. Just be thankful for that.”

Jaclyn removed herself from the car, sobbing and cradling bottles of water and urine. When the door slammed, she dropped the bottles and put her hands on the windows. “Please!” she wailed through the glass.

Jerm looked straight ahead, not starting the car.

“What?”

“I ain’t talkin’ to you, man.”

“Just drive, Jerm. No more hitchhikers.”

A bottle of piss hits their back window as Jerm pulls away.

NORTH

“I’m gonna turn this car around.”

“Jerm, we did what we had to.”

“I’m not talkin’ to you.”

“You already said that.”

“I don’t like it, man. I come back home from fightin’ in one desert and now I’m out here in another. What the Hell, man? I’m back home and the killing just don’t stop. I don’t want to keep murderin’ people, Micah.”

“It wasn’t… Jerm. Listen to me. Back in Little Rock… that wasn’t our family out there. They were tortured, man. We had to put them to rest. And that girl was as good as dead, too.”

“Does that make it right?”

“They were already dead. We did what we had to.”

Jerm slams on the breaks.

“But she—Jaclyn—that girl back there? She was a human goddamn being! She was still alive, you jackass! You, me—we’re gonna have to live with that so don’t try to hide what we did with pretty words. It’s an insult to her and everyone else we left behind.”

“We did what we had to.”

“You already said that, Mikey.”

Jeremiah clicks on the only FM station running in the area and starts driving again. He keeps his eyes on the road; Micah stares out the window, looking at the barren landscape and the pink sunlight fading into the horizon. James Taylor is singing about fire and rain.

After about fifty or sixty miles, Jerm clears his throat. Micah looks ahead to see a buzzard with only one wing hobbling across the road. With the high beams on, they can see it only has one wing and its beak seems cracked and hanging slack.

“That thing dead?” Micah asks.

“Looks like it.” He starts to swerve toward the bird.

“Don’t… I don’t want to be scrapin’ bird parts off my car.”

“Whatever, man.” Jerm turns the while a little and they can hear the beak scrape along the side of the car.

Micah gives Jerm a look like he’s chewing on old gum and wants to find somewhere to spit.

“What? Just paint. Don’t worry so much, man. Take a nap for a while. We’ve both been up for a day and a half at least.”

Micah still has trouble sleeping but he’s able to fade away after not too long.

“Wake up!” Jerm swats at Micah. “It’s five in the morning and I think I’m seein’ things, like zombies outta the corner of my eye.”

“What the Hell’re you talkin’ ‘bout.” Micah rubs his eyes and stretches in his seat. It’s pitch black out but it will be morning soon. They awkwardly crawl around the seats to switch places. Micah grunts as he rolls the seat back up to the steering wheel. It sounds like a spine cracking.

“Where are we?”

“We just hit Colorado about thirty minutes or so back.”

“All right, Jerm. I got it.” He starts up the vehicle again and starts back down the highway.

The sun had just started peaking on the horizon. Something shadows were moving on the horizon. “Uh… Jerm?”

“What? I was just starting to drift off.”

“You know how  you said you were seein’ things?”

“Yeah?” Jerm took a second before he bolted upright. “What? Zombies?”

Micah pointed his finger toward the side of the highway. A large group of people were stumbling along the road, though it became increasingly obvious they weren’t people at all. They all had working legs, but some had chunks missing from them in most other places, maybe from the buzzards. The silhouette of a woman and child tripped over and pulled themselves back up to follow the group.

“Where the Hell do they think they’re going?”

“I’d reckon same way we are: North.”

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Filed under Session XXI

Carnage

“His brother. He was followed, then.” The man was cleaning off his knife with a white cloth.

Micah couldn’t speak. His mind was too warped with thoughts of murder and disbelief. His feet kept taking him forward, toward the carnage, toward the man with the knife and his brother’s presently lifeless body.

“He would not repent for his actions. A pity. He would have made a fine brother in the Rapturists.”

This was Micah’s only brother. His brother with whom he had shared his childhood. Their entire family, turned to zombies and slaughtered by his and Jerm’s own hands before they left town. His brother was all he had.

“Repent?” Micah croaked, barely sounding human.

“Yes. Raping a fellow officer. How uncouth.”

