The Hunt for King Maine
by Xander Hull
University of South Dakota
Xander Hull is a sophomore at the University of South Dakota studying Media & Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing. He has always loved writing and has a love for all kinds of narratives. He has a little bit of experience in video game narrative writing and hopes to pursue narratives of all kinds in the future.
1 day. Today marks 1 day since our crew took off from the slums of Sweet Home, Oregon on a hunt to kill King Maine, the overlord of the once United States of America, now the Kingdom of Maine. From what we know about him, which isn’t much, we can decipher that there’s a chance he might not even be human.
The year is 4447. Three years ago marked the significant ‘War of 4444’ which was quite literally the worst war in human history. From what the survivors (which mark very, very few) could tell you was that a few hundred years ago all the world leaders united in the shadows to discuss a year long meeting-slash-debate that came down to the ultimate decision that humanity was a type of cancer that needed to be eviscerated. All food and water resources were majorly depleted from all sources, blocking off trade routes as well as transport and delivery for other states and nations. Missiles were targeted anywhere and everywhere just because, causing horrible nuclear radiation in random parts all over the place. Governments around the world were raided by millions and taken down, while communities and cultures killed each other in the process of gaining resources. Those who didn’t die at the hands of another eventually keeled over due to hunger of thirst, and if not that, suicide.
TL;DR, The War was more of a Civil War between people of power (i.e. Government, Military, etc.) and the rest of the then United States, for some reason occurring across the rest of the world. Obviously the civilians won, but at the cost of many strange disappearances that have yet to be explained.
Since that time, three years later, one thing leads to another and not only society, but the idea of society, is majorly, immensely, wonderfully fucked. Today, the world's population has since significantly decreased, specifically to 4 people left. A month ago there were 8 people left. A squad of 4 men involving a friend dear to me that I met in the military, Barger Hunderson and his posse, were on the road to take a man who called himself, “King Maine” down. No one had ever heard of this person or seen of him, in fact, Barger used to tell me about his hatred for him so much that I’ve come to despise him with all my heart. He’d told me to stay behind with my two friends, Hungo and Shmorg, and if he didn’t return, the world would be in our hands. After 11 days of his travel, I received a message from him that simply said, “GOODBYE” in all caps.
In all years since The War of 4444, we just refer to it as, “The 4 War” involved many disappearances, in which no one knows why or how, or especially why our country specifically had the remainder of humanity. Coincidence maybe? But after losing the people who make the rules, what rules are there to follow?
We’ve finally reached California via I-5 in hopes to near the long awaited I-80, which will begin the long drive to Maine in a manhunt for the supposed, ‘King Maine.’
“If you guys had to live in a cage for the rest of your life, would you rather have the bars be horizontal or vertical?”
“What kind of question is that, Shmorg. Why would anyone even choose to live in a cage with horizontal bars?”
“Well, think about it this way, Hungo. What if your cage was outside or near a window or something and you wanted to see the sunset? With vertical bars your vision is obscured.”
“Dude, if I’m locked in a cage my whole life I don’t want to see the damn sunset. I’d pull some Shawshank Redemption shit and get my ass out of there.”
Now is my queue to give some of my input. I’m somewhat of a main character.
“What if I just took both? If I have horizontal bars I might as well just take the vertical too. How do you think dogs used to feel in their prison environment?”
They both looked at me and fell a little bit silent. Did I say something wrong?
“That’s not really the point of a would-you-rather question, Gump, but I guess that works.” Shmorg said.
“Always gotta chime in with that main-character input, don’t you?” Hungo threw at me.
“Damn man, you really have to chill out a little bit. Look at Shmorg, this nicest guy I know. I think if I had to stick myself in a horizontal cage with one of you it’d definitely be him.” I just had to be mean to Hungo for a minute. He’s such a weiner-head sometimes.
“Alright, while you two make sweet love in the cage, I’ll go find a river to jump into and leave you guys for the rest of the journey.” Hungo deprecated.
“Awww now don’t be like that. No matter what shit happens on this journey, you’re gonna have to be in the love cage with us.” I told him. It was true, I still love him.
“I would rather kill myself.” Hungo once again said. Someone get this guy a hug.
“Listen, we have a long way to go until Maine. Hungo, you gotta start thinking of rainbows and sunshine or something. In the meantime, Shmorg, give us another one!”
