Two Loves, Armageddon Chapter One The First SecondI can never remember their names. A blessing and a curse, that their faces are painted upon my skull as in the high arches of the chapel. Fright in their eyes ever yet. Helpless to save them, protect them, hold them or ever see them again. And then of course there are the others. Gone with the faintest touch. Forever I wish to be awakened from this reality.
It started as all do, in a haze that became clear. Lucidity is lost in the initial hours. Maybe half a second, maybe more, it couldn’t have been very long from what I understand.
The mind files images, stores them away until perchance they are needed again.
I walked outside. A mob fled from right to left. I knew that they were all heading toward a brick wall covered in ivy at the end of the street, but I didn't say anything. To do anything would simply add a bitter smile to futilities steel grasp. I doubt my loudest screams could have put a squeak into the ear of a single member of the crowd. I joined the flee, even as the dead end for which we all headed was well known to me.
A large mass of water was moving towards me. At first, puddles at my feet were a mere nuisance. But as the trends went, things rarely got better, they merely worsened, and at times gave glimpses of hope with the intention of crushing them for added effect.
Soon, we all had to clinch the fence that lined the street to keep from being washed away. It was the cruel torture of the deities that wished to clean the earth of us. I always envisioned Armageddon rather generically, flames, monsters, and so forth. None such fantasies attended this destruction of existence.
Perhaps the gods felt, that if humans were at all correct in their description of the end that it would give us some arrogant sense of hubris and divinity. For all intents and purposes, I suspect no greater being would let those left to suffer the rath of the rapture feel the slightest bit of accuracy and truthfulness in their predictions before death.
The mind orders images by importance.
Tearing at the seams, only a celestial entity would be so merciless as to have the waters recede to a trickle and then once again return twenty feet overhead. Repeatedly we arrived on the verge of drowning and a blink away from breathing in the liquid. We endured valiantly. I can’t remember if it was hot or cold but pain engulfed us, our lungs burned for freedom. Soon the water ended, and a slightly more frightening stage was about to begin.
Along the avenue hundreds of people regained their steady breathing rate and their footing on the deteriorating world. At the end of the causeway, maybe three hundred yards from where I stood, was a large vintage hotel. The earth shook and somehow instinctively I turned to look at the old high rise. Several individuals stood on the top balcony watching the hell down below. Another jolt from underneath and a piece of that balcony snapped. One poor soul fell immediately. Every spectator followed the corpse as it fell almost twenty stories. An eternity passed and thousands of eyes could only watch. How I longed to catch the falling stone. Lucidity is lost by our own perceptions, and so was this diminishing pebble.
The body hit hard. Even though I could not hear it from where I stood the momentum it had gained along the way and as it disappeared below the sliver of a horizon gave doubt a bad reputation. Speculation was the truth here. My gaze returned to the top balcony where another hopeless soul clinged by one hand to a swinging piece of the broken balcony.
I would have run for the hotel if my legs had not felt as if they were tightly wrapped or perhaps if her fate had not been sealed. It was sealed long before I had ever seen her. I sealed her fate, I know that only now. I had complete control and none to save her.
The metal she grasped broke free. She fell, rickashaying of the balcony below. As the scenario repeated itself with this other ill fated resident of the ledge, the sky ripped open just above the hotel. Everything near it was powerless to avoid the vacuum.
The falling stone slowly stopped in mid air. In an almost beautiful ballet it rounded its course and then began a rapid acceleration into the horror in the sky. Unfortunately I knew that hope was even more exhausted for the second stone. The hotel crumbled like a dry mound dirt. Bodies and rumble slowly reverted back to the dread in the sky. With the world winding down, nothing good could lay beyond that void. Perhaps the first stone was the luckiest of us all.
The mind often betrays us when we need it most.
Chapter Two The Unrelenting CycleFrom Aftermath to genesis, everything began to take meaning, even though it made no sense at the time.
I had regained the slightest control. The water was long gone and I had almost forgotten about the void that once periled my blue sky. An entire subsistence was disintegrating, but somehow for some reason the threat all stopped.
As the world rebalanced itself, the people on it tried to tip it once again. Looting and reckless violence, the kind that only the end of the world could bring ensued. Thinking that this state was perhaps just the eye of the storm, they all seemed credible in their actions. I waited, and I watched. Choosing the path of the quite observer, I let what seemed like days pass as my mind wandered aimlessly. As the veracity of our plight, my plight slowly struck me, my isolation from my fellow man’s rage simultaneously seized some of the authenticity away from them.
