Chapter 114

1815 hours, local time,
Monday, 21 July, 2014
Business District,
Hinton, West Virginia

We were all busy shopping in the small, but slowly recovering business district when we got the news that Colonel Frank McLaughlin and Leo Manicotti had both died of their wounds. I had a strong suspicion that God intentionally prevented their recovery, so they could be exalted to angelic status after their resurrection. I had no doubt, in any case, that they were both angels now. They would make some very powerful warriors for Heaven, I had to presume.

“So, two more of the older citizens, the city fathers of Hinton, dead, but not gone. Raised to a higher plane of existence, no doubt. I’m guessing that neither Tom Cruise nor George Clooney have been so exalted, of course. Well, maybe George Clooney. Definitely not Tom Cruise. He was a menace due to his role in Scientology. But Manicotti and McLaughlin, I think that those men more than earned it,” I commented as I walked through a shop and a salesgirl in only a blouse and heels followed me.

When I say only a blouse and heels, I mean exactly that, of course. She clearly took the whole “No Pants Week” deal quite seriously, as she should. I could see her bald, pink pussy lips at even a little distance, not to mention her sweet, pale, bare ass. There were several other staff and customers, all of them either bottomless or else clad in only panties or very scanty bikini bottoms, usually thongs. Quite a few were entirely nude and nobody seemed shocked or scandalized by now. It became very normal by then, especially with the rapid spread of Schumacher Syndrome.

“You know, I really want to hold a memorial service for George. We had some issues, as I said before, but I never wished him dead. He was still my boyfriend on Doomsday itself, mind you. It would be a great way to ... you know, have closure for George. He wasn’t a perfect guy by any means, but he was a good man. I had flaws, too, anyway. The issues weren’t entirely his fault. Plenty of blame to go around. I feel like a widow in some ways when it comes to him,” Stacy announced, clearly feeling some loss now that she knew what became of her late beau.

“That’s a beautiful sentiment and idea. I fully agree. Many people liked George as fans, of course, but you were his girlfriend at the time of his death, certainly at the moment that the Fireballs struck. You might have wondered if he had died or if you would ever see him again, but you were strictly speaking his girlfriend, certainly as far as he knew. Before you start feeling anything like guilt for accidentally cheating on him ... it was an accident and all. It wasn’t as if you knew if he was dead or alive, if he had broken it off, if he was intimate with someone else, etc.,” I reassured her.

“Yes, that helps, even if I feel awful about living while he died. That’s my main source of guilt. He died, probably in agony and terror for his life, even if he also died bravely, fighting like a man. Cheating? As you said, it was accidental, if you even count it as such. Plus, between you and me, neither of us were highly faithful, anyway. We both cheated. A few times each. At least. We were rich, famous, and attractive. We both had ... offers and a hard time declining such advances. It was a matter of opportunity, you know, and we were both all too human.

“That was one of our big issues. Trust. And it was mutual. In our last conversation, we both accused each other of cheating ... and I think that we were both right. Cheating isn’t some sin or vice born of malice, not most of the time. The only thing that makes it immoral, and I think that you would agree here, is the lying, the falsehood, the dishonesty. We share openly, and that is fine, of course, even blessed and sanctioned by Heaven. So cheating is just human weakness, the weakness of our willpower to overcome our primal, animal instincts in order to keep our word,” Stacy clarified her position now.

“You clearly loved him ... a lot. And it shows in your desire to pay tribute to his memory. Well, I’m not a big celebrity chaser, I don’t follow tabloids, never did ... I usually hear about things only after the rumors of things get confirmed. This isn’t about that, though. This is about a bereaved girlfriend remembering her boyfriend with obvious grief and affection. Those are very real feelings. It wouldn’t hurt any of us to pay our respects. For all I know, it might be the only funeral that George ever gets, so let’s do this right. Wednesday night. That will give us time to plan it a little and it can be the final service of our stay here in Hinton,” I alluded to our departure come Thursday morning for Beckley.