October 5, 2021

Last of the Grunts







Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered over an elongated meeting table. Six people sat spread out around the table, a store bought cherry pie placed in the middle with a short stack of paper plates and plastic utensils. Daniel smiled at Tameeka knowing she was the one who advised against a farewell cake: too many carbs, not enough fruit. It was the least she could do, thanking him for saving her sanity.

Roughly three years ago, they and two others in their mid-to-late twenties were hired to help GlamTrek improve their outreach campaign and social media strategies. The glamour of the new job wore off after a month, but there was comradery among the recent recruits. Of one of two black people hired, Tameeka felt an instant connection yet rivalry with Belinda that she would never admit. They fought desperately for Daniel’s attention, but only she realized he was a discreet bisexual leaning more towards homosexuality but acknowledging anyone could be fun.

Three months into their employment, Ronnie was fired for stealing office supplies and petty cash. Tameeka didn’t blame him; they made well over minimum wage, but that still wasn’t much considering the price of living. Realizing that not even a white boy could get away with theft, the rest of the crew tightened up. Being closer to thirty than the rest of them, Tameeka fell into a self-appointed sense of leadership; her additional real world experience and knack for organization didn’t hurt either. It was then that she realized Belinda never saw her as a rival but as a partner who could do the things she didn’t want to do. This worked in both of their favors, because Tameeka despised handling any work with the community or strangers.

Being a woman of connections, however, Belinda left in a year’s time to become a social media manager for a new startup with better pay and better hours. Around the same time, Daniel started grad school. With Belinda phasing herself out, he naturally stepped into the community liaison role, learning that he had a passion for therapy. Over the remaining two years, he and Tameeka traded jokes and 90s references whenever they were both in the office. He was there for her when she foolishly tried to pick up the new girl Patricia and failed. She was there for him whenever he needed to complain about homework or a professor. He was such a good work friend, Tameeka invited him to her apartment whenever they had an evening work event. They would pregame with hard seltzers and grenadine, trading stories they couldn’t share in the office before running down the block to make their call time.

It was a whirlwind of fun that made a boring job exciting, but as they sat in the conference room accompanied by their two bosses, a programming manager, and Patricia, Tameeka began to evaluate her life. She was stuck between leveling up and plateauing at a position now attracting Generation Zoomers. Her work was consistent and appreciated, but would she want to progress in a place she had no allies? Worrylines attacking her forehead, Daniel nudged her with a piece of pie. She refused but felt him slide a fork into her hand and mouth “relax” as their highest level boss congratulated him on his next step across the country.

Pulling him aside, Tameeka made him promise to stay in contact. As a sign of good faith, he offered her one last piece of office gossip: he slept with Patricia last week. Stunned by the news, she instinctively turned her head and saw Patricia walking towards them. Tameeka avoided eye contact as they exchanged goodbyes. Then she felt a feminine touch on her shoulder. “Well, it’s just us now. We might as well be besties.” She looked up with a puzzled look on her face, slowly transitioning into a slow nod. Tameeka may have been the last of her class, but Daniel was not the last of her likable peers.



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October 4, 2021

Attitude

 



Int. Day - Living Room

The NYC apartment isn't large. The walls cluttered with pictures of friends, relatives, and pets. The furniture seems like it's been passed down for at least two generations. Home & Garden, Ebony, and Hispanic Network magazines litter the coffee table along with a pair of scissors. Seated on opposite couches are two women of color in their 50s. Jemma on the left is dressed in a colorful and comfortable mumu; Deborah on the right is dressed in business casual as if she popped over immediately after work.


DEBORAH
So what are you saying you "caught" him dead.

JEMMA
Yeah. Bastard was too much of a coward to cut out on me, so he offed himself.

DEBORAH
There's so much to unpack here. Okay, you don't seem that shaken up about it.

JEMMA
Why should I be? This was a long time coming. Listen, it's no secret Eugenio and me had our issues. Shit, half the building could vouch for how often we argued. Half the block even. [laughs] There's was this one time I threw a phonebook out the window at him. Honestly I can't remember if I was upset with him that day or if I just wanted that relic out the house. He's was always hoarding shit. All these magazines are his but now I can't bring myself to throw em out. Think I might make a collage or something for the funeral. What do you think?

