A/N: Myeep, t'is me again! :P As if you weren't freaked out enough by the first chapter, here's another one just for you!! Yay! *Hem, hem* _ Kazooie now has company and Banjo has a new little annoyance to worry about. With nothing but the guns and banjo on his back and the whiskey in his bottle, the duo must strive to survive the apocalyptic life of living off the barren wasteland, where anything can be seen as target practice. Thanks for the review, TurquoisePhoenix! ^-^ well, this chapter ain't as comical as I thought it would have been when I wrote it. O_o maybe the next one? Ready, set, go...
~ PacRat
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~ Aenima, Tool.
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T H E S E C O N D I N S T A L L M E N T: 'T h e L o n g W a l k to N o w h e r e . . .'
Kazooie's eyes gazed amid utter boredom at the pallid overcast that hung above, shoving her wingpaws casually into her jacket pockets and swinging her head this way and that to the imaginary tune that played in her brain. A huge sigh heaved her chest and she brought her stare down to the withered earth. The occasional bouncing tumbleweed or tree branch gained her attention...for a minute or so...As did the dirt she kicked up with her shuffling boots. Hesitant, her eyes tilted until they came upon the hulking features of her comrade Banjo. His intent look seemed almost emotionless and vacant as they looked on to the never-ending horizon, but Kazooie knew he was as bored as hell much like her. Sensing her eyes, he glanced downward at her with those icy blue orbs. Kazooie hastily snapped her head away as if she had committed an offense to the bear. She listened to a rustling of fabric and the clinking of metal to where he stood. Quietly turning around again, she noticed a small, box-like container in his large paw. He brought it to his lips and took a lengthy swig. Kazooie pursed her beak at the annoying sound of gulping. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She yearned for the rock stars slamming on guitars and screaming until their lungs bled. Scratching the nape of her neck almost bashfully, Kazooie asked what she thought was a dumb question.
"Hey....do...you by any chance...have any music...?
Banjo raised a brow then smiled. In a movement as quick as the eye could glimpse, he slipped off his pack, untied it, and hoisted out a black cube-like radio with an unsteady antennae. All the time, he kept a balanced tempo in walking. Kazooie's eyes brightened with hope. Finally, some entertainment! Whistling static discharge erupted from the tiny speaker while Banjo rotated the knob around a bit.
"I know a pirate radio station...Not even ol' Slutilda found it out yet."
She smiled gently at the term 'Slutilda'. "Really? Cool."
"Yeah. It has all the tunes you could ever need in a life span. They call it STATIK-1831 FM. Made by some rebellion against the hag. They're looking for new members out here in the Badlands."
The crackling sound faded to a conspicuous beat. The yodeling voice of a cowboy horrifically filled the young bird's ears. She slouched with disappointment. Banjo scratched his chin and then stuffed the radio back into the backpack while it was still on.
"Guess it must be Bluegrass Hour..." he shrugged. The resonance of the music reverberated eerily across the flat wastelands. The fissured earth seemed incessantly plane and gloomy. Rarely was plant life seen. Only that of tumbleweed was witnessed numerous times by Kazooie. A skeletal, black tree stabbed through the perpetual landscape's scope. Kazooie blinked as her eyesight discerned an object swaying on the mercy of the tree's frail limb. She first thought it was more of a plastic bag or, if fortunate, a passerby laying around in the middle of nowhere. Kazooie darted ahead of Banjo with excitement. The bear grunted in shock, seeing only the backside of a red blur zoom past his slow steps. He sprinted after her at an astonishing rate for one his stature. Yelling out her name in desperation, Banjo thrashed his arms as an attempt to gain her attention.
"Kazooie! Kazooie! God damn it!"
An 'oof' escaped his lips as he bumbled against the breegull's petrified shoulder. Her green eyes were enlarged and like glass: cold and unmoving. Beak open in a small gape, she seemed to be spellbound by some form of creature. Banjo's voice hung as he began to answer the question. He was entranced too, but not as easily, at the repugnant spectacle that was suspended ahead of them.
The well-known stink of decomposing flesh and muscle moistened their throats though they made no movement to cover their noses. Spookily, the radio droned to a lifeless whine and added more to the volume of unvarying buzz of the vile, flying pests which infested the ghastly manifestation. A Jinjo's near mummified corpse rocked back and forth in the merciless grip of a noose, similar to a hypnotist's pocket watch. It stared through its black, blood-smeared pits at its witnesses as if it were pleading, its lips twisted into an eternal, horrid gape as a reminder of how hellish this land has become over mere decades. A sign was draped across the misfortunate creature's jutting shoulder blades. In huge, dripping letters slopped upon its cardboard white face, it read:
"I P R O N O U N C E T H E E...
....G U I L T Y."
Banjo's face twisted in a cringe of realization. Slowly, the bear turned somberly away. Kazooie didn't even respond to his unhurried movement.