“It wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t rape? He told me as much. Ask that girl or her family. They’ll tell a different story. Your brother was marked by his sins. I merely carried him forward to his destiny.”

Micah wanted to cry, to laugh, to stain the world with this man’s blood. His feet took him forward.

“Will you repent, Micah? Do you repent for your sins?”

Never.

The man intended to slash Micah’s throat open, quick and clean. Micah’s arm moved in the way. The blade cut deep but Micah did not seem to feel it. He grabbed the man’s wrist with his good arm and bit down on his forearm. He screamed. Micah enjoyed that scream. He bit down through the flesh and the blood and the muscle until bone reached bone. He spit the flesh and the blood and the muscle from his mouth. The man screamed more. Micah enjoyed it too much to notice the fist meeting his temple. Or his brother devouring the chunk of flesh his own mouth had refused.

The man reached down for his knife with his good arm. Having a taste for his flesh, Jerm reached out hungrily and sunk his teeth into the other arm. Crucified by the teeth of the brothers, the man wept.

“God!” Whether he was calling for help or release, Micah decided on the latter. He tackled the man to the ground, his head cracking upon the rocks. Micah brought his boot down until his brains were ground meat.

Micah stepped back, fell back onto a large boulder and slid down. He watched his brother crawl forward, rip open the man’s gut, and feast on his innards. When Jeremiah was done feeding, Micah crushed his skull with a sharp rock.

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Filed under FEATHERTON II, Flash Fiction

Blockade (Revision)

“Wake up, shithead.” Jerm punched Micah in the shoulder.

“Ow! Fucker.”

“We’re in New Mexico.”

“So?”

“So, take the wheel. I’ma get sumthin’ to eat.”

“We almost there?”

“Prob’ly.”

“Jerm, you still mad?”

“I dunno, dipshit. Only happened a few hours ago. Don’t know how you get your beauty rest, Micah. She was human.”

Micah clenched his teeth. “Did what I had to. You remember Barbara?”

” ‘course I remember Barb. Nicest fuggin’ lady on the planet.”

“Bit by a fuggin’ little mosquito. Turned into a zombie.”

“You think I don’t remember that, Micah? We killed just about everyone in the God damned town! I don’t care if you’re the prodigal doctor, Mike, but Barbara was an old fuggin’ lady. Maybe Jaclyn–”

“I couldn’t take that risk! It’s done, Jerm! Drop it!”

Jerm bit down on his jerky stick and stared out the window. He wondered for a moment if he was dead and Hell was actually one big road trip with your older brother. Maybe they’d never get where they needed to go.

Micah cleared his throat. “We did what we had to… I think about what we did that day all the time.”

“I know, man. I know. Don’t worry ’bout it. Let’s just get to Albuquerque.”

Everything looks the same on this highway anyway. It’s all shrubs and dust. He and Micah tried turning on the radio but there’s pretty much no reception out here. Place is a shithole. Jerm always thought maybe he’d get into trouble and have to leave the state, but he never thought he’d be running from zombie skeeters.

“Shit!” Micah slammed on the brakes.

Jerm got thrown against the dashboard. He hadn’t buckled up.

“What the fuck, man!” He had been trying to take a nap.

“Blockade.”

“What? Run it.”

“They have guns!”

” ‘swhy we need to run it.”

“Jerm, I ain’t dying for you. I’m sorry. We can talk to these guys.”

“Yeah, and get our asses shot! Give me that!”

Jerm grabbed for the wheel and the car swerved off road. Micah pulled it back again. The car swerved back and forth until a shot rang out. Jerm smashed his head into the windshield. The busted tire made a few thuds before Micah slowed down to a full stop.

“Out of the car!” yelled a man with a rifle. “Let me see your hands!” Neither argued. The man signalled for some of his men to take apart the car. “What’s it look like?”

“Some food, sir! A lot of bottles back here. Looks like piss, sir!”

“Found a gun in the glove compartment,” another said.

“Good work. Confiscate that for now.” He turned to Jerm and Micah. “Mind tellin’ me who you boys are and where you’re going?”

“Dr. Micah Box. My brother, Jeremiah.” Jerm waved his hand. His head felt sticky and he was a little dizzy.

“You went to medical school?”

“Yes. I’m a physician.”

