Born Hard Again: Book Three of the Future Remembered Chronicles (9 page)

Alphonso nodded.  "Uh, okay.  Yeah, I can do that.  I think."

"We're counting on you," I told him.  "Look, they're getting closer.  You've got to get out there now!"

The large white animals were roughly two hundred yards away now and closing fast.  They looked much larger than buses, more like small buildings.  They had what looked like enormous open sores all over their bodies and they were oozing thick, white fluid.  They weren't exactly sliding across the ice; it was more like they were riding
through
it, like a boat in water, leaving a frothy wake.

"Okay.  Okay, guys," Alphonso was clearly reluctant.  He stopped at the door.  "Uh... okay." 

"Mane, get yo' ass out dere!  We goan miss our chance 'cause yo' stutterin' ass ass.  Gon!" Koochy boomed at him with all of the speakers around us. 

"Okay!" Alphonso yelled and jumped out of the chariot's cabin.

"What should I do?" I asked my dead friend.

"Ay, P, we goan get whiplash in dis bitch.  Ya bes' protec' ya neck, kid.  Find somewhere ta sit and hang the fuck on!" he told me as he began to barricade himself in the crawlspace under the cockpit control panel.

I dashed into the nearest seat near one of the shattered windows near the front of the once-magnificent sled.  Pulling the seat restraint over my shoulders and hip, I turned my attention to Alphonso.  He was running towards the impending winter beasts, waving his arms like a lunatic.

"Jesus, Alphonso," I said, under my breath.  "What are you doing?"

"Dat boy cray doh," Koochy laughed all around me.

"Cray" as it may have been, it did seem to be working, I noticed.  The glistening mammoths began to change their trajectory to point towards Alphonso.  He also seemed to realize this and turned around with a panicked look on his face.  He began to sprint back toward the front of the ship.

"Das right, mane.  Das right," Koochy sounded optimistic.  "Lead dem fat white bitches to big papi Kooch!"

Alphonso huffed by the front of the chariot, puffs of dusty snow kicking up around him as he raced.  A few seconds later, the two enormous creatures came trundling by. 

"Unnnnghh!"  Koochy exclaimed when they were directly in front of our stalled vehicle.  "Get you some!"

THUMNK!  THUMNK!

I heard something dull and industrial sound from the front of the chariot.

"Yeahhhh!" cheered Koochy.  "Fuck yeah, boy!  We 'bout ta-"

Before he could complete his sentence, the chariot was jerked forward with tremendous force.  We were wrenched from the snowy bluff that had ensconced us, and dragged behind the two ice beasts.  Who were still chasing Alphonso.

"Ow!" My head smacked the wall beside me as I was jostled about.  I could see Koochy was also having a hard time; his dead head was smashed several times into the underside of the control panel, causing his brain to begin to spill down his forehead.

"You okay?" I asked my friend after we stabilized a bit.

"Yea..." he began to extract himself from his hiding place.  "Mane, dat shit was rough, son.  Where dat fool, Alphonso?"

I looked out the window and saw Alphonso.  Well, I saw his fleeing backside.  He was still a hundred or so feet ahead of his house-sized pursuers and seemed to be running out of adrenaline.  I gave him another five minutes, tops, before he was ice slug fodder.

"He's right in front of us, Marcus!" I exclaimed.  "He's still out ahead of the snow-snot things, but he's losing ground!"

"Aiight den," Koochy said.

"So what's the plan?  How are we going to get Alphonso back in here?" I asked my friend.

"Why da fuck would we be doin' dat?  E'erythang be lookin' fine up in hea'."  Koochy kicked his feet up and relaxed.  His dead eyes stared at nothing and his hands made a motion like he was about to pass a blunt.  "Haaaaah.  Fo'got dat chiba chiba up in my brainwaves, son.  Ain't no puff puff pass up in dis sheeit.  Fuck y'all, you bogart muffuck anyways."

"Really?  But you sent him out there!  Just to die in the snowstorm?" I protested.  "Stop using those brainwaves, your brain is leaking all over the chair already!"

"Big K sent him wha?  Muthafucka, yo' ass did dat wit da can-can, P.  And now you all can't-can't?  Don' be lookin' at Kooch ta come rescue that foo'."