DEBORAH
I mean, if that's how you wanna commemorate him, go for it. Never knew he was a Home & Garden man.

JEMMA
You know I liked them a lil fruity. Sorry, effeminate. I always forget you have HR training. 

DEBORAH
Speaking of, you said he was cheating on you?

JEMMA
Nah, he didn't have the cohones. But if you dig a lil deeper under the magazines... [she begins to part them like the Red Sea]

DEBORAH
Attitude?

JEMMA
It's for the queer community. Mostly gay men.

DEBORAH
And he just left them over the house?

JEMMA
Nah, he had em stashed like porn in different crevices of the apartment. Didn't find these until I was looking for his suit this morning. I arranged them like this to be dramatic. It's strange. You think in this city of all of em, he woulda have at least explored a lil bit, but he was always a homebody. Bastard never wanted to go out dancing.

DEBORAH
Yeah, any time we went out, you'd spend half the night complaining about him and the other half spending time getting a guy to buy you drinks.

JEMMA
They were good times! Harmless flirting. And I would come home those nights and find him snoring. And snoring. And as the years went on the snoring got worse. And as the snoring got worse, he got more forgetful, lethargic. I'd give him an errand to run and I'd catch him napping on the couch ten minutes later. "Aye, I just need to rest my eyes first." It's like he relished in sleeping to get away from me.
Well, come to find out the fucker had undiagnosed sleep apnea. I'm a heavy sleeper, so it never woke me up, but apparently he'd stop breathing in the middle of the night. Well, I went out with Yolanda two nights ago to see the new Marvel - you know me, any reason to get outta the house. I come back to find out he snored his last snore. No oxygen and his brain just cut out. Didn't even look like he ruffled the sheets. Fucker just submitted. Like he did it on purpose. 

DEBORAH
Don't be foolish. Who would do that?

JEMMA
[tearing up] A lazy mothafucker, that's who! Fucking pacifist. He always took the road of least resistance. What's easier than dying in your sleep? I knew he was unhappy with me, but I thought we had a suitable arrangement. I swear he loved my nightly recaps. But he rarely talked to me. And then I'd nag him and then we'd fight. Part of me is glad I don't have to take care of him anymore, but I miss him. Is this my fault?

DEBORAH
No. No, it is not. It sounds like he was depressed and didn't reach out for help. It's sad but it's nobody's fault.

JEMMA
You're right; it is his fault.

DEBORAH
That's not what I--

JEMMA
Ugh, why'd he have to be another man of color to die in his 50s. I'm sick of all these [she leans out the window] white people moving into my gotdamn neighborhood!

DEBORAH
[dragging her friend back inside] That's not helping.

JEMMA
Sure felt good to me. Eugenio would have laughed at that. 

Deborah looks around the living room until she finds what she's looking for. Picking up a phone book, she hands it to Jemma who's eyes light up with glee. Rolling back her shoulders, she winds up and hurls the phone book out the window at a young white man jogging. The women hide behind the sides of the window and fall over laughing once a scream confirms the target has been hit.





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October 2, 2021

A Preparatory Story: Geoffrey






He never aspired to a position of power, yet Geoffrey had been groomed for this life. Through he originally entered St Ignatius' all male atmosphere as a trio of gays like the reigning senior gays at the time, he now found himself the sole out homosexual of his class in his fourth and final year. It was unprecedented, really. The head queer, while fearsome, always had at least one - if not two - colleagues to help them rule quietly. And though Geoffrey knew of others his year he could confide in, none were ready to stomp the halls with him.

Confident in his sexuality and his slightly sturdy build, it still perplexed him that even in his last year his classmates would pull him aside to ask, “Hey, are you gay?” purely out of ignorance. He knew he wasn’t the most flamboyant of his peers, but he assumed it would have become obvious after four years studying together. There were only 107 students in their grade, after all. Yet he brushed it off, knowing he had his conquest in his day.

