Gabe Redel's Blog: FRYING POTATOES BLOG, page 8
June 12, 2016
Scar Tissue
Scar Tissue
by Gabe Redel
Now I see why men
use women for sex.
I see why women
use men like dogs.
If a person walks along
his or her path
with heavy weights crushing
them down, then once
that person
walks for long enough
under those weights, the person
becomes stronger.
Soon the person walks smoothly
as if the weights
were no longer a bother.
But when they first had begun
the walk,
they never believed they would have been able
to move easily under all that weight.
They felt crushed and helpless and in a lot of confusion.
The weight of a broken heart
can be carried without pain.
It can be carried lightly
and effortlessly,
but the real weight
is the scar tissue
that blocks the heart
from wanting to care enough
not to hurt another person.
Many people
no longer care enough
to want love.
B is for Bombs
B is for Bombs
by Gabe Redel
We were told that words
should be like walls.
The only way those words
shouldn’t stand
is if war breaks out
and they are torn down.
Words to many
are more like bombs.
They are only used as weapons,
and after they’ve dropped
they are meaningless until
the next battle.
A Bug's Home
A Bug’s Home
by Gabe Redel
We walked over muddy trails
that made our feet slip out
from underneath us.
Our eyes were on a keen look out
for snakes at our feet
and spiders at head level.
As the trail continued,
and as we grew smaller in the thick
of the woods, our senses heightened.
It seemed that swarms of insects
were above our heads.
And every direction was a new tombstone
with our names on it.
The trail became narrow.
The minutes sped into hours.
We crossed a fallen log.
We made a decision at the fork in the road.
And everything that was once chaos
became our pleasure.
The Run
The Run
by Gabe Redel
Just below the low sun
is a body
pressed by oppression,
as if the sun
were right on his shoulders.
His suffering
guides his journey
into battle.
The rise of warriors smooth his path.
Continually stretching toward victory
pulls on his arms and legs
in places that haven’t healed.
The war fights his mind
as he rounds the field pond
and ducks into the shadow of the woods.
His first struggle is on the hill.
It breaks his stride and his sweat.
His lungs burn down to his legs.
But the chant his people sing
pushes through his mind
and soaks into his bones.
Strength rises not from his muscles
but from his mind as it
subdues his body to do his will.
He presses against his oppressor
knowing that it is better to find strength
in suffering
than it is to die to weakness.
Like Death, Love
Like Death, Love
by Gabe Redel
Like death
love happens.
One second I was frustrated,
the next I pulled up alongside her randomly
at a park that she never visited.
Never foreshadowed.
It was the furthest from my mind.
My attention had been on my friend
who I had seen headed out for a run.
Then everything I was living
suddenly disappeared.
It came without a warning.
It came when I had not planned.
Of course, love is not death.
I did not lose my life.
I did not fall into eternal blackness.
I did not lose control of my physical nature.
Love gave me a new nature.
January 24, 2016
Revenge for the Dead
Author's Note: This short story title "Revenge for the Dead" is another installment in the series "The Guy Who Gets Killed." If you don't know what that series is about, it is aimed to give the guy in the story who is destined to die his or her time in the spotlight. Why? Because those characters never get any attention in stories like these because their one role in the story is to die anyways. Hope you enjoy!
Revenge for the Dead
by Gabe Redel
A sick man was limping down the steep hill in the dark. The winter air was chilled, and he had no jacket to cover his skin. His jeans were torn. Dane could see the shreds hanging from his knees.
Dane called out, “Hello,” as he shut the truck door behind him.
No response, but the strange looking fellow continued to limp towards him.
“Janie, get back in the truck,” he said to his girlfriend who had both of their rucksacks in her arms.
“Who is that?” she asked.
“I don’t know? He won’t talk back. Hey!” he called again. This time, the man moaned but then tripped and fell. The hill was so steep that he couldn’t keep himself from tumbling uncontrollably. He rolled head over heels, tumbling down like a rag doll; his body beating against the ground. At the end, he slammed hard onto the flat surface.
“Oh, man,” Dane winced.
“Go check on him,” Janie said. “He’s not moving.”
“I will, but get in the house.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll only get in the way.”
Several gun shots rang out in the distance. Then three more fired after those.
“What is going on?” Dane shook his head. Janie’s eyes were big and dark like coals under the starlight. “Get in the house, Janie. Do it!” He said as he turned to check on the man who had fallen. She didn’t hesitate to listen this time. She hurried up to the front door, watched for a second more, and then stepped inside to her roommate who was rocking-out to loud music while cooking.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what, sexy?” Verra asked. She was wearing a tight white T-shirt with no bra underneath.