Marcus flicked a switch and turned on the sled's external speakers.

"Oh shit sucka, ha!  Run, you armadillo ass Pinocchio lookin ass wit yo' dumb face and doin' whateva we say when we pull strangs cuz you a dumb shit ass white ass DQ eatin' ass ass eatin' ass!  Ay, remember Whiddington at da DQ?  Last thang he evuh seen was a blizzard, so yous be seein' dat too!  Fo' real, blizzard in yo' face!  Unnngh!"

For a moment I considered leaving Alphonso to his fate.  But we needed him, if for nothing else but to wrangle the next set of ice monsters or whatever horrors we were sure to come across. 
Seeing a blizzard
...

"That's it!  The blizzard!" I yelled.

"Ain't no drive-thru DQs for yo' sweet toof', you fat fuckin' baby," Marcus replied coolly.  "Wut, you see a big-slugs-park-righ'chere sign or sumthin'?"

"Marcus, look at those huge ice beasts.  Did you see any eyes on them... those mollusca whatevers?" I asked.

"Nah mane, that whole fuckin' genus don't have eyes.  Some in da phylum do, but dat's just a taxonomic relation," Koochy replied.

"What?  So if they don't have eyes, they're just sensing basic stuff, right?" I continued.  "And if they're out on the ice and in the blizzards all the time, maybe they're sensing heat!  They're just following Alphonso 'cause he's warm!"

The sled was gradually catching up to Alphonso as he was tiring.  I was now able to faintly hear him over the rushing wind outside.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!   Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" he was screaming.  How could he scream so much while running?  I figured he'd be better off just maybe not screaming.

"Alphonso!" I announced over the loudspeakers.  "You have to get rid of your heat signature somehow!  But don't slow down!"

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" he responded.  "Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!"

"Dive into that snow drift!  To your left!" I called out.  "You dumb piece of shit, you passed it!  And stop screaming like a little bitch!"

"Ay, P!  I got dis," Koochy said.  He opened up a hatch on the top of the chariot and climbed up onto the roof.  I followed him up there, and my dickfeet were instantly chilly on the snow-and-ice-covered metal surface.

Koochy used his suited arms to sweep up a mass of snow and turn it into a snowball.  He fired a mechanically augmented fastball at Alphonso's frantically running form and hit him directly in the ass.

"That's it!" I shouted and I joined Marcus in making more snowballs.  We threw them at the flailing Vice-Admiral and laughed as he yelped.  We pelted him on his back and arms and legs, and he emitted a shrill, girly scream with every impact.

"It's working!" I cheered.  The snow slugs were slowing, confused.  Alphonso's infrared emissions were getting blocked.

"Ha!  Now check dis out," Koochy said as he made a particularly large snowball.

"Yeah, we need to make sure he's completely covered," I agreed.  "Put some ice pieces in it too so it's colder.  Here, it needs to be a bit slushy too, let me spit on it."  I spat a few times but it didn't do much to wet the frozen ball.

"Nah mane lemme show how we do, 41st side represent!"  Koochy repositioned the snowball by the crotch of his suit.  There was a hole there where Limbozer had cut his own dick off.  Marcus somehow persuaded his dead body to take a piss on the snowball, and a greyish, bloody stream of fetid urine splashed over the icy mass.  Decaying chunks of kidney spattered the top.

"Ay, Alphie!  Choc' chip cookie dough blizzard comin' atcha!"  He hurled the ice bomb out over the white behemoths.

"Heads up!" I called out, and Alphonso turned just in time to catch the putrid frozen specialty right in his face, his mouth open mid-shriek.  He fell over and plowed up a heap of snow, skidding along the ground to come to a stop.  I held my breath in the sudden scream-free silence.

The gigantic snow slugs bumped into each other, lost track of what they were doing, and then puttered along idly.  Alphonso cowered in a fetal position between the huge beasts and they narrowly missed him to either side.

I hopped down the roof hatch and opened the forward door to bring Alphonso in as the sled slowly approached him, then shut the port to keep the wind out.  Alphonso was shaking and shivering violently from the cold but dragged himself along the floor with a determination I'd never before seen in him.

"Hey, you need help there, champ?" I asked.

"N-n-n-n-nnn-nn-n-" he stammered through chattering teeth.

