Bullets, Blades, and Battered Brains
By Steven Mattor
The plastic covering on my forearm still had teeth marks from my encounter with a large guard dog that was at the perimeter of Don Peroni’s compound. Ducking inside of the tool shed, I needed to only check my ammo and assemble my blade. They were both still there. I never had the option to pick my own gear in the military, I’m learning the benefits of that now. It’s always hard to start out being a vigilante. You can’t afford all the best stuff, like a bulletproof vest. I never realized how much they cost. I mean we all can’t be Batman, can we?
The blade fit easily within the bottom of the case I carried in, due to it’s square body it would look identical to the hinge materials. The hilt screwed in almost perfect precision, locking into place. My two semi-automatic 1911’s were in their holsters. I had about forty rounds. Blade and second pistol were placed firmly away. Only an idiot tries to shoot accurately with two guns at the same time. That’s some made up movie bullshit that always gets someone killed. Looking down at myself I would imagine that I look like something out of a bad sci-fi movie.I had my body armor made out of motocross body armor, and military pouches that you could order off the internet. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it might stop me form getting a limb broken if I get hit with something hard. I still needed to figure out some sort of mask, a helmet wouldn’t work, they impair vision, and alter the way you move. I was fluid now, fast and smooth.
My phone, with it’s integrated satellite readout showed some movement throughout the complex on infrared. I found my location and the general blueprints. You would be amazed at what you could learn from a simple hackers meeting in New York City. I couldn’t afford to mess around with it for too long though, Some movement was close to my position, at least that’s what it looked like. After some thoughts about what might happen, and some rough back up plans on what to do if it all went to shit, I cracked the door to the shed. I saw a man walking around with a demo saw over his shoulder and a bottle of Jameson hanging lazily from his hand, the contents more than half gone.
The 1911 coughed, and a newly formed hole that connected his right eye to his left ear appeared. I would have about eight or nine more shots like that until the steel wool starts to wear down, making the silencer nothing but a barrel extension. Sticking my head out the door, looking both ways. Nothing, no one heard, no alarms. The way I like it. I almost stepped from my shooting position and then I reached down to grab my shell casing, and tucked it in one of my many pouches in my vest. Leave nothing behind.
The plastic at my hip resonated with the vibration of my phone. Touching the earpiece within my ear I said quickly, all the while rushing to the corner of where the drunken man came from.
“Sam, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.” Samantha was my girlfriend, if you could call her that. Some would call her a tremendous pain in the ass.
“I don’t give a shit! You didn’t take the trash out yet!”
“That’s because I still haven’t gotten home. I’m working.”
“Yeah that’s the excuse you always have.”
“Whatever, I hope you get your ass beat.” Gritting my teeth, the simmer of red in my eyes, becomes a backdrop for what is about to happen. My 1911 gets put into it’s holster and out comes my blade. There is one thing you can always count on, the reliability of your weapons. Take care of them and they will never call you up and curse you out. Before I knew what was going on, the three guards playing spades were decimated with a single swipe. Part of a hand still was clutching at cards, that would never get played. Amazing what you can do when, you just don’t give a shit anymore. I look at one of the guy’s guns resting against the wall. “That’s a nice shotgun.” It find’s it’s way to my pack strapped in next to my blade. “Finder’s keepers” I say with a evil grin. The blue prints showed an open courtyard, which should be easily traversed from the second floor without anyone noticing. I open the french doors in a guest room and climb up to the roof. No one seems to be around I use a telescopic mirror that truckers use to check something. I picked it up at a truck stop. I’m always surprised where the things I use to stay alive come from. Anyway I use it to check the office below me. No one is in there. At least on heat vision and motion detection.
“Damn.” I thought that would be where they were keeping him. I swing down with ease onto the balcony that connected to the office. It smelt in here.
“Is that … blood?” I asked myself. I also noted the slight smell of urine. “If I was a lowlife mob boss and I wanted to scare the shit out of someone where would I take them?” I sheathed my blade and once again took out my pistol. “The basement.” Something that could only be said with a grimace. Opening the door with disregard, I descended the stairs, knowing that if they took him down there, that there was only one possible outcome. They took him to the basement. Which was never a good sign. Traversing the stairs that led down to a sealed room, that wasn’t on the blueprints. The sounds of something hitting something wet. Clang! Went the sound again.
Opening the door I fired two safe shots into the mob boss, Anthony Peroni who had kidnapped Bobby, my source for intel. Anthony’s knees would never be the same again.
Truth be told Bobby looked more menacing than I did. Standing at six foot four and two hundred and ninety pounds of muscle, he could of beaten anyone to a pulp. That was if he wasn’t a unshakable pacifist. He punched some kid back in second grade, put the kid in a coma. Never punched anyone ever again. Not that anyone ever tried.
His face was a bloody mess. Something I took in while Don Peroni took in all the pain that my two shots to his knees would deliver. Bobby was barely breathing. I woke him up and he looked up at me as I cut him loose. He stood up, his bulky frame swelling with the sheer rage that only a man possessed could have.
“You ok?” I asked, knowing that there would be no way I could stop him from doing whatever he wanted.
“Mbuh? O Iz Fin” he said through a broken jaw and battered lips. Stepping on the Don’s knee he bent low to pick up the bat that was just previously being used on him.
“Sbo ywu litke to bet wittle gwirlz? He swung the bat, breaking the don’s foot first. It now must have been nothing more than a pulp. Then a second swing against his shoulder, which connected with the don’s hand first because he tried to block it. The sound of bones cracking turned even my stomach. I stepped outside. Fifteen minutes later, Bobby walked out covered in blood and tears.
“Let’s get you home” I said putting my arm around the big guy.
“I hadd two, hw wuld ov nvar stopped.” That was the saddest thing I ever saw. A man who was dedicated to peace, being forced to do some of the most horrible things imaginable.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Waking up Strangely
Chapter One
The wind was hot blowing across my face and the first thing I focused on was the little kid staring at me, poking my face with his dirty fingers. He looked confused. What the hell was going on? I asked myself. The last thing I remember was going to the commissary with Julie and little Ryan. He wanted me and Julie pick out the groceries; “he wanted to help.” Where was he now with his big blue eyes?
This kid here was not Ryan. He was talking to me, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Sitting up, the humvee was on it’s side and demolished, looking down at myself I was covered in blood. “What had happened here?” There were other marines two scattered outside of the vehicle, their bodies almost torn in half. The little boy kept on talking to me, I could no longer hear him, my thoughts were swimming now.
“How did I get here?”
“What happened?”
This was barely a village we were in; “why would we come here?” My M4 was broken and lying in front of me the 203 grenade launcher attachment still looked usable. There was a large chunk of metal protruding through the bolt assembly on the rifle, usually a good indicator that it’s not going to fire. Trying to stand up I notice my balance is way off and I fall almost as quickly as I attempt to stand up. My helmet shifts to the side of my head and running my hand up to adjust it, it feels like a cracked and empty eggshell after you’ve taken all the egg out, but that gross skin still remains on the inside. I guess I must of hit my head pretty hard. Lucky I was wearing it.
“What the hell happened?”, was the only thing I could muster, my throat chalky and dry as if I hadn’t spoken in a long time. I took my eggshell hat off. Dried blood clumped in my hair. The little boy I could see now was dressed in dirty rags and he was talking and pointing all around the wreckage. This time I stood up well enough, even if I was a little shaky once I got to my feet.
Who were the marines outside the vehicle? I didn’t recognize them, they were Hispanic, two corporals. Inside the humvee was a captain. What the hell were we doing here and how come no one else was around? Looking down the dirt trail following the tracks I could see a seven ton that rolled while coming down the hill, most likely attempting evasive maneuvers because of what happened to us. The while cab was crushed under the weight of the truck. Secretly I hoped no one was alive to suffer through that. The little boy was tugging at the bottom of my vest, he was trying to pull me away somewhere.
“Rua! Emshee” the words just came out, and I knew what they meant. Go leave I said to him, that’s all that I could think to say, the Marine Corps didn’t teach us much in the way of communicating with children. Especially little boys who looked like they were trying to help. Walking over to the humvee I could see now the captain was crushed by the dashboard and the lance corporal that was driving nearly had his head taken off by the steering wheel. What was I?
Looking down, I saw two chevrons and crossed rifles, that meant I was a corporal. Myers was the other information that was on my vest. The letters were stained with blood, which I wondered if that would effect the digital camouflage. A pack had name tapes on it reading Myers. What the hell could I use here. The little boy was just sitting there on one of the tires that was once attached to this humvee. It must have been a spare. What could I use here? The captain’s sidearm. And there’s a m16 here with an acog reflexive scope on it; my pack had a book and some miscellaneous stuff in it. Some food, but nothing of any real value. A map, that could be useful if I remembered being in country at all. Or for that matter where my base was. I’ll take it anyway. Looking around I realized I had a lot of shit I had to take with me. I took off my 203 and attached it to the m16. Took the sidearm. Rummaged through the captain’s pack and took all the intel that I could muster. Everyone’s dog tags, some water, and a few mre’s; after I took the bolts out of the guns that I couldn’t carry with me. They were coming with me. No way is anybody going to get shot with our weapons.
It dawned on me and I laughed a little bit, I live a charmed life. Smiling well at least I’m alive, at least I have a chance to make it home to Julie and Ryan. I have a chance, that’s at least something. Looking back the little man was standing there quietly watching me, like an anthropologist from another planet. Just looking confused. I toss him an MRE, and he hugs it to his body like I just gave him a stuffed animal. I had to go check the seven ton now, maybe their radio would get better reception with that long ass antenna. After about twenty minutes of going through the seven ton, there was no way I could get into the cab, and no one was in the back.
I sat down on a box of MRE’s that must have been thrown from the back of the truck. What the hell do I do now? The little boy was looking at me, quiet now. He looked like he was trying to understand what I was doing.
“What do you want?” I finally asked him.
All he could say that I understood was “Mister!” And then he pointed to the small village with about four or five huts. No one was outside. Finally I stood up and followed him. He took my hand and led me to the village.
He brought me inside the first hut, and pointed at a woman on the floor. She was dead, along with every other person in the village I soon noticed. They had been dead a lot longer than the people with me. “What the fuck happened here?” I finally snapped. The little boy just looked at me, his big green eyes watering. I knelt down and all I could do was hug him. He reminded me of Ryan. They were about the same age.