“The gunshots.”
“No, what gunshots?” She turned off the music.
“Outside, a few seconds ago.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes!”
Dane was just getting up to the man who had fallen down the hill. The man was lying flat on his face. He wasn’t moving, and by what Dane could see, he wasn’t in good shape. He had cuts and bruises all over his arms and legs. The color of his skin was off as well. It looked kind of pasty, like his blood had stopped circulating properly.
“Dude,” Dane said, “are you okay?” He shook the man’s shoulder until he heard a soft moan. “Dude, I’m here to help you. Can you move? Do you have any broken bones?” The strange fellow moaned again and then wiggled his foot. “Okay, you can move, but apparently you can’t talk?” Dane took him by the arm. He could feel that this man was rock hard. He tugged on him to try and get him to roll over, but at first he wouldn’t budge. Then, out of know-where, the man burst into action. He flipped over fast and hard, punching Dane in the face and knocking him to the ground. Before Dane could gather himself, the man had jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He clawed and bit at Dane’s flesh with bewildering power.
Dane screamed in horror. He fought with the man until he was finally able to get himself free. He stood up and pleaded with him. “Dude, I was trying to help you.”
The man stood up too. At first he stumbled, but Dane could see by the man’s posture that he was ready to attack again. He lunged, hands out in front and mouth opened wide like he wanted to rip a hole in his flesh with his teeth. Dane stepped to the side and let his attacker fly right by. With the man’s back turned, he gave him a sweeping kick to both legs. The man flipped up and crashed hard onto his back. When he hit, a cloud of blood blew out from his mouth, and for the first time, Dane got a good look at the ugly fellow’s face. It was gruesome. Blood was spilling from his lips and his yellow eyes were sunk deep into his skull. His skin was pale and splitting around the ears, nose, and eyes. It looked as if the man had torn chunks of hair out of his own scalp.
Dane gagged and ran into the house.
Inside, the girls were tense. They had been watching out the window.
“Did that guy just attack you?” Janie asked.
“Yeah, that dude is messed up.”
“From falling down the hill? Did he hit his head?”
“Something like that. He’s nuts. He tried biting me.” Dane ran up the stairs. When he came back down, he had a handgun and a bag of loaded magazines.
“Dane, what are you doing?” Janie asked.
He moved to the window and looked out. “Just as I thought. That gimpy freak is coming back. Stay down.”
“Is the door locked?” Verra asked between hard breaths.
“Turn off the light.”
Janie ran to hit the switch.
An echo of more gunshots rang out over the hill and through the valleys. They could hear the streets coming alive with the sound of screams and shouts.
“They’re shooting again.” Verra ran to her room to get changed.
Dane inched toward the door. The handgun was under his chin. He looked out the peephole and saw that hideous face of the demented man that had tried to bite his flesh. “What do you want!” Dane yelled, sharply, but the man only beat on the door with his fists. “You better say something!” he yelled, again. The door was bending out and vibrating with his punches.
Verra came running back down the stairs fully dressed. “Did you call the police?” she asked Janie who had her phone in her hand.
“Yes, but nobody answered. The line is blank. 911 is blank!”
More loud thumps rattled the door. “That’s it,” Dane said, “this guy isn’t giving up.”
“He’s probably mad because you kicked him,” Verra accused.
Dane ignored her. He took a deep breath and then flung the door open. The sick man tripped straight toward him with his arms outstretched, but Dane put four bullets in his chest and one in his forehead. The shot that went through his skull was the one that stopped him from advancing. He snapped backwards onto the patio and slid down the steps.
“Dane, you just killed someone!” Janie screamed.
“Not someone, Janie. Something. Look at him.” He called her over so that she could see that this man was no longer human. “Do you see what I’m talking about, now? He’s messed up. He’s like a zombie.”
Janie was about to get sick. She had to turn away.
“A zombie, Dane?” Verra questioned him. “You just murdered someone, and now you’re saying he was a zombie. Maybe he was just handicapped?”
“You think I’m a murderer?” He ran back into the house and stood up tall to her.
“I think you’ve always had a mean streak in you. I wouldn’t put murder past you. That’s all I’m saying.” She backed away.
“My thoughts are the same about you. Besides, he came charging at me through the door!”
“He was falling forward because you opened it so quickly.”
“Bull! He was trying to hurt me, like he did out there. I’m lucky I’m not the one dead right now. Would you rather have that?” Verra cocked her head back and looked away. “And judging from your silence, I think you would.”
“Stop, Dane. We have bigger problems to deal with. The police line is still busy,” Janie said.
