The Last Moron On Earth

The obnoxious whirring of an angle grinder woke me up, just moments before being accompanied the harsh grating of the grinder at work.

Investigating the commotion, I found Sam outside a caged room in the basement. Man, sound travels pretty far hereabouts. Must've *sucked** working here.*

Seeing a peculiar new addition to his form, I greeted him appropriately.

"What's up, Bucket-Butt?!" I swear was only looking at his ass because of the rather strange image depicted. The shining silver canister contrasted with his bright pink coat, but melded with his coat as if it had been there for as long as he'd been a horse.

The grinder jumped up from its position near the cage door's lock, rattling along the crisscrossing links before being shut off. The sparkling pink haze surrounding the grinder dissipated, and it fell to the ground with a soft snap, signalling the destruction of it's abrasive wheel.

"So, you see it too?" He questioned with a glare; clearly he wasn't particularly keen on being surprised with power tools in his telekinetic grasp. "Yeah, showed up about an hour after you first left; I was just shiftin' shit around, trying to make this place more manageable, presentable, y'know? Place looks halfway decent and Poof! There it is in a flash of light. Tried washing it, and shaving a bit on one side; it doesn't grow down to the skin, but it sure as hell ain't scrubbing off. Wonder what it means..."

I checked my own rear for a mark and was greeted with the same brown coat I'd had; Which is a good thing, I guess? For some reason, pictures appearing in flashes of light didn't seem like something I'd appreciate, as being a talking horse was weird enough.

"Whatever. You were out like a light, without unloadin' your truck, thanks for that, so I went out for some non-perishables. Grid's down, like I said; not sure if you saw that, but the station's running on it's own for the time being. But, the big news is I got the radio squawkin', and actually made contact!" His toothy grin falters, and he continues. "Well, halfway contact. They're broadcasting for any other, eh, 'survivors' that they aren't alone; some soldier boys down in Camp Bumblefuck, I was figuring we can go pay 'em a visit today."

'Soldier boys'? 'Camp Bumblefuck'? "Uh, d'you mean the Marine base in San Diego?" I had an uncle who's family was housed there for a while. They moved to the eastern seaboard a few years back, but I used to visit them all the time; the long drive to the base isn't one I was likely to forget any time soon.

"Yeah, thats it!" He picked up the grinder again with his weird telekinesis, and effortlessly swapped out the grinding wheel. "Go ahead and gear up, I'll pop the cage open and join you downstairs soon." With an almost manic grin, he set back to work.

***

I found a small stockpile of sealed goods (of which some were kept cool in a stolen ice-cream chiller) on the first floor, and munched on dry cereal for breakfast. Glancing at the gathered goods, it was safe to assume that Sam was also unable to stomach any meat products, given the lack of their presence.

Finishing quickly, I brought in my belongings from the truck, and left the contents of my laptop case to charge. While the internet and cell signals might be down, there was still a use for them, what with all the not at all pirated movies and music I'd had saved. And, I guess I could keep a track of things as time went on. I guess.

I simply tossed some water bottles in the case, and was greeted by Sam, holding a shotgun of all things in his freaky telekinesis. I silently raised a brow, looking from the gun to him.

"Popped the armory door, figured we might as well bring something along. And, you know what they say: Better to have it and not need it, than-"

"Than to need it and look dumb, yeah, I know," I finished for him. Well, okay maybe thats *not** the saying, but its right either way.* He continued outside, chuckling lightly.

Joining him outside, the new day became like any other: sober and shining.

I hated it already.

The drive down the highway towards the military base was unsettlingly uneventful.

Southern California traffic is awful on a good day, and infuriatingly nightmarish otherwise, but the road was surprisingly clear of vehicles. Well, for the most part; there was an occasional car or truck occupying a single lane, looking very out of place on the wide, barren freeway.

We spotted an ugly minivan with a smashed out driver-side window somewhere near Santa Ana, but our investigation yielded zero results, so we pressed onward.

I don't think Sam appreciated my off-key singing, and even I was getting sick of singing; you never really realize just how long Bohemian Rhapsody is until you're belting it out at the top of your lungs. He mostly drove behind me, but quickly overtook me and hit the brakes, stopping our journey only a few miles form the base. Maybe we should have brought radios. Quick as lightning, he hopped out of his car and ran over.

"Don't you feel that?" he asked unsteadily. He shifted his gaze from the coast to the nearby hills repeatedly, ears and tail flicking to and fro.

I killed the engine, set the brake, and hopped out of my truck. I was able to hear the soft tics and groans of my engine cooling, and the distant crashing waves along the nearby shore. With a grin, I answered.

"Feels nice; hot Monday morning and I get to drive around and-" my grin faltered and I trailed off, unsure of just what I was seeing.

In the distance I could make out that junky old seaside nuclear plant, and a fairly large craft hovering in place over the facility. Given the distance, I couldn't make out any features on the black craft, but it had to have been as long as one of the containment domes. My grin returned in full force.

"Oh shit, dude, thats great!" Barely restraining my excitement, I made to enter my car. "I mean we knew they were here, but shit, its a chore to drive this damn thing; if they can keep a bird that big in the air, they must have a way to reverse this stupid horse thing!"

I started the engine, and noticed that Sam hadn't moved. He was looking towards the craft, eyes wavering and ears splayed back, very clearly afraid. Like a damn dog....I couldn't help but think to myself. Seeing an opportunity, I honked the horn, shocking him from his stupor.

"Something wrong, my pretty pink princess?" I asked, attempting a wry grin.

"It...I just...I don't know," He didn't seem upset at my antics or my teasing; with his wavering voice it was obvious he was afraid. Terrified. "Its like...I feel cold. Empty. Coming from over there. It ain't right..."