I sat down on a little half wall that was made out of clay, he sat down next to me. It was getting dark soon, and I needed to figure out what I would do. Do I walk to a base when I have no idea where it is? Or stay thinking that other marines have some idea where we are and would come to look for us. Do I go looking for glow sticks to make a trail? Or do I try to hide from anyone who would want to kill me or the boy? This sucks, I decided finally.
I checked out the huts for anything that would be weird or would of got them killed. I noticed a few things. They had pens for animals, with no animals in them. They had no cars or anything that could be used for transportation, the only thing that could tie them to civilization was the t shirt on the boys’ back and the soccer ball that looked like it had seen better days. I showed the boy that the MRE was food, and we ate dinner together. He seemed to actually like the country captain’s chicken. I wonder how long it had been since he’d eaten anything. He was too skinny.
It reminded me of me making “Daddy special” peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Ryan. That seemed almost like a dream, here in this place. I guess I would wait out the night. I didn’t feel tired so I decided I would stay up in one of the villagers huts one of the ones with no dead bodies in it. I made a trail with glow sticks to the first hut. I had a clear view of it so as to give myself some time to react if it was someone bad.
I was dozing off when I started to hear something coming. The boy was sleeping against the wall next to me. It sounded like more than one vehicle. It was U.S. military, it’s always hard to tell in the dark. I’m guessing it was Marines because it was the right amount of people, the Army had the tendency to either send one or two vehicles or way too many. There was no happy medium with them. I wondered to myself, why did they do everything they could to make themselves a target. Why did we only have a humvee and a seven ton here? We must have been with some others, maybe we pushed out a bit to explore the area? I wish I could remember.
The next thing I knew the boy was pulling on my pant leg, There were two pick up trucks with what looked like Jundies but then again Jundies always looked like terrorists to me. They were decent enough guys. They poked around in the dark for a bit. I wasn’t ready to trust these guys without either a translator, or someone providing security on me. I’m watching them look around and they are about to leave, the next thing I know I’m sitting against the wall.
It’s daylight now and the boy is looking at me. No he’s shouting at me. I stand up and the men are gone. At least we are both still alive. I look out the window and I see army guys hooking up a wrecker to the humvee. I walk out with the boy, the Soldier doing security looks at me confused.
“Hey there, can you guys give me a lift?”
They all exchanged confused looks,
“You were dead.” The one closest to me says shaking my hand. I could feel the boy cowering behind my leg.
“Well you guys were wrong, it happens.”
“No we were here five days ago, and we checked everyone, you were dead.”
“Well I’m not, and I could use a lift. Everyone else here is dead.”
“What about the boy?”
“I’m taking him with me.”
“Alright, well your going to have to explain him.”
The base was nearly empty, taking three different convoys I arrived back to my unit. I didn’t recognize any of them. They told me that they were sending me home.
“Are you ready to go stateside?” Gunny DeShawn asked.
“More like ready to see my wife and son.” I said with a smile.
He looked at me with a look that defied description.
“Son, they died in a car crash three months before we left.”
Chapter Two
September
Living in Las Vegas, a new place to start fresh. I had to start my life over. I guess I should be use to it by now. A lot of things still don't make sense to me. I did my best to bring that boy home with me. I think about him some nights. He's still one of the clearer things I remember. Ryan fades from memory more and more each month. I barely remember –– Julie's name anymore.
New girls take her place. Scantily clad women, with perfect ten bodies and self esteem issues. Their weakness disgusts me. It's almost as if it mirrors my own weaknesses. Nothing can come of our sexual rough housing. They are dark illusions of the happiness that I can barely remember. I stopped cumming with them. Strippers. Why would I still want them if I don’t even have the vague desire to get off with them? I wish I could just do drugs, make the world fade away. Maybe I will. One day when I don’t feel like I’m better than that.
There’s a petite red head lying across my bed, shaved. She looks delicious especially because she’s not talking to me. The sex makes everything else fade away for a little bit. It gives me a purpose. They keep coming back, maybe it’s because I give them orgasms. Maybe it’s because I make them feel like they deserved to be loved. I don’t love them, at least not anymore than they love themselves. They spent thousands of dollars making themselves who they are, forgetting that no amount of gigantic tits will allow them to become a better person.
Something I learnt not to say to Lithuanian Kindergarten teacher that would fly up from Los Angeles on long weekends to strip at the Spearmint Rhino. A place I lovingly refer to as “The Spear”. She was a good girl with a great body, she actually was a good person, but she rubbed me the wrong way.
Then there was the punk rock atheist girl who had a tattoo of Satan. On the good side I met Mike. We were working security together, one of the funniest places I could of foreseen him working. He was a human caricature of what a skinhead would look like. Except at the heart of him, there wasn’t any hatred. He used his anger (or an appearance of anger) to cover up the fact that he was a little boy at heart, just looking to play. He was covered with Tattoos. He was one of the toughest bastards I’ve ever met.
One night we went out to the bars and such. Drinking and having fun. He was off talking to some girl, they were both drunk. He didn’t realize that some wild eyed nearly seven foot tall bastard would put the back of his favorite head against the wall. Mike just smiled and made the guy tippy toe via his testicles. Then later that night when we both went out to our motorcycles, four of them had a bone to pick. Mike smiled back at me, over his shoulder. Like it was some sort of movie that he was in. He took his helmet off and hung it from his hand grip.
“Who are you?” The leader asked in angry tones. He was much smaller than either me or Mike. I’ve learnt more often than not that someone who is smaller that can roll with a group like this is usually the worse than the rest.
“Mike” He said, “I’m not quite sure I got your name there bud” talking to him like a friend.
“What’s your last name” asked the small man.
“Oxabig.” Mike said. I chuckled to myself a little.
One of the bigger ones said to himself “Mike Oxabig?”
“You’re a silly fucker aren’t you?” The small man said while walking hastily towards him. Before he could even react Mike hit him with his helmet, I didn’t even see him grab it. I leaned forward on my handlebars. The other guys just looked at us and let us ride away. We didn’t go there for a while but besides that, smooth sailing. This was the first time I realized I could trust him in a fight. That’s something that you have to very careful with. I mean you’d like to trust all your male friends with that sort of thing but simply put, people are scared frightened creatures that react strangely when put to the test.
It was later that year that Mike got sick. In and out of doctor’s visits. He was still tough as fucking nails mind you. He started growing pot. He was pretty good at it after a while. He had a thousand watts fueling those bad boys. I wanted no part of it. He later got his medicinal card. It allowed him to grow up to ninety nine plants. Who needs ninety nine plants? I took off after he got the card.. Las Vegas wore out it’s welcome on me. I think I would go on to New York. It always seemed like a place that someone could start a fresh life for themselves. I went back to Philadelphia when I got back, to see my parents. It didn’t last long.
Chapter Three
February
The plane landed in Phili International, it was only five months since I got back. Medically discharged. Meant that I had no real future, the one thing they didn’t tell me when I got out that way is that a medical discharge meant that I didn’t get my GI bill. I would of gotten a Honorable discharge a month after that. It’s funny how this country can reward you for almost getting killed. Yeah I have a hundred percent disability, but how does that get help me with my life?
I talked to my Father on the phone before I flew back. He seemed nice enough. My Mom sounded strange, like I did die. I could always hear her in the background when I was on the phone. Saying over and over “ who much does this boy have to deal with.” He would always say “shush Charlene, maybe it’s better that he doesn’t remember what he lost. He can start fresh now.”
I always meant to tell him I remembered bits and pieces but it never came out. He picked me up in a old green pickup truck. As he pulled up I wondered if I should remember it? Did I use to borrow the truck for dates?
A chubby man got out with a balding horseshoe. His eyes were glassy, like oil on glass. He was fighting tears. He hugged me, and squeeze as if when he let go I would vanish. How long had it been since I had been home? He continued to do this until a rather mean TSA worker told us to move along. I secretly thought about grabbing him by the dreads and knocking the stuffing out of him. I threw my bags in the bed and got in.
“So you like the new truck?”
“Yeah it’s great. When did you get it?”
“A few months ago.”
The ride home was awkward. He kept on talking to me, telling me everything was going to be alright now that I was home. How could I believe that? I Prayed that he was right, but silently I always knew I would be on the road again.
Three days later, I woke up in the night. I nearly broke Charlene’s arm. It didn’t feel right calling her “mom”. She was pulling the blanket over me. I reacted, and I only woke up when we both hit the ground. She cried a lot after that. Burt never looked the same at me again either. After that week people heard that I was back I suppose because people started showing up. Girls. Guys. Old teachers saying that they were proud of everything I’d done. What bullshit I always thought. I began to hate people that would tell me that they were proud of me. People that would say “thanks for going over”. People think that it’s the polite thing to say, but it just leaves the both of you empty and awkward. A knowing nod did much more for that than words.
People came by and offered me jobs, told me that it was good work. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I don’t think the label of a job is going to be the solution. Burt said I should become a cop or something. With my record, it should be no problem. That would be true if I were a blank slate, he didn’t know my problems though. The waking up crying because I missed something I barely remember having. How can I forget someone who was so important to me I wanted to spend the rest of my life with?
This was where we met. This neighborhood. I hoped daily that something would bring it all back, a flood of memories. Instead I was greeted with stoner guys that wanted to know what it was like “over there” and “did I kill anyone?” How do you answer these questions? Nothing you can or could say would be able to make them understand the depths of their own stupidity. How dare them ask me my business? A man’s past is his own business. I don’t know who I learnt that from, but it should be a rule. You don’t pry into people’s pasts. Something that is forgotten in this modern age of the internet and everyone being “connected.” I wish I could be lost in time most days. I sat on the porch looking out at the street and thought about the 50’s when if you wanted to start your life over, you pack up and move and settle down. People would let your actions from then on define you. That type of life is alien to this country now. I hated that I couldn’t escape myself.
I spent less and less, and I let the VA deposits store up in the bank. I could survive on so little these days. People were going around buying stuff, that’s all that people lived on these days. Possessions. I didn’t even own a phone. I was reading Kerouac. Simpler times. Burt and Charlene let me be. We sat at dinner almost every night, pretending that things were the same. They weren’t. They would start talking about a time I was feeding the goats at a petting zoo, or the time we went to disney. I could feel myself looking at them with a dead stare. While they were in tears laughing, that was until they looked at me. A few months later, and more incidents than I care to count, I bought a Harley and decided to give the road a try.
Maybe I would find a home out there, somewhere that was perfect for me. Like a square block in a child’s toy. They told me I didn’t have to leave, but secretly I thought that they were glad to get the house back to themselves.