The gang we had at this moment was a special one. We met at a bar a few months ago or so while trying to scavenge the area for loose booze. Eventually we found some and drank the night away. Since then we’ve just kinda tagged along with each other creating mishap wherever it was needed. We never really talked about our pasts, we much preferred to live in the moment, a rather simplistic yet melancholic way of living.
Hungo was a rather feisty young man when it came to pretty much anything, very easily frustrated and ill tempered. Visually he was a chubby guy but not fat by any means, not the fastest but also a pretty strong dude. His name is an inside joke for his parents, Hungo Verman. We just call him Hungo to respect the name. Shmorg is the opposite, a rather skinny and timid individual that always assumes the worst. At the same time, he has a very optimistic view of anything and everything, I’m a little jealous of the guy. Apparently he got his name from combining his first and last names when he was a lot younger, Shmeagle Morgues.
This is where I introduce myself, Iroquois Maximillian Gumpowski, but Gump does the trick, pleasure to meet you. I think I’m a good all-rounder. Jack of all, master of none. I’d say I’m the glue that keeps us together as well as the tactician that uses my genius to surpass the most dire of situations, basically, kind of a big deal. I’m a little bit older than the group by a decade or so, but that’s alright. In the year 4443 I had just turned 35, which was the legal drinking age in America before it turned to the Kingdom. Yeah, I’d heard a few thousand years ago it was 21 but times are always subject to change I guess. One could say that after that fateful day, I had picked up a really bad habit of drinking the delicious liquids, but I consider myself somewhat of a party person. I met the two a few months ago while the disappearances were occurring. No bartender means free drinks for anyone brave enough to break a commandment. Day after day we kept coming back, and after a couple days of driving, we finally arrived at Crawfordsville, Indiana.
4 days. 4 days since we took our leave from Sweet Home, Oregon to take down the evil ‘King Maine.” The presence of my two great friends was enough to keep me somewhat sane for this trip. We haven’t found a bar with booze since Kearney, Nebraska, and I’m starting to think this might be the end.
“Do my eyes deceive me…” I mumbled under my breath.
“They don’t… they most definitely don’t…” Shmorg replied.
I put the pedal to the metal. The beautiful engine noise of our 4401 Honda Civic (I’ve heard these things have been great for thousands of years) was roaring with such elegance, as we have just found the first tavern in Indiana.
Within seconds, we park right in front of the door, run inside, and look for the nearest bottle we could possibly find. To someones inevitable surprise, alcohol is relatively scarce to find these days. I’m sure we weren’t the only ones mentally affected by loved ones disappearing, people probably had to find some way to cope before they themselves eventually met their demise.
We searched and searched, however there was nothing remaining in this god forsaken bar.
“Worst day of my life.” Hungo said with a big frown on his face. “I guess it was good we stopped, I have to take a mad piss.”
Me and Shmorg take a moment to reconvene over this major mishap. Just as we took a deep breath, we heard a squeal from the bathroom. We run into the little gentleman’s room to make sure everything is alright, however Hungo is nowhere to be seen.
“Hungo! Where are you!?” Shmorg yells
“Oh my god oh my GOD!!” Hungo’s voice echoes from a very close distance.
Shmorg and I look at each other slightly confused but less worried. We stepped out of the men’s restroom and walked into the women’s restroom. Sure as shit, there was Hungo who had discovered a bottle of Smirnoff and Jack Daniels in the end stall.
“Look at this shit! I found a gold mine!” Hungo says as he is almost jumping and clapping like an excited child.
“Hungo, why are you in the women’s restroom?” I asked him with a little concern.
“Well… I figured there’s no women around so why not take the chance I guess.”
“Yeah but… Wouldn’t it have been easier to use the urinal? I mean it doesn’t matter all that much but it’s still kinda… strange?” Shmorg chimes in.
“Y-yeah but like who really cares? There’s no one around to care except you guys.”
“God have mercy on you either way, Hungo. Give me the bottles, take care of your business, and there’ll be a drink waiting for you when you get back.” I told him.
“Y-yeah definitely uhh, I’ll see you guys in a sec.” He said as we took our leave.