Finally Alphonso reached the taskboard and with a spasm of effort he moved the
ALPHONSO GETS THE MONSTERS
sticky note to the "done" column, then he collapsed.

"Hot damn, that sucka-ass sucka actually finished a task!" Koochy observed as he came back in the crew compartment.  "Goan get it, homie."

"Marcus, I think he's got hypothermia or something.  Look at him, he's turning blue!" I worried.  "We should get him out of those wet clothes maybe."

"Oh yah?  So why don'tcha get butt nekkid and snuggle all close like?" Koochy mocked loudly.  "Dis ain't no voyage of the mimi shit!  Warmin' up with yo' dicks in yo' asses, haaah!"

"Well, I wasn't suggesting I'd be the one to do that.  Maybe you would though...?" I probed.

"Bitch my core body temp-er-a-ture be close to ab-so-loot zero," Marcus enunciated unnecessarily.  "Ab-so-loot, so I gotta come up on some loot!  Cain't be hangin' wit no zeros.  Fuck up some commas, kid!"

My scientifically minded friend did have a point, at least at first.  Marcus' dead body heat wouldn't help Alphonso recover.

I looked around the cabin for ideas.  How could I warm him up, without touching his pasty ass?  Aha!  I saw a pile of papers on the ground in the corner.  I picked up the discarded sticky notes.  "NEE? FIX" "KNEE. FXI?" "ARM. FIX!" the first few read.  Holy shit, did Alphonso really need to retitle his one fucking task this many times?  As if any triage team would prioritize his goddamn knee injury.

I grabbed an armful of post-its, rushed back to Alphonso's shivering body and dumped them on top of him.

"Koochy, do you have a lighter?" I asked.  "Gimme, since you don't need it for your brain-weed."

"Yah, son!"

Marcus passed me a diamond-encrusted disposable plastic lighter.  I flicked it and set Alphonso ablaze.  Flames immediately licked up to the ceiling of the cabin and thick smoke filled the chariot.

"Oh shit!  It wasn't me!" I yelled reflexively.  I started kicking and stomping on Alphonso to put him out, grinding my dickfeet into his face.

"Aaaaahhhmmmmpfff!" Alphonso yelled, muffled by dicks.

"Shut up!  Can't you see I'm trying to save you!?" I shouted back.

Marcus picked up a sheaf of flaming sticky notes and hurled them out of the roof hatch.  They fluttered down a ways in front of the enormous snow slugs.  I lost my balance as the sled started moving again.

"Scrrrrrrr!" Koochy declared.  "Pedal down!  In my fuckin' 'rari, son!"

"Good idea!" I said and threw some flaming tasks out as well.  The sled picked up speed in whatever direction we tossed the fiery backlog.  Soon the fire inside was reduced to just a few comforting warm embers, but Koochy and I continued to burn sticky notes and toss them ahead of our vehicle.

Alphonso was no longer shaking and turning blue, but was a blistered bright red and sobbing instead.

"Owww," he whined.  "Did I...  did I do okay?  Did I save us?"

"Yes," I told him.  "I'll never doubt the can-can system again.  Now we are in control of our destiny, moving forward with high velocity, and we can use our tasks to change direction and react quickly!  We are agile!"

"Can you... can you get me.. into the... surgipod, Preston?" Alphonso gasped with much effort.

I looked around the sled interior but didn't see the healing chamber of which he spoke. 

"It's... it's... over there..." Alphonso raised a blistered, shaky finger and pointed at a one of cryo-tubes against the wall.

"Damn, son," Koochy scathed.  "That ain't no damn surgi-pod, dat's a damn cryo-tube!  Don't you be knowin' tha difference seein' as how yer a damn Vice-Admiral and all?"

"But...but... it..
healed
me, Koochy.  It literally healed my knee," he explained.

"Mane, get tha fuck out wit' dat shit.  Yo' ass what'n hurt fo' shit," Koochy dismissed Alphonso's experience. 

"No, Koochy, it was, like, really bad. 
Really
bad.  I saw some drops of blood and everything," he continued.

"Ay P, get this crispy ass critter out muh face.  Ass-face-ho', I deal wit' yo' ass when we get ta da OC," Koochy turned his attention to me.  "P, ya need ta get out ta tha front of tha sled and hang some damn heat out in fronta dem icy bitches!"