Of course, that was the chief - but not sole - purpose of the yearly renewed queerdom. In a school full of hormonal teenage boys, there were bound to be questions, inquiries, and explorations. Throughout the years, Geoffrey and his peers discretely addressed their fellow classmates' sexual concerns in the secrecy of the preparatory walls, some finding the courage to join their ranks at the end of a senior year, others accepting a mouth was just a mouth. (This was before the days of sexuality commonly being accepted as a spectrum, particularly in the black community.) The second role of this society was to ensure that queer students and other queer individuals their peers would meet later in life would be respected and treated as equal. No stigma, all chill. Lastly, if the head gay chose to accept, they were to influence the politics and culture of the school as a whole. Some saw it important to be part of the school government directly. Others, like Geoffrey, preferred to work in the shadows.

Today, however, he had to address the first two missions directly. The Class of 2009, as a collective, had been a problem since they stepped foot on campus their freshman year. Now as sophomores, they felt new rambunctious energy as the Class of 2010 entered. These two classes saw new spikes in openly out and daring homosexual boys, eager to speak their mind in any situation despite the danger or the authority figure. Knowing he only had so many lieutenants in the Class of 2008, Geoffrey saw it imperative to hold a caucus of all the known gays by October of that Fall Semester.

With Mr Ness occupied with Water Polo tryouts and practice, Geoffrey sat behind his desk in the office looking out into the cafeteria. Ness’ office was a common meeting place for queer students, water polo players, student government leaders, and any upperclassman looking to lurk on campus after hours. It was a modest size, enough room for a couple of worn in couches and a small armchair to line the walls with another chair sitting opposite of his desk. Plaques, degrees, and photographs of alumni and former water polo teams hung from the walls. That afternoon, Geoffrey was joined by Navius - a junior gay - and Conrad - a bored senior.

“What time are they all getting here? You know I gotta leave for work,” Navius said anxiously, watching the clock and tucking his grey polo into his khakis.

Geoffrey adjusted his glasses, keeping his gaze fixed on his history textbook. “As soon as Lionel gets here, you can leave. You got bout ten minutes to walk across the courtyard; you’ll be alright.” Hearing Navius huff, he looked up. “Look, the problem is they do what they want as it is. And that’s fine. We don’t need to be an unified front. They just need to know the rules and respect them so we can all… well.”

“Oh, don’t be modest on my part,” Conrad cut in, picking out his hair. “It’s not like I don’t know. After spending the last year eavesdropping, my world view has been illuminated. If these walls could talk --”

“Exactly. And we don’t need the faculty having more concern than they already do.”

“Imagine if they were running around doing the same thing though.”

Geoffrey and Navius shot him a lowered-eye, raised eyebrow smirk.

Conrad adjusted his legs underneath him on the couch in a singular leap. “Okay, who the fuck did what? Tell me!” Noticing he was shouting, he adjusted to a whisper. “I mean, let me in. Please.”

As Navius started to open his mouth, Javon and Kyle burst into the room, Lionel following behind them. “I’m telling you, you gotta try the sushi,” Lionel said. “Even from the cafe, it delivers.”

“Raw fish tho?” Kyle questioned.

“You’ll slurp it right up, no hetero.”

Navius chuckled and shook his head. “Ya’ll too much. But that’s my cue. Good luck, Geoffrey.” Before the senior could get a word out, the student worker grabbed his backpack and slid between Javon and Kyle out the door.

“Well,” Javon smacked his gum and plopped his in the chair angled in front of the desk, crossing his short, slender legs, “you called for the gurls--”

“--and the gurls! Have arrived!” Kyle spun slowly with his arms above his hands flourishing out. Dizzy from even that he sat in the chair closest to the door. Lionel, looking to keep things casual, opted to sit next to Conrad. They exchanged smiles.

“I guess asking for every single one of ya’ll to come was too much?” The lowerclassmen shrugged. Geoffrey closed his eyes and channeled Bernard who had come before him. “Listen, you know I love ya’ll - and pass this on to ya’ll friends - but ya’ll need to dial it back.”

“Uhn-uhn. I refuse to dim my star just because you’re boring,” Kyle snapped.

“First of all, lil boy, that’s not what I was talking about. Secondly, Brady and em used to stomp down these halls in full geish and heels. So learn ya history.” He took a moment to readjust himself behind the desk. “I’m talking about outting these boys ya’ll be messing with. We don’t do that.”