Time is simply a teaspoon of the ocean in which we all are plankton, floating helplessly along the tide. But to try, to chance an endless struggle awaits, with only a purpose short of success. Vain.
Nature took its course, and a rudimentary society formed out of the chaos and ash. A colleague of mine, Ryan, became a close friend as we weathered the time together and eventually stumbled upon an abandoned grocery market. It had a huge parking lot, and a high brink wall that surrounding the parking lot. It had not been looted because it was barely visible from the street. Only the local community had used it and those who knew of it, or at least those of them falling victim to the virus of bedlam and not the mercy of demise were discouraged by the heavily locked front and back doors.
Ryan and I managed to get onto the roof. It took a bit of crude ingenuity as he stood on a rusty dumpster and I stood upon his shoulders to reach the top but in our own corny way we prove the benefits of collaboration. The methodology was in no way safe, but safety was all together disregarded for the hope of finding basic necessities.
Someone threw a refugee child into a chocolate factory, and I slid down an air vent into a wonderland of preserved foods.
After we were both inside, we had a monopoly on all the food. I suggested we keep it a secret for as long as we could, but Ryan said that wouldn’t be at all fair, and once the secret got out we would be mark men. We planned to ration out food to those still living with civility. Civility was to be judged loosely. In other words, if you didn’t carry guns or knives or intend to attack the store then we would help you out. Surprisingly it worked great.
We started giving food to those we knew still alive. Handing out the perishable foods first and then moving on to the canned and packaged foods, Ryan and I were pretty well organized for what we had. They, our dependents, then relayed the message to trusted others and for a while we had our own little working community. Surviving of this one grocery store, everything was moving smoothly until one morning.
The food isles and back storage room had enough food to last us for more time than we really needed. The food in there would only be done when we ourselves were. I woke up at about eight, although I never remember going to sleep. A quick walk around the store to check for anything unusual had become my morning routine. There had been a growing emergence of gangs in the area. Two especially well supplied gangs arose as rivals. I liked to call the two groups the punks and the blondes, because I never could remember the tribal names they dubbed upon themselves.
The two gangs were relatively the same in numbers and in the threat they posed if our compound was ever discovered. They both were well stocked in guns, knives, and whatever other sharp and deadly objects they could muster. The only real difference was the look, and the fact that the each despised the opposing group.
The punks wore black leather and rags with spikes and collars. Their hair was often wild colors and sometimes spiked as well. They drove stripped down Volkswagen beetles and other dune buggy looking contraptions. Each vehicle had been customized with pieces of scrap metal welded on for uses such as shielding, ramming, and even intimidating.
On the other hand, the blondes only traveled in suits and sports cars. Ryan and I would make jokes about how their hideout must be in an abandoned Men’s Wharehouse or three day suit broker.
“What color tie should I wear today?” Ryan would jest.
In reality the existence and everyday happenings of the gangs was not so funny. It was similar to what I imagined all out war to be. However the characters, or should I say armies were wearing very interesting costumes.
Admittedly I had picked a side to secretly root for. I had the last remaining twinkie in the store, possible the last one on earth, bet on the fact that the blondes would win out in the end. Ryan took the punks. I supposed it was possible that there feud was one of those never-ending rivalries like old fashion street gangs. But things were sped up severely by the fact that there were no limitations. No cops, no army, nothing to stop every member of every gang from killing each other within a few weeks. On a good day, a few would die where we could see them. On a bad day, hundreds would be left dying only a few blocks away and no-one could really do anything for them. If you tried to help the wounded you would likely be shot trying.
It was almost nine now, and it had just occurred to me that I had not even attempted to rescue or at least ascertain the fate of my friends and loved ones outside of my little community. There was my girlfriend Emily, my brother Ian, and a few others I hoped to find with my new found plan. From the start I knew it may be the stupidest thing I had ever done, but then I thought about all the time wasted and memories I had from before the apocalypse and I decided it was probably only in the top ten if not top twenty
Ryan and I would leave the compound well secured and under the watch of one of our most trusted friends. Ryan had taught me to hot wire a car in our spare time, so we were able to commandeer an old chevy from the parking lot.
The mind is fickle when we ask of it to guide us.
I checked the outside of the gates to make sure nobody saw us leaving. The coast was clear after a punk wagon flew by, thankfully not noticing my head protruding from the hedge. I decided first to return to my house where I had first opened my eyes to this world. The floor was wet, and all the furniture had floated to one side of the room when the water had covered the house. Other than a mutilated TV and Kitchen the only other aspect of the house that wasn’t relative intact was the roof. From the first floor I could see rays of light protruding from massive holes in the crumbling house fedora.
