"Reality Television?"
"Seriously." Buckley pointed at himself, MacHenry and the others. "Us. People. They'd want to get rid of all the people." Buckley chuckled. "That reality television comment was funny, by the way."
"Thanks," MacHenry deadpanned.
"The small ones came first almost wiping out the population. Hell, as far as we know, we're all that's left. With the exception of you guys, we haven't seen anyone else."
"Then came the caddies." MacHenry nodded slowly to himself. "Those things are here to eat the buildings. And if I take your theory to its natural conclusion, then the caddies are here to cleanse the earth of all structures."
"Removing the evidence of our existence so that someone else can build."
"Or someTHING else."
"Yeah."
"Damn. That's fucked up."
Buckley plucked a maggie from his neck and pressed it into the sidewalk with his hand. "Makes you wonder who it is that's making it all fucked up."
"You don't believe in fate? Or that God did this?"
"What'd we ever do to God to make it this bad?" Buckley jerked his thumb at Little Rashad. "What did he ever do to God? No way. This isn't about God. It's about something else, something else entirely."
"What about fate?"
"Bull shit. Fate's nothing more than a four letter word created by people who don't know how to use their brain." Making a face like a spastic child, "I tripped and fell down. It's fate. I didn't win the ball game. It's fate. I didn't get that scholarship. It's-"
"Lemme guess," MacHenry interrupted. "Fate."
Buckley rolled his eyes and nodded.
"I've always thought that fate was the invention of underachievers," MacHenry said. "I didn't succeed. It must have been fate, because it couldn't have had anything to do with the fact that I wasn't smart enough, strong enough or good enough."
Buckley held out his hand for a low five, which MacHenry accepted. "On that topic, you and I are in one hundred percent agreement, brother."
They were silent for a few moments, watching Sissy and Gert handle the water. The two had a system. Sissy would approach the car, and pop the hood, keeping her super soaker trained on the interior. Then Gert would unscrew both the radiator cap on top and the drain plug beneath. The green-colored water would be caught in a short bucket that fit neatly between the radiator and the street.
"So what you're saying," MacHenry said, "Is that this is some sort of War of the World's event. Instead of tripods, we have maggies, is that it?"
"I suppose that's one way to put it." Buckley stood up and adjusted the cellophane from where it had fallen away. "But then I'm just a garbage man. What the fuck do I know?"
"And I'm a used car salesman."
"To think that we're the brain trust that's supposed to figure out this mess."
"If that's the case," MacHenry said, getting to his feet. "Then we are most surely fucked."
CHAPTER 25
"I've been thinking, Mr. Adamski."
Both MacHenry and Buckley turned to where the kid stood.
"What about the freezers?"
"Freezers?" MacHenry repeated.
"Yeah. How long does it take for them to cool off? I wonder if some of the restaurants still have food in them."
"Like this one," Buckley said in an almost reverent whisper. "Just think, kegs of BBQ sauce and freshly thawed racks of ribs. We could have a BBQ. Sure would do a lot for our morale."
"Are you kidding? We're only taking a break, not a sabbatical." Looking up and down the street, then at the afternoon sky, MacHenry added, "A caddie could come along any minute, and between you and me, I don't want to be out here come nightfall.
"Yeah. I know. I was just dreaming is all."
"So we're not going to check the freezer?" Little Rashad asked.
Buckley shook his head. "Probably rotten by now."
"Probably?" MacHenry scoffed. "Does the pope wear bunny slippers?"
"You know, I liked you better when you cared for fuck. Love and living has made you cynical," Buckley said.
"We have a problem you boys are forgetting," Gert said crossing the street to where the men stood.
"What's that, dear?"
"We didn’t pack any food," she said with arms crossed.
Buckley and MacHenry stared at each other, then cursed simultaneously.
"Freudian," Buckley murmured. "Like our subconscious knew we didn’t plan on living."
"Suddenly I'm real hungry," MacHenry said.
"A side effect of staying alive is hunger."
"I can live with that kind of side effect as long as I get a sandwich."
Buckley stared hard at the window of the BBQ joint. "Freud might know what's inside our heads but he can't make a sandwich."
MacHenry caught Gert's wave out of the corner of his eye. He raised his eyebrows, looked from Buckley to Gert, then seemed to make a decision. "We’re gonna be here for a few minutes, right?"
Buckley laughed. "You're asking me? I think so."
"Good." MacHenry hurried across the street to join Gert.
Buckley's jaw dropped. "Now?"
MacHenry turned and glared at Buckley as if the man had been smoking some of Grandma Riggs’ crack. "What? We're supposed to do it later?"
Buckley tried to make his mouth form a word, any word, finally he gave up as all it could manage was an exasperated Puh-lease!
MacHenry snatched Gert into his arms, whispered in her ear and kissed her along the length of her neck. She twirled his hair in her fingers as she hugged him close. After a moment, they grabbed some freshly-filled Super Soakers and entered the building nearest them.
Buckley sighed.
Little Rashad pointed to the doorway the pair had just gone through. "Where are they going? They getting some food? They getting something to eat?"
Buckley glared at the doorway, then at Little Rashad. Sissy walked across the street about the time he answered the boy's question. "You want to know where they're going? They're going to have sex. Hot, passionate and amazingly inappropriate S — E — X!"
Sissy gaped. "What? You didn't just tell-"
Little Rashad’s face reddened.
Buckley shrugged dramatically. "What?"
"What?" Sissy repeated. "Isn't he a little young?"
"At this point what does it matter? If they didn't want him to know, they shouldn't have been cavorting like a couple of frenzied, fucking rabbits."
Sissy looked at Buckley much like his mother used to when he'd done something wrong and he just didn't realize it. Then she sighed, and moved over to Grandma Riggs where she wiped drool from the side of the woman's face.
"I see Twinkies," Little Rashad said.
Buckley's stomach jerked and his eyes shot wide. "No you don’t."
"Yes I do."
"I’d kill for a Twinkie."
"It's right there," pointed Little Rashad. "I don't think you'll have to kill anybody."
Buckley followed the kid's arm and saw the golden, finger-long snack cake and decided right there and now that if Gert and MacHenry could have crazy, end-of-the-world, monkey sex, then he could at least have a Twinkie. He snatched one of the Super Soakers from the sidewalk, checked to make sure it had been freshly reloaded, then cocked it until there was enough pressure to fire. Grabbing a flashlight from his waist, he turned it on. With flashlight in hand and the rifle cocked on a hip, he turned to Little Rashad. "I'm going Twinkie hunting. Who's with me?"
Sissy rolled her eyes, but Little Rashad brightened and jumped at the chance for sugary sweets. He handed Sissy his trumpet, grabbed a Super Soaker of his own, pumped it like he saw Buckley, then fell in beside the older man.
"I'm with you, Mr. Adamski."
"Good boy. Cover my back and I'll catch you a Twinkie."
Without waiting for an answer, Buckley strode into Pauline's Place. Most of the tables were still standing. Only one body littered the floor, but flesh and maggies were long gone. Whoever had been the unlucky soul, he'd been picked clean and rendered skeletal. A pinball game with the words DEATH RACE 2000 and a garish depiction of David Carradine mowing down an old lady with a shopping cart squatted near the door. Beside the long counter that separated the serving area from the cooking area stood a tall rack of plastic encased confections. It was to this rack they strode. When they arrived, both Buckley and Little Rashad stopped and stared. There wasn't just one Twinkie, there were dozens- a virtual Twinkie Eldorado. Buckley grinned from ear to ear.