We have come to appreciate the art of alcoholism. Whatever we can get our hands on will go down like water. Shmorg grabbed some glasses and I started mixing the drinks. When I mix drinks, I like to give them unique names. It’s the little things in life, you know? I was drawing a blank on this one though, maybe Smirnoff-Daniels, Smack, Jacksmir, Jackoff-
Yeah, no, I couldn’t think of anything at all. Eventually Hungo comes out and we enjoy our delicious beverages. They tasted awful but we feel like that’s part of the fun, a new experience is always something to look forward to these days. After our drinks were drunk, so were we.
“How you doin’ Shmorg?” I asked as I was not doing well.
“I’m okay. I miss home but it’s okay I have you guys.”
“Aww.” Hungo interrupts. “So cute dude. So cute. So cu…te…” as he passes out on the table.
“Lets hang out here dude, no driving like this. We’ll make it there sometime soon.” I told Shmorg.
“No worries, Sounds great. Night-night…” He says as he passes out as well.
“Guess it’s my turn.” I tell myself. I rest my head on the table, and I’m out like a light.
I remember having somewhat of a flashback while passing out on that table. During the War, me and five other people were subjected to torture by my own people of the military that had also taken out my hometown of Klickitat, Washington. Funny enough, this was my first interaction with Barger and his crew. I remember being chained to the walls and a bunch of lab-coat assholes injecting things into us with needles the size of tree branches I swear to God. Still to this day I have no clue what they put in our system, but I don’t feel bad at all for now at least. But just the memory of being chained and jabbed was enough to wake me up. Something wasn’t right though.
“Hungo? Shmorg? Where are you guys?” I asked, I couldn’t see them anywhere.
I stood up and started looking all over for them, but they were nowhere in the bar. Eventually I took a look outside to see if they were taking a smoke break or something, but nope. Nothing. I walked back into the bar and they were both seated at the same table we fell asleep on.
“What the hell? Where did you guys go?” I asked them.
“What do you mean? We’ve been here the whole time.” Shmorg told me.
“Bullshit! I woke up and you guys weren’t here! Did you run to the bathroom or something?
“No, Gump.” Hungo replied. “You must’ve had too much of that shit last night.”
“Whatever. If you guys wanna make me sound crazier than I already am, then go for it. We need to get moving.” I told him. I was a little pissed at them just for that, but what can a brother do?
10 days. 10 days since we left on our journey from the slums of Oregon to kill the infamous ‘King Maine’, a terror worthy of ending. For the past few days we’ve been doing nothing but getting to know each other as best we can. We’ve discussed the possible circumstances of the final battle, and have come to the conclusion that not everything will be as amazing as we are hoping. We are planning to make our approach to his castle on the 11th day. That’s the same amount of time Barger and his crew took, so we’ve been strategizing to time it perfectly. The time is 11:38 P.M. and we’re planning a regicide.
We’ve reached the beautiful state of New New Hampshire. A hundred years ago or so, the state along with Vermont were violently bombed in an attack from the United Republic of Antarctica. There’s been a ton of controversy in history regarding the civilization of the continent as a whole, and many countries have done everything in their power to prevent it, however, as crazy as it sounds, Antarctica has secretly been stockpiling nuclear weapons for the past thousand years in strategic attempt to defend themselves in situations such as this. The point I’m trying to make is, since the land is so full of radiation, we are not able to leave our vehicle until we reach Maine.
“Now that we’re getting this close, I’m a little scared.” Shmorg says with a quiver in his voice.
“Like I’ve mentioned ten times before, there’s three of us and only one of him. Plus we have a single pistol and like seven baseball bats.” I told him.
“You would think with the amount of time it took us to get here we would have found at least twenty more guns and maybe some weird shit like swords.” Hungo adds to the conversation.
“I guess I never saw the need. All we really need to do is walk inside his castle, shoot him, and walk out. No need for unnecessary monologues.” Shmorg said.
I was a little bit offended by this piece of dialogue.
“Aw don’t be like that, I’ve been rehearsing what I’m gonna say to him as soon as I break in through those doors. This monologue is necessary.”
As we slowly approach the border of Maine, we notice the land getting emptier. Going through New New Hampshire the buildings stood tall, but the farther east we went, they progressively got smaller and smaller until we eventually crossed the border. After the crossing, it was nothing but barren wasteland. In the far distance there was a huge mountain-like structure with a very strange aura around it, and by aura I mean a radiation of some green gas rising into the atmosphere.
