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GREAT SOUTHERN LAND
A sequel to Certain Things Are Likely: A Project Zomboid Fanfiction
CHAPTER 1: ALL SMILES
Undated
Harlan Delgado raised his hand to block the harsh studio lighting as he sat down on the plush dark blue chair. To his right, his partner Anthony DelVecchio also took a seat. Both men wore beaming smiles as the studio audience cheered and jeered. Harlan tugged at his Kentucky Fire Department shirt to puff air in and out in an attempt to cool his body down.
“Alright alright, settle down folks,” said the bespectacled man sitting behind the desk across from the two lovers, “We have a lot to discuss for tonight’s segment.” He turned to Harlan and Anthony. “How are you gentlemen doing?”
Harlan began to speak before being cut off by Anthony. “My people told you that was an off-limits question.” The crowd laughed.
“I’m doing fabulously,” Harlan began, “The coke and strippers back stage was a great welcome gift.” The crowd laughed again.
Anthony leaned in to Harlan and whispered, “Mine was funnier.”
The man behind the desk smiled brightly, and with a smooth voice he turned to the crowd, “So, tonight we have Harlan Delgado and Anthony DelVecchio, hot off the set from their starring roles in Certain Things Are Likely, the hottest zombie flick in a generation with a scorching romance at its core.” The man clasped his hands. “How does it feel to be on top of the world?”
“Well, everyone looks awful small, smaller than Harlan even.” Anthony joked, eliciting another round of laughter from the crowd.
“Honestly I’ve put on a bit of weight from all the wrap parties, viewing parties, launch parties.” Harlan jiggled his belly for all the world to see. One of the cameras sitting between the stage and audience tilted slightly, as if to focus on the action. “So when I fall, it’s gonna be hard.”
“It will be a soft landing, because this is a huge launch.” The man said. “From humble beginnings in a small Kentucky town, swept away to New York City, you became a firefighter yes?”
“Yessir, Engine 323.”
“How many fires have you put out?”
“On set or in real life?” The crowd chuckled.
“You were on duty for the World Trade Center Bombing back in February, weren’t you?”
“Uh, yeah,” Harlan’s eyes scanned the crowd, “It was scary, being in the thick of it, not knowing what was going ot happen next, but I think I made the right calls. Plus they’re still standing, nothing is gonna bring down New York!” The crowd cheered lightly.
“You’re not even from New York.” Anthony waved his hand dismissively at Harlan.
“It’s my adoptive city.” Harlan clarified, not that it mattered.
“And it certainly loves you! Did you see the photos of crowds wrapped around the corner to see Certain Things?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s amazing the kind of turnout our little story could get. Even better that Ebert loved it too.” The crowd clapped for that, surprising Harlan a little.
“He’s a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure.” The man shuffled some cards on his desk. “Do you know what you did?”
Harlan laughed. “Yeah! We made a movie, a smash hit I’d say.”
“No, no, Harlan, do you know what you did?”
“What do you mean?”
“Babe,” Harlan turned ot Anthony, “You know what you did.”
“What?”
“You know what you did.” The studio audience said in unison. Harlan was dumbstruck.
“You know what you did, right Harlan?” The bespectacled man had a gleam in his eye even the studio cameras couldn’t pick up.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Harlan felt his heart rate begin to pick up.
“How much blood has been spilled in the name of family?” The man said.
“How much blood, Harley?” Anthony chimed in.
“Blood. Blood. Blood.” The crowd chanted quietly but forcefully.
“Blood?” Harlan clutched a string of invisible pearls around his neck, only to find a coarse rope.
“Blood.” The man said.
“Blood. Blood. Blood.” Thew crowd continued.
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Harlan said meekly, running both hands through his thick black hair. “What do you even mean?”
“How much blood, Harley?” Anthony said, now standing in front of his partner.
“Tell us, how much blood is enough, Mister Delgado?”
“How much blood?” The words emanated from a voice behind Harlan, who swung around.
It was Hilda. She opened her mouth to speak again but blood began pouring out. The blood flow grew from a trickle, to a stream, to a fire hydrant, spewing all over Harlan. His vision went red, then black.
Monday, July 28, 2003
Harlan’s eyes flicked open.
He didn’t move for a moment, a deep headache made its way from his brain stem to his frontal cortex. He turned his aching head to the table next to him and took a sip of brown liquid from a glass tumbler. He grimaced as a burning sensation trailed from his tongue down his esophagus and into his stomach, warming him up.
Harlan swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the wooden floor of the bedroom he shared with Anthony and put on his glasses. He stood and grabbed the tumbler, finishing its contents and stepping into the hall.
He observed himself in the hall mirror, a little chubbier than in his youth but still fit. Fat fit, one could say. He rubbed his mustache, trailing his fingers down either side of his mouth revealing the goatee he’s sported the past few years. His joked with Anthony that his hair migrated from his head to his face, after he gave up the long grungey look.
