Episode 1.8: "Out Come the Big Guns"

“Jeff, here’s what’s going to happen,” I said calmly, replacing my shirt, “I’m going to take your gun with me while I try to figure out what’s going on. Do you understand?” Jeff clenched his teeth and nodded as he sucked the cold night air into his blood-coated mouth.

“Good. I’m going to leave you here, now. I hope you find someone to help you propagate our species, but I would suggest going about it the old fashioned way and ask her out to dinner before giving her the “genetic responsibility” speech. Bye, Jeff. Thanks for the gun.” I proceeded to walk away from Milton Bennion Hall, the mutants that had shacked up there, and poor, lonely, one-armed Jeff.

To his credit, Jeff was right about the campus police, because no one answered when I picked up the phone. I hung up and paused for a moment to consider my options. The logical thing to do would be to contact any friends or loved ones, but in all honesty I didn’t have much of either. My useless alcoholic dad back in Oregon never answered his phone when I called on a regular day, and I doubt an international crisis would change that. My mom left me to fend for myself when I was ten, so I doubt she cared what I was doing right at this moment. After weighing my options, I decided to head up to Fort Douglas. It was fairly close, and if there was a safe place to be right now, it’d be with the military…right?

As I made my way to the fort, I could see chaos overtaking the city below me. Clusters of red, white, and blue sirens dotted the streets, and there were at least three fires that had begun consuming some of the larger buildings downtown. Occasionally I could see small, frightened groups of people wandering around campus, screaming incoherently into their phones. They’re probably trying to reach their loved ones, desperately hoping that their circle of friends and family had remained unbroken during this sudden tribulation. Right up until the moment Professor Channing’s head blew up, I had dealt with a consistent sting in my stomach that came from my lack of close friends, and my inability to do anything about it. However, now that the chips were down, I found a small bit of comfort in the fact that I was on my own. It’s pathetic and sad to have no friends, but in the worst-case scenario that was unfolding before me tonight, I appreciated the fact that all I had to look out for was myself.

As I got closer to Fort Douglas, I could hear the microwave popcorn sound of machine gun fire, and I developed a sick feeling in my stomach that told me that I might not be able to find any help here. A traffic jam of unattended vehicles blocked the street for miles in both directions making it difficult to make it to the fort directly.

I began zigzagging through the cars, but the closer I got to the fort, the more my gut was telling me to turn around and find some other place to hide. The grounds outside the fort were also littered with headless bodies; soldiers, students, doctors, men, women, children… these things saw us all as potential hosts, regardless of race or religion. The entrance to the fort was locked, but I could see through the thin black bars of the outer fence. It looked like they had created a barricade of chest-high brown sandbags on the north side. I aimlessly wondered what the barricade was for, since the gates were locked. Around two minutes later, I understood. Metallic shrieks echoed throughout the cold air, and bursts of machine gun fire blasted out a reply. A popper (that’s what I decided to call them) flung itself over the sandbags and into a soldier’s surprised face. Two, three more followed, heralding a literal flood of writhing, biting, and clawing hostiles (that’s what the military would call them. Probably.).

The poppers rushed the fort, gnawing on anything that got in their way. For a moment, the sheer amount of weirdness that my brain was processing caused me to freeze. As I was thinking frantically about what my next step should be, I was knocked off my feet by a thunderclap of force…the result of Fort Douglas’s armory violently exploding. The impact sent me over the hood of a vacant Toyota Prius, which was now between the fort and myself. I slid my back up against its wheel and quickly checked myself for injuries. My shoulder got scraped pretty badly when I hit the ashphalt, causing small pinholes of blood to well up within the angry red cuts that crisscrossed my shoulder. I pressed my shirt against the wound and peeked slightly over the hood of the car. In the wake of the deafening explosion stood…no…hovered a giant mechanism that was definitely not manufactured in the U.S. of A.