“How can 911 be busy? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. And why are you calling them anyways? You want to blame me for a murder too?” Dane took a step toward her in a threatening manner. The way in which he moved scared Janie so bad that she dropped the phone. It broke into pieces. Louder gunshots rang into the streets. These ones sounded a lot closer. The three of them froze. “What is going on out there?” Dane inched his way back toward the door. He peeked out and saw the man that he had gunned down earlier was in the same place, but there wasn’t much blood running from the corpse. Dane was a hunter, and he knew how much a body that size should be bleeding after being shot, especially having been shot four times in the chest and once in the head.
The two girls gathered up the pieces of the broken phone. “Why do you put up with him, Janie?” Verra asked. She put her hand on Janie’s back and massaged it gently.
“What do you mean?”
“I know how he treats you. You looked like he was about to beat you. You have that dead look in your eyes like he’s done it before. Just because your dad did those things to you doesn’t mean that you should let him . . .”
Janie cut her off. “Don’t say that!” she snapped. Verra’s palm began to sweat against Janie’s back.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to push the conversation any further. She knew that Janie was unbelievably uncomfortable when talking about her abusive childhood.
“Dane had a hard childhood too. I love him,” she defended her boyfriend.
“But that still doesn’t make it right.”
Janie clenched her fists and threw her hair back.
“Oh, no. Aww, no.” The girls heard Dane from outside. “Oh, no,” he said again.
Janie jumped up and ran out to see what he was groaning about. “What’s wrong, baby” she asked.
“Oh, look at this.” He pointed to a group of people coming down the street toward their house.
“Is this a riot or something?” Verra, who was now huddled in behind the two of them, asked.
“I don’t know, but look at them. Do they look normal to you?”
“I don’t know?”
“They are moving like this freak-show was moving.” He kicked the corpse. “They are all walking like they have no brains. Oh, no. This can’t be real. This cannot be real. Janie, turn on the news.” Janie’s hands were shaking she was so frightened. She dropped the phone again. It shattered at her feet, but she still didn’t move. “Janie? Janie!” Dane lost his temper, reared back, and banged into her with the point of his shoulder like he were trying to tackling a running back. He hit her so hard that he would have sent her sailing off her feet, but instead she slammed into the door jam head first.
She put her hand on her head and said, “Ow.” Verra came to her aid and tried to console her, but she was so out-of-her-mind with fear that she didn’t even realize that somebody was touching her. She barely acknowledged the fact that her boyfriend had just slammed her into the wall for not listening. Panicking, she pushed Verra away as she stumbled toward the TV. It took her a few seconds before she remembered why she was there. When she found the power switch, she flipped it on and waited for the lights to burn. “Guys,” she called.
“What are they saying?” Dane called back.
“We are in a state of emergency. We are suppose to evacuate the city!”
“What?”
“We are suppose to evacuate . . .”
“I heard you the first time.” Dane had come in.
“What’s happening. Is this real?”
“Yes it’s real!” Verra cried out. “We have to go. We need to get our bags packed and run!”
“Hold on,” Dane said. He listened to the broadcast.
Bantham City is in a state of emergency. It is highly recommended that every citizen begin to prepare clothing and supplies for travel. A city wide evacuation has been announced. Wait, I have an incoming message. The broadcaster listened carefully. Suddenly, a sickened look came over her face. Oh, dear Lord help us. I am being told that we need to stop everything we are doing and immediately get into our vehicles and drive. Do not prepare bags. Leave immediately. There is not enough time or you may risk death. We at the news-station are no exception. We will be terminating the live broadcast in thirty seconds and will be running a loop for anybody who has not seen the news yet. Pray for the safety of those who have not been infected with the Trict Parasite. Pray for their safety and pray for those who have already been infected and have been turned into the walking dead. Dr. Prather has not spoken since the outbreak and has offered no cure. I will leave you with this final thought: get out as fast as you can.
The newsreel then ended. The screen went blank for a few seconds before the beginning of the recording started playing. The three of them stood in horror.
“We better go,” Janie said, but Dane wasn’t listening. He only stared into the depths of his angry mind. “We better leave, now. Dane. Dane?” She shook his shoulder and then spoke into his ear. “Dane?”
