Chapters
Shownotes Transcript
You're oozing. What?
"One of your sores has burst. You're oozing." "It happens." "You need to do something about it." "Why? It's not like our audience isn't covered in sores, too." "It's not professional." "It helps them relate. Chill out." "It's disgusting. This is show business." "Fine. Whatever. If it'll calm you down." "Makeup!" The two men sat behind the commentator's desk and waited as a scrawny, strung-out woman limped over to them.
The first commentator, a handsome man in his early 40s with perfectly coiffed, shockingly black hair and shockingly white teeth, pointed at his colleague. "Oosing sore! Patch it and cover it!" The woman said nothing. She just nodded and got to work, covering the sore on the other commentator's left cheek. She dabbed at the greenish pus with a less than clean rag.
The man sat there, bored, as she got the sore closed up and then applied enough makeup to cover the closed sore. The makeup wasn't even close to matching the man's skin color, but considering the state of his skin, it wasn't much of a problem. "Move!" A man barked at the makeup woman as he approached the desk. She scurried away. The man paused and looked at the logo spray-painted on the front of the desk.
"Long Pig Showdown" was written there in stylized lettering that really popped when the lights hit it. Perfect for the cameras. "Gary!" the man said to the handsome commentator. He looked at the other one and successfully managed not to wince. "Joshua, Ken." "Joshua," the one with the bad skin said. "What bullshit are you gonna spew now?" Ken, their producer, licked his lips and glanced around.
"Oh dear," Gary said, and almost ran his hands through his hair, but paused. He didn't want to disturb the perfect coif. It had taken him hours to peel the scalp from the mutant without tearing it. He'd thrown up twice while doing it, but the hair was just so perfect it was worth it. So he wasn't going to mess all that hard work up because he didn't like Ken's demeanor. "We have a twist for tonight's show," Ken said. "More than one choice, I'm afraid.
"More than one?" Gary asked. He looked at Joshua. "When was the last time that happened?" "Christmas special two years ago," Joshua said. "The turducken challenge." "Oh my lord," Gary said and fanned himself. "That was a debacle and a half." "It ain't easy shoving people up other people's butts," Joshua said. "We looking at another turducken incident, Ken? That what the network assholes are throwing at us?"
"No, no, it's not that bad," Ken said. "Just a wrench in the format." "A wrench in the format," Joshua chuckled. As well as oozing sores, Joshua's skin was mottled with multiple scars. Years of surviving in the wasteland had provided him with his unique physical look.
When he'd stumbled into what was left of civilization, he'd been lucky to fall in front of one of the network's execs, who was coming through the city's gates on his way to meet friends for a mutant safari. "Look at you!" the exec had claimed after stepping out of his armored jeep. "Please tell me you can talk. Can you read, too?" "Fuck off," Joshua had growled. It was the growl that sealed the deal.
The exec changed his plan and hurried Joshua back to the studio for a camera test. And also tests for all known contagions that still lingered out in the wasteland. Joshua had passed every test and that growl of a voice would soon be known by thousands of viewers as the trademark growl of the legendary, always says it like it is, color commentator for Long Pig Showdown, the most popular cooking competition show on the air.
It was the only cooking competition show on the air, but no one mentioned that. It was still damn popular though. "Can you give us a heads up as to the nature of the wrench, Kenneth?" Gary asked. Unlike Joshua, Gary had been in show business for most of his life. He'd been a local newscaster, a national weatherman, a spokesperson for some vitamins that supposedly ate radiation, but really just gave the consumers horrible bloody diarrhea.
Lastly, for a short period of time, he was the host of the biggest battle royale on the airwaves. That was, until the competitors rebelled and slaughtered all of the crew and most of the audience before escaping out of the city gates and into the wasteland. Gary assumed the competitors were all dead. No one lasted long in the wasteland when dressed in loincloths and armed with basic melee weapons like knives and baseball bats.
Hand to hand would keep you alive for only so long before the wasteland hunters picked you off with rifles from afar. But Gary only knew that from stories. He'd never actually been out in the wasteland. Ken cleared his throat and shuffled from foot to foot. "The execs want it to be a surprise," Ken said, holding up a hand as both Gary's and Joshua's mouths opened to protest. "They want an authentic reaction from both of you." Gary pursed his lips and stole a glance at Joshua.