Chapter Four
October
3,600 miles from Las Vegas to New York. Sleeping on the side of the road. I kept no money on me, just a knife, tire checker and a bed roll. I slept on the side of the road. It wasn’t safe, but then again I don’t think I was trying to be safe. I just made myself as scarce as possible. It’s not always smart being a free rider. At crossroads people will look at you.
A “Free Rider” is defined as a motorcycle rider without any sort of affiliation.
That’s just what I mean to do. Free myself both from the bonds of memory. From the things I should be, and the society that tells me what I should be. Every once in a while I’ll be riding, a long stretch. I’ll see these people in their cages. Passing me, the husband looking at me with envy, the kids in the backseat looking at me in awe.
I wish that husband knew that I was the one who was jealous. I would give up everything for that cage. I realized that I was a new rider. But I had nothing to prove and I was in no rush to get anywhere. Which showed in my riding. When you rush you make mistakes. Something that I would venture to say has saved my life countless times. All thanks to the Corps.
It’s amazing all the different things you see when your looking just to look. No one pays attention anymore. Everyone has time on their mind. The past or the future. I lost my past. I gave up knowing the future. All that I had left was the now. The first night I slept on the road I pulled the bike under an overpass off of that road through the Mojave. I fell asleep to a campfire, and Keat’s Brightstar. That was a man who knew love. Love is pain. Pain is how we define love. What made their love so awesome and undisputable is that it was an unsquelched love. One that burned bright that regardless of time and distance it would never fizzle. They always had one thing to drive them on though. The memory of each other. I thought of Mike. He would of rode with me had I asked him.
I quoted Keats on the wall with some spray paint left there by somebody that took refuge there some other night. Or some teenager looking to create art. Someone will read it one day and understand what it means better than I ever could. Twenty nine palms wasn’t far from here. I always felt at home near a military base now. I always felt like if they knew who I was they would invite me in to have a bite to eat and stay for a while.
They always said Joshua trees grow in two places on earth. The entrance to heaven and the entrance to hell. At least that’s what I heard in the Marines. I have now been to both places that they grow. Iraq and the Mojave desert. I’m not quite sure which entrance is which. I’ve been to where the tower of Babel was said to of been built. It was in Iraq, strange how we forget that. Now they built that tower to get closer to God. I don’t know how accurate that is. I’ve never been a religious man, maybe a pious one. But I would never say that God doesn’t exist. I’ve seen my share of miracles after all.
The wind was hot blowing across my face and the first thing I focused on was the little kid staring at me, poking my face with his dirty fingers. He looked confused. What the hell was going on? I asked myself. The last thing I remember was going to the commissary with Julie and little Ryan. He wanted me and Julie pick out the groceries; “he wanted to help.” Where was he now with his big blue eyes?
This kid here was not Ryan. He was talking to me, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Sitting up, the humvee was on it’s side and demolished, looking down at myself I was covered in blood. “What had happened here?” There were other marines two scattered outside of the vehicle, their bodies almost torn in half. The little boy kept on talking to me, I could no longer hear him, my thoughts were swimming now.
“How did I get here?”
“What happened?”
This was barely a village we were in; “why would we come here?” My M4 was broken and lying in front of me the 203 grenade launcher attachment still looked usable. There was a large chunk of metal protruding through the bolt assembly on the rifle, usually a good indicator that it’s not going to fire. Trying to stand up I notice my balance is way off and I fall almost as quickly as I attempt to stand up. My helmet shifts to the side of my head and running my hand up to adjust it, it feels like a cracked and empty eggshell after you’ve taken all the egg out, but that gross skin still remains on the inside. I guess I must of hit my head pretty hard. Lucky I was wearing it.
“What the hell happened?”, was the only thing I could muster, my throat chalky and dry as if I hadn’t spoken in a long time. I took my eggshell hat off. Dried blood clumped in my hair. The little boy I could see now was dressed in dirty rags and he was talking and pointing all around the wreckage. This time I stood up well enough, even if I was a little shaky once I got to my feet.
Who were the marines outside the vehicle? I didn’t recognize them, they were Hispanic, two corporals. Inside the humvee was a captain. What the hell were we doing here and how come no one else was around? Looking down the dirt trail following the tracks I could see a seven ton that rolled while coming down the hill, most likely attempting evasive maneuvers because of what happened to us. The while cab was crushed under the weight of the truck. Secretly I hoped no one was alive to suffer through that. The little boy was tugging at the bottom of my vest, he was trying to pull me away somewhere.
“Rua! Emshee” the words just came out, and I knew what they meant. Go leave I said to him, that’s all that I could think to say, the Marine Corps didn’t teach us much in the way of communicating with children. Especially little boys who looked like they were trying to help. Walking over to the humvee I could see now the captain was crushed by the dashboard and the lance corporal that was driving nearly had his head taken off by the steering wheel. What was I?
Looking down, I saw two chevrons and crossed rifles, that meant I was a corporal. Myers was the other information that was on my vest. The letters were stained with blood, which I wondered if that would effect the digital camouflage. A pack had name tapes on it reading Myers. What the hell could I use here. The little boy was just sitting there on one of the tires that was once attached to this humvee. It must have been a spare. What could I use here? The captain’s sidearm. And there’s a m16 here with an acog reflexive scope on it; my pack had a book and some miscellaneous stuff in it. Some food, but nothing of any real value. A map, that could be useful if I remembered being in country at all. Or for that matter where my base was. I’ll take it anyway. Looking around I realized I had a lot of shit I had to take with me. I took off my 203 and attached it to the m16. Took the sidearm. Rummaged through the captain’s pack and took all the intel that I could muster. Everyone’s dog tags, some water, and a few mre’s; after I took the bolts out of the guns that I couldn’t carry with me. They were coming with me. No way is anybody going to get shot with our weapons.
It dawned on me and I laughed a little bit, I live a charmed life. Smiling well at least I’m alive, at least I have a chance to make it home to Julie and Ryan. I have a chance, that’s at least something. Looking back the little man was standing there quietly watching me, like an anthropologist from another planet. Just looking confused. I toss him an MRE, and he hugs it to his body like I just gave him a stuffed animal. I had to go check the seven ton now, maybe their radio would get better reception with that long ass antenna. After about twenty minutes of going through the seven ton, there was no way I could get into the cab, and no one was in the back.
I sat down on a box of MRE’s that must have been thrown from the back of the truck. What the hell do I do now? The little boy was looking at me, quiet now. He looked like he was trying to understand what I was doing.
“What do you want?” I finally asked him.
All he could say that I understood was “Mister!” And then he pointed to the small village with about four or five huts. No one was outside. Finally I stood up and followed him. He took my hand and led me to the village.
He brought me inside the first hut, and pointed at a woman on the floor. She was dead, along with every other person in the village I soon noticed. They had been dead a lot longer than the people with me. “What the fuck happened here?” I finally snapped. The little boy just looked at me, his big green eyes watering. I knelt down and all I could do was hug him. He reminded me of Ryan. They were about the same age.
I sat down on a little half wall that was made out of clay, he sat down next to me. It was getting dark soon, and I needed to figure out what I would do. Do I walk to a base when I have no idea where it is? Or stay thinking that other marines have some idea where we are and would come to look for us. Do I go looking for glow sticks to make a trail? Or do I try to hide from anyone who would want to kill me or the boy? This sucks, I decided finally.
I checked out the huts for anything that would be weird or would of got them killed. I noticed a few things. They had pens for animals, with no animals in them. They had no cars or anything that could be used for transportation, the only thing that could tie them to civilization was the t shirt on the boys’ back and the soccer ball that looked like it had seen better days. I showed the boy that the MRE was food, and we ate dinner together. He seemed to actually like the country captain’s chicken. I wonder how long it had been since he’d eaten anything. He was too skinny.
It reminded me of me making “Daddy special” peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Ryan. That seemed almost like a dream, here in this place. I guess I would wait out the night. I didn’t feel tired so I decided I would stay up in one of the villagers huts one of the ones with no dead bodies in it. I made a trail with glow sticks to the first hut. I had a clear view of it so as to give myself some time to react if it was someone bad.
I was dozing off when I started to hear something coming. The boy was sleeping against the wall next to me. It sounded like more than one vehicle. It was U.S. military, it’s always hard to tell in the dark. I’m guessing it was Marines because it was the right amount of people, the Army had the tendency to either send one or two vehicles or way too many. There was no happy medium with them. I wondered to myself, why did they do everything they could to make themselves a target. Why did we only have a humvee and a seven ton here? We must have been with some others, maybe we pushed out a bit to explore the area? I wish I could remember.
The next thing I knew the boy was pulling on my pant leg, There were two pick up trucks with what looked like Jundies but then again Jundies always looked like terrorists to me. They were decent enough guys. They poked around in the dark for a bit. I wasn’t ready to trust these guys without either a translator, or someone providing security on me. I’m watching them look around and they are about to leave, the next thing I know I’m sitting against the wall.
It’s daylight now and the boy is looking at me. No he’s shouting at me. I stand up and the men are gone. At least we are both still alive. I look out the window and I see army guys hooking up a wrecker to the humvee. I walk out with the boy, the Soldier doing security looks at me confused.
“Hey there, can you guys give me a lift?”
They all exchanged confused looks,
“You were dead.” The one closest to me says shaking my hand. I could feel the boy cowering behind my leg.
“Well you guys were wrong, it happens.”
“No we were here five days ago, and we checked everyone, you were dead.”
“Well I’m not, and I could use a lift. Everyone else here is dead.”
“What about the boy?”
“I’m taking him with me.”
“Alright, well your going to have to explain him.”
The base was nearly empty, taking three different convoys I arrived back to my unit. I didn’t recognize any of them. They told me that they were sending me home.
“Are you ready to go stateside?” Gunny DeShawn asked.
“More like ready to see my wife and son.” I said with a smile.
He looked at me with a look that defied description.
“Son, they died in a car crash three months before we left.”
Chapter Two
September
Living in Las Vegas, a new place to start fresh. I had to start my life over. I guess I should be use to it by now. A lot of things still don't make sense to me. I did my best to bring that boy home with me. I think about him some nights. He's still one of the clearer things I remember. Ryan fades from memory more and more each month. I barely remember –– Julie's name anymore.
New girls take her place. Scantily clad women, with perfect ten bodies and self esteem issues. Their weakness disgusts me. It's almost as if it mirrors my own weaknesses. Nothing can come of our sexual rough housing. They are dark illusions of the happiness that I can barely remember. I stopped cumming with them. Strippers. Why would I still want them if I don’t even have the vague desire to get off with them? I wish I could just do drugs, make the world fade away. Maybe I will. One day when I don’t feel like I’m better than that.