“What a gross-ass place. Why did we do this to ourselves?” Hungo mumbled.
“Don’t ask me dude, we’re all just passengers in this car that we called our society.” I had to give some wisdom as the fearless leader I am.
“Wow, aren’t you a wise, fearless leader?” Hungo sarcastically remarked back at me.
Ha. Nothing but success from my end, baby.
“Is that it? Is that the castle?” Shmorg asked from the passenger seat.
“I guess there’s really nowhere else to look, might as well stop where we can.” Hungo replied.
I step on the gas and we fastly approach the expected castle, only to find it was nothing more than a trash heap. We decided to get out and find nothing but full trash bags piled up to the size of a small mountain. However, there was a front entrance supported by flashlights shining on a pathway. We came to the conclusion that this was King Maine’s dumpster of a castle.
“Look, there's a door!” Shmorg exclaimed. “It looks like it’s made of… cardboard?”
The door was in fact made of cardboard. To be honest I was expecting something a little more grand? Maybe like something out of a Disney movie. I tried to push the door inward, but the entire door just fell down flat, opening the entrance.
“Gentlemen, it’s 11:59. This is what we’ve been waiting for. Hand me the pistol, I wanna be the one to finish this once and for all.” I said with all the main character energy I could.
“What the hell dude? I think I need to be the one who finishes it!” Hungo yells at me. “I found the most booze on the ride over here!”
“Yeah but I drove the whole 35-hundred miles! Come on dude, I’ll shoot him once and then you can take care of the rest. How about that?” I begged. I need this.
“You know what? Fine. As long as you promise not to kill him immediately.”
“Hungo, I want to kiss you.” I meant it with all my heart.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” Cold.
As we walked in, the worst smell you could possibly imagine was wafting through the room. Imagine that same smell multiplied by a million. We follow this dirt path as long as we possibly can, we might have walked a mile before finally approaching the throne, that’s how big this pile of shit was. A wooden rocking chair elevated over piles of garbage and a big piece of plywood was creaking back and forth with the supposed King Maine sitting there. The cherry on top.
“Oh, hello there! Nice of you to stop by!” yelled a familiar voice from the throne. He stands up and makes his way down from his elevated area to the path below us, hopping on bags making squishing noises on the way down.
The person in front of us was not the man we expected to see. We assumed King Maine would be a ripped dude with a couple screws loose. He was, in fact, a dude with some screws loose, however he was a man I was already very familiar with, Barger Hunderson. He had a crown made of a banana peel on his head and a neckbeard that truly showed his masculinity. He was wearing nothing but stained underwear and a cape made of saran wrap. He stood up from his throne.
“Barger? What are you doing here? I thought you died a month ago with the others?” I asked him. I was very confused.
“THAT’S KING MAIN TO YOU, BITCH! We did die, exactly a month ago like you said. There never was a King Maine before me. This world has been doomed from the start and this was finally my chance! I took the other three of my men over here to help build this palace, just to then put them down and wait in patience for you. I wanted you to come after me just so I could finally end you and live the rest of my life in peace, with no one else to watch the end of this horrifying movie that we live in.”
“You just wanted to kill us? What’s the point in that? We could have worked together to at least try to stay alive!” I told him.
“You don’t quite get it, Gump. Did you ever sit back and ask yourself why we in specific were the only ones left alive after all these disappearances?” He asked me.
I was drawing a blank. I guess I never considered it because it was just Hungo, Shmorg, and I. The disappearances began after the War of 4’s and didn’t fully stop until about 2 months ago, 3 years since the War originally started. Now that I’ve just found out that Barger has been alive this whole time and responsible for the deaths of his three former comrades, it may be clicking in my brain a little bit.
“Does this have something to do with the stuff they injected in us?” I asked.
“BINGO!!! That shit that they put in us was a prototype of a cure that would prevent us from being affected by this little thing the government threw out there called the Doomsday Virus! Now what’s that, you ask? The government started the War of 4’s to try and kill the entirety of the States, right? While that is correct, the War was a cover-up for something greater, the release of a global virus that we’ve been creating for the past two thousand years. Why do you think other countries or continents have come to recover the States? Because the release of the virus spread across the world and killed everyone! Many other torturous experiments were done to test cures for the virus, but we just so happened to be the last batch of subjects that it actually worked on! It didn’t matter who used it, all figures of power were killed by civilians anyway and it’s not like any normal person would want to stick a needle that big in themselves willingly.”