"You mean they want what comes out of Joshua's mouth to not sound rehearsed?" "I never sound rehearsed," Joshua said, his growl low and deep. "And that's what they're banking on," Ken said, and gave Joshua two thumbs up. "And me?" Gary asked, not even bothering to hide the offense in his voice. "I built this show, Kenneth. This was a solo desk before Joshua's arrival."
"Yes, no, of course," Kenneth said. "They want you to sound authentic too." Joshua snorted. "What?" Gary snapped. "Something to say, Joshua?" "You sound like you ate a radio announcer and he's stuck in your throat." Joshua replied with a shrug. "Authentic ain't your shtick, Gary. Come on guys, please," Kenneth said. "Let's not do this now. Airtime is in 30 seconds. We have a live show to produce. Bitch at each other after, okay?"
"I will be sure to," Gary said. "Whatever." Joshua responded. "That's the spirit!" Kenneth exclaimed. The two commentators glared at him. "Twenty seconds until airtime. Anything else?" "I don't know, Ken. Is there-" Joshua snarled. "You tell us." "Nope, nope. Just the twist," Ken said. "Wrench." Joshua corrected. Ken shrugged, then backed away and held up a hand.
And in five, four, three... He was silent as he ticked off two and one. The set's lights were brought to full and revealed two huge cooking stations that faced each other. Behind the stations were a large red theater curtain. It would have been a standard sight to behold before the world collapsed, except for how dingy and dank the set looked. It didn't exactly exude glamor or basic sanitation. Bloodstains were everywhere.
They dappled the set like a cow's spots. Not that the city had seen cows or beef in several decades. Spotlights hit Gary and Joshua dead on, and Gary's white-toothed smile shined brightly as he lifted a battered microphone to his mouth. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome back to our city nation's most popular cooking competition, Long Pig Showdown.
Joshua growled into his own mic.
Gary laughed. Gary swung his arm to the right side of the stage and pointed.
Our first competitor is clawing his way up the food station charts. Literally. He was thrown into the food pit when he was six, but showed the ambition that every entrepreneur looks for after killing 14 of his fellow pit dwellers. A local restaurateur snatched him right up, and he's been creating mouth-watering meals ever since. Everything is mouth-watering when you're starving, Joshua grumbled. So true, Gary responded and kept going.
"Please welcome Chef Andrew Wehrlein." A man with a crude peg for his left leg limped his way onto the stage. He pumped his fists in the air and hobbled over to the left cooking station. "Chef Andrew, welcome," Gary said. "How excited are you to be here?" Chef Andrew, who was only in his 20s, looked around the stage and tried to smile. "Pretty excited," he said, not sounding too convincing. "Especially if I win."
"Yeah, you'll want to focus on that." Joshua said and laughed. Chef Andrew winced and kept trying to smile. "Yes, yes, you will want to focus on that," Gary continued. "Because our next competitor is no stranger to Long Pin Showdown. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Chef Marcus." "What?" Joshua snapped and his head whipped around to stare at Gary. "Since when do we have repeats?"
Gary covered the mic with his hand. "When we started running low on cooks in this fucking city..." Gary snarled, mic still covered. "Do you ever read the production memos?" "Fuck no," Joshua said. "I wipe my ass with them. Better use of the paper." "Everyone does that. You're not special," Gary said. "But try reading them before wiping next time. Then you'd know why we have a repeat chef."
Gary cleared his throat and focused on the older gentleman who walked slowly over to the cooking station on the right. The man was close to 40, a couple years either way, and his eyes were wide with pure terror. He looked like he was gonna throw up. "Marcus! What a delight to see you again! How have you been?" Gary called out. "Um, good?" Marcus replied.
Marcus' sound got cut out and Gary laughed.
"Uh-oh, technical difficulties already," he rolled his eyes and pointed randomly offstage. "Hey producers, get on that, will ya?" Gary laughed like his life depended on it. Joshua growled. "Okay, okay, let's save some of this mirth and witty banter for later," Gary said. "Right now, I have to explain the rules to our viewing audience."