“What!” he exploded. He grabbed her by the shirt and by the hair and ripped her across his body. She flew out of control and slammed hard into the wooden chairs, hitting one of them so hard that it broke, and flipped over the top of them, splitting her forehead on the table. Dishes flew everywhere, shattering on the hard tile floor. A smirk was on Dane’s face as he watched his girlfriend roll around on the floor holding her knee, moaning, but when Verra tried running to help her, Dane grabbed her and held her back. His demeanor immediately changed when she looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t know what happened to me.” He shook a tuft of Janie’s hair out of his fingers. “I saw black. I blanked out.” He ran over to help Janie up. “Janie, I’m sorry, babe. You’re not hurt. I didn’t do that much. Get up.” He tried pulling her up, but she didn’t want to bend her knee.
“Leave her alone, Dane,” Verra said, but Dane ignored her.
“Get up, Janie. You aren’t hurt.” Janie bit her lip in pain and fought to stand up. She limped around and then realized her head was bleeding. She covered it with the palm of her hand. “It’s just a little blood. Here.” He gave her a dish towel to stop the bleeding. She pressed it against the wound. She had no emotion on her face. She was terrified. Her eyes were locked open and her mouth had a stiff frown on it. “Get those rucksacks. We need to go. Janie? Janie, do you hear me? Are you okay?” She nodded. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t mean to. Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she said, softly.
“Okay, now give me a kiss. We will get through this.” She looked him in the eyes and kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Okay, I don’t want to hurt you, Janie. I just get a little tense trying to do what’s best. What’s best for all of us.” He moved toward the door with the gun in his hand.
“What are you doing?” Verra asked.
“You two go get a few more supplies. I’m going to have a little fun.”
“What?” Verra asked. He released the used magazine from the gun. It hit the ground with a clank and he slid a full one into its place. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Ha,” he laughed. “In stories like these, guys like me don’t get killed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve got the girl. She loves me and she’s the best looking girl in the story, by a long-shot,” he said, trying his hardest to insult her. Then he said, “I’m goin’ huntin’.”
“So, I’m the ugly one who is supposed to die?” Verra had a handful of her shirt twisted in her fist.
“You are definitely the ugly one.” He smirked and then ran out the door headed straight for the thick of the walking dead. His shots rang out as he put bullets into their heads. The girls could hear his hoots and hollers as they gathered up their emergency gear and jumped into Dane’s truck.
Janie was behind the wheel. She turned the key and pulled out of the driveway. The engine caught the attention of a large group of zombies who where breaking into the house above them at the top of the hill. Several of them chased after the truck.
Dane was halfway down the block. A trail of bodies was behind him and a giant group of zombies was ahead of him. Fire was blasting from the barrel of his gun as he loaded their flesh with metal. He heard the truck coming. He knew it was his truck by the sound of the engine.
“‘Bout time,” he said as he shot out more rounds. Then he turned and took a few steps toward the girls so that he could get to the vehicle quicker, but the truck didn’t stop for him. As it passed, all he saw was Verra giving him the bird and Janie staring straight past him as she turned the corner and sped away. He was so shocked that he didn’t know that the mass of zombies was already on top of him. They took him by the arms and dragged him to the ground. Suffocating under the pile, he was torn to pieces.
Revenge for the Dead
by Gabe Redel
A sick man was limping down the steep hill in the dark. The winter air was chilled, and he had no jacket to cover his skin. His jeans were torn. Dane could see the shreds hanging from his knees.
Dane called out, “Hello,” as he shut the truck door behind him.
No response, but the strange looking fellow continued to limp towards him.
“Janie, get back in the truck,” he said to his girlfriend who had both of their rucksacks in her arms.
“Who is that?” she asked.
“I don’t know? He won’t talk back. Hey!” he called again. This time, the man moaned but then tripped and fell. The hill was so steep that he couldn’t keep himself from tumbling uncontrollably. He rolled head over heels, tumbling down like a rag doll; his body beating against the ground. At the end, he slammed hard onto the flat surface.
“Oh, man,” Dane winced.
“Go check on him,” Janie said. “He’s not moving.”
“I will, but get in the house.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll only get in the way.”
Several gun shots rang out in the distance. Then three more fired after those.
“What is going on?” Dane shook his head. Janie’s eyes were big and dark like coals under the starlight. “Get in the house, Janie. Do it!” He said as he turned to check on the man who had fallen. She didn’t hesitate to listen this time. She hurried up to the front door, watched for a second more, and then stepped inside to her roommate who was rocking-out to loud music while cooking.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what, sexy?” Verra asked. She was wearing a tight white T-shirt with no bra underneath.
“The gunshots.”
“No, what gunshots?” She turned off the music.
“Outside, a few seconds ago.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes!”
Dane was just getting up to the man who had fallen down the hill. The man was lying flat on his face. He wasn’t moving, and by what Dane could see, he wasn’t in good shape. He had cuts and bruises all over his arms and legs. The color of his skin was off as well. It looked kind of pasty, like his blood had stopped circulating properly.