“I’ll be! Guess we lucked out!”

“If it’s not a problem, sir, we’d rather get going to Albuquerque.”

“Not a problem for me, son, if you want to become zombie chow. Albuquerque’s still getting cleaned out by our men. You’re in Moriarty now.”

“And you are?”

“Sergeant Baron Mash.”

“These are privates Richard Hatch and Arnold Ball. I like to call them ‘Dick’ and ‘Ball.’ Our sharpshooter over here is Corporal Mickey Taylor. We’re Border Guard. You stay with us, you’re Border Guard, too. We kill zombies. That’s it. We need more doctors, Micah. Someone gets bit, our policy is to shoot to kill, but people get sick and injured anyway. We’d be happy to have ya. Your brother handy with a gun?”

“Handy enough,” Micah says, looking over at Jerm. “Move your hand, dipshit.” Jerm takes his hand off his head. It’s bloody but his head’s not gushing. “You’ll be fine. There’s disinfectant in that bag your men took.”

Mash signalled for Ball to look through the bag and bring it over. Micah rummaged through it and took out some cottonballs and ethanol.

“See. We’re fine,” Micah whispered into Jerm’s ear.

“Yeah. Just keep your mouth shut and we’ll keep bein’ fine.”

“Hold still, you idjit!” Micah said aloud.

“Gentlemen, if you don’t mind, let’s get to camp. I’ll brief you on what’s been happening of late.”

“Guess we’re Border Guard now,” Micah shrugged.

“Yee-ha,” Jerm said without a hint of enthusiasm.

“Keep puttin’ pressure on that cotton ball.”

“Shut yer face!”

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Filed under FEATHERTON II, Flash Fiction

Army

“Heard through the grapevine that you were in Iraq,” Hatch said, trying to sound discrete.

“What’s wrong, Hatch?” Jerm asked “Worried I might outrank you and call you by your first name?” Richard Hatch. Everyone around Moriarty called him “Dick”, made funnier because his best friend was Private Arnold Ball. “What should I call you, then?” Jerm had asked him. “Ball. That’s my fuckin’ name, rookie.” Ball was a sensitive guy.

“Naw, man. Ball and I weren’t soldiers before the outbreak. I was just wonderin’ about the war and all.”

“You don’t think this is exciting enough? Bet you got war stories o’ your own.”

“Well…”

“Relax, Hatch. I was a civilian in the United States Army Corps of Engineers. Sent out into Iraq to build some schools is all.”

“Schools, huh?”

“Yeah. So, what’s up? You relieving me?”

“No. Ball. You seen him?”

“Shit break. Been a while now. Check the latrine if you want.” Jerm patted Hatch on the back and went back to his watch.

“Oh shit!” Hatch cried. “Oh Christ! Fuck!”

“What?” Jerm yelled. No answer. He went over to check on them, rifle pointed in the dark. “Hatch! What’s up?”

“He’s dead! Zeds got ‘im!”

“Zombies? Why the fuck?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“Hatch, move over. Move! Hatch… that looks like a stab wound.”

“I don’t know!”

“Hatch! Calm the fuck down! I’ll watch here. Go tell Sarge.”

“But…”

“Fuckin’ go, man!” Jerm watched him go, sighed deep and turned back to his post. “Fuck!” he cried, not sure what he was looking at. It was a black bag over a man’s head. Before he could raise his rifle, he got popped in the jaw. The man wrestled his gun away and pointed it at Jerm.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could have. Yes?”

“Yes! Yeah!”

“I know who you are, Jeremiah. Dishonorably discharged from the army. That kind of thing follows you, you know?”

“Who..?”

“I’m a messenger. You’ve piqued the interest of a higher power, Jeremiah. You should be proud.”

“Fuckin’ feelin’ great.”

“You have leave in three days. Leave at 0600. Keep walking west of your barracks and we’ll find you. Don’t show and we kill you and your brother. Tell anyone, and we’ll kill you and your brother. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He walked away and tossed the gun. Aside. The man was gone before he could retrieve his rifle.

“Shit!”

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Filed under FEATHERTON II, Flash Fiction

Blockade

“Wake up, shithead. We’re in New Mexico.” Jerm punched Micah in the shoulder.

“Ow! Fucker.”