I checked each room quickly, but somehow I already knew that I wasn’t going to find anything or anyone.
Only when we are free from realities grasp does the mind choose to place upon us its own limitations.
After I had made my rounds I wanted to leave. I hate nostalgia. Even in this post-apocalyptic vision I spared no time for it. Longing for the past is as futile a desire as hope had become. Eventually even the deepest holes in the sand are smoothed by the caress of the persistent tide.
It took us forty-five minutes to get to Emily’s house. The trip used to take fifteen minutes. However, we were forced to take surface streets, cautiously approaching every intersection in fear of getting tangled with some unpleasant blondes, punks, or both. The freeways were out of the question. Rumor had spread that the concrete monsters and tall tentacles extending from them had become key strategic points in the war for dominance. Whichever gang controlled the roads above controlled quick access to every part of the city. Needless to say, the punks and blondes had their hands full protecting their claims from smaller growing groups. Nevertheless it was said that the blondes and punks still maintained control over most major freeways and often fought for the most valuable points such as freeway crossings which constantly changed hands. These roads were a battlefield and castle to whomever had the foolish corpulence to rule them.
We pulled up to the one story cottage style home I had visited many times before. It looked empty, and even more torn up than the stucco creation I once called home. Ryan waited in the car. He would circle the block to avoid being ambushed until he saw me waiting. I went around back. Her car was in the driveway but still I saw no signs of her. I knocked on the back door. No response came. I slowly pushed the screen door from the back yard open. In my head I knew going into the house unarmed and alone was not the smartest idea. At the compound we had heard stories of people looking for their loved ones, only to find savage squatters held up inside. Each home had become a fort, and rarely did the owner hold their own thrown.
“Hello?” I timidly announced my presence. A humble jester requesting the kings audience, pray the queen is present and a king not yet crown. I heard a creek in the floorboards from another room. It was quiet so I assumed it was just my own doing. “I’m just looking for my girlfriend, nothing more.”, humans are perhaps the most hilarious when they are not sure if their actions have an audience. To me, if someone was indeed present they would hear my warning and in theory tell me to leave; if not, then at least no one would be around to hear me whispering to myself in the shadows of this abandoned home. I laughed under my breath, the first time I had done so without Ryan instigating it in a long while. Even as I suppressed the thought I could hear the nervously shaking in my subtle deride.
I heard another creek from within the bedroom. This time it couldn’t have possibly been me for I had not moved. Please tell me I did not miss the coronation? I beseech you, for my sake and for hers. I slowly backed away, when suddenly the creeks became distinct footsteps which rapidly increase in frequency. Whatever it was, it was charging me, and only a slightly cracked door stood between it and me. I would have run but I froze, once again my legs felt bound. From genesis to aftermath, only a fool would leave the garden’s lock gate.
Chapter ThreeImagesThe break from one picture to the next is the only obscurity left to fill, and yet in these glimpses we find meaning.
Why was I here? I cursed my desire to be the hero. Benefit can blind a man. I was blind, my eyes closed and with my legs still paralyzed and glued to the ground every muscle wrenched awaiting a devastating blow. In my head I screamed. Cowardice is simply my acceptance of fear and the subsequent reaction. Courage is for the hopeful, and rescue hope seldom comes when all doors are locked.
My heart stopped, I felt cold and naked. I took breath and clichéd my eyes one last time. The door at in the corner flew open making a loud thud as the knob struck the wall.
Bat an eyelid and you would miss the world, but for a eyelid I would not miss my own fate. I open my eyes and reaffirmed my existence in this world. Repositioning my stance, and fixing my posture I let the skin shrouding my eyes slide away.
Light, our eyes are always closed, when we shade ourselves from it.
My pupils re-adjusted and barely focused in time to discern a female figure charging me. Emily left the floor latching on to my shoulders. Unfortunately, my bold stance was not as sturdy as I had imagined and we both crashed to the floor. My head pounded the floor boards but I felt no pain. Maybe it was the adrenaline flowing through my veins, or the happiness of being reunited. Nevertheless the night had become a little less dark.
We wasted no time. She asked no questions and needed no answers. I did the same. In truth what is there to talk about. Everything is rather simple when you approach it that way. Only through lenses does life appear complicated.
Every creature perceives the world differently; no individual has ever seen the same world as I.