It was about the size of a bulldozer. A huge glowing dome dominated the top of the vehicle; flickering and flashing like an overcharged light bulb. The dome was connected to what looked like a torso composed of steel and thick cords. Two arm-like appendages jutted out from the vehicle's upper portion, terminating in chrome satellite dishes which pulsated with a greenish white glow. It was held together with tightly wound fibers of glimmering wire, and thick cables coiled around the mechanism like shiny black pythons. Jagged bolts of greenish white electricity supported the base of the machine, occasionally clinging to the trees and overturned vehicles within its vicinity. It pointed one of its arms to the next building, and a blinding beam of acid green energy reduced it to a smoldering pile of brick and dust after another deafening explosion.

NEXT: "WHO IS MAX BODYCOUNT?"

Episode 1.7: "Game: Marla"

“If you’re serious about this craziness, you’re not going to shoot me, Jeff.” I had seen plenty of hostage situations in movies, and this was a universal truth.

“No,” he replied, aiming the weapon at my leg, “At least nowhere important. You can still fulfill your end of this deal with a shattered kneecap.” He had me there. I couldn’t just go along with this, though. My mind started racing for some way out of this awkward and very creepy situation. Okay, what do I know about Jeff? He was definitely a pervert. And the way he’s handling that gun like it might go off at any moment led me to believe that in addition to being a pervert, Jeff was also a pussy. I decided to exploit both of these character flaws to ensure my escape from his deranged clutches, and get a Glock in the process.

I slid the handle of Shawn’s hammer into one of my belt loops and held my hands out. I’d have to play this guy out just right.

“You seem pretty passionate about this idea, Jeff,” I tried to make my voice sound all smoky and sex-crazed, “And right now, you’re the only person I can trust. I’ll need someone like you to keep me safe from these…things.” Jeff lowered his gun, his eyes widening slightly. I wasn’t a pro at seducing men by any stretch of the imagination, but whatever limited experience I had was working on poor, lonely Jeff. From his reaction to the slight change in my voice, it became painfully evident that Jeff’s only sexual experiences had come by way of Madame Palm and her five daughters.

“So, when do you think we should get started?” I asked, stepping closer to Jeff.

“Well, uh…I thought that…when…whenever, really.” Jeff was on the ropes. I pulled off my shirt. It was laundry day, so out of necessity (and quite serendipitously) I was wearing one of my two “sexy” bras. I heard Jeff release a weak sigh, and I knew he was toast.

“I think sooner would be better than later.” I spoke quietly. He let the hand holding his gun fall limply to his side, and I slinked closer, sticking my chest out like I was in a Jay-Z video. I put my arms around his neck, and nearly blew my cover when I saw the expression on his face. Body-wise, I’m like, a 6 out of 10 at best, but keep in mind that Jeff was a very lonely kid.

At this point, I probably could have just asked him for his gun, but I opted for a more vengeful solution. I slid my left hand up Jeff’s neck so I was gripping the back of his head, and then I thrust my head forward directly into Jeff’s pathetic face. The impact stung slightly, and I heard a small crunch that I assumed was Jeff’s glasses, his nose, or maybe both. He groaned and swore through blood-soaked teeth, and I took this brief opportunity to remove Shawn’s hammer from my belt loop. I flipped the hammer in my hand so the clawed end was facing forward, and swung for Jeff’s gun-wielding forearm. It connected, and I felt the hammer dig into Jeff’s muscle and crack bone. He shrieked as he dropped his Glock and reached for his injured arm. His screaming continued as he dropped to his knees, looking at his shattered arm.

Episode 1.6: "Jeff's Weird Plan"

“Those Vonix phones were popular,” I added, “Lots of little mutants running around now, I guess.” Jeff nodded his head.

“Exactly. You know what this means, don’t you?”

“I guess it means that I’m glad I could never afford one. And hopefully someone on campus police couldn’t afford one either. Let’s try to call over there.”

