Chet & Floyd vs. The Apocalypse: Volume 1 by Justin Hunter

going to the place of my youth. We’re going to my preschool in South Milwaukee. It was called ‘Little Children are Nice’ or something like that,” Chet said.
    “Little Children are Nice?” Floyd said.
    “I’m not really sure if I have that right. Since I’ve become a Zen master, I’ve felt a dire need to get back in touch with my roots .”
    “There’s going to be nothing but an old broken down building covered in dust and filth ,” Floyd said.
    “Being with you can be so damaging , Floyd, stop with all your naysaying.” Chet tried to shift the car into fifth but it didn’t work since there was no fifth gear. He swore. The car crested a hill. At the bottom of the hill several cars were spread out over the pavement, blocking the road. On either side of the road the shoulder dropped off, making circumvention impossible.
    “Looks like a trap ,” Chet said.
    “Thank goodness you’re here Chet ,” Floyd said. “How could I navigate the treacherous apocalyptic landscape without you?” Floyd chuckled until Chet reached over, popped the passenger door open and shoved. Floyd grabbed hold of the doorframe just in time to keep from falling out.
    “What the hell are you doing Chet !” Floyd yelled.
    “I’ve had enough of your negativity. Our teaming up is null and void.” Chet repeatedly punched Floyd in the face, until he let go of the frame and tumbled out onto the highway.
    “Should have worn a seat belt ,” Chet said as he glided the car down to the roadblock. He looked behind him to see Floyd’s prone body fifty yards back in the middle of the road.
    Chet let the car idle as he looked at the line of cars. It would take a little work to move them out of the way but it was doable. For a moment he wished he was still friends with Floyd, for no other reason than it would make the passage easier, but he shut it from his mind. They were no more.
    A harsh voice called to Chet from behind the block, “Put your hands up! I have dead to aim.”
    Chet put his hands up but let the car idle with his f oot on the pedal.
    A tall and gaunt man stepped out from behind the roadblock. He had a full head of black hair and a beard. In his hands he held a hunting rifle trained on Chet.
    “How many of you are there?” Chet called from the car.
    “More than you can handle ,” the man said.“Are you sure you’re not the last one? I don’t see anyone else. I think you may have already eaten them.”
    “Shut up ,” the man said.
    “I know how things can happen between friends and compatriots ,” Chet said. “Just like me, you are. I used to have a friend named Floyd. He and I did everything together. We were close like brothers, Floyd and I,” Chet said.
    The man poked the rifle through the window of the car, digging the barrel into Chet’s cheek.
    “Shut up! I told you to keep quiet!” the man said.
    “Ouch!” Chet said, trying to pull his head away from the gun. “That hurts. But there is no end to a pain like ours. We share it! We share the deep emotional scars that only severing close ties can rend! Oh, how I miss my friend Floyd! I did him wrong, just as you did yours wrong.”
    “You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” the man said. “I will teach you. Stop the car and get out.”
    “I don’t want to stop the car ,” Chet said. “I need to let it idle. This is a fine tuned machine.”
    “ If you won’t listen, I’ll make you turn the damn thing off.” The black haired man stepped in front of the car and fired a bullet through the hood. He looked puzzled when the car continued to idle. The man shot into the hood again. Still the vehicle kept running.
    “The engine is in the back ,” Chet said.
    The black haired man walked around to the back of the car a little sheepishly and fired through the rear hatch. The car died.
    Chet got out, hands straight in the air. “Was that what you wanted to do? Kill my car? Well that doesn’t matter to me. I am already dead inside. What does a man need