She followed me, despite not knowing where I was taking her. I knew she would follow my lead till the end of this world. It was only my elevated heartbeat telling me that we never would see its manifestation. As we exited through the backyard, the same way I entered, I turned and looked at her in full focus. In her eyes I saw a trust that I wished was even possible. It fill me with hope.
Approaching the street from the driveway, we saw Ryan coming around the corner. He pulled up slowly and opened the door by reaching across the passenger seat.
Emily got in first. With one foot in the door, I saw something I had always wanted. It was a 1967 Corvette convertible sitting in the driveway just one house down on the other side of the street. “The neighborhood seemed quiet enough” I thought.
“Keep rouding Ryan, if you see anything unusual honk on your last pass and meet me back at the store”
“Alright” he replied, “but what are you doing?” He inquired further but his words were muffled after I closed the door. As soon as he saw the direction in which I was walking he knew what I had planned. He did know everything about me, he was practically me.
An incarnation of something I needed.
The old Chevy bubbled down the block turning and leaving my visual screen. I cautiously approached the beautiful metallic creature I had dreamed about. The closer I got the more perfect it became. It was cream colored with a red decal along the hood. The subtlest white details came into view as I touched the shiny chrome handle. Never in person had I seen such a perfect blend of art, technology, and sheer mechanic power.
It was a tribute to a golden era of thinking, when man was somehow in the right. The hardest part would be getting inside of it without damaging it. It was unlocked, and in a clichéd gesture I looked at the sky. Like the baseball players of ole. With the mentality that there was a god and that for some peculiar reason his primary concern and wisdom was focused on a lackluster sport of drugged out men, these exemplars of self indulgence would point up to the sky as if to say thanks for the help big guy. Nevertheless, I did the same.
I felt our circumstances were slightly different. In this world all the larger issues had been obliterated by our quasi Armageddon. Things had reverted and we sat once again, man, nature, and the reminisce of man’s toys idly waiting for guidance. But what I sat in was no toy, it was something much more substantial.
Within a few moments I had the car hotwired and with one little twist began the roar that only confined exploding fuels could muster. Reversing into the street, Ryan and Emily pulled up alongside.
“You guys want a lift”, placing a cool façade over my overheated giddiness.
“Hell Yes”, Ryan wasn’t as big a fan of cars as I was but he nevertheless new that I would feel a whole lot cooler if he acted like it was.
He let the old Chevy run and jumped in the back letting Emily ride shotgun. I winked at him, and he nodded. I smiled at Emily, and she smiled back.
“One last stop” I told them both “I just want to drive by my brother’s apartment, if it doesn’t look good we don’t need to stop.” They both agreed, knowing I wouldn’t put them in danger if I could help it. But I guess sometimes you can’t help it.
The idea of control makes us think we are strong. Every action and every thought you have ever had is merely a construct of some inner desire that your path throughout life has instilled within you. You are unique, but you do not sit in the driver’s seat.
Simply, you have no control. Having wouldn’t change a thing.
Especially not here.
Chapter 4The BulletWe drove. perceptions of life, perceptions of what we had. They make it seem like something more than the landscapes that pass under a steady horizon. The cityscape tore up through the horizon and left it smoldering on the ground. Emily’s hand rested on mine, which grasped the smooth leather and metal of the shift stick.
I hate trust, it seams like love, it is bound to be thus. But for a chance to believe in something concrete and not just abstract we hold it close and seek its vulnerable warmth.
From high overhanging trees, rays of light adorned the car. The sun waned and our hearts anxiously fluttered as our ambitions yielded to the draining cold of our dark destiny. The ground was still warm with the radiance of the days heat, but its blanket was filled with holes and the immediate realization of such sent chills down our spines, whilst goose bumps sprouted in the night on dry skin.
Often times and emotional freefall is more settling than the roller coaster of hope’s misleading manifestation.
Every second the sky grew gloomier. I drove without a mind behind closed eyes. Somewhere else I lay in silence, bubbling a brew of thoughts, racing from one end of the room to the other. I thought of my life. My life before the unfurling that took place here. I drew a very simple picture. For the first time I contemplated that I had wished for humanity such a fate. Perhaps I longed for this, dreamed that one day such adventure would permeate my life like the heroes in movies.
We approached a large apartment complex. It felt unfamiliar, but I told myself it was my brothers and I had been here a thousand times before. The building cast a ominous shadow along the causeway. Pulling up to the front door, I slowed the corvette to a complete stop. The murmur of the engine and the stillness of the air felt like a sweet change, but the shattered glass security door at the front entrance pierced like the bitter truth.