“Pointless,” Jeff responded, “It’s already too late. We’re done. Humanity is done.”

“Let’s not jump to that conclusion yet, Jeff. I’m sure the government is dispatching experts to mop this up as we speak.” He did that nerd thing they do when they look at you over their glasses that have slid too far down their noses.

“Our government? Helping out in a crisis? You are obviously unaware of the teensy incident involving a huge hurricane and New Orleans. If you think our government is doing anything but trying to figure out how they can make money off of this, then you’re completely ignorant, and I may not want to father the next human race with you.”

“Okay, first of all, I’ll bet you’ve never been to New Orleans. You’ve just jumped on the same hipster, anti-government bandwagon that everyone’s on. And second, I’ll bet you’ve got your share of student loans and…hold on, did you say something about fathering something? And did that somehow involve me?”

“Yes, I did. It did. I was hoping to find someone with more intelligence, but you’ll have to do.” I folded my arms tightly as I assessed this strange turn of events.

“Are you…are you being serious? Or are you just trying to lighten the dismal mood by saying something incredibly stupid?” Jeff put his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie.

“I’m very serious. We’re looking at the end of the human race as we know it. You and I will retreat into the mountains. They won’t find us there. Once we are successfully hidden, we will focus on repopulating the planet. It’s our genetic responsibility.” My stomach wrenched itself into a knot and my throat went dry; the same sensations I get moments before vomiting.

“Hate to wreck your plan there, Jeff, but there’s no way that’s going to happen. At least not with me, anyway. Best of luck finding yourself a baby maker, though. I’ll just…um…be on my way then.”

“I’m afraid I can’t risk that, Marla,” Jeff produced a Glock from his hoodie and cocked it, “It’s for the future of our species.” He pointed the gun at me. I guess it’s a sign of the times when the first person you meet during Armageddon is a guy like Jeff.

NEXT: "MARLA GETS FREAKY"

Episode 1.5: "Hooked on Vonix"

“Yaaahhh!” I screamed as I swung my hammer at this mysterious interloper. I held back when I saw that it was another student, head intact, complete with Buddy Holly glasses and shortly cropped hair. I lowered my hammer.

“What are you doing creeping around in the dark like that? I almost bashed your head in!” I took a deep breath while my heart settled down.

“I’m sorry,” He said as he held his hands out, palms facing me, “I’m not here to hurt you. But I do have one question. That phone you were about to use…is it a Vonix?”

“Yeah, but it’s not mine. I…” He interrupted me by slapping the phone out of my hand and stomping it to shiny black pieces. I stared at him in disbelief. After a few hard stomps, he looked back at me.

“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing? Now we’re just left with campus rent-a-cops!” I nodded towards the security phone booth. The guy caught his breath and removed his glasses. Squinting as he wiped them off with his sleeve, he replied, “I’m saving your life!” which was not the response I was expecting.

“What, from Shawn’s phone? I think I could have handled a Blackberry, dude.” He put his glasses back on.

“That,” he paused for emphasis, “was no Blackberry. You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” I guess he had me there.

“Apart from some freaky mutants eating their way out of people’s heads, I really don’t know what’s going on. Enlighten me…” I extended my hand, gesturing for him to tell me his name.

“Oh. I’m Jeff. Jeff Wiggins.” We shook hands.

“I’m Marla Killian.”

“Charmed. Listen,” he began, “Those things, whatever they are…well they were implanted into peoples’ heads via Vonix Smartphones.” I looked at him incredulously, trying to visualize how that would even work.

“How would that even work?” I asked him sharply. I don’t know why I bothered raising an argument on the subject. I guess parasitical cell phone waves are as good an explanation as any for this mess.

“I have some ideas. And I guarantee that if we search the pockets of every headless corpse on campus, we’d find a Vonix phone. They’ve been planning this for years now…just waiting for the right moment.”

