East of West, Issue #16 – “The Apocalypse: Year Two”

* Part 1 of 14 of the The Apocalypse: Year Two storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: East of West, Issue #16 – “The Apocalypse: Year Two”! Good to be back into this dystopian political nightmare. It’s going to be nearly impossible to summarize the story so far, so I would take some time to read through the previous storyline, which follows the first year of the Apocalypse. Or, you know, you can buy the comics yourself! It’s more fun that way! You can read along!

Tensions mount among all the divided sovereign nations of America, culminating into a full-blown war between the Endless Nation and the Republic of Texas. It won’t be long before the others are mired in the conflict as well.

Meanwhile, Death’s son has evaded the Three Horsemen and has escaped the Lair of the Beast. Death thinks, for probably the third or fourth time, that his son is dead. But no, this kid is going to “build a new world” out of the garbage of the old world. Too bad his “trusty” virtual reality Balloon is showing him what it wants him to see through the virtual reality helmet.

If that all sounds like nonsense, it’s because you need to read the first fifteen issues, man! Come back when you’ve done that. I’ll be ready.

East of West, Issue #16 [December, 2014]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“The Apocalypse: Year Two”

The Killing Fields of Texas. Aha, Ted Cruz’s house? A vast, empty wasteland of red sand and dust. It’s like Mars, except without the cozy charm.

An unknown figure approaches a pile of bones in the ground. Just an abandoned pile of bones. Perfectly good bones just left for dead! “Would you look at this…” speaks the figure about the bones. Then it stomps the bones!

Bones.

Scorched earth as far as the eye can see! A familiar sight. This shit is everywhere to be found on the godforsaken planet. “A people were conquered here… how cool is that?”

Our favorite Horsemen roam the land. Two of them anyway: Conquest and Famine. I don’t know where War is. Probably hanging out in Ukraine. Conquest is riding piggyback on a giant hunter dude with a giant gun and handlebars in his teeth. He’s a veritable Harley. A real hog. As you may recall, Conquest can’t walk very well anymore. His right leg is a stump now. Famine still walks. She bends down among the scattering of BONES and SKULLS and digs into the red river, waxing poetic about waterway carrying the blood and guts of the fallen and carrying it into the cities and towns so that, I don’t know, the alive can eat and drink it or something. It’s some Horsemen wankery. They get off on this stuff.

Famine takes a skull and scoops up some bloody water. “Take a drink, brother. It’s the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.”

Conquest indeed takes a drink and it’s like Kool-Aid, yo. It’s good shit.

Mmmm, tastes like Strawberry Quik.

“Did you hear that, War?” Conquest shouts while slurping down the polluted water, “Apes consuming other apes! Do you think we should tell them they’re devouring each other?”

War is, I suppose, within shouting distance. The river starts bubbling a little bit, then a head pokes out of the water slowly. “You can’t surprise liars with the truth, Conquest. They assume everyone shares their flawed nature.”

War doesn’t look much like Kid War anymore. But he/she doesn’t look like her old sexy Sex War either. He looks like fuckin’ Robert De Niro from Taxi Driver, all mohawked and gross! Dripping with bloody water. Disgusting.

War sneers and scoffs arrogantly about these arrogant humans! Thinking they’ve evolved. Thinking that conflict is a bad thing! Pfft, conflict is where it’s at. Conflict is the good stuff! But the Horsemen, they know that. Who cares what the humans think? They all smell bad and they poop. It’s atrocious.

Conquest offers War the Skull o’ Blood, and he takes a big nasty swig from it himself. “These people… they hate each other. And… oh how they act accordingly.”

*OPENING CREDITS*

*Perfect Strangers theme music*

Welcome to 2065! It’s the second year of this Apocalypse. It’s just dragging along on its own sweet time, isn’t it? Like, isn’t the Apocalypse supposed to last maybe a second? Then all the righteous get airlifted up to heaven? The rest burn and that’s it? This is taking too long! What is this, college?

This issue is already basically half over! It’s like that one episode of Breaking Bad where the opening credits happen after twenty minutes. It’s like that. Here, I need to put in another picture.

Ha ha, good one Tom. Very hilarious.

Lots of text boxes setting everything up here. Pages and pages of it. The Endless Nation and the Republic of Texas have historically had an uneasy truce, but Bel Solomon single-handedly fucked that all up, so there’s a big ol’ war afoot. “A single great machine of the Endless Nation appeared in the sky above the Texas republic in the second year of the end times.” And so forth.

The Endless Nation is going after Bel Solomon even if they have to raze Texas to the ground. I, for one, welcome this! Nothing but upsides when it comes to razing Texas.

But they weren’t successful. The “only remaining garrison of Texas Rangers” was able to bring the single great machine down and slaughter everyone aboard.

Too bad for Texas that the Endless Nation has a lot more than just that single great machine. They have, like, at least seven octillion more where that came from. Records indicate that a new wave of ships blacked out the sun. Some real unprecedented shit. “City after city fell, until Governor Bel Solomon and his Rangers made their last stand in the capital stronghold of Austin. Most died. All fell. And the Texas Republic was conquered for the first – and last – time.”

