Sloughing Off the Rot Read Online Free PDF Page B

ripped at his flesh. His side was gashed open and the viscera tumbled out, slopping onto the dusty ground. One of the creatures, his hunger for flesh sated, tugged the pants off of the fallen man and mounted the prone form, dry-fucking the already-dead lunkie’s ass. And his lust incited the base needs of the others, who gathered and penetrated the newly formed openings in the dead man’s body. The ass-fucking lunkhead put his hand in the dead man’s crotch and performed a vicious reach-around, ripping off his victim’s genitals and tossing them into the air, bouncing the rent organ off of the forehead of another lunkie. One of the combatants, upon being struck in the face with a log, tripped backward across the piss-barrier and fell into John and Santiago’s circle. The lunkhead immediately dropped to the ground, clutched at his face and yowled a high-decibel scream, rolling out of the circle and back toward the fray. Once out of the circle, he rolled up, fetal, and continued to clutch at his face and scream. Others fell upon him and shucked him like an ear of corn, painfully and permanently relieving him of his suffering.
    “What the fuck?” gasped John, shocked at the horrid display of violence and lust. “What did you do?”
    Santiago tugged at John’s arm, pulling him away from the bloody melee. “I just bought us some time, dig? They’re all focused on each other and have forgotten about us. Let’s split this scene A.S.A.P.”
    Allowing himself to be led away from the horrors, John realized that he and Santiago were walking away from their protective circle. They were again walking the red brick road.
    John stopped, ignoring Santiago’s insistent tugging at his arm. “Shouldn’t we stay in the circle? Can’t they get us now?”
    Santiago answered, “They’re all focused on each other. They’ll probably tear themselves down, every last one. And even if they do break from that shuck and jive to hassle us, they don’t move very fast. Dig? So as long as we keep moving down the line, we won’t have no troubles from those boys back there. They’ll trail us like the stink of your shame. But, they won’t catch us as long as we’re careful. We just need to keep an eye out for other lunkies up ahead of us. Let’s go, the night is far spent and the day is at hand.”
    And they were on the road again. Behind them, the lunkies fought and they fit, and they scratched and they bit. And because the mindless violent hunks of meat ripped each other down to scraps and snips on that location, the spot is called Elmira Gulch.
    The path now welcomed them. It twisted and wound its way over the red rocks and hills in the distance. The river of clouds rushed by overhead, clearing the way of bad mojo. Bloodcurdling shrieks and howls of combat filled the air behind Santiago and John, the screams fading out as the men distanced themselves from the self-destructing band of lunkheads. The fresh air and the disappearance of the rabid meat-puppets helped John to clear his head. The unthinking exercise of briskly walking away and the clear skies above him lessened the lunk-hangover. His steps fell in rhythm with Santiago’s and they beat a steady retreat from the danger behind them. John allowed himself to concentrate only on the rhythm of his march and cleared his mind of everything else. The men headed west, not talking, just walking.

     
    And John and Santiago walked the road for forty days and forty nights. In the desert there were plants and birds and rocks and things. There was sand and hills and rings. Every so often they saw a small village or gathering of people in the distance, off of the path. In the villages the houses were built of unsplit logs and the sod roofs grew thick and green. The aroma of good meat cooking drifted to them on the wind, making their mouths water and their stomachs rumble in hungry protest. But John and Santiago kept walking, eschewing the temptations of a good meal and a comfortable slumber.