“Take the wheel. I’ma get sumthin’ to eat.”

“Fine. You still mad at me about that girl?”

“What do you think, dipshit? You might have been able to get your beauty sleep after doin’ that, but I’ve been up thinking about it for the past few hours.”

“Look, Jerm. I did what I had to. You remember Barbara?”

” ‘course I remember Barb. Nicest fuggin’ lady on the planet.”

“Yeah, but she got bit by a mosquito and turned into a zombie. I couldn’t take that risk.”

“I don’t care if you’re the prodigal doctor, Mike, but Barbara was an old fuggin’ lady. Maybe Jaclyn–”

I couldn’t take that risk! It’s done, Jerm! Drop it!”

Jerm bit down on his granola bar and stared out the window. He wondered for a moment if he was dead and Hell was actually one big road trip with your older brother. Maybe they’d never get where they needed to go. Everything looks the same on this highway anyway. It’s all shrubs and dust. He and Micah tried turning on the radio but there’s pretty much no reception out here. Place is a shithole. Jerm always thought maybe he’d get into trouble and have to leave the state, but he never thought he’d be running from zombie skeeters. Jerm got thrown against the dashboard. He hadn’t buckled up.

“Micah! What the fuck, man! Why we slowin’ down?”

“Blockade.”

“Shit! Run it.”

“What? They have guns!”

“Exactly. That’s why we need to run it.”

“Jerm, I ain’t dying for you. I’m sorry. We can talk to these guys.”

“Yeah, and get our asses shot and robbed! Give me that!”

Jerm grabbed for the wheel and the car swerved off road. Micah pulled it back again. The car swerved back and forth until a shot rang out. Jerm smashed his head into the windshield. The busted tire made a few thuds before Micah slowed down to a full stop.

“Out of the car!” yelled a man with a rifle. “Let me see your hands!” Neither argued. The man signalled for some of his men to take apart the car. “What’s it look like?”

“Some food, sir! A lot of bottles back here. Looks like piss, sir!”

“Found a gun in the glove compartment,” another said.

“Good work. Confiscate that for now.” He turned to Jerm and Micah. “Mind tellin’ me who you boys are and where you’re going?”

“Dr. Micah Box. My brother, Jeremiah.” Jerm waved his hand. His head felt sticky and he was a little dizzy.

“You went to medical school?”

“Yes. I’m a physician.”

“I’ll be! Guess we lucked out!”

“If it’s not a problem, sir, we’d rather get going to Albuquerque.”

“Not a problem for me, son, if you want to become zombie chow. Albuquerque’s still getting cleaned out by our men. You’re in Moriarty now.”

“And you are?”

“Sergeant Baron Mash. Men call me ‘Tennessee.'”

“Cute.”

“Micah, I think we’ll get along fine, but if you ever call me cute again, I will run my boot so far up my ass, you’ll be pissing leather.”

“Understood.”

“Good. These are privates Richard Hatch and Arnold Ball. We call them ‘Dick’ and ‘Ball.’ Our sharpshooter over here is Corporal Mickey Taylor. We’re Border Guard. You stay with us, you’re Border Guard, too. We kill zombies. That’s it. We need more doctors, Micah. We’d be happy to have ya. Your brother handy with a gun?”

“Handy enough,” Micah says, looking over at Jerm. “Move your hand, dipshit.” Jerm takes his hand off his head. It’s and red but it’s not gushing. “You’ll be fine. There’s disinfectant in that bag your men took.”

Mash signalled for Ball to look through the bag and bring it over. Micah rummaged through it and took out some cottonballs and ethyl alcohol.

“See. We’re fine,” Micah whispered into Jerm’s ear.

“I still hate your guts.”

“Some things never change. Hold still, you idjit.”

“Gentlemen, if you don’t mind, let’s get to camp. I’ll brief you on what’s been happening of late.”

“Guess we’re Border Guard now,” Micah shrugged.

“Yee-ha,” Jerm said without a hint of enthusiasm.

“Put more pressure on that cotton ball.”

“Shut up.”

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Filed under FEATHERTON II, Flash Fiction

Road Trip

Jerm kept pushing the CD into the Buick’s deck.

“Dammit, Micah! Fuggin’ CD’s all scratched the fuck up. You got anythin’ else?”