“Who’s been planning what? Explain it to me like I have no idea what you’re talking about. Which I don’t.” Jeff let out a nasally sigh and rubbed his temples, which I automatically took to be a sign that he was a student of the computer sciences.

“In short…aliens are behind this. They manufactured these phones to somehow electronically transmit a microscopic embryo that grows into the things that we’ve been seeing emerge from peoples’ heads. They played upon our weakness for phone gadgetry, and we have paid dearly for it.” Since I really had no explanation for what was going on, I felt like I had to take Jeff’s idea until a more practical one came along.

NEXT:
"JEFF'S WEIRD PLAN"

Episode 1.4: "The Wrong Button"

“Shawn? Shawn are you there? There’s all kindsa crazy shit goin’ on ‘round here! Heads blowin’ up and shit! Shawn!” It continued, and I felt obligated to talk to this lady. I was, after all, about to use her dead acquaintance’s hammer and cell phone to help prolong my own life.
“Yes, hello?” I said calmly.
“Who in the hell is this? Where’s Shawn? Don’t make me cut yo’ ass! Speak up!” I tried to remain calm.
“Yes, my name is Marla, and I have some…well, bad news about…Shawn, was it?”
“Shawn? You seen him? Tell him to get his ass home! They’s heads blowin’ up and shit all over down here!”
“That’s the thing, ma’am. Shawn’s…well, his head has blown up too. I wasn’t going to answer, but I hit the wrong button and…”
“What? Shawn! Shaaaaawwn! Noooo!” I held the phone away from my ear to help mute the sound. Suddenly, I heard a digitized version of the sound Professor Burbidge’s head made when it blew up, and the conversation ended. I clutched Shawn’s hammer in my hand, and put his phone in my bag. I hadn’t ever told a person that someone they cared about has died. There was a sick feeling in my stomach, and a cold sweat had slithered its way across my skin. I heard the mutant scream, but this time it was answered by yowls and screeches from different parts of the building. My heart pounded as I visualized one of these things slithering out of a vent above me and sinking its teeth into my skull, and I got the hell outside.
Campus has always been a bit creepy at night, and given the circumstances, it was downright terrifying. I jumped whenever the old pines and birches shook their branches in the wind, and my mind started to see shadows moving in and out of the corners of my eyes. I noticed the dull blue glow of a nearby campus security phone booth, which I’d always secretly wanted to use (not to report a rash of head-mutilating creatures that were running amok on campus, however). I was tempted by this sudden emergency, but I decided that given the gravity of the situation, campus police just wasn’t going to cut it. I pulled out Shawn’s cell phone and started to dial 911 when something grabbed my shoulder.

Episode 1.3: "Scavenging"

I must have been MIA for awhile, because it had gotten dark outside. My dick classmates just left me on the floor, pathetically covered in Professor Burbidge’s brains. I dragged my hands across my face and ran them through my hair, trying to get as much of the gunk off as I could. When my head stopped buzzing, I stood up and collected my things. The classroom looked like…well, it looked like a mutant creature blew up a college professor’s head and the students reacted accordingly. Desks were overturned, textbooks and notebooks were scattered across the floor, and there was a good amount of blood smeared all over the front of the classroom. I thought of the mutant, and my body stiffened slightly. Was it still in the room with me? I cautiously approached the remains of Professor Burbidge. There was a long crimson streak on the floor that led from Professor Burbidge’s neck to the door.

“I’ll miss your class, Professor Burbidge,” I blurted out, as if the guy still had a head, “Sorry about what happened. I don’t imagine you wanted to die like this. It’s kind of exposing to have everyone see what the inside of your head looked like. Anyway, I’ll do my best to avenge you. Don’t expect much though. I’m not a great writer, and I’m sure as hell not prepared to kill whatever did this to you. But I’ll try.”