Javon sucked his teeth. “Yeah, I hear you, but these niggas be tryna pop off, and I’m not gonna let them talk to me me any kinda way. They wanna try me, I’mma come for them.”

“But see,” Lionel chimed in, “you gotta be strategic. Like, boom, a dude I messed with tried to play me in front of his friends last year. So I read his dusty ass twists. He ain’t have much to say after that.”

“Why I feel like I know who you talking bout?” Conrad felt Lionel elbow his ribs.

“I guess,” Kyle said. “But that don’t feel as satisfying.”

Geoffrey polished his glasses. “Trust me, it will. Just don’t embarass them too bad if you want them to keep finding you after school. Otherwise some of these men aren’t gonna figure themselves out til college or worst after they knock some poor girl up three times.”

“Okay, point taken, bitch.”

“Don’t call me bitch.”

“What up, bitches!” Silas burst into the room with two other water polo players following behind him. “Fuck ya’ll talkin bout in here? What up, ‘Rad?”

“Shut up, Silas. What are ya’ll doing here anyway? I thought ya’ll had practice.” Geoffrey swivled in the chair to check the calendar behind him.

“Nah, it’s just tryouts today, and I ain’t the captain so we waiting til they done.”

“Mmhmm.” As he turned back towards the door, through the space between the intruders, he spotted Trey in the cafe. “Excuse me for a second.” Manuveuring through the crowded office, he slipped out.

“So what, are we dismissed?” Javon called out to him.

“Yeah, we’re done. And Silas, don’t take my seat.”

His 6’5” friend had a clever response, but Geoffrey didn’t hear him as he glided to Trey who busy filling his water bottle. His wavy caesar hair shimmered in the sunlight coming through the glass doors, his sienna skin well moistured. He wore a t-shirt and athletic shorts that hung loose every where but his posterior, which at the moment mesmorized Geoffrey. Snapping back before being caught, he greeted his friend.

“Oh, yo, what up, G?” Trey smiled as he released the button to the fountain. “Did you want to get in on this?”

“What? No. I just… wanted to make sure you remember he have that history quiz tomorrow.” He amazed himself.

“That’s why I’m glad I got a spot next to yo smart ass in class. Bout to be cheatin than a mothafucka.”

Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Or you could just study.”

“Nah, I’m bout to go practice some lacrosse drills.”

“Ya’ll aren’t even in season.”

“Grind never stops, knahmean. But if you’re here after I’m done, I’ll catch you for some notes.” Trey started making his way out the door, flashing his smile as usual.

Geoffrey hoped he had positioned himself out of Silas’ view to avoid ridicule. From the looks of it, it seemed most of the gays had cleared out of Ness’ office. As he started to make his way back, he noticed Conrad leave and pause at the cafe exit leading towards the computer lab. The afro’d lad cracked his neck and peeked behind him before carrying on his way. Having no real desire to reclaim his seat, Geoffrey followed him at a distance. The halls remained quiet as they each softly stepped, only noise of opening and closing doors echoing. Around the corner from the computer lab across from the bottom of the steps were double doors leading to the back stairwell and the closed gift shop. And one more door that was rarely used that led to the prayer room. Ensuring no one was behind him, he checked the doorknob: it was unlocked. He opened the door to find Conrad casually sitting on a pillow. He closed the door and locked it. This was discretion.





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October 1, 2021

Dusty




Dusk peaks through as stratus clouds cover Fourth City. Trash outline crashed cars. No lights flicker from the abandoned commercial buildings, no street lights either. Only the headlights of a modest hunter green Suburban illuminate the road as it makes its way past the city limits and into vast deserts that have become the norm. Colby gazes longingly out the back window as she strokes Martin’s forehead, his skin dry and ashy.

“Did we really have to leave?” she asks her companions in the front seat. “I think we could have survived another day.”

“Said the woman with the dying boyfriend in her lap,” Jace stares into the night before him from the passenger seat..

“All the less reason to move him!”

“Colby, was Martin’s piss not completely brown? Shit, mans was more dry than the pot he pissed in. Literally.”