“Well, if everyone died anyway, why aren’t there corpses everywhere? Why doesn’t it smell like rotting flesh everywhere we go?” I asked.
“It took two thousand years to make! I’m not a man of science by any means, but I know the virus would immediately start melting your bones, then evaporate all layers of your skin from the inside to the outside. Essentially everyone quite literally disappeared, with no trace of their existence.”
“Well that gives me another question, Why were my buddies here never affected by this? It was just us who were injected, these guys should’ve evaporated months ago!”
“Buddies? What buddies? It’s just you and me!” King Maine yells with some confusion.
“What the hell do you mean? Do you not see these guys right next to me? Hungo and Shmorg, don’t forget the names!” I yelled. What is happening?
I look around. Hungo and Shmorg are looking at me with sad eyes. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes Hungo and Shmorg weren't there.
“HA! Not an uncommon feat we see these days. You must have been so lonely these past days that you have created alter egos for yourself! Let me guess, are they alternatively optimistic and pessimistic?” He shouted with an annoying happiness in his voice.
There’s no way. All this time was spent by myself? For the past 11 days I recalled every second I spent with them. But at the same time, it makes sense when thinking about how long I’ve been alone. The few months ago meeting the two were some I held as my best memories. I can’t just forget about them, they are here and they’re never gonna go away. Before I can get the words out, the King keeps talking.
“You know what? That’s alright! At least you had some guys to keep you going. It was probably a lot easier to cope through getting here wherever you’re from.”
“Shut up. They ARE real, they HAVE been here the whole time. YOU are going to DIE!” all I can see is red at this point.
“Alright! Kill me! Just shoot me right between the eyes! See where that gets you! You’ll never change, you’ll have to live the rest of your life alone! This is the end! You will forever be a lonely, drunkard, PIECE OF SHI-”
I shot him between the eyes like he asked. It wasn’t me that did it though. I blink and Hungo has his finger over the trigger while I’m holding the pistol. Shmorg is to the left of me with tears in his eyes. Poor guy.
We walked out of the castle and sat in the car. I don’t know what to say or what to think. I look to my right and then to the backseat, seeing Hungo and Shmorg. I don’t know where to go from here, but either way, I know they are gonna be here as long as I am.
“Nice shot, Hungo.” I told him.
“...Let’s get out of here man.” He croaked with tears in his eyes.
Interview with the Author
1. What inspired you to write this piece? What was your thought process throughout?
I wrote this piece in a creative writing class that I took. Since then I thought it had some potential to be a full-fledged story. I added a lot of details as well as taking out a few, but the whole time I was looking for ways to make it feel like a big road trip between friends. I mostly just wanted people to feel welcomed into the story. I like to keep things weird, especially with naming conventions and I do my best to try and keep the reader engaged.
2. What do you hope readers will take away from your piece? What effects do you want the piece to have on the person, community, or society?
I have a love for fictional narratives of all kinds. Fiction writers all have their own style and I think of it as a little gateway into the writers mind. I want people to take away the message that fiction writing is an amazing way to project your mind into your work. In my case, I find it very therapeutic to sit down and just scribble something down. It's always been my motive in writing to hold the conventions of a normal story but add weird little mixups in there. (such as the names) Basically, write what you want to write. Everyone's writing is unique in the field of fiction.
3. What is your favorite piece of fiction (short story, novel, flash fiction, etc.) that you’ve ever read? Why?
At the time of writing this story, I recently read this book called 'Kappa' by Ryunosuke Akutagawa. It's a relatively short novella and it's pretty weird, but I love weird. The story was written in 1927 and is about a man falling down a rabbit hole into this land of frog/turtle/bird creatures where they teach him about meanings of life. It has a ton of different characters with different purposes in life with lots of metaphors that just kinda spoke to me at the time. Did I mention it's weird?
4. If you plan on continuing to write, what are some goals/plans you may have for your future?
I do plan on continuing writing. My goals for the future are to write longer and more in depth stories. I want to write novels about whatever it may be that my brain tells me to write, and have fun in the process. There's definitely ideas for new stories and I really hope to get around to writing more.