“Dude,” Dane said, “are you okay?” He shook the man’s shoulder until he heard a soft moan. “Dude, I’m here to help you. Can you move? Do you have any broken bones?” The strange fellow moaned again and then wiggled his foot. “Okay, you can move, but apparently you can’t talk?” Dane took him by the arm. He could feel that this man was rock hard. He tugged on him to try and get him to roll over, but at first he wouldn’t budge. Then, out of know-where, the man burst into action. He flipped over fast and hard, punching Dane in the face and knocking him to the ground. Before Dane could gather himself, the man had jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He clawed and bit at Dane’s flesh with bewildering power.
Dane screamed in horror. He fought with the man until he was finally able to get himself free. He stood up and pleaded with him. “Dude, I was trying to help you.”
The man stood up too. At first he stumbled, but Dane could see by the man’s posture that he was ready to attack again. He lunged, hands out in front and mouth opened wide like he wanted to rip a hole in his flesh with his teeth. Dane stepped to the side and let his attacker fly right by. With the man’s back turned, he gave him a sweeping kick to both legs. The man flipped up and crashed hard onto his back. When he hit, a cloud of blood blew out from his mouth, and for the first time, Dane got a good look at the ugly fellow’s face. It was gruesome. Blood was spilling from his lips and his yellow eyes were sunk deep into his skull. His skin was pale and splitting around the ears, nose, and eyes. It looked as if the man had torn chunks of hair out of his own scalp.
Dane gagged and ran into the house.
Inside, the girls were tense. They had been watching out the window.
“Did that guy just attack you?” Janie asked.
“Yeah, that dude is messed up.”
“From falling down the hill? Did he hit his head?”
“Something like that. He’s nuts. He tried biting me.” Dane ran up the stairs. When he came back down, he had a handgun and a bag of loaded magazines.
“Dane, what are you doing?” Janie asked.
He moved to the window and looked out. “Just as I thought. That gimpy freak is coming back. Stay down.”
“Is the door locked?” Verra asked between hard breaths.
“Turn off the light.”
Janie ran to hit the switch.
An echo of more gunshots rang out over the hill and through the valleys. They could hear the streets coming alive with the sound of screams and shouts.
“They’re shooting again.” Verra ran to her room to get changed.
Dane inched toward the door. The handgun was under his chin. He looked out the peephole and saw that hideous face of the demented man that had tried to bite his flesh. “What do you want!” Dane yelled, sharply, but the man only beat on the door with his fists. “You better say something!” he yelled, again. The door was bending out and vibrating with his punches.
Verra came running back down the stairs fully dressed. “Did you call the police?” she asked Janie who had her phone in her hand.
“Yes, but nobody answered. The line is blank. 911 is blank!”
More loud thumps rattled the door. “That’s it,” Dane said, “this guy isn’t giving up.”
“He’s probably mad because you kicked him,” Verra accused.
Dane ignored her. He took a deep breath and then flung the door open. The sick man tripped straight toward him with his arms outstretched, but Dane put four bullets in his chest and one in his forehead. The shot that went through his skull was the one that stopped him from advancing. He snapped backwards onto the patio and slid down the steps.
“Dane, you just killed someone!” Janie screamed.
“Not someone, Janie. Something. Look at him.” He called her over so that she could see that this man was no longer human. “Do you see what I’m talking about, now? He’s messed up. He’s like a zombie.”
Janie was about to get sick. She had to turn away.
“A zombie, Dane?” Verra questioned him. “You just murdered someone, and now you’re saying he was a zombie. Maybe he was just handicapped?”
“You think I’m a murderer?” He ran back into the house and stood up tall to her.
“I think you’ve always had a mean streak in you. I wouldn’t put murder past you. That’s all I’m saying.” She backed away.
“My thoughts are the same about you. Besides, he came charging at me through the door!”
“He was falling forward because you opened it so quickly.”
“Bull! He was trying to hurt me, like he did out there. I’m lucky I’m not the one dead right now. Would you rather have that?” Verra cocked her head back and looked away. “And judging from your silence, I think you would.”
“Stop, Dane. We have bigger problems to deal with. The police line is still busy,” Janie said.
“How can 911 be busy? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. And why are you calling them anyways? You want to blame me for a murder too?” Dane took a step toward her in a threatening manner. The way in which he moved scared Janie so bad that she dropped the phone. It broke into pieces. Louder gunshots rang into the streets. These ones sounded a lot closer. The three of them froze. “What is going on out there?” Dane inched his way back toward the door. He peeked out and saw the man that he had gunned down earlier was in the same place, but there wasn’t much blood running from the corpse. Dane was a hunter, and he knew how much a body that size should be bleeding after being shot, especially having been shot four times in the chest and once in the head.
