Mickey Mouse in the Public Domain - Chapter 23
Oswald stood at the wheel watching with jaws agape the zombie of Carolyn Cow reforming, and figured, Why not do something about it?
But first, he had to take in the status of his crew. It was not good, that one thing was for sure. The dark energy was penetrating, penetrating every aspect of the ship. It wasn't just Zombie Carolyn (or Bessie, or whatever on earth they called that cow back in 1928) to worry about, corpses of Public Domain characters old and older- characters whose stomachs and intestines had been ripped out by the razor-sharp teeth of The Mickey - were raising up left and right; all those brave and bold volunteers, all out here to do the right thing and save Mickey from his darkest demons, all here being terrorized by the 1928 undead.
(Fortunately, 1929 and beyond was still firmly locked behind the wall of copyright, Oswald didn't think he had the guts to face whatever was on that side of that wall.)
Where were Fanny and Sadie?! As he scanned the battle that raged on the lower decks, he saw no sight of them. And the Mechanical Cow!? Had she completely abandoned him too?
Women, Oswald thought to himself in his 1920s biases that in no way reflected the thoughts and opinions of this author, Always going and running off with other men or something like that.
But honestly, that didn't make sense even to him, there was a full battle going on here, and this wasn't exactly a good time to run off with other men, especially all three of them together; he'd have to be some man, and that couldn't be Pete, because Pete was up here clobbering zombies with the others (Though I personally wouldn't be so bold to classify Pete as "Some Man", but who's to say what women were into back in the 1920s.)
What if something had happened to them? He couldn't stand the thought of any of them getting hurt in any way that wasn't cartoony, even if he was in no place to sort out his feelings for them right now.
So what was he doing standing around dazed like this? (A concussion could do that to a person.) He had to get in there and help them; hopefully it wasn't too late.
But as he regained himself, he recaught sight of Carolyn Cow, the cow he'd totally forgot in his long-winded mental monologue, making her way up the stairwell to the steering deck, her cowbell dingling ominously, her small intestines dingle-dangling underneath her with just as much ominousness.
And then she was there, standing face to face with Oswald; smelt her kind of bad.
GAG!
It was probably a good thing he barfed in that moment, the projectile vomit was just enough force to sent Carolyn Cow hurtling far away from him, clattering across the lower deck with a dingle-clang of intestinal-bells or something.
But there were more zombies down below, both sides of the steering deck; all over in fact.
So he leapt off the steering deck and into the fray.
It was there he realized: he didn't have a weapon, and he doubted he conjure that much vomit for every zombie that got near (Though with the way they smelled, he couldn't entirely discount the possibility either). Either way, he needed a weapon more sufficient than projectile-barf.
Okay! Back up to the steering deck. Spinning on his heels, he rushed back for the enclosed stairwell that led up, and raced up it, zombies having spotted him and following in tow.
When he reached the top, he grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it from it spot, wielding it over his head like a chakram. Clearing the deck of zombies, he flung himself back over the railing, and flung the wheel across the lower deck like a giant rolling disk as he continued through with his faceplant; it took out a few enemies, (the wheel, not the faceplant) but it wasn't enough.
And worse, Carolyn Cow was recovering from the vomit, legs spinning rubberhosedly, rotating her from her back to her feet. She turned her blank eyes back toward Oswald, clearly offended by his self-defense tactics.
How!? It was her whose guts were dangling loose under her belly, if we're talking gross, she can take a little vomit.
She led the charge, and in moments, Oswald was surrounded, moaning zombies of the Public Domain surrounding him on all sides, there was no way he was surviving this.
BOOOOOOOOM!
Zombie parts went flying, every which direction on the deck.
Then, sailing through the air on a paraglider, straight toward the ship, was Felix the Cat.
Just the sight of him brought back traumatic memories, memories of him getting stabbed through, shrugging and collapsing to the floor, seeing him alive brought back the worst memories of how he had died.
Wait, What!?
Felix folded the paraglider and dropped down on the steering deck, shining bright in the sunlight as it pierced the clouds of darkness looming above the battle, wielding a bazooker at the ready. Oswald just stared up at him from the lower deck where he stood, absolutely speechless.
And Felix stared to laugh.
Offended by the smack in the face, Oswald threw one of the offending "HA"s off to the side, decapitating Carolyn Zombie in the process.
"You're dead." Oswald said to Felix, matter of factly, not even realizing his victory over that horrid cow.
Felix just laughed again, "Bold of you to assume there can only be one variation of me in the Public Domain."
Oswald looked at him while Felix fired bazooker bombs at enemies far and wide, clearing the lower deck around Oswald.
"Okay, if you're a different version of Felix, how did you know we needed you?" Oswald asked combatively.
Felix shrugged. "When I found the other Felix laying dead in that canyon, I simply took off his headcap and mushed his brain into mine (Not as gruesome as it sounds, with the help of cartoon logic of course); essentially, we're now the same character."
Oswald looked at him another moment, but more zombies were starting to reform, this wasn't the time.
"So, what is the plan?" Oswald asked.
Felix looked at him. "I''twas you who slammed your Steamboat into Screamboat Willie."
"Right," Oswald said, thinking fast on his lucky rabbit feet, "Give me that Bazooka and I'm going to hunt down The Mickey, you take care of this mess up here on deck."
Felix nodded and tossed the Bazooker down to Oswald, "It's a Bazooker, actually."
"Right," said Oswald. Then, without further ado, he blasted his way into the hoard of Public Domain zombies, scurrying across the deck to where it met the Screamboat, then, onboard, he leapt through a crack in the hull into its hold.
Felix watched him disappear, and gave him a salute of good luck. Then he yanked the steamboat's bell from where it was hanging over the deck and tested it. Swinging it around his head like a flail, he leapt from the steering deck to the lower deck like Oswald before him, faceplanting for comedic effect, and went all at it against the zombie hoard.
Oswald would be proud.