Disclaimer: notes transcribed as is, no editing has been made so as to preserve my original feelings as I read the chapter.
Part 8, Goodbyes; Chapter 1, “the Whacko”.
Whatever the Whacko’s real name may be (or whomever he is based upon) he isn’t a Whacko as you might think.
This goodbye is merely a case in point.
For America the war is over, at least on paper, and Whacko believes that people have a right to try and reclaim their lives. It’s just the American way, he reckons, but I think it’s more than that. In order to rebuild a way of life you have to start in the home. In the same way that charity starts in the home, lives need to be rebuilt. Children need to be taught & loved. All the while, maintaining constant vigilance over the ever-present threat.
Of course volunteers came forward, they had a choice.
If America hadn’t declared the war over, perhaps more people would have been disgruntled & reluctant to help or join the UN multinational force.
Choice is powerful thing, take it away & people lose hope, worse, they lose their humanity & compassion.
Yep, methinks the Whacko knew what he was doing, knew it was time to celebrate a victory.
It was a long time coming.
Maria. It hurts when I think of this character. So strong, so young and now so used.
Although she seems to think it’s her duty to Russia to bear the future. The whole situation screams of The Handmaid’s Tale. So few women who can carry children to full term, the future of Russia seems to depend on women like her and she, as she puts it, serves with all her heart.
Woman was a fighter, now she’s a prostitute. Some professions will never die.
She’ll never know who the fathers are, just a quick roll on the mattress or artificial insemination. Can’t quite be sure on that score.
At least some part of her still has fight.
She casually flips the bird to her (jailers?), speaks her mind on Russia’s new-found religious fervour, names Father Ryzhkov even, and revels in her homelands new strength.
For the first time in almost a hundred years, we can finally warm ourselves in the protective fist of a Caesar, and I’m sure you know the word for Caesar in Russian.
I’ve liked this guy from the start, mercenary though he is, at least he honest about what he does & how he feels.
There’s no macho rubbish with this guy.
He likes killing zombies, it’s a useful hobby. At least he knew that he was a danger to the civilians around him.
It was when the new prez, “the Whacko”—Jesus, who the hell am I to call anybody else that?—when I heard him speak at a rally, I must have thought of at least fifty ways to bring him down. That’s when I got out, as much for everyone else’s sake as my own.
Sensible decision, at least Whacko survived the rally.
Some people get a taste for blood and want more, even if it’s their own. T. Sean on the other hand, knows he couldn’t stay. He joined the Impisi (same name as the South African Special Forces) and got to work clearing out the remaining ghouls with the aid of a Pouwhenua he got from a Maori. Used to play for the All-Blacks.
Those war dances they do before a rugby match are downright intimidating & completely awe inspiring.
He mentions the battle of “One Tree Hill”. I’ll bet the Maori kicked some major zombie skull during that campaign.
It’s also the first time (by my recollection) that New Zealand had been mentioned. Wonder why that is?
Still, it seems T. Sean has hope for some kind of future.
Apparently “Mackee” Macdonald has found his peace and is now living out the remainder of his life in Greece, maybe this example raises questions of what if, and that perhaps killing zombies will become boring & no longer give him that high
[He rises to leave, shouldering his weapon.]
Then the last skull I crack’ll probably be my own.
Or perhaps not.
In any event, he knows he’s got options. I guess it all just boils down to choices.