I told Emily to hop over the driver’s seat as I exited the car to take a look inside. I approached the door stepping carefully over shards of glass. In the back of my mind I anticipated it. However I still was astonished as a hand that rested on the floor protruding from the security guard’s led to an arm, and a mangled corpse. Brutally mutilated, the security guard’s body was a bloody reminder of what had become of society. Two eyes glared aimlessly at me from a melted face. A missing nose led up to visible eyebrow bones, where eyelids were no longer discernable.
I stepped over the corpse to grab a ring of master keys. Proceeding down the hall, every door had been kicked in and every room lay not unlike a urban battlefield. Each key on the ring I held lost its purpose with each door I passed. Some rooms showed traces of their original inhabitants, some appeared to be fresh with squatter movement and inside other piles of ash and flesh lay smoldering.
The stairwell, the entrance to the second floor, my brothers floor, the same sight I had seen just below. I dropped the keys and retraced my steps. Reverting my path, I had no desire to see a relatives corpse, nor any to sulk in such past images that would notoriously invade my senses. His door was kicked in and sounds of hate filled the narrow corridor. I would risk no further.
Tow aimlessly and you may never arrive . Tow without a destination and you arrival will be marked simply by the lay of the land. Neither trumps its counterpart, but to the individual one is king and the other a servant’s quarters.
I exited the parasite infested structure. I returned to the car. Took the driver’s seat, and looked into the eyes of my passengers, and saw their compassion. However, I needed none. For myself I reserved no hope for the world and facades outside the car. Nevertheless I felt a wave of warmth from the thought of such human understanding.
I close my eyes, clenched all the lose skin on my face between my cheeks and eyebrows, and release letting the blood slowly return. I opened them again and allowed the car to slowly gain speed as it was swallowed by the abyss of night.
Take a ride on emotion and feel the sheets on the king’s bed.
Chapter FiveThe Gun Chamber (The Barrel)Black tires gripped moist cement. The night had fallen and our facades of comfort were easily pierced by our slightest intonation or gesture. In the cabin of that steel carriage, we slowly crept around corners, turning of the lights at every intersection to remain undetected. I sat in the driver’s seat, my arms sat forcibly relaxed on the steering wheel. My attempt to project a reassuring image to my passengers was useless but I kept it up none the less. My muscles twitched constantly and without warning as I tried to settle them they only tensed.
We came to a familiar intersection. Even in the blackness I could tell from the landmarks on each corner that we were by one of my old friend’s house, the intersection of Sunset Boulevard and Tiger tail Canyon Road. I saw no other route but to take Sunset most of the way back to the store, but such a large street was a dangerous path. Shutting off the car headlights, I decided I could traverse the familiar street with only the few remaining street lamps lighting our way.
With the windows rolled down, the ripping sound of fresh rubber and sultry road, with the echoes of gun fire and engine revs in the distance blended softly in our ears. Stop.
It was at this moment, the height of fear with the world spinning down and hope fleeting to a mere shred, that my mind raced. Thoughts brewed in a stew of doubt and such doubt led me unwillingly down a stream of consciousness. There are dreams and there are nightmares but it seems no median from the absurdity of such extremes. Glimpses of reality ever present and absent. Perhaps it is our own desire for something different so strong in our reflected stomachs that forces us to ask of our subconscious something more than the reality in which all men subsist.
A punk wagon flew across the intersection we were approaching. I was jolted from my thoughts. I slowed the car and slowly turned off the motor as we crept to a stop along the side of the road. Another punk wagon turned the corner, almost tipping as it came out of the turn. We watched as the small buggy pulled a complete 180 and took a discrete location on the opposite side of the street. Two bullet scared black Mercedes, a grey Audi, and a white BMW slowly came to the center of the intersection. I turned to see if the small punk vehicle had already retreated, but found astonishingly that close to twenty of his friends had joined him. The punks had laid a trap for the blonds and now my passengers were the unlucky fish caught in the wrong net. The rivers of payment had led us here.
Punks approached from all sides now in full force. However the Blonds did not retreat. A blond car carried four passenger each wielding a semi automatic weapon. On the other hand a punk rover, buggy or wagon carried at most three but more likely two with single shot pistols, rifles or revolvers.
A battle ensued as we sat holding our breaths. Our lungs burned when we were forced to inhale and fear grew at every sound. Sweat rolled down my face and down my neck onto the soft leather of the car.