Two women dressed in tattered bikinis stumbled on stage. They looked frightened and confused. Someone threw a huge piece of cardboard at them and began shooing them toward the desk. Oh, new rules, girls, Gary announced. Come closer, girls. The two girls grabbed onto each other and slowly walked toward the desk. Bring the fucking rules too, idiots, Joshua said with a snarl.
One of the girls hurried back and picked up the piece of cardboard and struggled back to the other girl. They both stared at the cardboard then looked at Gary. "Oh dear," Gary said. "I don't think these two beautiful ladies can read." Joshua snorted. "Beautiful? One of them is missing her nose. Is that your thing, Gary?" Gary cleared his throat. "We all have our own beauty, Joshua. Especially in these aftertimes."
"Well, if they're beautiful, then I'm downright gorgeous," Joshua said. There was a lone, single laugh from the studio audience. Joshua gave the person a thumbs up, even though he couldn't see past the stage lights.
Gary laughed too. "Oh Joshua, you're really full of beans tonight, aren't you?" He covered the mic again. "Knock it off. If the execs feel we need a gimmick tonight, then don't you think maybe our jobs are at stake too? Play your part, but we both may end up outside the gates. They'd never waste the meat." Joshua said then shrugged. "Whatever." Gary smiled wide for the camera.
"Ladies, please hold up the rules, will you?" They held up the cardboard. "It's upside down. Please turn it around." They did. "I'll read them," Joshua said. Gary looked like he was about to bash Joshua's head in with his mic, but managed a smile and a nod instead. Joshua didn't bother clearing his throat, so the words that came out sounded thick with mucus and attitude.
Rule 1: The winning chef lives. The losing chef will be on the winning chef's menu the following week. Rule 2: Only our panel of judges can decide which is the winning chef. Rule 3: Competitors can and will be shot if they try to leave before the show has ended. Rule 4: Have fun.
The two women kept standing there, holding up the cardboard. "You can leave now." Joshua snarled at them. "Unless one of you wants to come around here and lick my-" "Couldn't have said those rules better myself, Joshua." Gary interrupted, taking over once more. "Let's meet our judges." Ken appeared next to one of the cameras, waving his hands over his head. Gary turned to regard the empty judges table. "Uh-oh," Gary said and chuckled.
"I think Joshua and I may have to judge tonight." "Whatever," Joshua said and shrugged. "I can eat." "Excellent!" Gary crowed. "Now chefs, are you ready to see what you are preparing tonight?" "Is it people?" Joshua snickered at his own joke. There was a sudden tugging at Gary's pant leg. He looked down at his feet and Ken was there. Gary glanced at the camera where Ken had been only seconds before, then looked back down.
"Here," Ken whispered and handed Gary a piece of paper. Then he scurried away on his hands and knees. Gary read the words and managed to keep his smile. "Well, folks, we have a twist tonight," Gary announced. Chef Marcus whimpered. Someone offstage threw a rock at him and hit him right in the left temple. He fell to the floor but was back on his feet in a second, scrambling around for a towel to stop the bleeding.
"Tonight folks, we have..." Gary stood and pointed at the red curtain. It was yanked wide open. "Family dinner!" A large cage with three naked males inside was revealed. "Each chef can pick one from the three choices." Gary continued. "Their choices are grandpa, dad, or son. How neat is that?" Chef Marcus looked like he wanted to cry.
Chef Andrew glared at the cage, his tongue moving back and forth across his lips. Only one choice, really, Joshua said. Dad. Oh, and why is that, Joshua? Gary asked. Grandpa will be too stringy, Joshua said, looking interested for the first time that night. Probably tough. He'll need a low and slow cook to get his flesh right. Hard to do in an hour. And the kid is...
Ken whispered from below the two commentators. Joshua snapped and scooted away. Ken said and then crawled away as fast as possible. Gary and Joshua watched him crawl off stage, then looked at each other. Joshua said.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Gary announced into the mic, "we have a long one ahead of us. Looks like our chefs will get eight hours on the clock to cook these fine morsels tonight." "What? No!" Chef Marcus cried. Two large men rushed the stage and tackled him behind the cooking station. The sound of a struggle filled the air, then it was quiet. The two men stood and walked off stage.
