The Flucks is my (Ed) first novel and an experiment. We are independent creators, publishing chapter by chapter as a podcast and text. It’s designed to be heard. We’d love to receive your feedback so we can tell stories better.
Continue reading for Chapter 2, or start at Chapter 1.
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Text copyright © 2025 Ed Herrington
⚠️ Content Warning: Death, body horror, existential crisis
Last time on The Flucks
The sun blazed directly overhead, leaving nothing to steer by. Not like I knew where I was or where I was going anyway. My dark-winged companions weren’t going to help me navigate.
The dune ridges looked easier to walk. I picked one, then chose randomly from my two choices of direction and started walking.
Hell has no sunscreen, and Slacy’s learning that the hard way. The desert burns without mercy, buzz-vultures buzz, and time itself feels like it’s melting. Every step forward is punishment, but somewhere ahead, the heat starts to fade.
Chapter 2 — How it’s going
It didn’t take me long to realize Hell has no sunscreen. I could really use an umbrella right now. My skin cooked, tight and prickling, red meat left too long under a broiler. Every step made the air burn hotter, until I was roasting from the outside in.
The buzz-vultures kept pace overhead. They knew the game: fresh meat shows up in Hell, staggers till it dies of exposure, then dinner time. I wasn’t planning on being their meal, but I had no other plans for the day, so it was an okay backup plan.
After hours of walking—or was it minutes?—my mouth was parched. Does Hell have no sense of time, or is that true of all people walking in the desert? Either way, I considered testing if it was possible to drink sand.
I looked up, trying to see if the sun had moved. That was a bad idea. White fire stabbed my eyes. I dropped to all fours, dizzy, half-blind. The skin on my shoulders split as it baked. I let my eyes adjust to the merciful shade my head created directly under me. Is it still noon? I guess there is no time here.
I stammered back to my feet and started walking again. Man, this is boring. Shouldn’t there be mirages or something to convince me to walk towards them, just to fall into the mouth of a giant sandworm? A delusion would be much more entertaining than this.
My skin peeled, flakes falling to the sand. Blisters rose on my shoulders and burst, stinging in the heat. The sun did not give up. Neither did I. I was going to make it to that other dune if it killed me.
Wait—which dune was I walking towards? I spun around. My sense of direction had abandoned me. I looked for the buzz-vultures. They, too, had abandoned me.
I flipped a coin and chose a new direction. At least, I imagine I did because apparently, there was no place to put coins when you’re naked. At least not anywhere I’d want to consider. Besides, no one has used coins since my midlife crisis.
If the desert wasn’t going to entertain me, I might as well reflect on life to do it.
I know I grew up Gen-Z with stupid phrases I’ve mostly dropped—at least in my formal writing. This blog counts as formal, right? But this generation was worse. With no central media conglomerates left, there was no singular voice for the news. Just streams. Just vids.
People posted about everyone getting sick. Everyone dying. They said this flux gives zero fucks and will fucking kill you. It took about five seconds for someone to call it “The Flucks,” and it went viral. For those listening to the A.I. reading my extended eulogy, that’s F.L.U.C.K.S. Cute. But not really.
It‘s great that the fall of centralized information and news led to the fall of fascism, but the price was more generations making up words faster than I could keep up. I was too old for that shit. I guess I still am.
When did I end up on the ground? I was lying on my back, staring at the sun. I guess I didn’t really need my eyes anyway. A shadow flickered. Hey, look—the buzz-vultures are back. Thanks, friends. I closed my eyes—just a little nap.
An iris opened before me, letting in a bright light. I should really stop looking at the sun. Oh, wait—this was that light at the end of the tunnel… again? Good. I’d rather die of heat death than wait around for the heat death of the universe.
The light swallowed me.
✹✹✹
Just as I was warming up to the idea, the light started to fade. I assumed it would stop right above me and dump me back where I started in the desert, like I was climbing the Dark Tower.
But it didn’t stop—it kept fading. The only thing left above me was a twilight glow. I began to shiver. Huh—there’s a sensation I’d forgotten.
I sat up and checked my body, hoping having two feet again wasn’t just a dream. Yep, there they were. So, that was good. The issue was that my feet were resting on ice. I looked around. Yep, my entire body was splayed on a frozen slab.
The sun was a pale dot, low on the horizon. Considering my ass was freezing to the ice, I could be at one of the poles. So, the sun was either due north or due south.
No buzz-vultures this time. They probably don’t like freezer meat. Knowing the drill by now, I hauled myself up and started walking. Closer to the sun is warmer, right? I headed toward it.
I figured a long walk across the icy tundra would be prime time for more exposition. But my brain was moving too slowly to think. Could your brain freeze while your heart still pumps?
With each step, the skin on my bare feet fused with the ice, peeling away, leaving behind flesh-patch footprints. It had to be well below zero—my new skin was frosting over, stiffening, splitting in fine white cracks. Brittle shards flaked off and scattered like snow whenever I moved.
My lips split when I tried to lick them, the taste of iron sharp on my tongue. My mouth was as dry as the desert, but I didn’t dare think of water—I was sure it would freeze solid in my throat before it hit my stomach.
No one told me that the cold kills you faster than the heat. At least I didn’t have to wait any longer. I fell to the ice, my skin sticking. It tore as I shifted.
I didn’t bother to look up. Here’s good, I’ll just lie here and nap for a while.
Damnit—there was that white light again.
✹✹✹
I heard sounds before the light faded. Birds and… monkeys? I’m no zoologist. I looked up. Trees loomed over me. A jungle, of course. What is this, some sort of Minecraft-biome bullshit? If I die again and respawn in the plains, I’m going to have some words to say to God… or Satan… whoever’s running this farce.
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