I rolled my eyes and revved my engine. "Well, the base is over that way; you know, if you're still up for meeting up with the men on the radio."

He reluctantly reentered his vehicle, and slowly we pushed forward. As we drew nearer to the plant, the massive gray craft shifted in the sky, situating itself over the highway. Now observable, it looked...odd. Like a military cargo helicopter resized comically, and rotors dropped in favor of some impossible-looking means of propulsion. Without warning, Sam's cruiser shot past me, taking off down the highway.

I was confused by his action; it was clear that the craft would have been able to see us. Salvation was at hand, right?

Hope died as I slowly passed underneath the vessel; time stopped, a deep shudder ran down my spine, and my stomach lurched. A haze descended upon my vision, and everything went dark. Everything was silent; everything was wrong.

I didn't know I had driven away until my vehicle scraped against the K-rail dividing the freeway. Despite the sweltering California sun, I was shivering in my seat, and struggling to breathe.

I slammed on the brakes and worked to control my breathing.

"The FUCK was that?"

I caught up to Sam a few miles down the freeway; he was pulled over to the shoulder, vehicle forming a barrier between him and the path we came from. He was floating the gun with his bullshit powers, tracking me as I came to a stop by him.

"So did you-"

"I don't know why you just left be back there." Just lie. It never happened if you say it never happened. He doesn't need to worry. "Didn't feel a thing."

We had to press on; regardless of unexplainable feelings surrounding strange craft, the radio allegedly promised help, and thats much better than the two of us trying to help others. He was a little underwhelmed as we veered off the highway towards the first public gate. I suppose he didn't realize that one of the housing complexes would surround the base proper.

The iron gate was closed off, and the road was blocked by alternating orange and white barriers. The multiple guard stations, as well as a few barriers, all had MCRD sloppily painted on their windows.

"Well, I guess that makes sense...." I muttered. Sam didn't understand the message.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Aren't they supposed to, you know, be here to help us?"

"I think they want us to go to the MCRD, which is the...well I don't know what it stands for," Well, the Marine Corps something something, I thought. "But they train the Marines there; my cousin went through boot a few years ago. I think there's an airport across from it, and it seems like a likely enough place to start bringing in refugees."

"Well, thats a start. So, how do we get there?"

"Absolutely no idea. I know its off the '5, but other than that I guess we're just looking for an airfield." At my revelation, he turned to glare at me again. It was adorable. "You know, if you keep up that look, it might get stuck that way."

I wasn't close enough to hit, but he certainly tried. I pressed onward, laughing all the way.

***

I had never taken the exit that led to the depot entrance, I had always taken one that led to a locked gate, and followed the winding road to the front entrance.

Going in I could tell something was wrong; one of the guard booths' windows was shattered, and a wailing siren echoed hauntingly across the empty entrance. I killed my engine and continued on foot (On hoof? Stupid, stupid, stupid.). The alarm had a simple shutoff switch, so I went ahead and shut it off. Simply.

"What's that all about?" I don't know if he meant me turning off the stupid alarm or the wrecked window, but I answered regardless.

"Can't think..."

Placated, he continued past the small hut towards an armored vehicle sitting a couple hundred feet from the booth. I tried getting one of the shotguns out of the case in the guardhouse, but it was locked in place. What if they need it in an emergency? Its like chaining up a fire-extinguisher....

Sam started shouting. Well, it wasn't so much shouting as much as it was a rising series of 'Uh's. Investigating, I saw him peering in through the open door of one of the armored cars situated on a crossroad to the base; it was in a reasonable position to observe and guide incomers.

The shattered windshield, however, was unexpected.

That tightening feeling in my gut returned in a flash; that old sinking feeling making me want to throw up and have a seizure all at once.

I didn't want to know.

I didn't need to know.

I slowly walked forward; the echoing of my footsteps (hoofsteps) across the empty roadway a deafening cacophony in my head.

Two strange figures were slumped in a grisly heap in each seat; gaping wounds dripped, holes punched across each occupant. The driver of the vehicle some odd, almost troll-ish looking canine. Devil Dog. Even in the worst of situations, my crappy humor shone on. Stupid stupid stupid. The passenger was some bizarre avian/feline hybrid, wings nauseatingly splayed across the seat.

"Woah, shit..."

At my words, the passenger awoke and began coughing, a sickening scarlet sputum erupting from its maw.

"Woah shit!"

"OH SHIT!"

My eloquence is infections. WHATEVER. BIRD DUDE.

With speed and swears, I struggled to pull the amalgamation from the vehicle. Without fingers, and with Sam too busy freaking out, it was slow going. By the time I had dragged the being out, it was still and silent. Shit....

It was funny. Everything was brighter than I'd thought they would be. I'd seen a fair share of those grainy internet execution and horrible accident videos, and Lord knows I was a fan of Carpenter's work, but oddly enough it looks wrong. Not real, you know? Not when compared to the dead chimera lying next to a pink screaming horse.

Spread out, he was about as big as me, but he just seemed so....small. Vulnerable.

Fragile.

Sam was pressing on the catbird's chest. I think there was a show that made fun of CPR for gunshot wounds. I can't remember if I said anything.

Tears and wretched sobs grew more frantic as time went on, and then, with a massive ringing in my ears, everything went silent.

In the sudden cold, I felt it.

The ghostly echos of sporadic gunfire.

Terror so thick you can't move. Terror so thick you can't even breathe.

Terror so thick it clogs your lungs and makes a fucking earthquake of your limbs.

And the overwhelming horror that comes with the realization that you are not alone.

Everything went black, and I remember that I ran.

I remember red on black. Run.

Cold. Keep running.

Pain. Stop and you *die*.

And a voice.