After a second, a bleeding Chef Marcus stood with a shock collar secured around his throat. "Pussy!" Chef Andrew shouted at Chef Marcus. The older chef didn't respond. He only stood there and cowered, his eyes staring at the cutting board in front of him. "Chef Andrew?" Gary asked, as if nothing had just happened. "Since you aren't complaining and causing a disturbance, you get to choose first."
"I never got to finish my commentary," Joshua said. He fixed his gaze on Gary. "I want to finish my commentary." "Of course. How silly of me," Gary replied. "Go ahead, Joshua." Joshua leaned forward and stared at Chef Andrew. "Grandpa will need all eight hours." He waited until Chef Andrew nodded. "The teenager will be gaming with all those hormones. Low and slow can't get rid of that."
Dad, on the other hand, should be tender as can be after six hours, giving you plenty of time to rest and carve properly. Chef Andrew gave Joshua two thumbs up. Why? Why are you helping him? Chef Marcus asked, then fell out of sight as the shock collar went to work. Because he isn't a crybaby like you are, you little bitch, Joshua said. Chef Marcus finally clawed his way back upright.
He swayed back and forth, his hands planted on the cooking station to keep himself standing. Joshua sniggered. "You are so dead."
"Now, now, Joshua, let's not decide the outcome quite yet," Gary said. "We may be the judges tonight by default, but we should always remain impartial and let the food speak for itself." "Let us go!" Grandpa shouted from the cage. "This is a mistake. We didn't break any laws. They always say that, don't they, folks?" Gary said, looking directly into the camera.
"It's true!" Dad yelled. "We live next door to one of the producers. He kidnapped us and brought us here this morning. All because we wouldn't let him borrow a half cup of lard last week." Grandpa added. "Please, this is a vendetta, not a legitimate catch." "Oh my!" Gary said and fanned himself. "I think they doth protest too much, don't you folks?" "That makes no fucking sense." Joshua grumbled.
The same two men that had tackled Chef Marcus rushed towards the cage. They stabbed cattle prods into the cage, and the three captives danced and shook as their bodies were filled with thousands of volts of electricity. "Hey, jerks!" Joshua shouted as he stood up. "Don't ruin the meat!" He sat back down. "Morons." "Indeed," Gary said. "No cooking before I say go!"
"Can we get on with this?" Joshua said. "We can," Gary said and pointed at the chefs. "Go!" The two chefs raced toward the cage like their lives depended on the choice before them, which was definitely the case. Hour one, Gary walked out from behind the desk, struggled with the mic's cable, got it free, and hurried over to Chef Andrew's station. "Chef Andrew," he said, and studied the ingredients strewn about the counter.
The dad's corpse was hanging from a makeshift hook and draining blood into a large basin. Gary scooted past it carefully. "I'm seeing sage, and well, more sage. What's that there?" "Sage?" Chef Andrew said. "Oh, and is that garlic?" "No garlic in the city," Chef Andrew replied. "How sad," Gary said, and made a fake pouty face at the camera.
He pointed at a small mound of khaki-colored lumps. So, what is this? Boils, Chef Andrew said, hurrying around his station like a madman. I harvested them myself from my neighbor. Seems like we have a neighborly theme tonight then, Gary said and laughed. Can you go away? I need to work. Chef Andrew snapped.
"Unless you want to be part of the meal?" "No, I do not. Thank you," Gary said with a laugh, but hurried away as fast as he could. He struggled with the cord some more, then got it sorted and walked to Chef Marcus' station. The man was leaning against the counter, his eyes glazed, tears and snot running down his face. Blood was everywhere. Grandpa's corpse was a mangled mess that was draped haphazardly across a too small cutting board.
"Please," he said when Gary got close. "I'm not supposed to be here. I won already. I won!" "Yes, you did, you little champion, you!" Gary exclaimed. "So how about you put that experience to use and get cooking!" The man cowered and burst into tears. Then he shot upright and shook as his shock collar was triggered. Gary watched the chef collapse to the floor. Then he looked at the camera.
You never know when a case of the nerves will show up, do you folks? Give him all he's down, Joshua shouted from the desk. Right on the nuts. I will do no such thing. You're boring. Hour two. Challenge, Gary announced from the desk. The first chef that makes and brings us each a sandwich gets to keep both hands. What? No! Chef Marcus screamed. He shook and fell. On it!