“I wouldn’t know how brown his pee is. I’m not constantly looking at his dick like you are.” Colby looked back down at her mate. “But I do want to get him something to drink. He’s too beautiful to die.”

“He’ll do more than that if he dries out on us.”

“We already lost our first aider. I’m not losing anyone else if I can help it.” Barbara’s grip at ten and two tightens. Her buzzed head doesn’t hide the grays she’s growing, her chosen family growing smaller by the day. “We have to keep moving during the night as planned. That’s the fourth dry and empty city we’ve come across.”

Jace laughs. “Yeah, a lot less empty than the third one.”

“You’re not helping, Jace.”

He reaches into the glove compartment and grabs a hunter knife and a smooth stone. “I’ve helped plenty. Got more kills on these two separately than you do on your lil pea shooter.”

“It’s for emergencies only. And I still have faith we can find a solution.”

“Yeah, fuckin likely.”

“Fine.” Barbara removes her left hand from ten and tosses her pistol from her holster. “We’ve got three bullets left. Don’t waste em.” They trade a glance of competitiveness.Jace sucks his teeth as he nods and pockets the gun.

They ride in silence for less than a minute before the sound of hacking can be heard from the backseat. Jace turns in his seat to inspect the situation and finds Colby covering Martin with spit. “White gal, the hell kind of foreplay is this?”

“I have to keep him hydrated and this is all I have,” she said calmly trying to reserve her strength. Martin moans. “See, I think it’s working.”

“Bitc--- You’re not even getting it into his mouth.” Jace throws his stone at Martin who winces in pain. “There. Squeeze some water outta that or just bash his head in. And don’t you even start at me, Barbara. You just keep your eyes on the gotdamn road.”

“So much for fucking him, huh? Ya know, it’d be a lot easier if you weren’t suggesting we off our friends every ten minutes.” Her gaze fixed onto Jace. “Give me the gun back.”

“The fuck I am.” He pulls out the pistol and aims it at her head. “Martin could turn at any minute now and I ain’t gettin’ bit. So you keep driving or I waste two of these bullets real fast.”

Barbara shakes her head. “So you’re just gonna waste my bullets right away, huh, Jace?” Steering with her left hand, she grabs the gun with her right and points it up in the event he actually pulls the trigger. Instead, he tickles her armpit causing her to swerve on the dirt road. She tries to lower her arm but his attack is relentless as he maintains hold of the gun. Suddenly, POP!

The suburban slides left and right across the road until Barbara can steady the wheel and bring the vehicle to a stop. She checks the backseat; Colby is shaken but still holding tight to Martin. From what she can see, the roof of the car is still intact. Martin moans from the passenger seat doubled over. “What are you tryna do: kill me?” he screams.

In disbelief of his obtuseness, Barbara hops out of the car with the engine still running, not caring whether he lives or dies. “Fuck!”

Rolling down the window, Colby pops her head out. “What’s wrong?”

Barbara reaches through the driver side to turn off the ignition. “Front wheel popped. We’re not gonna be able to keep driving for long like this and we’re sitting sacks if we stay here.” She surveys the land with what little sunlight is left, wishing she hadn’t been so fast to kill the headlights.

“I don’t know why you didn’t let me ransack the whole city. I could have found us plenty of spares. I mean, what’s the point in stealing a car if we’re not gonna steal all we can?” For once Jace makes a point Barbara can’t deny, which only makes her more upset. “Mmhm, like I thought, you’re a shit leader.”

“Take that back, Jace! She’s doing the best she can,” Colby says as she jumps out of the car, dragging Martin along with her. Jace starts to scold her for leaving the backseat, but In truth, it’s relatively easy for the 6’3” former volleyball player to throw her 5’5” partner over her shoulders. In the short drive, he had forgotten he was only seating in the front seat because she allowed him to. “If Barbara says it’s time to hoof it, then it’s time to hoof it.”