I looked at Alphonso's sorry state and reflected on Koochy's request.

"Uh... how about I
don't
do that," I declined.  "Can't we just keep using these burning sticky notes?  Or, can't you do some kind of hologram stuff or something fake?"

"Use yo damn eyes, son.  We fixin' ta run out deese damn stick-ass notes!"  He gestured at the rapidly shrinking pile of small yellow pads by the can-can board.  "We needa get our shit su-stain-aboh!"

He was right, of course.  Old Cleveland wasn't yet visible on the horizon and we had only another few minutes of fiery sticky-notes left.  Alphonso wasn't in any kind of state to go back out on a mission.  I regretted being cavalier with his frostbite.  Dammit, I missed my future remembered powers.  If I still had them, I would know if the next adventure may be my worst yet. 

"All right," I told Koochy, dourly.  "What do I need to do?"

"Yeah, P!  Das my boy!  Oh shit, P.  You needa hit deese sick ass brain-WAY-ves befo' yo ass go out dere an' get in it, ya know what I'm sayin'?" Koochy coughed through the compute-pad.

I rolled my eyes.

"No thanks.  I'll need my head on straight if I'm going out there.  But, what am I doing out there?" I asked him again.

"Take dis broke ass pole from in here," Koochy pointed at a piece of the chariot's ceiling that had fallen onto the floor at some point during all of the recent turmoil.  "And take dis gripa energy cells I wired up," he handed me a small sack.  "Put dat shit on dat pole and go put it out on tha fronta this yoke lookin' thang I done put on dem ice thangs."

Despite his impossible grammar, I got the gist of what he wanted me to do.  It was genius, really.  I snatched up the bar he had pointed out and stopped at the door to look back at Koochy and the charred Alphonso.

"Wish me luck, guys," I nodded at them.

"Man, get yo ass out dere," Koochy bade me farewell.

I jumped out of the sled and landed with ten dull thuds as my dicktoes struck the ice.  The... what had Marcus called them? 
Mollusca maritimus!
were very impressive creatures to behold.  Creeping stealthily, I walked between the beasts.  At times, my face was inches from their slimy, oozing bodies.

Their bodies looked like whale blubber trapped within a translucent, oil-sheened skin that was quite porous and weeping profusely.  I wasn't sure what the thick and sickly tinted fluid was that was streaming freely from the thousands of orifices in their hulking forms.  As it whisked off of their bodies and hit the icy ground, it bounced once and froze in mid-air, creating beautiful and elaborate crystalline structures behind them, wherever they went.

"Gross," I whispered and tried to maneuver so that as little of their excretion as possible splashed on me.

I reached my goal: the heavy duty yoke and harness that had impossibly sprung from hidden compartments in the front of the sled, ensnaring these two beasts of burden.  Working nimbly, feeling almost fully recovered, I attached the long, slender pole I had brought with me to the rig binding the bleeding snow slugs.  Once it was fully extended and set in place, it stretched out in front of them a good twenty feet.  The small sack of energy cells that Koochy had given me were firmly affixed to the far end of the pole.

After giving it a small shake to ensure it would hold, I turned to make my way back to the sled's door.  Before I could take my first step, something strange happened.  The large, mute creature to my left leaned in affectionately on me.  It reminded me of the large stray dog that used to come around the DQ back when Whiddington was still alive.  Whenever that dog wanted to be nice to me, usually coinciding with me being in possession of a comestible of some sort, it would press itself gently against me.  Sometimes to the point of both of us falling over. 

Was this thing coming on to me?

It made a distinctive thumping noise that was almost a rattle, not quite a purr, as it pressed its hideous flesh into me.  I was now coated in its thick, white emissions.  It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, I realized.  Feeling suddenly very friendly myself, I reached out my palm and intentionally touched the building-sized slug for the first time.  It shuddered fiercely as our skins made contact.  Instantly, I bonded with the creature; feeling linked in both body and mind.

Quickly, I turned to its kin and placed my other palm on it.  The same reaction occurred and there I stood, feeling godly once again.  A midget, dick-footed messiah, flanked by two gargantuan brutes, coated in ill-looking phlegm.