Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
It's time to have more zombie fun! Today we have another excerpt from my LGBTQ zom-rom-com Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 4 - Zombies, Zendra, and Ziegfeld Follies. Despite Paul taking a sound beating at the hands of Mercury and his people, he still refuses to divulge any information about himself or his small group of loved ones. Mercury then decides to push our leading man a little harder...
This story contains crude language, gore because of the darn zombies, and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering. Our word prompt for the week is "Write".
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I hung there between two big lugs, my eyes roaming the landscape trying to find something - anything- that would give me a clue as to where I now was. The two runners sent to fetch Iris returned. One dragged a young teenager of perhaps fifteen behind him. The girl looked to be Inuit. Her dark brown eyes were wide with fear. Her clothes hung off her frail frame in tatters. My sickly stomach rolled over when Iris was thrown to the ground in front of Mercury. His eyes never left mine as the girl whimpered and hugged herself tightly, eyes squeezed shut, tears tracking through several layers of dirt on her face.
"Mr. Pitt, this is Iris. She was supposed to head to the border with you and a few others, but since she's already been broken in..." a few animals behind me made leering noises and grunts, "... she's not nearly as valuable as she had been."
"So you're human traffickers? Slavers?" I asked my voice a mere shade of what it usually was. It had taken a mere year for the scum to start preying on their fellow survivors. Sometimes I truly hated humanity and wished I could write off most of those left behind. Mercury reached for his hat, lifted it with panache, and pulled out what appeared to be my damn Smith & Wesson from under the dusty Fedora. My knife and the shattered remains of my walkie-talkie also lay on the table. Sight locked with mine he pointed my gun at the head of the cowering teen at his feet. I lunged forward but was jerked back as Iris screamed and threw her arms over her head.
"Slavers is such an ugly word. We prefer "population redistributors" since we move people from one location to another. So, Mr. Pitt, give me your name and where you're from or I put one of your bullets into the head of the not-so-valuable anymore Iris." He flipped off the safety, his manic eyes glowing with pleasure. One dark eyebrow crept up his forehead. "I'll give you to the count of one starting with one." His finger slid back and forth over the trigger. "One."
"NO!" I shouted then started blabbing. "My name is Paul Cooke; I'm from a small town in New York State. My husband and I were both in education before the—"
Mercury's eyes widened. The barrel of my gun lowered just a fraction of an inch."Did you say husband? Are you queer, Mr. Cooke?"
"Flamingly so," I replied with a wee bit of tart. Maybe it just sounded like tart to me. Probably it sounded sickly to the rest. My tart was probably lacking.
Copyright 2016 ©by V.L. Locey
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