“Should work. Just got the CD player installed last year.”

“Yeah, well, it don’t! Looks like sumun’ tried to fuck it with a razor dick.”

“The fuck’s a razor dick?”

“It’s like a dick with a razor… you know?”

“No. I don’t fucking know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just as long as you don’t whip out your razor dick to do it.”

“Just keep drivin’, Micah. Sick o’ your bullshit.”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? You want to take the wheel? I’ve been drivin’ since Oklahoma.”

Jerm tipped his hat down over his eyes. “Hey. I need my shut eye, boss. Yer doin’ such a good job innyway.”

“Fuck you, man. You’re driving the rest of the way. I gotta take a piss.”

“Ahh, bullshit. We should open a lemonade stand, we got so much stored back there.”

“You know we can’t take any chances, Jerm. Jus’ take the wheel and shut yer trap for a sec.”

“I got it. Just don’t slash apart all our water bottles wit’ yer cock and make a mess.”

“You gonna take the wheel or do you want to hold it for me while I go?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Jerm sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was never much for taking naps. “Hope we can get to New Mexico soon.”

“Desert’s the place to be, Jerm. Not enough life around there to be zombie food.”

“Speakin’ of, we got ourselves a hitchhiker.”

“Just drive by.”

“But she’s hot.”

“Dammit, Jerm! Just drive!”

“What are you, gay?”

“Motherfucker. At least let me put it back in my pants. Hand me the gun.”

“What? She ain’t a zombie.”

“She still has teeth, don’t she? Just hand me the gun.”

Without opening the windows, Jerm signalled for the woman to crawl into the passenger side.

“You guys are life savers. Name’s Jaclyn.”

“Jeremiah. This one’s my brother, Micah.”

“Kinda queer bein’ stuck all the way out here,” Micah said.

“Yeah, well. My car ran out of gas a few miles back. I’m from Odessa, but I hear North is the way to go right now. The walking dead! I still can’t believe it.”

“Sure ’nuff!” Jerm laughed. “We’re both comin’ outta Little Rock. Damn skeeters are turnin’ people into flesh eaters! Deserts dry enough so they don’t breed at all. That right, Micah?”

“Yeah… so, Jaclyn. You up here all by your lonesome?”

“Well, I have some family headed up to the Northern states, see if they can get into Canada. I took a while getting out ‘cuz my boyfriend wouldn’t leave. I don’t know. Guess I was bein’ dumb wanting to stay with him in zombie country. He’s the type who thinks he can fend ’em all off with a shotgun and a baseball bat.”

“Sounds like a fuggin’ loser, pardon my French. Well, it’s good that you ran into us. Don’t want to get caught out there with zombie’s lurkin’.”

“Yeah. It’s been pretty hot out too.” Jaclyn pulled her sleeve down.

“Here’s some water,” Micah offered.

“Thank you.”

“That rash on your arm… that’s from the heat?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s nothing much.”

“I can take a look at it.”

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

Micah pulled out his gun. Jerm swerved the car over to the side of the road. “Whoa, Micah! Holy shit! Quit playin’ with that thing!”

“I ain’t playin’. That’s a bug bite.”

Jaclyn shook her head. “No. It’s not–”

“Don’t lie to me, bitch. Our daddy had a bite like that before we found him gnawing on one of ma’s arms.”

“It’s just a little bite! I mean, I’m young! I can probably fight it off, right?”

“Yeah, Micah! Maybe it’s not the end of the world. Just hold off for a sec!”

“Can’t take any chances. Get out the car, Jaclyn. You can keep the water. Here’s a few extra bottles, too. It’s not water, but you’ll thank me when you get thirsty enough.”

“You can’t be serious. Please! Just drop me off in the next town.”

“Micah–”

“Shut up, Jerm. Just step out of the car and there won’t be no trouble. You’re better off than when we found ya. Just be thankful for that.”

Jaclyn removed herself from the car, sobbing and cradling bottles of water and urine. When the door slammed, she dropped the bottles and put her hands on the windows. “Please!” she wailed through the glass.

“That was a pretty shitty thing to do, Micah. You know that?”

“Just drive, Jerm. No more hitchhikers.”

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Filed under FEATHERTON SESSION, Flash Fiction