Woo hoo! Uncork the champagne! The Endless Nation toasted those Texans. Some real Texas Toast. And now the land is theirs. All because Bel Solomon was possessed. Like a jerk.

Sounds like some of that #blessed United States God-given right shit rubbed off on you guys.

“This is justice,” declares the leader of the Endless Nation, presenting the hanged body of a Ranger to the masses while Bel Solomon, with a noose around his own neck, awaits on the platform. “It is not a flavor unknown to you – as you Texans love your justice. It is a meal you have served, but so rarely consumed.”

That’s right, you Texan fuckers. A taste of your own medicine. Solomon looks positively feral, getting whispers in his ear from his dead ghost buddy Cheveyo. “You see it, don’t you? What they’re going to do?” Cheveyo growls, “Strangle us slowly and replace the living with their automatons of progress. What good is imperfect man when compared to perfect machine?

A fair point. All those robot arms taking the labor jobs away, etc.

Mr. Endless Nation keeps rambling on the future of Texas. A new beginning. The end of the old ways. There’s a place for each civilian…there’s just no place for *points thumb at Bel Solomon* this jagoff over here. This guy is not good for progress. Gonna get noosed, this one.

“These lands – from border to border – have for too long been burdened by the illusion of democracy. Look what it has given you.” *points thumb at Bel Solomon* this jagoff over here.

I’m all for giving Texas its comeuppance, but man is this Endless Nation guy verbose. Is this what they can expect? A whole lot of talking? That sounds dull. Texans don’t like to be bored. Texans like guns and ten-gallon hats and spurs and propane tanks and bigotry.

Plus, all of this beefin’ was because Bel “Cut the Baby in Half” Solomon killed a dude during a diplomatic meeting, which wasn’t very nice at all.

While all this is happening, the Hunter who has been tasked with sniping each one of the Chosen has his gun trained. He looks through the scope right at Bel’s ugly, stupid Texan face.

“Woof!” says his faithful robot dog.
“Yeah. I hear you. He’s a talkin’ robot asshole,” says Hunter of the Endless Nation leader. He’s not going to let this automaton steal his kill!

Hunter shoots his gun. Platform opens up beneath Bel. He starts falling. Bullet severs the rope. Bel lands on his feet with a WHUMP!

WHUMP! There it is.

Beautiful! All according to plan, whatever that may actually be. Maybe to just scare to shit out of Cowboy Dumbledore for fun before ultimately killing him?

“Now!” Hunter yells, and then his robot dog companion shoots a grappling hook of his butt! He just spreads his legs and hoists his ass in the air a little bit and then a grappling hook comes right out of his butt! PCHOOM! Excellent.

The grappling hook latches onto a thoroughly terror-stricken Solomon, and then he gets WHOOSHED away out of his little hangman compartment. “No!” yells the Endless Nation robot leader. No, indeed.

The robot dog runs off and drags Bel on the ground. Like he’s tied to a bumper of car and some thugs are just dragging the body around. That usually kills people too, but methinks Bel’s gonna come out of this one relatively unscathed.

“If the murderer Bel Solomon escapes, then that fault will rest on all your–” BZZZZTTT! Right in the face, sir, courtesy of Mr. Bullets the lone gunman. Endless Robot’s noggin bursts in a deluge of shrapnel and bubbling purple liquid.

The walking bullet-shooting Endless Nation turrets start clomping around and opening fire while the clanging metal dog books it through the crowd. People are running in all directions, bullets are flying, Bel’s getting dragged through the dirt. Hunter has dispatched a large array of smoke bombs to cloud the scene and increase confusion!

It works. And now Bel and Doggo are on the outskirts of the dusty, plumey smoke. The dog’s not dragging him anymore, which is very thoughtful. Bel hobbles along, bitching and moaning.

Oh, you two lovebirds.

Robodog takes Bel’s ass through the wasteland. Bel wants to know what the HELL is going on and where the HELL they’re going and what the HELL happened to his pants! Oh, there they are, he’s wearing them. Heh.

The destination is a crumbling shack of a house swarming with security orbs. “Target found. Target acquired. Preparing to–”

The orbs don’t get to prepare for anything, because each one gets its own bullet courtesy of Bullet Jones, the bullet man from bullet city. “You got lucky, Bel…You’re lucky to be alive,” says Cool Hand over here, posing like a badass in one of the windows, business end of his gun smoking and smoldering. “So let’s not waste time bein’ tired and weary. On your feet, man!”

Why? They have to get the fuck out of here, that’s why. The entire Endless Nation will be after them! And they have, like, GPS and stuff. Real high-tech dudes.

Them, plus every other nation in this godforsaken dystopian future America wants a piece! So off they go in Hunter’s slick ride at 400 mph. That’s about 645 kph for my Canadian readers. And pretty much everyone, for that matter. My readers in Myanmar, you know 400 mph.

It’s my extensive collection of Beetlejuice memorabilia, ma’am.

Let’s break away from the Texas/Endless Nation shenanigans for now. And that’s what they are. That’s the word I’d use for them. Pure shenanigans.

