Burgerpocalypse

I spit, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. The little bugger may have gotten in a cheap shot, but I’m not about to go down without a fight. I dance around him, narrowing my eyes.

In Burgerpocalypse, it’s an eat or get eaten kinda world.

He bares his teeth at me and hisses.

The cheeky bastard.

This is all Dr. Mulligan’s fault. I’d kill him, if someone hadn’t beaten me to it. Four years ago, I’d never have believed that this was the fate of the world. Nah, I’m sure if you’d asked me what was going to be the end of everything, I’d have said global warming or a third world war or some crap like that.

But not this.

He snarls at me once more. It’s time to put an end to this once and for all. After all, I’ve got shit to do today, and I don’t have time for this pointless song and dance. I wait patiently, stilling my feet. My trusty blade is clenched in my fist, and the second the creature lunges, I thrust forward with all my might.

Bullseye!

I nail the bastard. He falls to the ground, a deafening screech escaping his lips and shaking the ground below my feet. I watch as the creature helplessly writhes around for a minute or so before finally succumbing to his eternal slumber.

Serves ya right, ya wanker.

I lean down to check the damage. He’s not in too bad shape, all things considered. Definitely good enough to bring back to the boss, anyway. I pick him up and throw him in my bag before continuing on my way.

I don’t make it another full mile before I spot a gang of Reps up ahead. I duck down behind a scrap car, holding my breath as I peek around its edge. There’s three of them on the ground and one up on the roof, but none of them seem to have spotted me. I exhale slowly, looking around for a way to escape.

Shit.

I figure my best bet is to slip between the two buildings behind me. I’m certain I can do it without alerting the ground trio, but it's the guy on the roof who’s really making me nervous. The Reps work for Big Pharma, and everyone knows what happens if Big Pharma catches you carrying anything you shouldn’t be.

And those critters in my bag are definitely the “shouldn’t be” type.

After Dr. Mulligan developed his FUD-411 serum four years ago, everyone thought the world was gonna be just peachy keen. Oh yes, everyone was so convinced that the guys at the top were going to do the right thing. End poverty, save the planet, clean out the ocean, stop the obesity crisis. Blah, blah, blah.

Whatever.

See, his serum was the next best thing to magic itself. One little shot of the extraordinary liquid every ten years would keep you completely satiated, no food required. Water was still needed, unsurprisingly, but you could say goodbye to ever having to eat anything. Food cravings, overeating, under-eating… None of that was a worry anymore.

You’d really think that this would solve all the world’s problems, right? Why would kids anywhere, why would ANYONE anywhere need to go hungry if we have a serum that sustains people? And wouldn’t everyone save tons of time if they didn’t have to worry about eating, cooking, packing lunches, or meal prepping? Sounds great, right?

Wrong.

See, the rich people didn’t like that. No sir, they wanted to have their cake and eat it too, literally. So much so, that some moron decided he was gonna kill two birds with one stone and just put the serum right on his t-bone steak before shoveling it into his face with his fat, greasy fingers.

Little did he know that the only thing on the menu that day… was him.

That’s right, the steak went damn feral! Maybe Dr. Mulligan’s serum was a little too magical, because that t-bone steak grew teeth right there on his plate and decided that it just didn’t feel like being eaten that day. I’ve heard several rumors about what happened to that guy, but the one where his face got eaten off is still my favorite.

Serves him right, the wanker.

I stare up at the Rep on the roof, waiting for an opportunity to make my escape. Lucky me, he leaves his post and walks ten paces away from the roof’s edge, his back now towards me.

Probably going to take a leak.

It’s now or never. I stay crouched as low to the ground as I can as I make my way between the two buildings and into the dusty alley. There’s a thick layer of dirt on the dumpsters, and it’s obvious no one’s been through here for some time. I grab a spare shirt from my bag and gently fan away my footprints as I walk.

Don’t need these damn Reps on my tail.

I take off west and admire the sunset. The daylight is slipping away faster than I’d like it to, and I figure I better call it a day. Besides, that near run-in with the Reps has still got my nerves in a tizzy, and I know I’ll feel better once I’m back in the safety of camp.

I went further out than usual today and it takes me a good hour to get home. I don’t mind, though. With so few people left, the world is a strangely peaceful place.

Just not if the Reps catch you carrying something you shouldn’t be.