There’s a petite red head lying across my bed, shaved. She looks delicious especially because she’s not talking to me. The sex makes everything else fade away for a little bit. It gives me a purpose. They keep coming back, maybe it’s because I give them orgasms. Maybe it’s because I make them feel like they deserved to be loved. I don’t love them, at least not anymore than they love themselves. They spent thousands of dollars making themselves who they are, forgetting that no amount of gigantic tits will allow them to become a better person.
Something I learnt not to say to Lithuanian Kindergarten teacher that would fly up from Los Angeles on long weekends to strip at the Spearmint Rhino. A place I lovingly refer to as “The Spear”. She was a good girl with a great body, she actually was a good person, but she rubbed me the wrong way.
Then there was the punk rock atheist girl who had a tattoo of Satan. On the good side I met Mike. We were working security together, one of the funniest places I could of foreseen him working. He was a human caricature of what a skinhead would look like. Except at the heart of him, there wasn’t any hatred. He used his anger (or an appearance of anger) to cover up the fact that he was a little boy at heart, just looking to play. He was covered with Tattoos. He was one of the toughest bastards I’ve ever met.
One night we went out to the bars and such. Drinking and having fun. He was off talking to some girl, they were both drunk. He didn’t realize that some wild eyed nearly seven foot tall bastard would put the back of his favorite head against the wall. Mike just smiled and made the guy tippy toe via his testicles. Then later that night when we both went out to our motorcycles, four of them had a bone to pick. Mike smiled back at me, over his shoulder. Like it was some sort of movie that he was in. He took his helmet off and hung it from his hand grip.
“Who are you?” The leader asked in angry tones. He was much smaller than either me or Mike. I’ve learnt more often than not that someone who is smaller that can roll with a group like this is usually the worse than the rest.
“Mike” He said, “I’m not quite sure I got your name there bud” talking to him like a friend.
“What’s your last name” asked the small man.
“Oxabig.” Mike said. I chuckled to myself a little.
One of the bigger ones said to himself “Mike Oxabig?”
“You’re a silly fucker aren’t you?” The small man said while walking hastily towards him. Before he could even react Mike hit him with his helmet, I didn’t even see him grab it. I leaned forward on my handlebars. The other guys just looked at us and let us ride away. We didn’t go there for a while but besides that, smooth sailing. This was the first time I realized I could trust him in a fight. That’s something that you have to very careful with. I mean you’d like to trust all your male friends with that sort of thing but simply put, people are scared frightened creatures that react strangely when put to the test.
It was later that year that Mike got sick. In and out of doctor’s visits. He was still tough as fucking nails mind you. He started growing pot. He was pretty good at it after a while. He had a thousand watts fueling those bad boys. I wanted no part of it. He later got his medicinal card. It allowed him to grow up to ninety nine plants. Who needs ninety nine plants? I took off after he got the card.. Las Vegas wore out it’s welcome on me. I think I would go on to New York. It always seemed like a place that someone could start a fresh life for themselves. I went back to Philadelphia when I got back, to see my parents. It didn’t last long.
Chapter Three
February
The plane landed in Phili International, it was only five months since I got back. Medically discharged. Meant that I had no real future, the one thing they didn’t tell me when I got out that way is that a medical discharge meant that I didn’t get my GI bill. I would of gotten a Honorable discharge a month after that. It’s funny how this country can reward you for almost getting killed. Yeah I have a hundred percent disability, but how does that get help me with my life?
I talked to my Father on the phone before I flew back. He seemed nice enough. My Mom sounded strange, like I did die. I could always hear her in the background when I was on the phone. Saying over and over “ who much does this boy have to deal with.” He would always say “shush Charlene, maybe it’s better that he doesn’t remember what he lost. He can start fresh now.”
I always meant to tell him I remembered bits and pieces but it never came out. He picked me up in a old green pickup truck. As he pulled up I wondered if I should remember it? Did I use to borrow the truck for dates?
A chubby man got out with a balding horseshoe. His eyes were glassy, like oil on glass. He was fighting tears. He hugged me, and squeeze as if when he let go I would vanish. How long had it been since I had been home? He continued to do this until a rather mean TSA worker told us to move along. I secretly thought about grabbing him by the dreads and knocking the stuffing out of him. I threw my bags in the bed and got in.
“So you like the new truck?”
“Yeah it’s great. When did you get it?”
“A few months ago.”
The ride home was awkward. He kept on talking to me, telling me everything was going to be alright now that I was home. How could I believe that? I Prayed that he was right, but silently I always knew I would be on the road again.
Three days later, I woke up in the night. I nearly broke Charlene’s arm. It didn’t feel right calling her “mom”. She was pulling the blanket over me. I reacted, and I only woke up when we both hit the ground. She cried a lot after that. Burt never looked the same at me again either. After that week people heard that I was back I suppose because people started showing up. Girls. Guys. Old teachers saying that they were proud of everything I’d done. What bullshit I always thought. I began to hate people that would tell me that they were proud of me. People that would say “thanks for going over”. People think that it’s the polite thing to say, but it just leaves the both of you empty and awkward. A knowing nod did much more for that than words.
People came by and offered me jobs, told me that it was good work. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I don’t think the label of a job is going to be the solution. Burt said I should become a cop or something. With my record, it should be no problem. That would be true if I were a blank slate, he didn’t know my problems though. The waking up crying because I missed something I barely remember having. How can I forget someone who was so important to me I wanted to spend the rest of my life with?
This was where we met. This neighborhood. I hoped daily that something would bring it all back, a flood of memories. Instead I was greeted with stoner guys that wanted to know what it was like “over there” and “did I kill anyone?” How do you answer these questions? Nothing you can or could say would be able to make them understand the depths of their own stupidity. How dare them ask me my business? A man’s past is his own business. I don’t know who I learnt that from, but it should be a rule. You don’t pry into people’s pasts. Something that is forgotten in this modern age of the internet and everyone being “connected.” I wish I could be lost in time most days. I sat on the porch looking out at the street and thought about the 50’s when if you wanted to start your life over, you pack up and move and settle down. People would let your actions from then on define you. That type of life is alien to this country now. I hated that I couldn’t escape myself.
I spent less and less, and I let the VA deposits store up in the bank. I could survive on so little these days. People were going around buying stuff, that’s all that people lived on these days. Possessions. I didn’t even own a phone. I was reading Kerouac. Simpler times. Burt and Charlene let me be. We sat at dinner almost every night, pretending that things were the same. They weren’t. They would start talking about a time I was feeding the goats at a petting zoo, or the time we went to disney. I could feel myself looking at them with a dead stare. While they were in tears laughing, that was until they looked at me. A few months later, and more incidents than I care to count, I bought a Harley and decided to give the road a try.
Maybe I would find a home out there, somewhere that was perfect for me. Like a square block in a child’s toy. They told me I didn’t have to leave, but secretly I thought that they were glad to get the house back to themselves.
Chapter Four
October
3,600 miles from Las Vegas to New York. Sleeping on the side of the road. I kept no money on me, just a knife, tire checker and a bed roll. I slept on the side of the road. It wasn’t safe, but then again I don’t think I was trying to be safe. I just made myself as scarce as possible. It’s not always smart being a free rider. At crossroads people will look at you.
A “Free Rider” is defined as a motorcycle rider without any sort of affiliation.
That’s just what I mean to do. Free myself both from the bonds of memory. From the things I should be, and the society that tells me what I should be. Every once in a while I’ll be riding, a long stretch. I’ll see these people in their cages. Passing me, the husband looking at me with envy, the kids in the backseat looking at me in awe.
I wish that husband knew that I was the one who was jealous. I would give up everything for that cage. I realized that I was a new rider. But I had nothing to prove and I was in no rush to get anywhere. Which showed in my riding. When you rush you make mistakes. Something that I would venture to say has saved my life countless times. All thanks to the Corps.
It’s amazing all the different things you see when your looking just to look. No one pays attention anymore. Everyone has time on their mind. The past or the future. I lost my past. I gave up knowing the future. All that I had left was the now. The first night I slept on the road I pulled the bike under an overpass off of that road through the Mojave. I fell asleep to a campfire, and Keat’s Brightstar. That was a man who knew love. Love is pain. Pain is how we define love. What made their love so awesome and undisputable is that it was an unsquelched love. One that burned bright that regardless of time and distance it would never fizzle. They always had one thing to drive them on though. The memory of each other. I thought of Mike. He would of rode with me had I asked him.
I quoted Keats on the wall with some spray paint left there by somebody that took refuge there some other night. Or some teenager looking to create art. Someone will read it one day and understand what it means better than I ever could. Twenty nine palms wasn’t far from here. I always felt at home near a military base now. I always felt like if they knew who I was they would invite me in to have a bite to eat and stay for a while.
They always said Joshua trees grow in two places on earth. The entrance to heaven and the entrance to hell. At least that’s what I heard in the Marines. I have now been to both places that they grow. Iraq and the Mojave desert. I’m not quite sure which entrance is which. I’ve been to where the tower of Babel was said to of been built. It was in Iraq, strange how we forget that. Now they built that tower to get closer to God. I don’t know how accurate that is. I’ve never been a religious man, maybe a pious one. But I would never say that God doesn’t exist. I’ve seen my share of miracles after all.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
What is Steampunk
Steampunk / Dieselpunk are closely related topics often interchangeable. Steampunk is Victorian era + fantasy. Simple equation. Fantasy can come in the form of Odd machines, crazy fantastical one or just a juxtaposition of new age inventions in a time that they didn't exist.
Diesel punk is similar but the time period is slightly later, when they had fully converted from steam to diesel fuel. This simple formula can lead you to understand a genre of movies and film under their new categorization. If there was a movie back in the day that you enjoyed and it was just called Sci-Fi it may be called Steampunk now.
Where does the Punk come in? The punk comes in the case that it is out of the norm, there can be sometimes a lack of punk attachments to something that is totally steampunk. Confused yet? Well join the club. There are tons of people who enjoy things like this but don't know how to look for new stuff that suits them.
I enjoy The Adventures of Brisco County Jr, which by all accounts was and is a horrible show. I however bad it may be love it, for all it's tainted goodness. It is one of the best examples of steampunk.
What is Cyberpunk then? Cyberpunk is the forefather of Steampunk. That's were the roots of it's title came from. Bladerunner seems to be the begining of the title of that genre. Cyberpunk was big in the 90's. Steampunk seems to be conquering the current age.