The two girls gathered up the pieces of the broken phone. “Why do you put up with him, Janie?” Verra asked. She put her hand on Janie’s back and massaged it gently.
“What do you mean?”
“I know how he treats you. You looked like he was about to beat you. You have that dead look in your eyes like he’s done it before. Just because your dad did those things to you doesn’t mean that you should let him . . .”
Janie cut her off. “Don’t say that!” she snapped. Verra’s palm began to sweat against Janie’s back.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to push the conversation any further. She knew that Janie was unbelievably uncomfortable when talking about her abusive childhood.
“Dane had a hard childhood too. I love him,” she defended her boyfriend.
“But that still doesn’t make it right.”
Janie clenched her fists and threw her hair back.
“Oh, no. Aww, no.” The girls heard Dane from outside. “Oh, no,” he said again.
Janie jumped up and ran out to see what he was groaning about. “What’s wrong, baby” she asked.
“Oh, look at this.” He pointed to a group of people coming down the street toward their house.
“Is this a riot or something?” Verra, who was now huddled in behind the two of them, asked.
“I don’t know, but look at them. Do they look normal to you?”
“I don’t know?”
“They are moving like this freak-show was moving.” He kicked the corpse. “They are all walking like they have no brains. Oh, no. This can’t be real. This cannot be real. Janie, turn on the news.” Janie’s hands were shaking she was so frightened. She dropped the phone again. It shattered at her feet, but she still didn’t move. “Janie? Janie!” Dane lost his temper, reared back, and banged into her with the point of his shoulder like he were trying to tackling a running back. He hit her so hard that he would have sent her sailing off her feet, but instead she slammed into the door jam head first.
She put her hand on her head and said, “Ow.” Verra came to her aid and tried to console her, but she was so out-of-her-mind with fear that she didn’t even realize that somebody was touching her. She barely acknowledged the fact that her boyfriend had just slammed her into the wall for not listening. Panicking, she pushed Verra away as she stumbled toward the TV. It took her a few seconds before she remembered why she was there. When she found the power switch, she flipped it on and waited for the lights to burn. “Guys,” she called.
“What are they saying?” Dane called back.
“We are in a state of emergency. We are suppose to evacuate the city!”
“What?”
“We are suppose to evacuate . . .”
“I heard you the first time.” Dane had come in.
“What’s happening. Is this real?”
“Yes it’s real!” Verra cried out. “We have to go. We need to get our bags packed and run!”
“Hold on,” Dane said. He listened to the broadcast.
Bantham City is in a state of emergency. It is highly recommended that every citizen begin to prepare clothing and supplies for travel. A city wide evacuation has been announced. Wait, I have an incoming message. The broadcaster listened carefully. Suddenly, a sickened look came over her face. Oh, dear Lord help us. I am being told that we need to stop everything we are doing and immediately get into our vehicles and drive. Do not prepare bags. Leave immediately. There is not enough time or you may risk death. We at the news-station are no exception. We will be terminating the live broadcast in thirty seconds and will be running a loop for anybody who has not seen the news yet. Pray for the safety of those who have not been infected with the Trict Parasite. Pray for their safety and pray for those who have already been infected and have been turned into the walking dead. Dr. Prather has not spoken since the outbreak and has offered no cure. I will leave you with this final thought: get out as fast as you can.
The newsreel then ended. The screen went blank for a few seconds before the beginning of the recording started playing. The three of them stood in horror.
“We better go,” Janie said, but Dane wasn’t listening. He only stared into the depths of his angry mind. “We better leave, now. Dane. Dane?” She shook his shoulder and then spoke into his ear. “Dane?”
“What!” he exploded. He grabbed her by the shirt and by the hair and ripped her across his body. She flew out of control and slammed hard into the wooden chairs, hitting one of them so hard that it broke, and flipped over the top of them, splitting her forehead on the table. Dishes flew everywhere, shattering on the hard tile floor. A smirk was on Dane’s face as he watched his girlfriend roll around on the floor holding her knee, moaning, but when Verra tried running to help her, Dane grabbed her and held her back. His demeanor immediately changed when she looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t know what happened to me.” He shook a tuft of Janie’s hair out of his fingers. “I saw black. I blanked out.” He ran over to help Janie up. “Janie, I’m sorry, babe. You’re not hurt. I didn’t do that much. Get up.” He tried pulling her up, but she didn’t want to bend her knee.