Chef Andrew yelled and got to work. There was barely anything done at Chef Marcus' station. As he pulled himself back upright, he stared at his hands and then burst into tears. He shook and fell again. In just two minutes, Chef Andrew presented Gary and Joshua each with their own sandwich. "Filet of thigh with special sauce," Chef Andrew said. "My bread is moldy," Joshua said. "You think serving us moldy bread is a good idea, asshole?"
Chef Andrew whipped his right hand up and the tip of his chef's knife was only a hair away from the tip of Joshua's nose. I think he gets a point, Gary said and laughed. Chef Andrew and Joshua stared at each other. But you did get here first, Joshua said finally. You win the challenge. Chef Andrew withdrew his blade and went back to his station. I got this, Joshua said and stood up.
He pulled a meat cleaver out from under the desk and pointed it at Chef Marcus' station. The man was just getting back to his feet when he saw the blade. "No!" he screamed. He was shocked again. "Don't shock him while I'm cutting!" Joshua yelled as he made his way to the cooking station. "I don't want to catch the blowback!" He reached the station and looked down. "Pathetic," he said, then lifted the cleaver. "Now hold still!"
Before Joshua could bring the cleaver down, Gary yelled, "Joshua! We can't see back there! Pull him out for the cameras!" Joshua nodded and yanked Chef Marcus' body into view. He planted the sole of his boot on Chef Marcus' left forearm. Then he paused and looked up. "Is he left or right-handed?" he asked. Gary shrugged. "Doesn't matter, I guess."
Then he brought the knife down hard and fast onto Chef Marcus' left wrist. The man woke up screaming and Joshua jumped back. The shock collar put Chef Marcus back out and Joshua stepped forward, picked up the severed hand and threw it to Chef Andrew. "See what you can do with this," he said and walked back to the desk. Chef Andrew caught the hand easily and set it on the counter. "Hour three." "Knuckle cruddo," Chef Andrew said as he presented a plate to Joshua and Gary.
"Enjoy!" "Looks love!" Gary started. "You killed them!" The teenager interrupted from the cage. "You killed my family!" "Yeah, like over two hours ago," Joshua said with a sneer. "Where the fuck have you been, kid?" He took a bite of the crotto. "Oh, this is good," Joshua said and nodded to Chef Andrew. "The best knuckle crotto I've eaten," he paused. "Hands down." Another lone laugh from the audience.
"I'm going to kill all of you!" The teenager raged. "I'll kill you all and feed you to the people! Food for the people! Food for the people!" Two men rushed the cage and shocked the teenager again. He fell and writhed, but didn't stop screaming. "Feed the people! Feed the people!" "Oh, this is good," Gary said, taking a bite of the cruddo. "Bravo!" Hour 4
Well, it sure is smelling good in here, Gary said. A little smoky, Joshua said, and waved his hand in front of his face. Is the exhaust system working? Gary looked about and frowned. Yes, you are correct, Joshua. It does seem like the exhaust system is being overpowered by the smokers. Kenneth? Kenneth, can you look into that? Yeah, because Producer Ken is the brain we want on this job.
Joshua said and laughed. "The guy is probably the idiot that turned off the exhaust system in the first place." Ken whispered from below the two commentators. "Jesus Christ!" Joshua yelled and jumped in his chair. "Next time you do that, I'm snapping your neck! Oh, Joshua!" Gary said and smiled into the camera. "Give us a moment, will ya folks?"
The camera swung away and focused on Chef Andrew's cooking station, where the man was busy whipping, chopping, and slicing. "I had to turn the system off or it would short everything out," Ken said from his crouched position behind the desk. "The city put out a grid warning an hour ago. We're lucky they haven't shut down the production."
"Not if they want a riot on their hands," Gary said. "People look forward to this all." "Feed the people!" the teenager shouted from the cage. "Look who's awake," Joshua said. "Yeah, feed the people, kid. You do that." "What else is going on?" Gary asked Ken. "You have that constipated look when you know something important."
"His face always looks like that," Joshua said. "Hey, Chef Andrew." "What?" Chef Andrew shouted back. "How's Dad's cook coming?" "Fuck off, I'm busy." "I like this guy," Joshua said with a chuckle. "Listen," Ken said. "We may have a problem, such as," Gary asked. "The meat," Ken said. "The old man wasn't lying. One of the producers framed them. We may have a visit from the authorities."