Diesel punk is similar but the time period is slightly later, when they had fully converted from steam to diesel fuel. This simple formula can lead you to understand a genre of movies and film under their new categorization. If there was a movie back in the day that you enjoyed and it was just called Sci-Fi it may be called Steampunk now.
Where does the Punk come in? The punk comes in the case that it is out of the norm, there can be sometimes a lack of punk attachments to something that is totally steampunk. Confused yet? Well join the club. There are tons of people who enjoy things like this but don't know how to look for new stuff that suits them.
I enjoy The Adventures of Brisco County Jr, which by all accounts was and is a horrible show. I however bad it may be love it, for all it's tainted goodness. It is one of the best examples of steampunk.
What is Cyberpunk then? Cyberpunk is the forefather of Steampunk. That's were the roots of it's title came from. Bladerunner seems to be the begining of the title of that genre. Cyberpunk was big in the 90's. Steampunk seems to be conquering the current age.
Steampunk videos
League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
City of Ember
Van Hellsing
Golden Compass
Wild Wild West
Sherlock Holmes
Hellboy
Hellboy 2
The Prestige
Sweeny Todd
Treasure Planet
The Mummy Returns
Back to the Future III
The Time Machine
UP
Disney's Atlantis
Indiana Jones 3
Pirates of the Caribbean 1,2&3
The Adventures of Brisco County Jr.
City of Ember
Van Hellsing
Golden Compass
Wild Wild West
Sherlock Holmes
Hellboy
Hellboy 2
The Prestige
Sweeny Todd
Treasure Planet
The Mummy Returns
Back to the Future III
The Time Machine
UP
Disney's Atlantis
Indiana Jones 3
Pirates of the Caribbean 1,2&3
The Adventures of Brisco County Jr.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
When
When I think of you, my heart lightens.
I begin to feel as if I am weightless.
I find your hair on me throughout the day, it reminds me that I am not alone even when near no one.
Before I met you it was a dark and twisted road.
You brought me through the darkness and you deserve all I can give.
I wish I could leave a thousand lingering kisses upon your skin so that you feel my lips all day.
I begin to feel as if I am weightless.
I find your hair on me throughout the day, it reminds me that I am not alone even when near no one.
Before I met you it was a dark and twisted road.
You brought me through the darkness and you deserve all I can give.
I wish I could leave a thousand lingering kisses upon your skin so that you feel my lips all day.
Monday, March 8, 2010
1st Draft. -- Decaying Genes -- chapter 3 (in progress)
–––––Three
“About a year after you guys left, they started showing up in town. It just hasn’t been as bad until three months ago.” Carmen said while pouring herself a fresh beer.
“She’s right, no one ever seemed to care about us back before you all left.” Clint said sadly.
“They always seemed like hoodlums, or common gang types and they were always laughable.” Alexa said while setting down another pitcher. “Eric said it’s on the house by the way”
“If they’re here. Now, a lot could of happened” he added a look across his face rarely seen, concern or fear. It was too close to call.
“When Carl and I left you all at the border, we had a plan that was too dangerous to tell you all, my closest friends. Their was a not too hidden note of sarcasm in his voice.
It took all Tyler had to bite his tongue Adrian never had any “close friends”.
“I had hear that up in Portland they were doing things, with personal security that they were willing to train people to work for them.”
“That’s crazy, that’s across the Utah badlands.” If they caught you, you would have been burnt alive. They take this “new technology” as a sign of corruption. It never took too much to get them in a lather before the quake.” Marcus was astonished.
“You could imagine when they told me that I was a perfect candidate, how proudly I accepted.”
“I told him not to trust them.” Carl added, and silenced just as quickly by his brothers gaze. It was always a strange thing how such a large beast of a man could fear his much smaller brother.
Swallowing a pill, he began again. “I never expected this to happen, and it seems neither did they. I nearly died.”
“It was horrible, he was laying there his arm barely attached, he was bleeding out. I picked him up and…” his voice trembled, like it was happening right now.
“Enough!” His voice sharp as a blade.
Carl saw Adrians’ eyes narrow and his body tense. He quickly took a gulp of his beer.
Everyone seemed to notice, there was more tension between the two than before.
“Their doctors and scientist, took me and fixed me and did this to me.” He showed his arm the copper reflecting the firelight. “It runs on my body’s electrical output. I woke up and my arm was like this, and my eyes. I could see what no one else could. Even now I can see you Tyler what makes you tick and where your blood pools.” He reached out and touched his arm with his cold hand, and Tyler’s strength seemed to ebb away as if Adrian were drinking it like a vampire. “That is what my life is now.”
“Was if worth it, going there to become…this?”
“Of course!” His thin lips locked in a menacing smile. One that was both proud and dangerous. “I am powerful now, but still not nearly enough.”
Looking up Clint called for another beer. It was like the story sucked all the moister out of his throat. He shook his head, “where did that girl get off to?”
“Carmen went for a walk.” Marcus answered.
“Well I hope nobody else’s belongings follow her home this time.”
“And what of you Marcus, what have you been up to?” Tyler asked obviously looking for a change of topic.
“My Father died two years ago. I went to retrieve our families things. Most of the house was ransacked, all that was left was the safe room hidden in the barn. I wear his badge proudly even now.” People would test him bravery nearly as often as they would respect him, but one look into his thousand yard stare and people would think twice. He showed his father’s glistening star on his belt, it was highly polished and read U.S. Marshal. It meant nearly nothing these days. U.S. Marshals were some of the few who kept order across the States. “I also got his Peace keeper 2011, and his Ka Bar.”
“And you have a high and tight, did you join the Marines? I did my time, and I got out after the New Mexico – Texas conflict. I went and lived with him for a few months afterwards.” Some sadness in his voice.
“Is that all you got?” Carmen asked seemingly appearing from nowhere. Clint nearly choking on his beer because of the surprise.
“ No I also wear his armor.” His opened a center button on his button up shirt. “Everything else was gone.”
“That’s beautiful” Carl said leaning in to get a closer look.
“Blackened titanium with pure carbon threading.” He announced proudly. “And I’m riding his bike; it’s parked outside.”
“That’s dangerous talk missy!” A voice erupted from a bald man with a pot belly. He made sure that the whole room heard his warning.
Her shapely form struggled against the fabric of her clothes. Her thick strong muscles tensed at the man’s voice. She stood to defend herself, and her words. Her skirt fell to about mid thigh and she wore well worn boots.
“It’s true America is still alive! They are trying to rebuild, trying to help everyone.” The woman defied him with her words. The man she was with stood wordlessly, his blue eyes as cold as the ocean radiated rage. His rugged black jacket highlighted his thick wide shoulders, and neck.
“Who’s that?” Tyler asked to anyone who would answer.
“That’s an off duty deputy” the voice came from Alexa as she nodded her head at the pot bellied man. “I’ve never seen those two before.”
“I passed them on the road into town, they were on foot. They seemed lost I told them how to get here. It’s too dangerous out there at night these days, especially for a woman.”
Before they realized it Carmen had slid through the crowd like a mouse under a door, and threw herself into the fray. She was always fearless, Clint said she was reckless, I guess we disagree on that.
“Let me search your things!” He roared, judging by what you say. You must have something on you. Her bag hung defenseless off the side of her chair, and he promptly snatched it.
“What’s he looking for?” Marcus asked.
“We were questioned outside of town, me and Clint” Tyler said.
“They stopped us too” Carl said, “they questioned us about Adrians’ arm. They almost tried to confiscate it.”
“What would of happened if they took his arm?”
“I would of killed them all.” His word were chilling, and came out almost like a hiss.
“I wonder what’s so important that they would question everyone about this.” Tyler said absentmindedly.
“There’s talk that someone was bringing news of the government to the people. The New government doesn’t want it to get out.”
“I knew it! She did have it! I must arrest them…” his words both brought attention back to what was going on, and ended quickly with the man in the jacket punching him knocking him unconscious immediately.
“They have it! No more searches! They might leave us alone! Someone get the sheriff!” These shouts came from the crowd now, and then someone threw a bottle hitting the woman drawing blood.
Their table all stood at the sight, Carmen was already fighting off the crowd as best her little frame could. Marcus pushed his way through the crowd, The man in the jacket extracted vengeance on the man who threw the bottle. His fists blurred and when he stopped a tooth or part of it was imbedded in his knuckles.
“Is there another way out of here?” Tyler asked Alexa.
“Through the kitchen, but…” Her words trailed off in his ears as he rushed to their aid. Carl grabbed her around the waits and kissed her lifting her off the ground with his large frame and arms.
Their years apart had not affected their ability to work effectively as a team. They seamlessly parted the crowd to get to the four. Clint cursed as he did so.
“Come on we’ve got to go!” Tyler ordered Marcus
“What? Why we will just explain what happened.”
“We won’t get the chance, Clint killed two of them outside of town.”
“There’s an innocent woman to protect.”
“We will come with you” she announced.
“I guess it seems we have mutual problem.” Carl said to the new pair.
“Yes you big dolt, they are trying to kill us all.”
“Carl get Carmen!” Tyler said pointing.
The small statued Carmen was fighting four people, she stabbed one in the knee before Carl yanked her from her feet. She shrieked not realizing who picked her up. He threw her over his shoulder like a bag of laundry.
Alexa led them all through the doors into the kitchen, and locked them”
“What the hell is going on out there?” Eric cried from the fryer.
“I have to go” Alexa announced. “They saw me help them and if I stay they will burn this place down.
“Well knock me out then or else I’m screwed too.”
Carl complied with a well placed punch.
Alexa glared at him.
Alexa glared at him.
“What? It needed to be done.”
Sirens could be heard over the shouts from the dining room.
The fire escape was a rusty deathtrap, Clint tested it with an unsteady foot it with an unsteady foot, it immediately began to give way.
"Well were not going that way"
"Open the door!" The voices anger penetrated the door.
"Time to go" Marcus said with his weight of his body held to the door.
"Adrian do you need help getting down?" Carl asked his face showing nothing but concern. " I can drop you down if..." Adrian's eyes flashed a anger that caught Tyler's words in his throat.
"I can get down by myself" he sneered. Before anyone could stop him he dove through the window and rolled on the blacktop with the grace of a cat. Electricity arced and played across where he landed, and at the base of his legs.
Carl quickly followed suit landing stiffly but easily. Carmen hung herself out the windowsill and dropped the remaining feet. Alexa and the travelers followed suit.