It only takes six steps away from the Suburban for Colby to regret her decision. Feeling a slight crack under her foot followed but rustling, she makes use of her long legs and runs past Barbara carrying Martin like a backpack. Jace hops out of the car and jumps on the hood to inspect the situation. On the left side of the car, from under the sand, arises a tattered being more bone and sinew than skin and cloth. It’s eyes were sunken in yet thirsty for a fresh sight.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Jace climbed onto the roof of the suburban as three more creatures unearthed themselves on the right side of the car. “Of course, they sleep in the sand to keep cool. Of course, why fuckin wouldn’t they?!” Frantic, he reaches for the gun and aims it at the closest one on the right but his shot goes wide to the right - almost hitting a creature farther right. Jace looks over to Barbara who almost wants to laugh. “Oh shut up.” Feeling outdone, he tosses her the gun. Catching it and looping it around her finger, she quickly lines up a shot and takes out the monster Jace missed and the one he almost accidentally shot.

Rolling his eyes, Jace lets his guard down and doesn’t hear the fifth abomination creep up behind him. It grabs his ankles, and he falls hitting his head against the roof. Disoriented and frantic, he reaches for his knife before realizing it’s lying on the dashboard. Making his peace with the world, he shouts, “Run, bitch!”

Barbara tries to creep around the side of the car to save him but is met by a lone monster which she immediately shoots in the head. Out of bullets she watches in horror as her most annoying but loyal friend becomes a prune. The creature sucks on Jace’s ankle as he screams and attempts to fight back, only becoming weaker with each passing second. As his pale skin becomes translucent, he passes out. And then - poof - a cloud of dust appears, leaving his clothes draped over the back of the suburban.

Tears welling up and her eyes, Barbara runs after Colby before the creatures can feel the addition of moisture in the air. Before long, she catches up to the former sports star, and they find an abandoned building in the middle of the desert. “Is this on the map?” Colby askes.

“What map? I left it in the car like a coward. Crap, we left all our supplies behind. Jace was right; I’m leading us astray.”

“Listen,” Colby takes Barbara’s face into her hand. “You’re doing the best you can, and three of us are still alive.” Martin moans. “Well, mostly alive. Now let’s explore what’s probably a mirage and see if we can’t save my boyfriend.” She pecks Barbara on the lips and walks through the door.

With the quarter moon out, the interior of the building is partially illuminated. As her eyes adjust, Barbara sees Martin start to twitch. “Hey, Colby…”

“Just a little bit farther. We have to find water in here. He can’t turn yet.”

“You sure about that?”

Heeding her friend’s warning, Colby swings Martin off of her back until a nearby table. She rubs her eyes in circular motion of him, as if to milk them but nothing comes out. Realizing her plan, Barbara steps in. She thinks of the horrors she just witnessed and channels a tear. As it starts to well in her eye, Martin’s ashy skin begins to flake off, his hands crawling uncontrollably at his side. Barbara springs back as the tear leaves her cheek and lingers in the air. Eyes still closed, he catches it in his mouth and licks his lips. Colby begins to smile and lean in to hug him but feels a tug on the back of her shirt. As Barbara yanks at her, Colby sees Martin’s eyelids pop open to reveal sunken sockets. She yells and grabs Barbara’s hands as the women try to lose their recently turned friend.

Still spry, Martin chases after them on all fours, leaping from equipment to table to window ledge inevitably missing and falling as he adjusts to his new abilities and water-lust. On his third blunder, he looks up and realizes he’s lost them, letting out a crunchy, dry, defeated howl.

Having found a room, Barbara and Colby sit on the floor, back against the closed door, as they gasp for air. Colby, still too dry to cry, plants her face in her hands and pretends to weep. “How long? How long before we end up just like him? Ugh, just kill me.”

Finally cried-out herself, Barbara slowly realizes they’ve locked themselves in a closet. The walls are lined with boxes on shelves, dated from two years ago. She slides a box off the second shelf which plops down softly next to her and opens it. A chuckle escapes her lips, then full on laughter. It disturbs her friend’s dramatics and causes bewilderment. “What’s so fun--” Before she can finish, a thud crashes against the door. Barbara continues to laugh as she reaches into the box.

~~~

Barbara relaxes with her feet up on her desk, empty bottles of cola and other sodas littering the surface. Colby sits across from her, stroking Martin’s hair as drinks from the bottle of orange soda strapped to his face. They may die of diabetes, but for the moment, they were safe and hydrated.




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