"How soon?" Gary asked. "Soon," Ken said and scurried off. "How bad do you think it's gonna get?" Joshua asked Gary. "Gary," a huge grin plastered on his face, replied. "I think we're fucked." "Great," Joshua said. "Feed the people!" "Shut the fuck up," Joshua bellowed. Hour 5
I swear to Christ, I'm gonna butcher that kid myself and show these two pansies how it's done! Joshua shouted as he jabbed a finger toward the caged teenager behind the two cook stations. I'll fucking do it, Gary. Oh, Joshua, Gary said as he gasped and coughed. The smoke in the studio was getting thicker and thicker by the minute. How can you breathe in this? Years in the wasteland, Joshua said with a shrug. You learn to breathe everything out there.
Gary coughed hard. "How nice for you!" Ken whispered from the floor behind the desk. Joshua didn't even flinch. "Cops are here." "So?" Joshua replied. "Deal with them." "Yeah, well..." Ken smiled. "And?" Joshua asked. "They want to be on the show." Ken said. "They'll let the whole kidnapping thing go if they can be on the show for a minute or two." "That sounds like a horrible idea." Gary said.
"They get 30 seconds," Joshua said. "What?" Gary snapped. "They want more than that," Ken said. Joshua lifted a fist. Ken cowered and waved his hand at Joshua. "Okay, okay, 30 seconds." He crawled away but turned back before he was gone. "Each." Then he scrambled away as Joshua jumped out of his chair and tried to kick him.
Two police officers in full body armor and helmets shambled onto the stage, stood directly in front of the desk, and turned slowly in a circle. "This doesn't look like it does on TV," one said. "And that's the magic of television," Gary said, struggling to get the mic cord free as he shuffled around the desk. "Can I get your names, gentlemen?" The two were indistinguishable from each other.
just black body armor and visored helmets. But the one closest to Gary grabbed the mic and yanked it to his helmet. "I'm Keith, Keith Houser. This is my partner, Johnny Miles." The two police officers waved at the camera. "You two are so fucking cute," Joshua said from his seat behind the desk. The police officer named Johnny Miles slowly pivoted around until he was facing Joshua.
Joshua raised both hands in mock surrender, and Johnny pivoted slowly back to face the camera. "Anyone you'd like to say hello to?" Gary asked Keith. Waving at the camera, Keith replied, "My wife Heather. Any kids?" Gary asked. "Not after the famine of '65," Keith said and shrugged. "We remember that year, don't we folks?" Gary said to the camera. He leaned forward and put the mic in front of Johnny.
"And you, officer?" Johnny didn't move. Keith leaned in and got in front of the mic. "He doesn't talk," Keith said. "Mute tore his larynx out." "Been there," Joshua said. "Seen that?" "Well, officers, thank you for stopping by," Gary said and made a broad gesture with his arm, then slightly bowed. The officers didn't leave. "I'm sure you have important business to take care of," Gary continued, repeating the gesture and the bow.
The officers still didn't move. "Jesus Christ, take a hint!" Joshua snapped. "Get off the set!" Johnny pivoted again and faced Joshua. Joshua stood up and began to take his tattered sport jacket off. "Now, boys," Gary said. "Feed the people!" Johnny's helmet whipped around. "Feed the people!" "What's his deal?" Keith asked, nodding his helmet at the caged teenager.
His father and grandfather are part of the menu, Gary explained. He's not being very understanding about it. Feed the people! Oh yeah! Heath shouted. Yell that again and see where it gets ya! Feed the people! The two officers sprinted to the cage. Gary waved a hand in front of his face. This smoke is something alright. What do you think they're gonna do to... Oh shit! Joshua shouted.
The teenager screamed as the officers each managed to grab an arm and pull them through the bars of the cage in opposite directions. "Now would be a perfect time for a commercial break," Gary said. "We'll be right back." Hour six. "He's dead," Joshua said, mic in hand, as he stood over the body of Chef Marcus. He gave the corpse a hard kick. "Yep, he's dead." "Oh dear," Gary said. "How shocking!"