After the first incident, news articles started popping up all over the place about the food going feral. It seemed as though the t-bone steak got out and somehow spread it’s life-like properties to other food it came into contact with. People left, right and center were being attacked by everything from their omelettes to their white chocolate and apricot scones.

Man, what I wouldn’t give to taste one of Deidre’s scones one last time.

It wasn’t long after that that the news article came out about Dr. Mulligan’s murder. At first, everyone thought maybe he’d been killed by some feral food. Wouldn’t that be ironic, his own science being the death of him? But the gunshot wound in the back of his head said otherwise. The food may have grown teeth, but it didn’t have hands and couldn’t operate weapons.

Thank god.

The murder was never solved. Everything went to shit pretty quick after that anyhow, so the police didn’t really have an opportunity to gather evidence or figure it out. When you’re thrust into the beginning of the end of the world, you don’t really worry about these things. Figuring out how to eat scones without them eating you first is difficult enough.

Those fucking scones.

Finally, I can see the lights of camp off in the distance. There’s music playing despite the fact that it’s getting late, and I can already picture everyone wrapped around the campfire sharing stories and laughing as they swig their house brew.

“Hey, you’re back!” my boss beams as I walk up to the camp. I wave but don’t say anything, and she immediately jumps up to follow me to the bunker.

First things first, gotta hide this haul.

We make our way down the steep wooden staircase. The bunker is a sweet place that Boss Lady and I dug out after all the shit hit the fan. With food being outlawed for everyone except the insanely wealthy, we knew our little burger restaurant didn’t stand a chance. So, we did the only thing we could: We went underground.

We weren’t sure at first how it was gonna pan out, especially since all the other staff took off in the panic or were killed, but damn it, we made it work. Now, our black market burger shack was one of the most elite and sought-after amenities of the apocalypse.

“How’s the haul today?” Boss Lady asks, peering over my shoulder as I slap my bag down on the counter.

“Not too bad, actually,” I reply. “We’ve got three squirrels, a rabbit, and I even managed to nab a feral sesame seed bun! The little bastard bit me, though, and he does have a pretty long cut on the one side.”

“Whatever, man, we’ll take whatever we can get. Flour is getting especially hard to come by these days, so it isn’t easy to make our own.” She took another swig of the beer in her hand. “Hey, you want me to grab you a brew? This batch is actually pretty good. The lemon we added really cuts through the bitterness.”

“Sure,” I say with a smile. After I’ve unloaded everything, I hang up my bag and follow her back upstairs. We close the bunker doors and cover them with the tarp and some rocks and dirt.

Nothing is more important than keeping the bunker camouflaged and out of the sight of those damn Reps.

Boss Lady hands me a glass mug filled to the brim with our latest brew. As I sit around the campfire and look at the crew that we’ve built over the last four years, I can’t help but smile. They may be an obnoxious bunch, but they’re all good souls who love a black market burger as much as the next person.

I squeeze the heart-shaped locket around my neck, absentmindedly enjoying how cool the gold feels against my skin.

Boss Lady squeezes my knee. “Still thinking about her, hey?”

I force a smile. I haven’t seen Lucy in almost a week now, and it’s so unlike her to stay away from camp for that long. I know she’s tough and can handle her own, but I can’t help but worry about her.

Lucy, why haven’t you come home yet? Where are you?

A lot of the time, I feel as though she’s the only piece of “normalcy” I have left, the only one other than Boss Lady who’s been by my side since before all this started. There’s a picture of us together on the beach inside my locket, from that time I took her to Cuba with me.

Man, those were good times.

“I’m sure she’ll be home any day now,” Boss Lady pipes up, squeezing my knee tighter. “Last time she took off, she was gone for five days. Besides, chihuahuas and rat terriers are both smart breeds, and ratters are good hunters. She’ll get her fill in the wild and then come home.”

I nodded, my face still frozen in a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

I watch the last little sliver of sunshine creep down below the edge of the horizon, disappearing for yet another night. I take a swig of my beer, my taste buds immediately appreciating the tingle of lemon on my tongue. I can’t wait to get up and do it all again tomorrow, and maybe even find Lucy.

Hopefully find Lucy.

Despite how crazy the world’s gotten, I’ve grown to love my little piece of the chaos.

Boss Lady’s right, the lemon really cuts through the bitterness.

Welcome to Burgerpocalypse.