Two officers sat leaning against Carl’s bike, he felt his pockets and damned himself for leaving all of his weapons in the car. All he had left was his boot knife. He quickly took the sheath out and placed it behind his back before thinking of dealing with them.
Carl walked over casually to the two officers leaning against his bike “What’s up fellas?”
“This your bike?” They asked eyeing the giant of a man.
“It is. Something wrong?”
One of the officers reached for the his radio knowing that if he made a problem that both of them wouldn’t be enough. As he reached for the radio, Carl’s knife sank deep into the plastic and flesh of both Officer’s hand and neck. He fell to the ground dead without so much as a gurgle. The other officer with this moment of realization, took off running.
“About a year after you guys left, they started showing up in town. It just hasn’t been as bad until three months ago.” Carmen said while pouring herself a fresh beer.
“She’s right, no one ever seemed to care about us back before you all left.” Clint said sadly.
“They always seemed like hoodlums, or common gang types and they were always laughable.” Alexa said while setting down another pitcher. “Eric said it’s on the house by the way”
“If they’re here. Now, a lot could of happened” he added a look across his face rarely seen, concern or fear. It was too close to call.
“When Carl and I left you all at the border, we had a plan that was too dangerous to tell you all, my closest friends. Their was a not too hidden note of sarcasm in his voice.
It took all Tyler had to bite his tongue Adrian never had any “close friends”.
“I had hear that up in Portland they were doing things, with personal security that they were willing to train people to work for them.”
“That’s crazy, that’s across the Utah badlands.” If they caught you, you would have been burnt alive. They take this “new technology” as a sign of corruption. It never took too much to get them in a lather before the quake.” Marcus was astonished.
“You could imagine when they told me that I was a perfect candidate, how proudly I accepted.”
“I told him not to trust them.” Carl added, and silenced just as quickly by his brothers gaze. It was always a strange thing how such a large beast of a man could fear his much smaller brother.
Swallowing a pill, he began again. “I never expected this to happen, and it seems neither did they. I nearly died.”
“It was horrible, he was laying there his arm barely attached, he was bleeding out. I picked him up and…” his voice trembled, like it was happening right now.
“Enough!” His voice sharp as a blade.
Carl saw Adrians’ eyes narrow and his body tense. He quickly took a gulp of his beer.
Everyone seemed to notice, there was more tension between the two than before.
“Their doctors and scientist, took me and fixed me and did this to me.” He showed his arm the copper reflecting the firelight. “It runs on my body’s electrical output. I woke up and my arm was like this, and my eyes. I could see what no one else could. Even now I can see you Tyler what makes you tick and where your blood pools.” He reached out and touched his arm with his cold hand, and Tyler’s strength seemed to ebb away as if Adrian were drinking it like a vampire. “That is what my life is now.”
“Was if worth it, going there to become…this?”
“Of course!” His thin lips locked in a menacing smile. One that was both proud and dangerous. “I am powerful now, but still not nearly enough.”
Looking up Clint called for another beer. It was like the story sucked all the moister out of his throat. He shook his head, “where did that girl get off to?”
“Carmen went for a walk.” Marcus answered.
“Well I hope nobody else’s belongings follow her home this time.”
“And what of you Marcus, what have you been up to?” Tyler asked obviously looking for a change of topic.
“My Father died two years ago. I went to retrieve our families things. Most of the house was ransacked, all that was left was the safe room hidden in the barn. I wear his badge proudly even now.” People would test him bravery nearly as often as they would respect him, but one look into his thousand yard stare and people would think twice. He showed his father’s glistening star on his belt, it was highly polished and read U.S. Marshal. It meant nearly nothing these days. U.S. Marshals were some of the few who kept order across the States. “I also got his Peace keeper 2011, and his Ka Bar.”
“And you have a high and tight, did you join the Marines? I did my time, and I got out after the New Mexico – Texas conflict. I went and lived with him for a few months afterwards.” Some sadness in his voice.
“Is that all you got?” Carmen asked seemingly appearing from nowhere. Clint nearly choking on his beer because of the surprise.
“ No I also wear his armor.” His opened a center button on his button up shirt. “Everything else was gone.”
“That’s beautiful” Carl said leaning in to get a closer look.
“Blackened titanium with pure carbon threading.” He announced proudly. “And I’m riding his bike; it’s parked outside.”
“That’s dangerous talk missy!” A voice erupted from a bald man with a pot belly. He made sure that the whole room heard his warning.
Her shapely form struggled against the fabric of her clothes. Her thick strong muscles tensed at the man’s voice. She stood to defend herself, and her words. Her skirt fell to about mid thigh and she wore well worn boots.
“It’s true America is still alive! They are trying to rebuild, trying to help everyone.” The woman defied him with her words. The man she was with stood wordlessly, his blue eyes as cold as the ocean radiated rage. His rugged black jacket highlighted his thick wide shoulders, and neck.
“Who’s that?” Tyler asked to anyone who would answer.
“That’s an off duty deputy” the voice came from Alexa as she nodded her head at the pot bellied man. “I’ve never seen those two before.”
“I passed them on the road into town, they were on foot. They seemed lost I told them how to get here. It’s too dangerous out there at night these days, especially for a woman.”
Before they realized it Carmen had slid through the crowd like a mouse under a door, and threw herself into the fray. She was always fearless, Clint said she was reckless, I guess we disagree on that.
“Let me search your things!” He roared, judging by what you say. You must have something on you. Her bag hung defenseless off the side of her chair, and he promptly snatched it.
“What’s he looking for?” Marcus asked.
“We were questioned outside of town, me and Clint” Tyler said.
“They stopped us too” Carl said, “they questioned us about Adrians’ arm. They almost tried to confiscate it.”
“What would of happened if they took his arm?”
“I would of killed them all.” His word were chilling, and came out almost like a hiss.
“I wonder what’s so important that they would question everyone about this.” Tyler said absentmindedly.
“There’s talk that someone was bringing news of the government to the people. The New government doesn’t want it to get out.”
“I knew it! She did have it! I must arrest them…” his words both brought attention back to what was going on, and ended quickly with the man in the jacket punching him knocking him unconscious immediately.
“They have it! No more searches! They might leave us alone! Someone get the sheriff!” These shouts came from the crowd now, and then someone threw a bottle hitting the woman drawing blood.
Their table all stood at the sight, Carmen was already fighting off the crowd as best her little frame could. Marcus pushed his way through the crowd, The man in the jacket extracted vengeance on the man who threw the bottle. His fists blurred and when he stopped a tooth or part of it was imbedded in his knuckles.
“Is there another way out of here?” Tyler asked Alexa.
“Through the kitchen, but…” Her words trailed off in his ears as he rushed to their aid. Carl grabbed her around the waits and kissed her lifting her off the ground with his large frame and arms.
Their years apart had not affected their ability to work effectively as a team. They seamlessly parted the crowd to get to the four. Clint cursed as he did so.
“Come on we’ve got to go!” Tyler ordered Marcus
“What? Why we will just explain what happened.”
“We won’t get the chance, Clint killed two of them outside of town.”
“There’s an innocent woman to protect.”
“We will come with you” she announced.
“I guess it seems we have mutual problem.” Carl said to the new pair.
“Yes you big dolt, they are trying to kill us all.”
“Carl get Carmen!” Tyler said pointing.
The small statued Carmen was fighting four people, she stabbed one in the knee before Carl yanked her from her feet. She shrieked not realizing who picked her up. He threw her over his shoulder like a bag of laundry.
Alexa led them all through the doors into the kitchen, and locked them”
“What the hell is going on out there?” Eric cried from the fryer.
“I have to go” Alexa announced. “They saw me help them and if I stay they will burn this place down.
“Well knock me out then or else I’m screwed too.”
Carl complied with a well placed punch.
Alexa glared at him.
Alexa glared at him.
“What? It needed to be done.”
Sirens could be heard over the shouts from the dining room.
The fire escape was a rusty deathtrap, Clint tested it with an unsteady foot it with an unsteady foot, it immediately began to give way.
"Well were not going that way"
"Open the door!" The voices anger penetrated the door.
"Time to go" Marcus said with his weight of his body held to the door.
"Adrian do you need help getting down?" Carl asked his face showing nothing but concern. " I can drop you down if..." Adrian's eyes flashed a anger that caught Tyler's words in his throat.
"I can get down by myself" he sneered. Before anyone could stop him he dove through the window and rolled on the blacktop with the grace of a cat. Electricity arced and played across where he landed, and at the base of his legs.
Carl quickly followed suit landing stiffly but easily. Carmen hung herself out the windowsill and dropped the remaining feet. Alexa and the travelers followed suit.
Two officers sat leaning against Carl’s bike, he felt his pockets and damned himself for leaving all of his weapons in the car. All he had left was his boot knife. He quickly took the sheath out and placed it behind his back before thinking of dealing with them.
Carl walked over casually to the two officers leaning against his bike “What’s up fellas?”
“This your bike?” They asked eyeing the giant of a man.
“It is. Something wrong?”
One of the officers reached for the his radio knowing that if he made a problem that both of them wouldn’t be enough. As he reached for the radio, Carl’s knife sank deep into the plastic and flesh of both Officer’s hand and neck. He fell to the ground dead without so much as a gurgle. The other officer with this moment of realization, took off running.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
1st Draft. -- Decaying Genes --chapter 2
Two––
Nearly everyone in Sloan was a regular at the Iron Horse. Usually stopping by sometime during the night. Sloan has been a sort of crossroads for truckers and travelers for years. Now it became a trader’s outpost for people who couldn’t afford to live in major cities anymore or choose not to live under the new corporate rule of the North American Union. Thing’s have changed, and we lost the United States of America with out a shot even being fired. No one raged or protested. The world is something that no one could of predicted in the early twentieth century.
The Iron Horse hummed with activity, It was the closest place that seemed to keep away the local Sheriff. He was a mean bastard, with cold black eyes. He was the type of man you didn’t want to be on his bad side. People stood out on the cat walk one the second floor. Cars and motorcycles filled the parking lot. It smelt of car parts and beer. The Iron horse wasn’t as fancy as some of the places in the North; Las Vegas proper. Clint’s workshop was right behind the Iron Horse. He built it himself in the desert, rusty scraps of cars and heavy machinery formed a driveway up to a warehouse. This is what Clint called home. Tyler was one of the few friends Clint ever had.
Two feet was his Navajo name. Navajo and Japanese, he always had one foot in each world at the same time. Tyler may have been his birth name, but if anyone asked Two Feet was his true name. These two great cultures carried great weight for him. Especially now that the world is turning into such a strange place. There are barely any all natural people out there. Science is almost like magic now. People can create things of wonder, with enough knowledge. It’s with that hope that people are starting to realize that with the mass production of cheap products, that they also lack any real quality. Cheap isn’t always better some have learned.
