MicroHorror

I’m an old man now. Yet I’m still a dreamer. The epidemic continues to kill tens of thousands of people each day. Haven’t been infected yet. But my wife and two daughters passed away yesterday. They were my purpose for living. Now all my loved ones are dead. So I’m driving upstate to Time Town. Heard some weird rumors about the place. Got to check it out. But first I might have to kill a couple of guards to get there.

The guards are located at different checkpoints on the outskirts of the city. They stand near the antediluvian tollbooths. Clutching guns and rifles, they stand tall, like ancient centurions, in front of the blockades. The guards won’t allow anyone to leave or enter the city. I got other plans.

My name’s Joseph Cox. I’m a scientist. Got three PhDs in biochemistry, theoretical physics and microbiology. Gonna get through the blockade and make it to Time Town. Got a few toys that’ll help me achieve these goals.

I stop a hundred feet from the guards. On my shoulder is a gas mask hidden in an open black bag. In my hands is a mammoth water gun. They stare quizzically at me.

“Look!” I shout as I point my gargantuan water gun at the cloudy sky above. I pull the trigger, launching a water-filled poison into the air. I put on my gas mask and watch the contaminated water sail high then rain down on the guards.

The guards laugh maniacally. Yet once they inhale the toxic air, they fall to their feet. Within seconds, all the guards lie unconscious on the ground. Will they die? Some may. The others will wake up in a few hours.

Don’t have time to move the cars in the blockade. Got to get to Time Town before dark. I steal one of their cars. The keys are still in the ignition. I drive north to Time Town in Lake George.

I arrive in Lake George before sunset. I ask a stranger for directions to Time Town.

“It closed down many years ago.”

“The place has sentimental value.”

He gives me directions. I get there in a few minutes.

In Time Town, an old amusement park, I find a locked gate that blocks the entrance. I squeeze through a hole in the gate, clutching a .45 Magnum.

I go through an open door into the main area. The Time Machine ride is still there, a special elevator into the past. I press a button and the elevator opens up.

Suddenly, a gang of six teenagers enters the area, pointing their guns at me.

“Who are you?” a tall muscular gang member asks.

“Just a guy longing for the past.”

“You got the killa virus?”

“No.”

“You lyin’?”

“No.”

“Don’t believe you.”

“Too bad.”

He grows a wicked smile. “You think you can kill all six of us with that .45?”

“Yeah. You better get out of here, punk!”

I look at the kid and see madness and rage in his alien eyes. I shoot him dead. The others freeze.

“We’re leaving, sir. We got no argument with you.”

“Okay. Drop your guns.”

“You ain’t gonna shoot us?”

“No.”

They drop their weapons.

“Turn around and start walking.”

As they saunter off, I blast each coward to kingdom come.

“Yeah, I got the virus. Before it destroys your body, it attacks your mind. That’s why I killed my wife and two daughters. Even now, I see them coming at me. They bite me and try to eat my flesh. I beat them up. But they won’t stop. So I blow their brains out.”

The dead kids are my gourmet dinner. After a full meal, I enter the elevator.

The elevator descends rapidly. Below, I hear the shrieking sounds of alien creatures. Maybe I’ll find the cure, or have one helluva midnight snack.

• Copyright: © 2010 Mel Waldman