Back to it after a lengthy hiatus. Glad to be. I’ve missed this a little bit.


The events after the shooting were a blur. End is Nigh was hauled away by police, Russ was given free meals by UpChuck’s Global for a year for “stopping a violent psychopath” (which, if you have been keeping up, he enticed), nobody else wss hurt or killed.

As for the girl?

I rode with her in the ambulance, partly to make sure the steady stream of blood pissing out her leg wasn’t going to kill her and partly to get some answers.

This is nuts! I thought to myself, holding tightly onto the girl’s hand as the ambulance screamed past traffic.

“W-who are you?” The girl asked.

“My name’s Les.” I replied. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

“It hurts.”

Yeah. Not for nothing lady but you just had buckshot launched at high-fucking-velocity into your leg. It was never exactly going to tickle.

“How far until we get to the hospital?” I asked the paramedic

“Almost there. How’s she doing?”

“She’s alive, but looking rather pale.”

Another blur. Lots of driving and sirens and traffic and the girl being wheeled out on a gurney to the hospital.

Six hours later, she was in the hospital, her leg now free of shotgun ammo. I stuck around, making up some excuse I was her guardian.

The girl woke up from the anasthetic, her eyes fluttered.

“Wh-where am I?” she asked.

“The local hospital.”

“Was I out long?”

“Like a fuckin’ light for the last five hours. They got the buckshot out. Said you’ll be fine but they want to keep you for a few days to make sure there’s no complications.”


“What’s your name?”

“Scully. Yours was Les, right?”

I should -at this point, mention that her full name was Kerriann Scully, to stop any comparisons between this Scully and the cute redhead from the X-Files. I stayed until visiting hours were up. No point in harrassing the poor girl any further that night. I came home to Russ sleeping in what could only be described as a fortress made from burger wrappers. It was quite a sight to behold.

The next day I went back to the hospital to check up Scully. She was doing much better. I brought over a few comic books and a box of Pop-Tarts, not realizing they didn’t have a toaster within reach.

“We can just chuck these in the staffroom toaster, Mr. Ellis. That’s no problem at all.” said one of the nurses.

“Lowest setting. Those things can ruin a toaster if they’re in the wrong hands”

“You’re too kind, Les.” Scully murmured.

“I have a question.”


“Do the numbers ‘30812’ mean anything to you?”

Silence. Scully looked taken aback.

“What do you know? What have they told you?” Kerriann asked, worried.

“What? who?” I asked, inconspicuously looking around for the nearest exit. Or makeshift weapon.

“Psyclon Nine”

“I have no idea who you’re on about.”

“Then how do you know that number?”

“Okay… Scully? This is where things get a little crazy.”

Once again, I retold the dream, the raid on the house, Scully’s involvement, the attack panda. Why a goddamn panda? I pondered.

Scully said nothing.


“That number… Is the end of the world.” Scully finally said.

“What do you mean?” I asked

“Someone didn’t play puzzle games as a kid, clearly.” She replied with an eye-roll. “30th day of the 8th month. 2012.”

“What happens then?”

“Well, according to the prophecy, the sky will turn black, the earth will shudder and the New Breed with come forth.”

“New breed?”

“The new race.”

“Which is?”

“Beats me.”

“Well that narrows it down.”

“Hey, do I look like Nostradamus to you?”

This continued on for about twenty minutes, until the doctor came up to Scully’s room.

“Miss Scully?” The doctor asked.

“That’s me. Unless you have another Scully tucked away in there somewhere.” Scully replied, smirking.

“I’m Doctor Trenaman, I’ve been overseeing your recovery.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“And who is this?” The Doctor asked, referring to me.

“Oh… This is Les. He helped me at the shooting.”

I waved sheepishly. I was tempted to offer the guy a pop-tart, but I doubt they’re something nine out of ten health professionals recommend. The Doctor ignored me and started inspecting Scully’s leg.

“Hrm… Seems to be healing up quite well. When did you say this happened?” The Doctor asked

“A day ago.” Scully replied. She seemed a little nervous.


More examinations, more questions, he called a nurse over for a second opinion. More questioning, more examinations, more waiting around, more me standing there looking like an idiot. It was kinda like an episode of “House”, without Hugh Laurie solving what happened and me in dire need of a lengthy piss and a cigarette.

My phone rang it’s familiar “Indiana Jones” ringtone. I picked up.

“Hey fuckface.” It was Russ.

“Hey man, recovered from your food coma?”

“Just about. You at the hospital?”

“Yeah, whats up?”

“So I’ve been looking into this shit with ArmaDyne that End is Nigh was on about. Would ya believe it? They’re building all sorta things in there.”


“Now, I don’t wanna jump to conclusions and use the ‘R’ word, but they are very -shall we say, humanoid-like in nature.”

“That’s… great”. I looked over at Scully, apparently the doctors had some very good news. “So what now?”

“That’s up to you, are you done hitting on your dream girl while she can’t run away?”

“Maybe we can take her with us.”

There was a lengthy sigh at Russ’ end of the call

“Meet me back at the apartment, girl or no-girl. We have work to do.”

Russ hung up. I wasn’t going to like what he had in mind, but finally I might be able to get one or two answers. I walked back over to the hospital bed. The doctor and his entourage were gone, Scully was on her feet again.

“What’s the prognosis?” I asked

“Oh, nothing. We’re good to go Les.” Scully replied

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We’re headed back to my place for a bit. Apparently we have work to do.”

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