"C'mon, Kazooie...." His tone was soft and impassive, as if he had seen this many times. Too many times. "...Let's go...."
Hesitant, Kazooie inched away from the body. Her frozen eyes finally melted away to her normal senses and she dragged on after him. Taking a single final sidelong glance above her shoulder, the breegull allowed herself to fall behind a few feet before trudged once more after her friend. She knew she was going to witness more appalling things on this long journey to nowhere.
Somewhat still shaken by the ordeal hours ago, Banjo kept his shock hidden under a veil of coolness and tranquility. Kazooie shuffled her boots in uneven strides. Her eyes now focused on the barren gravel underneath her soles, watching wisps of dust gather and churn and afterwards evaporate into the murky gray heavens. A gale, almost refreshing, shoved into their bodies. The slight rustling of fabric made her blink. Kazooie glanced up to make out a tiny white flag against the rugged hill slopes. She stooped over the brittle twig with a rag the size of a napkin, tilting her head to the left in interest. Banjo paused and noticed Kaz's absence. The bear pursed his lips in a small frown, striding with being beaten by the swollen desert gusts. The breegull furrowed an eyeridge upon seeing a sequence of numbers upon its features.
"Hey Banjo....what are these for, anyway? Crossin' enemy territory or something?" she asked.
"No...Something even worse than that..." he explained in a nearly dangerous manner. "You know those numbers on the flags really are? The distance a frightened man ran before the bullet got him. See, that's twenty feet right there. Poor guy was probably flying down here when some Minjoes came and mowed him down on the spot. Least he went a brave kid."
Kazooie nodded grimly. She skimmed a finger over a flattened crater of dead grass. "Guess this is were he fell, huh?" The corner of Banjo's snout twitched in a half-hearted smirk. The arms, legs, even some of the facial features were imprinted completely into the meadow, sprawled out in the final seconds of death. Kaz guessed it was a coyote. She cautiously flattened her palm on the area; it was still warm.
The bear's square-shaped ears swiveled to a rigid still in the direction of the land behind him. Craning his neck, his now squinting eyes noticed a pack of menacing black shapes hovering towards them. He guessed they were just damn vultures stalking him again and....
....Wait.
.....Something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.
A consistent purr of engines made his heart skip at least three beats. He snatched the unsuspecting breegull's shoulder and tugged her eagerly along. She stumbled to her feet amidst a dust cloud, protesting with annoyed cuss words. Kazooie locked eyes with the bear and all time ceased moving. He was frightened and worried not for his own well being but hers as well. She stopped her struggles and went along although Banjo tugged her along.
"Run, kid! Ruuuuuuuuun!!!" he cried with huffing breaths, breaking into a swift run for his life. Kazooie, puzzled, blinked over her shoulder. A bullet barely missed her temple and rocketed into the desert soil. Four Minjoes, each bearing rifles and other such mortal weapons, zoomed towards the fleeing pair like starved buzzards. Roaring jetpacks with terrifying, outspread wings similar to that of a devil were strapped freely to their backsides and kept them aloft. They whooped upon sight of their quarry and swooped down for a kill. Kazooie loped frantically as she realized Banjo was far ahead of her. She shouted his name, legs wobbling with the remaining aches of last night.
"Banjo! Wait! Don't leave me here!" she screamed in her utter panic.
A shower of bullets pummeled down upon the bird. Her exhausted eyes caught the fountains of earth exploding from the impact of the shots, crying out in agony as one grazed her shoulder. Banjo whipped out a Uzi from his pack and began releasing a mad barrage of lead upon the foe. He roared with revenge, body racking with the wicked rattling of the gun. A crimson Minjo tumbled in a ball of fire with a screech. The lingering three looked at each other and then loomed forth once more as if nothing had occurred. With a watery gurgle, another blue Minjo nosedived with a shot to the gullet. In response to the attack, a murkily cobalt Minjo fired rapid shots at the bear. He was surprisingly swift for one of his stature. His footfalls were carefully placed as they avoided all gunshots meant to kill him. With a jerk of his paw, he fired and the enemy flopped down as his heart was pierced by the gun pellet. The last one, a dangerous-looking black Minjo wavered among second thoughts in midair. He then veered off into the pasty horizon skies until he was a mere speck against the grey. Kazooie knelt feebly and rubbed her wound with a contorted face. Banjo loomed over his companion with troubled eyes.
"You won't make it with tired legs and a shot shoulder, Kaz. C'mon, I'll carry you." With the gentleness of a mother handling her newborn cub, he hoisted the young bird off her knees and into his arms. Kazooie lolled her head to Banjo's chest and noiselessly faded off to slumber. The bear gazed down at the pitiful creature cradled in his arms. Her beak and portions of her face were still caked in dried muck and her legs felt solid with knotted muscles against his skin. He guessed she had been walking her own path before she came upon him. With a guttural sigh, he stared to the rugged plains ahead of him...
....and he began to walk with friend in tow...What seemed like forever... on an endless journey to nowhere....