He turned and grinned at the camera. Not even the lone laughter in the audience responded. "Does that mean I win?" Chef Andrew asked. His knife paused above what looked like either rotten eggplant or a pile of purple-tinged feces. "No, it doesn't mean you win," Joshua said in a sing-song mocking voice. "We still have to taste your food. If it tastes like crap, then you lose."
"Hey, that's not in the rules!" Chef Andrew yelled. Joshua made a move towards the cooking station then paused. "What was that?" he asked. "Yeah, what is that?" Gary asked, then coughed. "Kenneth!" Ken walked straight onto the set wearing a gas mask. He didn't even bother to hide himself from the cameras. "This isn't good," Joshua said. "Yeah, so..." Ken started then scrunched up his face. "We have a problem."
Joshua snapped. "What seems to be the issue?" Gary asked, between coughs. "Where did you get that mask? I could use one now too." "It blocked your face from the cameras." Ken replied. "Good point." Gary said, then doubled over again and coughed. "Spill it, bitch." Joshua said.
It appears that some of the citizens were unhappy with how the teenager was treated, Ken said and shrugged. No idea why. We've done worse. It's his feed the people thing, Joshua said and threw his hands up in the air. I'm out. Joshua stripped off his sport jacket and threw it to the side. Then he undid his tie and yanked it over his head. He threw it in Gary's coughing face as he walked by. Good luck, idiots, Joshua said. You're gonna need it.
"Joshua!" Gary called and coughed after him. "Joshua! We're in the middle of a show!" "Good luck with that!" Joshua yelled from the studio's shadows. Gary looked at Ken. "Now what?" "The producers are going to lock themselves in the control booth," Ken replied. "Just in case the people are able to break down the doors." "That sounds reasonable," Gary said. "May I join?"
"Yeah, sure. I was going to have you two flip a coin since there's only so much room," Ken said, and pointed in the direction that Joshua left. "But he saw… that…" Ken stared into the shadows. Gary stood up straight. "What is that?" Ken asked. "That son of a bitch," Gary said. "That son of a bitch!" "What? Who?" Ken asked. Then realization dawned on him and his shoulders slumped. "Joshua let them in!"
Footsteps echoed from off the stage, and then they became a roar. Then they became a thunderous stampede, as people of all shapes, sizes, and states of deteriorating health streamed through the studio like a thousand ants swarming over roadkill. Ken turned and ran screaming, but only made it a few feet before running straight into what had been Chef Marcus' cook station. He fell to the ground in a moaning heap.
Gary looked left. Gary looked right. But there was nowhere to go. He let the mic slip loosely from his grip while he kept a hold of the cord. He started to swing the mic back and forth and then brought it over his head and twirled it faster and faster and faster. "You think I don't know how to survive?" He screamed at the horde of starving citizens racing right for him. "Oh, I know how to survive!"
The mic whipped out fast and cracked open a woman's skull. But that was it. There were too many and they were too fast. Gary was overwhelmed in seconds and brought to the floor. The mic picked up his screaming and broadcast his death to the entire city nation as dirty fingernails tore into his flesh. Chef Andrew lasted longer due to his access to and skills with knives. But even he was outnumbered and taken down in under five minutes.
Ken was lucky to have knocked himself semi-unconscious, so he barely felt it when he was ripped limb from limb. A lone laugh came from the audience section before it was suddenly cut off. Hour 7. Joshua stood in front of the window, his eyes on the TV that flickered behind the glass. He absentmindedly wiped makeup from his face with a dirty t-shirt he'd taken off a dead kid in the street.
On the TV set was a static shot of hundreds of citizens gorging themselves on the competition food. Then, when that ran out, they attacked each other and kept the feeding frenzy going. Then the TV flickered and turned off as the power shut down across the city nation. Done wiping the makeup from his face, Joshua looked around at the carnage. Every building burned. People screamed and ran. Weapons were flying this way and that. Blood filled the gutters.
Joshua shook his head and tossed the t-shirt to the ground. "Why is it that everywhere I end up, there's a citizen uprising? Why can't I find a city nation that can control its people for a change?" Joshua shrugged and walked toward the city gates.
A man with a nail and a board leapt at Joshua. He missed completely and fell face first onto the street. Joshua didn't even hesitate and stomped on the man's head until his skull popped and brains came out of his ears. Then he kept on walking. "I swear, sometimes I think the wasteland is safer."