The White Tower. The ever lovely and warm President of the Union, Antonia LeVay, is doing a hyperfuturistic Zoom meeting with her cabinet. Bottom line: she should be concerned. Riots and unrest grows with each passing day. The people are pissed, Madame President. And they’re getting better at being productive with their pissiness! Perhaps a foreign government is funding these people? It all seems a little too calculated. Like there’s a message board or something that they all post in, conspiring and complimenting each other’s anime avatars.

LeVay ain’t scared! It’s just a bunch of children throwing a tantrum. Let them whine and cry, who gives a shit? She’s safe and sound in her ivory tower! Literally!

Keep her posted. Seacrest out.

Ms. Lux, LeVay’s favorite little minx, pops into the office with a large box. It probably contains a body part. “Our latest diplomatic exchange with the Nation,” Lux says disdainfully. It seems the Ambassador gave it his best shot to patch things up with these relentless mofos

And indeed, Lux reaches into the box and pulls out the head of the Ambassador. “I mean, I’m not one for reading tea leaves or guesswork in general, but the subtle art of politics aside, I’m thinking their answer was no.”

LeVay recoils in a rare moment of LOSING HER COOL. Don’t get too used to it.

Now we travel, friends, to the border between Texas and the People’s Republic. The Endless Nation has some good news for the good lady Premier Mao, in that they have completely taken over Texas and there is likely no chance that they’ll take over Mao Land at any point in neither the near nor the far future.

But that’s for later, perhaps. TODAY they agree to an alliance! Xiaolian is obviously powerful, cunning, and ruthless! She is without ruth! The Endless Nation doesn’t want a truce at all. Truces are for wimps. This is a straight up collaboration. Allied powers. Buddies. Pals. Amigos. You dig?

Xiaolian is suspicious. Did you feel that tickle? The one right in your genitals? That’s suspense, baby!

“Why?” she asks, not ill-natured. The shaman of the Endless Nation, with his dumb gold dome head, tells her that they BOTH already know the answer to that. So quit yer jerkin’.

“Yes, but formalities are formalities, the forms must be followed. I want to hear you say it.”

Ugggghhh, do I have to say it? Maaaaan…

The shaman starts saying it. The Endless Nation is not nearly as big as it would like to be, and it cost them a ton to destroy Texas. All those sanctions! Tough times, miss. As it turns out, whiz-bang technological advancements can’t trump sheer numbers. They really shouldn’t have done it, they should’ve just stayed in their lane! But they didn’t, and here we all are now.

Bottom line: they can’t beat you, bitch. And they know it.

And fuckin’ Xiaolian, she’s barely even listening to him. She sees someone approaching off in the distance. Someone…uh, very white.

Yes, those are the two things the sun does and both are good.

“I think hope will be the death of us,” she says as her husband’s gaunt, one-eyed face leers at her during his slow approach, “I am so tired of believing in better tomorrows. That everything is going to be all right. You’re shaman, so you should know – that faint light you see on the horizon…it’s illusory. Because the sun is not rising. The sun…she is setting.”

The issue ends with Bel and the Hunter hunkering down in a dank cave crouched over a barely-smoldering fire and about ten minutes away from getting nude and hugging each other to stay warm. “Got enough food for a week,” the Hunter says, gruffly I imagine, like a wizened 29-year-old Wilford Brimley, “Water’s gonna be a problem.”

If the time comes to put up their dukes and fight their way through some shit, they’re gonna have to fight their way through some shit! Ain’t no other way around it! *spit* *spittoon clang*

Bel is hunched over in a feral fetal position, eyes as large as…Texas…with Cheveyo yapping in his ear about this Hunter guy biding his time to kill him just like he killed him! This is about him and him, and this Hunter guy ain’t discriminatin’! Get the fuck out while you still can! Or, better yet, kill him back pre-emptive strike style.

Sounds like a pretty good prank, boss. How about this stick on the ground? Right in the tuckus!

“Bel! Are you listenin’?” the Hunter asks, sizing him up. Bel snaps out of it, repeating the thing about the water, then whines about losing his country. The Hunter says it was his country too, dummy. Maybe the whole sovereign nation of Texas thing was a good idea at the time, but Bel got all weird with the Chosen stuff, and…well, he’s pretty looney tunes, now. Time to cut some losses and move on.

AFTER 10 ISSUES, I FINALLY GET A NAME. Thomas. This guy is named Thomas. What a disappointing revelation. What a stupid old guy name. Hah hahhahah. *covers up website header image* ahem, uh

“Why’d you save me, Thomas?” Bel asks, barely a whimper, text all small and hard to read in the speech balloon. Gotta get my stupid old guy magnifying glass. I own six of them.

Thomas owed him, that’s why. Plus, there was no one else to save, so he was better than nothing. AND, maybe, just maybe, he needs his help. “I’ve got a job to finish, and I’ve barely started.”

And apparently, for some goddamn reason that I can’t fathom, Bel’s integral to the plan. I don’t understand what he could contribute. Schizophrenic rantin’ and ravin’?

Nothing like the start of a war to really wake a man up. Really make him realize what’s important and what’s not. In fact, all that matters now is living or dying.

“War is truth, Bel. And now… war’s all we got.”