It’s been four years since they’ve been back in Sloan, or to the Iron Horse for that matter. When he left he didn’t know where the army was sending him, all that he knew is that the draft was his only choice now. Passports were almost impossible to get. Impossible if you hadn’t served yet. He got out early, he took a few shells. He healed with the Hopi. It was a safe place, for someone who was a “pure”. A medical student that was working there as a healer. Always had a eye for him, and last March they got married. Two Feet healed like new shortly after they discharged him. The elders said that it wasn’t time for him to leave this world yet.
It always made him feel uneasy. If something was so important to save him from death, he could only imagine how much of a pain in the ass it was going to wind up dealing with. He silently prayed that they were wrong.
Looking at the Iron Horse a flood of memories came back to him, he remembered Valentina. Carl and Raymond’s sister. Maybe not blood, but they have stuck together since they were young. No one ever knew if they were actually related or not. She joined up with the Army when they did, she never wanted to be left behind. Walking up the stairs the hard steel steps were comforting in a world where not much was certain these days. The handworked wooden doors opened easily on oiled hinges. Two circular brick fireplaces sat in the center. Quiet comfortable tables followed the wall on the right, a long darkwood bar flowed until the end of the room on the right. A curtained staircase was in the back of the room. A hallway to the kitchen and the bathrooms were the farthest end of the room.
A dart wizzes by Tyler hitting the wall above the dartboard.
“Whoa!” Tyler looked amazed. A short olive skinned girl was standing there with her hand on her hip.
“Well it took you long enough to notice me.” Carmen said with a evil grin, her dark locks flowing over her newly developed breasts. A black tank top barely containing her. She was barely sixteen and barely over five feet tall.
“Carmen?” Tyler said in disbelief.
Running up to him she flung her arms around him, and he spun her around like he use to when she was still little. “You got big.”
“See what you miss when you disappear for so long?” She punched him in the arm, a little harder than Tyler would care to admit. “Carl and Marcus are already here.” They grabbed a table in the back by the fire. “Well what have you been up to while we’ve been gone? Besides growing.”
Her keen eyes noticed a few other old friends
“Who is it?” Tyler asked
Before he could get an answer her lithe body was sliding through the crowd of bar patrons with considerable ease. Tyler and Clint were not as lucky.
Carl was a ox of a man, his arms were as thick as a normal man’s thighs. His long black hair only accentuated his build. He had it pulled to the back to show off his gauged ears. His broad smile gleamed even in the firelight.
“ I would think that your brother would be here with you Carl.”
“ I am.” Said a voice from the shadows behind Carl. Inky black eyes seemed to suck in all light, and his gray skin didn’t help either. “I hope my appearance doesn’t bother you Tyler”. Clint’s utter disgust was more than visible. It took a minute to adjust and while they were adjusting they stared at him wondering what could of made him look this way.
Leaning in to Tyler Carl whispered, “He’s given up a lot for what he is now. It’s pretty scary, and a touchy subject for him.”
He sat back into the shadows his face barely illuminated by the electric glow of his screen. Faint blue lights could be seen blinking from underneath his hood. It was as if all the joy was temporarily sucked out of the room.
Leaning into Carl Tyler whispered “that’s dangerous stuff he’s dabbling in.” Tyler said warning.
Carl could only silently mouth “Later”.
“We ran into some trouble when we were on the outskirts of town. Who are these people?” Tyler asked while finding his seat.
“A few years ago people dressed in suits came here calling themselves “The new government” that was when it all changed. It seems like it’s happening all over the place. These guys with the new government show up then things change.”
Carl pointed out one of the Sheriff’s new deputies that claimed that he was part of the new government.
Alexa swept up past Carl and Marcus, her fire red hair engulfing Carl in the most hypnotizing scent. Alexa always had a crush on Carl but she was four years younger than him and she was barely developing when he left, and now that he was back she was determined to make him notice her. She did this easily, she had him under her spell the first time she walked past him.
The bar was starting to jump with activity now. People’s laughter filled the space, the smell of food tempting even the most moderate of people’s appetite. Carl looked on at Alexa, and when she turned. He coughed Marcus slapped him on the shoulder and called to Alexa “Carl was just saying how good the food looked, how bout you bring some for the table?”
“Sounds good Marc” Alexa called back, never taking her eyes off of Carl. Her smile was bewitching, more than any man would ever admit. Moments later Alexa came out with a large prime rib that looked like it could feed the whole table. She left as soon as she put it down, and came back with a pitcher of beer and a manilla envelope. “This came for you” handing it over to Tyler, the eyes of everyone else was on him. “What is it son?” Clint asked concern in his voice.
“It’s Valentina , she’s not coming.” Tyler said folding the paper and putting it in his back pocket. “Well she could of at least sent it to me, I was the one you all promised after all.” Clint grumbled to himself. Carmen swiftly kicked him in the side of his shin. “Oww! Have you lost your mind girl?” Then he looked up and saw the worry worn look on Tyler’s face. It was then that they heard the children’s laughter. A old man was telling stories about how the world use to be when he was a kid, they all gathered around laughing. “Tell us one about a princess!” One little girl squealed.
“My sister must have a good reason for not coming.” Adrian said from the shadows of the corner. A digital buzz emanated from his wrist and he promptly grabbed a drink from the table and downed a handful of multicolored pills in one big gulp. He rolled up one sleeve and all that remained of was once his left are was his hand and a few scattered patches of flesh. Copper machinery filled in the gaps where his muscles should be. USB ports and various inputs were contained under a small lid in his fore arm. He was once as healthy as his brother, now sickness ravaged his thin body.
“Well if the new government is here A lot could of happened in just a few years.” Marcus said, with a look of concern on his face. “I’ve seen them while I was traveling. They are never a good sign.”
Nearly everyone in Sloan was a regular at the Iron Horse. Usually stopping by sometime during the night. Sloan has been a sort of crossroads for truckers and travelers for years. Now it became a trader’s outpost for people who couldn’t afford to live in major cities anymore or choose not to live under the new corporate rule of the North American Union. Thing’s have changed, and we lost the United States of America with out a shot even being fired. No one raged or protested. The world is something that no one could of predicted in the early twentieth century.
The Iron Horse hummed with activity, It was the closest place that seemed to keep away the local Sheriff. He was a mean bastard, with cold black eyes. He was the type of man you didn’t want to be on his bad side. People stood out on the cat walk one the second floor. Cars and motorcycles filled the parking lot. It smelt of car parts and beer. The Iron horse wasn’t as fancy as some of the places in the North; Las Vegas proper. Clint’s workshop was right behind the Iron Horse. He built it himself in the desert, rusty scraps of cars and heavy machinery formed a driveway up to a warehouse. This is what Clint called home. Tyler was one of the few friends Clint ever had.
Two feet was his Navajo name. Navajo and Japanese, he always had one foot in each world at the same time. Tyler may have been his birth name, but if anyone asked Two Feet was his true name. These two great cultures carried great weight for him. Especially now that the world is turning into such a strange place. There are barely any all natural people out there. Science is almost like magic now. People can create things of wonder, with enough knowledge. It’s with that hope that people are starting to realize that with the mass production of cheap products, that they also lack any real quality. Cheap isn’t always better some have learned.
It’s been four years since they’ve been back in Sloan, or to the Iron Horse for that matter. When he left he didn’t know where the army was sending him, all that he knew is that the draft was his only choice now. Passports were almost impossible to get. Impossible if you hadn’t served yet. He got out early, he took a few shells. He healed with the Hopi. It was a safe place, for someone who was a “pure”. A medical student that was working there as a healer. Always had a eye for him, and last March they got married. Two Feet healed like new shortly after they discharged him. The elders said that it wasn’t time for him to leave this world yet.
It always made him feel uneasy. If something was so important to save him from death, he could only imagine how much of a pain in the ass it was going to wind up dealing with. He silently prayed that they were wrong.
Looking at the Iron Horse a flood of memories came back to him, he remembered Valentina. Carl and Raymond’s sister. Maybe not blood, but they have stuck together since they were young. No one ever knew if they were actually related or not. She joined up with the Army when they did, she never wanted to be left behind. Walking up the stairs the hard steel steps were comforting in a world where not much was certain these days. The handworked wooden doors opened easily on oiled hinges. Two circular brick fireplaces sat in the center. Quiet comfortable tables followed the wall on the right, a long darkwood bar flowed until the end of the room on the right. A curtained staircase was in the back of the room. A hallway to the kitchen and the bathrooms were the farthest end of the room.
A dart wizzes by Tyler hitting the wall above the dartboard.
“Whoa!” Tyler looked amazed. A short olive skinned girl was standing there with her hand on her hip.
“Well it took you long enough to notice me.” Carmen said with a evil grin, her dark locks flowing over her newly developed breasts. A black tank top barely containing her. She was barely sixteen and barely over five feet tall.
“Carmen?” Tyler said in disbelief.
Running up to him she flung her arms around him, and he spun her around like he use to when she was still little. “You got big.”
“See what you miss when you disappear for so long?” She punched him in the arm, a little harder than Tyler would care to admit. “Carl and Marcus are already here.” They grabbed a table in the back by the fire. “Well what have you been up to while we’ve been gone? Besides growing.”
Her keen eyes noticed a few other old friends
“Who is it?” Tyler asked
Before he could get an answer her lithe body was sliding through the crowd of bar patrons with considerable ease. Tyler and Clint were not as lucky.
Carl was a ox of a man, his arms were as thick as a normal man’s thighs. His long black hair only accentuated his build. He had it pulled to the back to show off his gauged ears. His broad smile gleamed even in the firelight.
“ I would think that your brother would be here with you Carl.”
“ I am.” Said a voice from the shadows behind Carl. Inky black eyes seemed to suck in all light, and his gray skin didn’t help either. “I hope my appearance doesn’t bother you Tyler”. Clint’s utter disgust was more than visible. It took a minute to adjust and while they were adjusting they stared at him wondering what could of made him look this way.
Leaning in to Tyler Carl whispered, “He’s given up a lot for what he is now. It’s pretty scary, and a touchy subject for him.”
He sat back into the shadows his face barely illuminated by the electric glow of his screen. Faint blue lights could be seen blinking from underneath his hood. It was as if all the joy was temporarily sucked out of the room.
Leaning into Carl Tyler whispered “that’s dangerous stuff he’s dabbling in.” Tyler said warning.