“Leave her alone, Dane,” Verra said, but Dane ignored her.
“Get up, Janie. You aren’t hurt.” Janie bit her lip in pain and fought to stand up. She limped around and then realized her head was bleeding. She covered it with the palm of her hand. “It’s just a little blood. Here.” He gave her a dish towel to stop the bleeding. She pressed it against the wound. She had no emotion on her face. She was terrified. Her eyes were locked open and her mouth had a stiff frown on it. “Get those rucksacks. We need to go. Janie? Janie, do you hear me? Are you okay?” She nodded. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t mean to. Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she said, softly.
“Okay, now give me a kiss. We will get through this.” She looked him in the eyes and kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Okay, I don’t want to hurt you, Janie. I just get a little tense trying to do what’s best. What’s best for all of us.” He moved toward the door with the gun in his hand.
“What are you doing?” Verra asked.
“You two go get a few more supplies. I’m going to have a little fun.”
“What?” Verra asked. He released the used magazine from the gun. It hit the ground with a clank and he slid a full one into its place. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Ha,” he laughed. “In stories like these, guys like me don’t get killed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve got the girl. She loves me and she’s the best looking girl in the story, by a long-shot,” he said, trying his hardest to insult her. Then he said, “I’m goin’ huntin’.”
“So, I’m the ugly one who is supposed to die?” Verra had a handful of her shirt twisted in her fist.
“You are definitely the ugly one.” He smirked and then ran out the door headed straight for the thick of the walking dead. His shots rang out as he put bullets into their heads. The girls could hear his hoots and hollers as they gathered up their emergency gear and jumped into Dane’s truck.
Janie was behind the wheel. She turned the key and pulled out of the driveway. The engine caught the attention of a large group of zombies who where breaking into the house above them at the top of the hill. Several of them chased after the truck.
Dane was halfway down the block. A trail of bodies was behind him and a giant group of zombies was ahead of him. Fire was blasting from the barrel of his gun as he loaded their flesh with metal. He heard the truck coming. He knew it was his truck by the sound of the engine.
“‘Bout time,” he said as he shot out more rounds. Then he turned and took a few steps toward the girls so that he could get to the vehicle quicker, but the truck didn’t stop for him. As it passed, all he saw was Verra giving him the bird and Janie staring straight past him as she turned the corner and sped away. He was so shocked that he didn’t know that the mass of zombies was already on top of him. They took him by the arms and dragged him to the ground. Suffocating under the pile, he was torn to pieces.
January 23, 2016
The Great Heart
My heart is a science.
It demands the attention of my mind,
and my mind replies kindly.
My mind is always exploring my heart,
always digging
as if it were looking for old skeletons,
evidence of something that should have lived,
brushing off the bones
of something that died too soon
and hoping to piece them back together
so that it can understand,
so that it can calm the storm of questions
that haunts its existence.
Sometimes it pushes so hard
into my heart
that it gets sick.
Some matters of the heart
are far out of reach
for my mind to understand.
My mind reaches, stretches,
gropes for clues as if through a telescope
or through a microscope
as it observes
the small bits that it can see
hundreds or thousands of times over,
but it never fully understands.
It can never fully grasp
the vast expanse of the great heart.
The mind can move on
and it does move on.
It often moves down a river of tears
or rides away on some new adventure
until what it could not reach within the heart
is far off in the distance and all forgotten about.
by Gabe Redel
It demands the attention of my mind,
and my mind replies kindly.
My mind is always exploring my heart,
always digging
as if it were looking for old skeletons,
evidence of something that should have lived,
brushing off the bones
of something that died too soon
and hoping to piece them back together
so that it can understand,
so that it can calm the storm of questions
that haunts its existence.
Sometimes it pushes so hard
into my heart
that it gets sick.
Some matters of the heart
are far out of reach
for my mind to understand.
My mind reaches, stretches,
gropes for clues as if through a telescope
or through a microscope
as it observes
the small bits that it can see
hundreds or thousands of times over,
but it never fully understands.
It can never fully grasp
the vast expanse of the great heart.
The mind can move on
and it does move on.
It often moves down a river of tears
or rides away on some new adventure
until what it could not reach within the heart
is far off in the distance and all forgotten about.
by Gabe Redel
The One
The time to find the one
has already passed for most.
The one is always
the first one.
The one is always
the one
whom tramples the hardest
into your soft heart.
But you don’t care.
Losing her would be worse.
The one is always
the one
who is so great
that nobody else
could ever replace him or her
and just being next to him
makes you feel like you are constantly
bragging and showing off.