I left his headless body and walked towards the door, gripping the strap of my bag tightly just in case I needed it to flail at the dreaded mutant. The door creaked slightly and I stepped out into the fluorescent-lit hallway of Milton Bennion Hall. As gross as the classroom looked when I left, nothing could have prepared me for the scene of horror and violence that awaited me outside.

Several more headless bodies were sprawled across the hallway. Gallons of blood had gathered into tidepools where the floor was uneven, and it had been spattered across the white brick walls like a Jackson Pollock painting. The sweetly metallic smell of it stung my nose as I tried to avoid stepping in anyone’s fluids while I made my way outside. A mutant screech echoed from somewhere else in the building, and it was a bit too close for my liking. I held up my backpack, facing the impending reality that I was in danger, and a damn backpack wasn’t going to be able to protect me. I looked around the hallway for anything I could use as an improvised weapon. Really, anything hard or sharp would be more effective than a leather bag containing two textbooks.

I wasn’t having much luck until I noticed some legs wearing brown Timberlands, now spotted with blood, sticking out from beneath the body of a girl wearing scrubs. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through me as I remembered seeing a maintenance guy wearing these on campus a few times. I thought he was stupid for paying $150 for Timberlands and then actually working in them, and he and his tool belt stuck in my memory.

As respectfully as I could, I rolled Scrub Girl’s body off of the mystery legs, which revealed the previously mentioned tool belt attached to Timberland Guy’s waist. I removed a claw hammer from its holster and felt slightly more confident in defending myself against the evil that had besieged the campus. Not much more confident, however, because I dropped my weapon as soon as I heard Timberland Guy’s cell phone blare out a refrain of “Yeah” by Lil’ Wayne. This made me remember a horrifying detail about today, and that detail was that I left my cell phone at home. Damn. That’s what I get for trying to be a more respectful student in class. The thought of outside contact made me realize that I hadn’t really considered the scope of my situation. Were people’s heads blowing up all across the state? The country? The world? Timberland Guy’s phone kept ringing, and I decided that I’d need a cell phone, at least to contact the police. I removed Timberland Guy’s phone from his back pocket, and instead of hitting the “silence Lil’ Wayne” button, I pushed the “Hello, who is it?” button. As a result of my unfamiliarity of these cool new Vonix Smartphones, I was greeted with the shrill voice of a hysterical woman.

NEXT:
"CONTACT"


The Bug: "Catch a Fire"

Episode 1.2 "Brains Are A Lot Harder Than You'd Think"

When whatever this thing was turned to face us, I could see what it’s arms were busy with. They were busy stuffing Professor Burbidge’s brain into its Predator-esque jaws, which also revealed the origin of the terrible slurping sounds that the creature was making. I remained frozen in place, but my rebellious, thrill-seeking eyes hopped around the classroom searching for some new form of grotesquerie. Jerry, who works at Whole Foods, puked all over his desk and passed out, letting his dirty-blond dreadlocks sop up the pool of vomit that he had produced. Jin and Han, the foreign exchange students, were holding onto each other as if Jin was trying to incorporate Han into his own body. Whitney and Haley, who always wear sweat pants with the words “juicy” or “pink” written across their asses leapt up and ran out of the room, their screams echoing down the hall. Everyone else was either trying to get cleaned up or huddled in the back of the room, afraid to see what fresh heaps of weirdness were in store for them.

As I was observing how the chaos affected my classmates, I heard a hellish noise from the front of the class. It was an unholy union of a dial-up modem struggling to connect and long, jagged nails scraping down a chalkboard. I turned to look at the creature just in time to see Professor Burbidge’s half-gnawed brain for a split second as it splattered into my face. Quick note: Brains are lots harder than you’d think. Also, I’m pretty sure I got some in my mouth. I don’t know if it was the impact of a brain hitting me in the face or a safety mechanism that my body employed when it couldn’t handle anymore batshit craziness, but I blacked out.

NEXT:

"MARLA GETS A CLAW HAMMER"

Oingo Boingo: "Grey Matter"