Descending the stairs, he could smell food, making his stomach turn as it processed the liquor in his system.
“Good morning,” Anthony said as he handled a pan over the stove. He was still in his pajamas, a Spiffo’s shirt and plaid pants. His curly brown hair matted to one side after a long night’s rest.
“Morning.” Harlan sat at the dining room table and rubbed his face vigorously.
“Junior didn’t come home last night.” Anthony said, not taking his eyes off the pan.
“Yeah, he said he was at Jessica’s or something.” Harlan paused. ”She’s a good kid, right?”
“Junior is a good kid, I expected him home by sun-up at least.”
“I’m sure he’ll be home any minute.” Harlan’s headache was slowly fading, but a new one was arising. “Is there any coffee?”
“You already know the answer to that.” It was no, it has been no for the past five years.
“God, I would munch carpet for a good cup right now.”
“Now don’t go that far.” Anthony chuckled from the stove as he poured a heap of eggs onto a glass plate and served it to Harlan, who picked at it with a fork. “We should head into town today and see what trouble Junior’s gotten up to.”
“I’m sure he’s fine, us Delgado’s know how to keep it together. He’s probably hungover.”
“I know someone is.” Anthony muttered just loud enough for Harlan to ignore.
The two men went about their morning, bathing, dressing, brushing teeth, before they stepped onto the porch in the Kentucky summer heat. Harlan could feel sweat bead against his wire frame glasses.
“Do you wanna drive or should I?” Anthony asked as he fussed with his plain gray T-shirt.
“Not worth the gas, we can just walk. It’ll take ten minutes, tops.”
“In this heat?”
“It’s-” Harlan checked his watch, “not that hot out.”
“Alright, fine.”
The duo set off down the driveway, Harlan kicking the odd rock as his mind fumbled with his dream last night. Anthony was silent most of the way, making the odd comment about the tree line or a burnt out wreck they walked past. He got into the habit of smacking each car they passed, each one making a dull thud as Anthony passed. What began as a boredom response turned into a town visit ritual. Another ritual was Harlan slipping sip from his pocket flask whenever they got within eyesight of town. To take the edge off with… people, he would say. Anthony wordlessly accepted it.
“You and those damn cars,” Harlan said, “Smack me like that and we’ll have a problem.”
“Does your ass count?” Anthony laughed as Harlan smiled at him, then returned to neutral.
It wasn’t long before the two made it to the town wall.
What used to be a gated community had become the residential core of a small, fledgling village in the ruins of Riverside. Most of the small community’s homes had been taken by survivors, but Harlan and Anthony insisted on living outside the walls. They came to a large wooden gate, guarded by a middle-aged woman with a terse look on her face.
“Oh, hey.” She said flatly.
“Hey Trish,” Harlan began, “How’s patrol?”
“Swamp ass.” She replied.
“Glorious.” Harlan shot back. “Have you seen Junior around?”
“Uh,” Trish thought for a moment, her blonde ponytail swishing around and she looked around for an answer. “He was around last night.”
“He didn’t come home though.” Anthony said.
“He didn’t? I saw him leave with Jessica around midnight.” Harlan and Anthony looked at each other. “So long as they used protection he should be fine.”
“I mean it’s not like Jessica’s a fast girl or something, I’m sure they’re fine.” Harlan said. He had no place to talk about someone’s speed, what with his track record back in New York.
“What if he’s been kidnapped by cannibals?” Anthony joked, earning a jab to the ribs from Harlan.
“Don’t even joke about that.” Trish admonished him.
“Why not?” Anthony asked.
“Some of our scouts have been finding… markings… around Fallas Lake. Mostly warnings.”
“From who?”
“We don’t know. Just to stay away, that the town is cursed.” She spat on the ground. “And I’d believe them, that place gives me the creeps. All burnt up.”
“Yeah,” Harlan scratched the back of his head, “Wonder how that happened.” He knew fully well how that happened. Both men did. A brief silence overtook the trio.
“Jessica’s probably working at the general store by this time of day, assuming she ain’t hungover.”
“How late did the party go?” Harlan crossed his arms.
“Not too late, once Junior and Jessica left it started to die down.”
“Life of the party, he is.” Anthony remarked as he took a step towards the gate.
“Ah, y’all aren’t sick right?”
“C’mon Trish,” Anthony huffed.
“Protocol.” She said.
“Neither of us are sick, neither of us have been bitten, we took a boring walk from our farm where nothing happened.” Harlan said with an edge in his voice that Trish could dimly sense.
“I mean I think I saw a hawk, that happened.” Anthony said, eliciting looks from the other two.
“Anyway, go on in, I’m just being a bitch.” Trish said with a smile. “Not a lot of people coming into town these days.”
“Fair, fair,” Harlan let his voice trail off before turning to Anthony, “Let’s go shopping I guess?”