Attraction with the one
is so ravenous
just a touch is enough.
The one is always
the one who carries on talk
as if the words had already been written.
Love is not the only mix
that makes the one special.
It is also the ego.
It is the attraction;
the excitement;
the brainless motives;
the thoughtless humiliation;
the careless pain;
the blindness to how the one uses you;
the ignorance of how the one cuts you deeply
and doesn’t care and doesn’t see it
because the one is so messed up
that he or she could never treat you right.
But most special about the one
is the negligence of the abuse
that she causes you, and you take it
like it is your only life
and you could never live without the pain
and the suffering
that comes from her
because you are stuck to her
so tightly
that the only thing
that could ever pull you apart
is God.
by Gabe Redel
has already passed for most.
The one is always
the first one.
The one is always
the one
whom tramples the hardest
into your soft heart.
But you don’t care.
Losing her would be worse.
The one is always
the one
who is so great
that nobody else
could ever replace him or her
and just being next to him
makes you feel like you are constantly
bragging and showing off.
Attraction with the one
is so ravenous
just a touch is enough.
The one is always
the one who carries on talk
as if the words had already been written.
Love is not the only mix
that makes the one special.
It is also the ego.
It is the attraction;
the excitement;
the brainless motives;
the thoughtless humiliation;
the careless pain;
the blindness to how the one uses you;
the ignorance of how the one cuts you deeply
and doesn’t care and doesn’t see it
because the one is so messed up
that he or she could never treat you right.
But most special about the one
is the negligence of the abuse
that she causes you, and you take it
like it is your only life
and you could never live without the pain
and the suffering
that comes from her
because you are stuck to her
so tightly
that the only thing
that could ever pull you apart
is God.
by Gabe Redel
Old Threats
Innocence
was a star
flickering over black coffee.
A puppy,
no threat at all.
Words,
they were not innocent.
Wisdom was the sword
and knowledge was the shield.
Angles of how the eye
views the world
were cocked upright and around and sideways in new directions.
In this was peace.
Some were stone, hard, cold, immovable grunts
with strong thoughts.
Fists were their fortitude.
Then that star traveled. In its
travels it pulled closer
and became a burning sun.
The puppy grew teeth
and howled.
Those old threats
saw the face of a warrior,
one they had never known,
and inched toward the door.
by Gabe Redel
was a star
flickering over black coffee.
A puppy,
no threat at all.
Words,
they were not innocent.
Wisdom was the sword
and knowledge was the shield.
Angles of how the eye
views the world
were cocked upright and around and sideways in new directions.
In this was peace.
Some were stone, hard, cold, immovable grunts
with strong thoughts.
Fists were their fortitude.
Then that star traveled. In its
travels it pulled closer
and became a burning sun.
The puppy grew teeth
and howled.
Those old threats
saw the face of a warrior,
one they had never known,
and inched toward the door.
by Gabe Redel
Threatened
I’ve never been in debt
but my bank account has gone below the surface.
I’ve listened to my car grind at the joints
and I’ve been in the ditch more than once
without a second vehicle in my pocket.
My family believed that I left my home
because I wasn’t happy with them.
I had to explain that I wasn’t happy with myself.
The homes that I moved in to never felt like home
but the love in my heart made me a place to stay.
My eyes flooded rivers that oceans couldn’t contain.
My bed was welcome. My mind sank.
I put myself in blackness
after I had learned that blackness could find me
and never let go.
I’ve heard men say
that the beauty behind poetry is cruel
and I know women
who cry at the movement in songs.
I’ve been hurt by beauty all my life.
But beauty now is the promise of a day
when my beauty will never be threatened.
Sometimes I wish for songs to never end.
Sometimes I wish for songs to never end.
by Gabe Redel
but my bank account has gone below the surface.
I’ve listened to my car grind at the joints
and I’ve been in the ditch more than once
without a second vehicle in my pocket.
My family believed that I left my home
because I wasn’t happy with them.
I had to explain that I wasn’t happy with myself.
The homes that I moved in to never felt like home
but the love in my heart made me a place to stay.
My eyes flooded rivers that oceans couldn’t contain.
My bed was welcome. My mind sank.
I put myself in blackness
after I had learned that blackness could find me
and never let go.
I’ve heard men say
that the beauty behind poetry is cruel
and I know women
who cry at the movement in songs.
I’ve been hurt by beauty all my life.
But beauty now is the promise of a day
when my beauty will never be threatened.
Sometimes I wish for songs to never end.
Sometimes I wish for songs to never end.
by Gabe Redel
