Crank & Boomer

The young man walked the path, unsure where he was headed or what he’d do when he arrived at whatever destination he happened upon. He had been a clerk in a department store, pretending to know more about the store wares than he actually did. Wearing one of the stores suits that had been sold to him at a huge employee discount, he appeared to be someone worth deferring to by the customers that seemed attracted inside from the mall walkway. His chosen work clothing not only made appear wiser than he actually was, it also slimmed his expanding waistline.

When the end came, he was ringing up a sale on the register while trying to convince the customer to apply for the store credit card. Most that agreed couldn’t actually afford the exorbitant interest that would be charged on their overpriced clothing.

The customer looked up at the ceiling. “What was that?”

The salesman was still smiling, happy for this current sale. In addition to his hourly wage, he was paid an additional ten percent of all net sales he produced.

“Just sign here.” He pushed the paperwork toward the customer. He noticed that the customer was still looking up at the ceiling. What did he just say?

“That noise. What was it?” the man asked.

The salesman frowned. He had heard something.

“Distant,” the man said. “Not in here, but outside somewhere.”

The salesman shook his head. You couldn’t hear noises from outside the mall in here. It must be somewhere in here, maybe down another corridor.

The building shook.

At the next blast, the roof caved. A large piece fell on the customer’s head.

The young man looked across the store. Dust drifted up from the ceiling that now lay across the sales floor, covering clothing, small appliances, and other merchandise.

“Excuse me,” he said to the customer whose bloody head poked from the debris. He shambled through the mess beneath his feet, exited the side door that entered the parking lot, and then began his walk.

All around him were the scattered remains of what had once been civilization. He stayed on the middle stripe as he headed away from town. Two hours later, he turned down a two-lane blacktop and kept walking.

In the weeks that followed, he walked the wilderness, eating and drinking whatever he came across. He might have stopped and stayed in some empty house where he spent a night or two. For some reason even he didn’t comprehend, mornings found him walking the highway once again.

#

“Looks like barbecue,” Boomer said as he jabbed his buddy in the ribs and grinned.

“Shut the hell up, dumb-o,” Crank said. “Don’t make this no harder.”

“You take all the fun out, Crank,” Boomer said.

Crank shook his head. What a dipshit he’d joined up with. Still, it had seemed to work so far. They hadn’t starved yet.

They looked down the slope. The guy walking their way sure looked like dinner. Fat and lazy as a whore. Just the way Crank liked.

Boomer stood from their blockade, a lopsided grin pasted across his face. Crank thought it looked just perfect on him.

“Hey, buddy,” Boomer yelled out then headed downhill toward the guy. “How’s it droopin’ now?”

The man’s mouth fell open. He fumbled behind his back before coming out with a pistol, which he pointed at Boomer.

Boomer didn’t slow, just started to laugh crazily.

“Hey, dude, put that thing away. We’re all buddies here. Ain’t we, Crank?” He looked behind him where Crank was now standing up from behind their improvised blockade.

Crank began to wave at the man, who shifted the gun to take aim at him instead.

A pistol somehow materialized in Boomer’s grip.

The explosion was shocking and final. The face disintegrated.

Crank glowered at him. “You ignorant bastard.” He stared down at the body that had nearly quit jiggling. “You thoroughly ruined the pulley bone!”

Chagrined, Boomer lowered his head. “I didn’t mean to, Crank.”

Crank tossed his hands into the air. He’d just have to live with it. “Well, bring me down the hacksaw and the bolt cutters.”