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An hour later they were ready to go.

They'd planned and prepared. But like green soldiers before a battle, none of them are sure how they'd act. Buckley could see it in their faces- their inability to look at each other, their shifting of feet, sweaty palms, and rapid breathing. But they were as ready as they could be. Now all of them wore the cellophane armor, a thin layer of salt like Kevlar between their skin and the plastic.

After inspecting each one of them, Buckley was finally ready for them to leave. With one last look behind him, he gave the command to leave.

Samuel kicked the door open revealing a hallway filled with the bodies of Bennie, Lashawna and Sally. Flesh stripped from the bones. Organs all but gone. All that was recognizable of Sally Struthers was her blonde hair.

Samuel and MacHenry left the apartment first, spraying liquid death from their Super Soaker water guns. The few maggies still clinging to walls in search of food sizzled as the water struck them.

Next in line came Buckley with Grandma Riggs taped into a kitchen chair that’d been roped to his back. With head down and his hands holding the ropes of the chair, he searched for any sign of the deadly creatures along the ground.

Close on his heels, Little Rashad held his trumpet to his lips, playing for all of his worth. The theme to Rocky filled the hall and stairwell, camouflaging the nervous screams of MacHenry and Samuel who were firing at every movement, flash of light and shadow.

Sissy and Gert exited last, covering the retreat with their own pair of Super Soakers. Their eyes were wide as they saw maggies in every nook and cranny. Sissy bit back a scream as she slipped on Sally Struthers’ hair. Gert kept glancing to the front, as worried for her man as she was for herself.

And as they began down the stairs, one voice rose above even the trumpet as Grandma Riggs began to sing.

Little Bunny Foo Foo,

Hopping through the forest,

Scooping up the field mice,

And bopping them on the head.

Halfway down the stairs, Samuel and MacHenry ran out of water. But they were prepared for that. Letting go their Super Soakers which fell to the length of the straps, they then pulled two more from their backs. Less than a second passed before their path was once again blessed with salt water.

Little Bunny Foo Foo,

Hopping through the forest,

Scooping up the field mice,

And bopping them on the head.

Just as they exited the building, the great pulsating maw of a caddie reached from around a corner and sheared off the upper half of Samuel. Blood fountained once from his upright legs then lost interest. What remained of the boy fell to the ground.

MacHenry halted in pure shock and stared first at the boy who'd so recently fucked with him, and then into the maw of the slaverous caddie. Pieces of Samuel dripped onto him, the suddenness of the death temporarily stunning him.

Finally Buckley broke the spell. "Caddie!"

MacHenry came to his senses in time to scream. Gert fired her super soaker catching the creature behind the head, causing it to jerk away as wide lines of smoke marked the damage. Buckley somehow managed to both hang onto Grandma Riggs and jerk MacHenry away. After a few seconds, MacHenry gathered himself and fired his own super soaker, his salt-infused water adding to the damage.

And down came the good fairy,

and she says…

Little Bunny Foo Foo,

I don't want to see you,

Scooping up the field mice,

And bopping them on the head.

Grandma's singing stalled as Buckley stumbled. He managed to catch himself, but not before he sent Grandma Riggs glasses flying and her carefully coifed blue hair sliding to the side, her wig unveiling itself.

"Run!" He screamed.

Momentarily stunned by the attack, the caddie backed away. But the pain enraged it, and before long it propelled itself towards them, lumbering nearly as fast as they could run.

The group sprinted past Samuel and into the streets. Sissy, who'd lit a Carolina cocktail, hurled it at the creature as she passed, catching it full in the side. The cocktail exploded on impact, meat from the caddie showering them like an abattoir hail.

Sissy pumped her arm once in victory, then hurried to catch up with the group.

CHAPTER 22

Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,

Mutilated monkey meat, Chopped-up dirty birdies' feet.

Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,

And me without a spoon.

Over and over Grandma Riggs sang the grotesque children’s verse as Buckley carried her through the rubble-strewn streets at a dead run. For almost an hour, with Grandma Riggs sitting in her chair facing backwards, she’d alternated between singing, cackling and begging for just a little more crack.

Her arms had been too brittle and weak for her to be able to hold onto him, so they’d duct taped her to a chair which they'd then affixed to his back with lengths of rope. Even now as he ran, however, the rope around his chest and waist sawed back and forth. He was certain that the skin beneath the rope was gone, leaving a set of long bleeding wounds.

They were headed for the ocean. They’d been only a few miles away from the shore and the idea had hit them that if the Maggies had such trouble with salt, the ocean would be like acid. Hope was kindled as they all realized that fully two-thirds of the planet was safe for humanity. Perhaps even islands were habitable. Hurricanes, once seen as the bane of the North Carolina Coast and the Outer Banks, suddenly took on Old Testament connotations promising to cleanse the earth of evil. Had the great flood been for this very purpose? Had the Maggies been here before?

Buckley turned for a second, pausing to catch his breath and work out the knot in his side. He watched as Gert leaned back like a center fielder and hurled a North Carolina Cocktail at the last caddie still on their trail. The glass bottle containing salt and lighter fluid arched high into the air, then fell, striking the Cadillac-sized maggie on its back and exploding as the burning rag ignited the gasoline, immediately causing an eruption of blood and flesh and maggie guts.

Mark another one for the human team.

MacHenry, winded but grinning from ear to ear, ran up, grabbed Buckley’s elbow and helped propel him along. Even overloaded as he was with cloth bags filled with Carolina Cocktails, he was less burdened than Buckley.

“Thanks man,” Buckley wheezed. “She’s heavy and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Giddyup! Move it horsy! Giddyup!” came the commands from his back. Grandma's heels dug into his back as she tried to urge him forward with her kicks.

Buckley rolled his eyes.

“None of us are.” Then MacHenry's smile fell. "Fucked up what happened to Samuel."

"I didn't think you cared," Buckley said, not really meaning it. "The way he fucked with you."

"That wasn't a big deal. He was just scared is all. It was his way to bleed off stress. Me, I got to have sex, so who am I to complain."

"It could just have easily have been you," Buckley said.

"Don't I know it." MacHenry shook his head. "I don't know what to say about that."

“Really? I thought you'd be disappointed you aren’t dead yet? I mean this ain’t exactly going out in style. This isn't jumping off the top rope.”

“What the hell are you talking about? This IS going out in style. I’ve always loved those suicide rides like the Charge of the Light Brigade; how against all odds, with death a certainty they rode as a unit into the face of the enemy for God, country and comrades. Into the Valley of death and all that shit.” He turned to glance behind him, ensuring Gert was in stride. “Oh yeah,” he grinned broadly, leaning over to kiss the woman who’d become his truest love. “I definitely feel like Johnny Storm right now. How about you? You feeling heroic? You feeling like Ben Grimm?”