Carl could only silently mouth “Later”.
“We ran into some trouble when we were on the outskirts of town. Who are these people?” Tyler asked while finding his seat.
“A few years ago people dressed in suits came here calling themselves “The new government” that was when it all changed. It seems like it’s happening all over the place. These guys with the new government show up then things change.”
Carl pointed out one of the Sheriff’s new deputies that claimed that he was part of the new government.
Alexa swept up past Carl and Marcus, her fire red hair engulfing Carl in the most hypnotizing scent. Alexa always had a crush on Carl but she was four years younger than him and she was barely developing when he left, and now that he was back she was determined to make him notice her. She did this easily, she had him under her spell the first time she walked past him.
The bar was starting to jump with activity now. People’s laughter filled the space, the smell of food tempting even the most moderate of people’s appetite. Carl looked on at Alexa, and when she turned. He coughed Marcus slapped him on the shoulder and called to Alexa “Carl was just saying how good the food looked, how bout you bring some for the table?”
“Sounds good Marc” Alexa called back, never taking her eyes off of Carl. Her smile was bewitching, more than any man would ever admit. Moments later Alexa came out with a large prime rib that looked like it could feed the whole table. She left as soon as she put it down, and came back with a pitcher of beer and a manilla envelope. “This came for you” handing it over to Tyler, the eyes of everyone else was on him. “What is it son?” Clint asked concern in his voice.
“It’s Valentina , she’s not coming.” Tyler said folding the paper and putting it in his back pocket. “Well she could of at least sent it to me, I was the one you all promised after all.” Clint grumbled to himself. Carmen swiftly kicked him in the side of his shin. “Oww! Have you lost your mind girl?” Then he looked up and saw the worry worn look on Tyler’s face. It was then that they heard the children’s laughter. A old man was telling stories about how the world use to be when he was a kid, they all gathered around laughing. “Tell us one about a princess!” One little girl squealed.
“My sister must have a good reason for not coming.” Adrian said from the shadows of the corner. A digital buzz emanated from his wrist and he promptly grabbed a drink from the table and downed a handful of multicolored pills in one big gulp. He rolled up one sleeve and all that remained of was once his left are was his hand and a few scattered patches of flesh. Copper machinery filled in the gaps where his muscles should be. USB ports and various inputs were contained under a small lid in his fore arm. He was once as healthy as his brother, now sickness ravaged his thin body.
“Well if the new government is here A lot could of happened in just a few years.” Marcus said, with a look of concern on his face. “I’ve seen them while I was traveling. They are never a good sign.”
1st Draft. -- Decaying Genes -- chapter 1
One––
'The road was cracked and marred with potholes. This was one of the safest roads back from MexiCali Island. Morning Star mine road cut right through the Mojave. Mojave was a desert not too long ago, but now it seemed unsure about what it wanted to be, It still had all the qualities of a desert but grass and other plant life was starting to sprout up. It was still early as the all terrain wheels of the Rust Bomb rumbled over the empty road at a little over a hundred miles a hour. It was a marvel to look at, it had the shell of a old hot rod, welded together but in some places technology that couldn’t be more that a year old seems to ebb and flow seamlessly with the old diesel beast.
His mind drifted as the hot air fell over his half windshield. He thought to himself, “if only I could get ahold of some argon so I could make a airship.”
It was only then that he let himself be brought back to the fact that it’s been four years tomorrow, and that meant that everyone is going to meet up at the Iron horse. Clint was known at the Iron Horse by a few names: Madman, Crazy Russian Mad Scientist, Crazy Bastard were the ones he heard the most. They all went in together to get their mandatory service out of the way. They made a deal to no matter what, they all come back and let him know that they were still alive. The Nipton overpass was getting close and that seemed like as good a place to rest as any other. The Rust Bomb rumbled to a stop just inside the shade. Getting out Clint rubbed his dense muscles that his rebellious hair attempted to hide. No amount of hair could him the muscles that he developed from years of working with metal.
The opposing wall had some half finished graffiti “Freedom is not” and it ended abruptly. Walking back over to one of the GI bags hanging off of the shell of the rust bomb, a can of black spray paint emerged and he shook it and smiled to himself. “Still got some life in ya” he said contently.
“Freedom is not a DREAM” he finished with a cunning smile.
“Your in trouble now!”
Dropping the can, Clint turned with his hand on his hidden pistol.
“Tyler! Where the hell did you come from? You trying to give me a heart attack!?”
“I pulled up while you were finishing your masterpiece.” Two feet sat on a new model Carbon Tesla Bike. Silent as death was what people said. It was constructed mainly from carbon and hyper conductive organic tissue.
“Fancy wheels you got there.”
“Thanks. I needed something quiet and fast where I was riding through.”
“Well we’re not far from the Iron Horse, and I’m sure that everyone will be there soon. It’s not safe in these parts at night anymore.”
Distant Rumblings could be heard, and ultra white headlights could be seen coming up from the valley. Their eight headlights all seemed to be bikes.
“Deputies” he said and spit on the ground.
Pulling up, Saveritti smiled a toothless grin. His front two teeth have gone missing from his first day on the job.
“Well look at this; Clint you know the rules. No one is allowed to roam the area around Sloan at night.”
“Yeah I know , and the sun’s still up.”
“I don’t trust deese two, search them. If you find anying’ on em bring it ta me.”
Saveritti said with a drunken slur. His goons were gene splicers.
Clint looked at them and said matter of fact tone “any of you tails touch me and it’ll be your most memorable mistake.”
“The law is the law Clint, and no one escapes it.” Saveritti said fiendishly,“ Unless you want to pay a fine here and now, so we can forget this.”
“No chance”
Saveritti’s goons growled and itched for blood, a side effect of their having animal DNA.
“Arrest them, and if they resist kill them.” Saveritti shouted his voice whistling through the hole where his two front teeth were meant to be.
Gunshots rang out before any of them could move. Two of them dropped. Electricity pulsed from the wounds. Clint smiled. He was brandishing his modified Colt Peacemaker. The third looked at Saveritti , turned and rode off fast. “Where are you going?” Saveritti shouted at his fleeing man.
“You guys better be on the lookout.” Turning and taking off at breakneck speeds.
Tyler turned on Clint smiling. “I see that you haven’t lost your speed.”
“Well let’s get out of here. Saveritti wouldn’t dare coming to my house, or telling his boss”
“I hope your right.”
'The road was cracked and marred with potholes. This was one of the safest roads back from MexiCali Island. Morning Star mine road cut right through the Mojave. Mojave was a desert not too long ago, but now it seemed unsure about what it wanted to be, It still had all the qualities of a desert but grass and other plant life was starting to sprout up. It was still early as the all terrain wheels of the Rust Bomb rumbled over the empty road at a little over a hundred miles a hour. It was a marvel to look at, it had the shell of a old hot rod, welded together but in some places technology that couldn’t be more that a year old seems to ebb and flow seamlessly with the old diesel beast.
His mind drifted as the hot air fell over his half windshield. He thought to himself, “if only I could get ahold of some argon so I could make a airship.”
It was only then that he let himself be brought back to the fact that it’s been four years tomorrow, and that meant that everyone is going to meet up at the Iron horse. Clint was known at the Iron Horse by a few names: Madman, Crazy Russian Mad Scientist, Crazy Bastard were the ones he heard the most. They all went in together to get their mandatory service out of the way. They made a deal to no matter what, they all come back and let him know that they were still alive. The Nipton overpass was getting close and that seemed like as good a place to rest as any other. The Rust Bomb rumbled to a stop just inside the shade. Getting out Clint rubbed his dense muscles that his rebellious hair attempted to hide. No amount of hair could him the muscles that he developed from years of working with metal.
The opposing wall had some half finished graffiti “Freedom is not” and it ended abruptly. Walking back over to one of the GI bags hanging off of the shell of the rust bomb, a can of black spray paint emerged and he shook it and smiled to himself. “Still got some life in ya” he said contently.
“Freedom is not a DREAM” he finished with a cunning smile.
“Your in trouble now!”
Dropping the can, Clint turned with his hand on his hidden pistol.
“Tyler! Where the hell did you come from? You trying to give me a heart attack!?”
“I pulled up while you were finishing your masterpiece.” Two feet sat on a new model Carbon Tesla Bike. Silent as death was what people said. It was constructed mainly from carbon and hyper conductive organic tissue.
“Fancy wheels you got there.”
“Thanks. I needed something quiet and fast where I was riding through.”
“Well we’re not far from the Iron Horse, and I’m sure that everyone will be there soon. It’s not safe in these parts at night anymore.”
Distant Rumblings could be heard, and ultra white headlights could be seen coming up from the valley. Their eight headlights all seemed to be bikes.
“Deputies” he said and spit on the ground.
Pulling up, Saveritti smiled a toothless grin. His front two teeth have gone missing from his first day on the job.
“Well look at this; Clint you know the rules. No one is allowed to roam the area around Sloan at night.”
“Yeah I know , and the sun’s still up.”
“I don’t trust deese two, search them. If you find anying’ on em bring it ta me.”
Saveritti said with a drunken slur. His goons were gene splicers.
Clint looked at them and said matter of fact tone “any of you tails touch me and it’ll be your most memorable mistake.”
“The law is the law Clint, and no one escapes it.” Saveritti said fiendishly,“ Unless you want to pay a fine here and now, so we can forget this.”
“No chance”
Saveritti’s goons growled and itched for blood, a side effect of their having animal DNA.
“Arrest them, and if they resist kill them.” Saveritti shouted his voice whistling through the hole where his two front teeth were meant to be.
Gunshots rang out before any of them could move. Two of them dropped. Electricity pulsed from the wounds. Clint smiled. He was brandishing his modified Colt Peacemaker. The third looked at Saveritti , turned and rode off fast. “Where are you going?” Saveritti shouted at his fleeing man.
“You guys better be on the lookout.” Turning and taking off at breakneck speeds.
Tyler turned on Clint smiling. “I see that you haven’t lost your speed.”
“Well let’s get out of here. Saveritti wouldn’t dare coming to my house, or telling his boss”
“I hope your right.”
Friday, March 5, 2010
Deceiving Normalcy
Deceiving Normalcy
I may look nice. When in truth I'm a killer, my serene nature is my disguise. I look just like a regular guy.
When you see me in the darkness of night; you won't cross the street for fear or fright. We will cross paths, and when you pass me I'll pull a knife. The streets will run red with your blood colored tears. And then only then will I become the thing of peoples' fears.
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