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Robert Flynn

Quiet, secluded, alone and depressed.

0 · 206 views · located in New World Pretoria

a character in “You And Whose Army?”, as played by The Stinky Hat

So begins...

Robert Flynn's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kazui Terriama Character Portrait: Robert Flynn Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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"Elizabeth. Take me to where you are. Please."
On any other day, Robert Flynn would be tending to matters of severe importance. His house needed soundproofing from the screams at night. The generator in his basement needed minor repairs. His front door needed more protection as the thick oak bar slammed behind had begun to splinter and break after countless attacks.
Yet here he was again.
Alone in the dark of the makeshift crypt he had built in the park of the city, his weary head resting upon the casket in which she was held, silence holding him in its cold, gentle hands. On some days, he could have sworn he heard her voice from inside the casket, telling him how everything will be okay, how they'll be together soon. How he wished that were the truth. Unfortunately, he was stuck here. Stuck to fight for his survival with each passing night. Alone.
Why do I do it? he thought. Why do I fight? The question was never answered, only pushed to the back of his mind to be ignored and hopefully forgotten. What time is it? He found himself no longer caring. Let the bastards come.
It was five 'o clock in the afternoon. He had spent 3 and a half hours there, his head pressed against the hair-thin layer of dust that lay upon his wife's casket. If I could just die now...
"Take me to where you are." He whispered again, softly. A single crystal tear rolled from his eye and mixed with the soot and dust under his cheek. He remembered his days with her, the years he spent living alongside her raising their little girl. They were both a part of him. His entire life. The day their hearts stopped beating, Robert changed, and he would never be the same. He had never truly felt sad when it happened. He never knew why. Since then, he had been broken. A husk of his former self.
Outside, they began to prowl. He could hear the slight shuffles of their feet from where he sat, their laboured breathing, their impatient growls. This wasn't a way to live. He let out a deep sigh as he drew himself from the casket, wiping the dust from his face.
"I'll be back soon, okay? I won't leave you for long. I promise."
He always told himself she was capable of hearing him, that she understood. It didn't matter. He was sure he would join her soon, anyway. His life had been badly patched together, and since the Infection had broken out, he had no care for his life. Sure, he would ensure his survival, but most haphazardly in its nature. His only defense was that he wouldn't let them have the pleasure of killing him.
Digression.
He began to make a list within his head of what he should do next when he heard the familiar echoed roar of the motorcycle belonging to the one man Robert didn't want to see. Multiple 20 Gauge slugs were fired and the loud guttural groans and screams began again. They were soon silenced by more gunshots. Without looking behind him, Robert leaned over and pushed the heavy protective lid back on top of Elizabeth's casket as the crypt door screeched open. Flynn took in a sharp breath through his teeth.
"If you're going to shoot me, Terriama, do not miss."
A figure stood silhouetted by the light of dusk outside; slim, tall and holding a smoking sawn-off loosely aimed at Robert's head.
"The crypt again, Flynn? Why do this to yourself?" The deep, mocking tone of Kazui swept all reason from Robert's mind, and he twisted his head violently towards his silhouette.
"Have you no concept of respect?" He snapped.
"Have you no concept of the situation you're in?" Kazui remained calm. "It's been a few hours. I saw you come in here at around one 'o clock, and you didn't leave. Around 6 of them were accumulating outside. You'd be dead without me, you know."
"I'd be better off that w-"
"Shut up. Flynn, this is our world, now. There is no poetic side to life or death anymore. This is instinct. Survival of the fittest. The Old World is dead. Switch on."
Flynn looked into Kazui's slanted brown eyes slightly illuminated by the light behind him.
"Why did you kill her?"
Kazui shrugged.
"She turned. She was one of them."
"I could have helped her. Cured her."
Robert's fists clenched and turned bloodless at his sides.
"With what? Old World science? It's history. Tell me, have you managed to cure one, yet?"
Flynn turned his head to the side. Thoughts of worthlessness plagued his mind, and he pathetically attempted to wave them off as he always did.
"No. You haven't. They're too far gone. I once, too, did believe in this city. I believed humanity could be reborn. Now look. Switch on, Flynn."
"Have you ever read a book, you illiterate fuck? Do you even know what this is? It's a cylindrical bacterium. Somehow it creates an isotonic solution in the blood, the blood thickens, circulates slower and activates most, if not all, body functions. The memories are still intact, mind you. The Infection within the blood requires flesh and blood. In return, it gives energy to find more flesh and blood. Without flesh or blood, it creates inanimate proteins causing abnormal metabolism, eventually destroying cells. They are scientifically driven to eating, destroying, feeding. That's why you sometimes see them fighting among themselves," Robert raised a finger and waved it. "because the fuckers can't get fresh blood."
Kazui smiled wryly and shook his head.
"Old World science." He lowered the sawn-off in his hand and stepped towards Robert. "Interesting as it may be, all I need to know is where to get fuel and shells."
"And what happens when there is no more fuel or shells? You die."
Kazui smiled.
"I get a different gun."
"You do know bullets don't always work? You're too absorbed in the sadistic pleasure of seeing a head explode in front of your gun to understand the why of things. Your shotgun only works because it creates a wound too large to be healed. The blood is thickened to the point where it cushions impact. Go ahead, try a pistol. See if the smug smile on your face returns before it's torn off."
Kazui sighed.
"I'll be pacifying the area west of here in a few days. I came to let you know. Wouldn't want the explosion surprising you."
"One day there won't be anything left of this city to bomb. You'll kill it."
"It's already dead."
Silence. The two men looked at each other in the darkness, binary opposites in their nature.
"Go ahead." Robert waved Kazui away with a simple gesture and a sigh. "Bring the whole goddamn city down. Take me with it."
Kazui looked Robert up and down, and shook his head once again.
"You're a broken little man."
"Still alive, though." Robert rasped as Kazui walked from him to the door, and he laughed uncontrollably. It had been so long since he had felt happiness that his laugh sounded somehow unsure, and upon hearing it, he couldn't help himself but laugh harder. The incredible screech of the motorcycle's tires outside sped away and faded into nothingness.
"Still alive!"
Robert found release in the laughter, and didn't stop.
Later, in the lonely confines of his bed, his broken body numbed by alcohol and Chopin playing softly on the record player in the other room, he wept.