Although the Blond cars managed to find success against the first few waves of punks, the sheer numbers forced the Blonds to attempt retreat. Unfortunately the ambush was well thought out and all escape routes were cut off.
The white BMW tried a to charge a barricade of punk debris but a small grenade like explosive sent it spinning out of control. It flipped and landed upside down very close to where we sat still unnoticed. Two members of the flipped car slowly crawled out. Checking on their mates still in the vehicle they found a bloody body in the driver seat, which I could now see, illuminated by the flames arising from somewhere around the dashboard.
Bullet fire sprayed over us, and the two Blonds sat with their backs against the wrecked luxury car as the flames inside of it grew. My poor vantage point had not allowed me to notice it but the two Blonds had not abandon the vehicle, for someone yet remained alive inside. They reached inside and using their combined strength pulled out a third surviving passenger from the burning wreck. It was a girl.
Soon they were forced to abandon the car as shelter, and began to run towards our old occupied sports car. I had never heard of girls in the gangs, especially not fighting. I was intrigued and raised my cowering head from the depths of the car to see her more clearly. She was stunning. Long shinning brown hair flowed as if in slow motion, and an amazing silhouette against the flames behind her ran gracefully toward us all wrapped in a tight fitting---Ryan pulled my head down, “What are you thinking?”
I was mesmerized, barely heeding his warning. And once again I found my head creeping upward for another glimpse. Before my eyes had broken the plane of the car door, the three runners hit the car. The two boys looked in the car, saw us and were startled. The girl stopped and I looked back at her now illuminated features. She was even more breathtaking than even my imagination had created for the sleek physique.
I locked eyes with her for only a moment, when we were jolted free when the two boys started screaming at the inhabitants of the car through both of the front windows.
One boy screamed, “Let us in, please! We won’t hurt you we just need to get out of here.”
“This is my sister, we went to find her and got ambushed. Please I know a way we can get out of here without”--- gunfire sprayed over their heads hitting some of the trees on the side of the street, “without anyone being able to follow us.
We had no choice and I unlocked the doors. It was two more than the car was meant to fit, but regardless we made it work. After getting in and thanking us repeatedly one of the boys proceeded to explain his escape plan.
“When I tell you, start the car and immediately put the pedal to the medal. This car will out run the punk wagons but they can outmaneuver us. After we get through the intersection take the second left and gun it. You will come to a small intersection with four different ways to go. I will remind you then, but take the one second from the right. After that we will hit a similar intersection where you will take the furthest right turn and burn rubber till we hit Wilshire. The two intersections will make it nearly impossible for them to follow us once we have a little cushion on them from the get go. And after the second intersection it’s a complete straightaway so even if they manage to choose the correct two turns they will have no shot at keeping up with us.”
I looked at Ryan and the for the first time I saw uneasiness in his eyes. His confidence, humility, and understanding washed away with a strange weariness that was all too obvious. I looked at Emily and she reached across the gap and braced my hand with hers once again. I looked at out new passengers, two scared boys and a mystery women yet to speak.
“Ok wait till the punks start heading this way so they have to turn around before pursuing us” said the boy under his breath.
The other blond vehicle had either escaped or fled while the more local happenings had taken place, but nevertheless the moment of truth approached as the boy in the back seat started a slow countdown.
“Wait for it”. My hands tightened around the wheel. The leather gripped my moist skin and rubbed with a popping sound as it jolted free and once again clasped my hands, twisting them slowly.
“Ok start it up in, Three.”
“Oh god” I thought.
“Two”
“What did I leave the compound for”
“One”
Everything in my head stopped. There was no time to think. Time slowed down, and even in this expanse of space and time, as seconds passed like minutes, and perhaps the only thing I could possibly do was think, it all stopped. My mind was at rest. All thoughts were absent, and a strange peace resided within the landfill that I have always considered my head. I noticed a warmth that had been present all along. I could see my passengers but my opinions and their purpose vanished.
“Go”
I turned the keys and rammed my foot as hard as I could against the gas pedal. A loud roar came from under the hood and once again my thoughts resumed. But this time a wave of cold rand down my entire body. A glaring light began to blind me as I could barely see the road. A punk wagon flew across the causeway striking the midsection of the Corvette.
Chapter SixThe HammerMy body twitched, and I felt as if I had fallen only a few feet to land where I now lay, moist with sweat.
“Gosh you would think all this light and that alarm would wake your ass up”, a familiar voice came from behind a closed door. A white ceiling reflected floor lamps illuminating the room quite severely. The sound of the morning talk show on the alarm radio became audible, annoying and persistent like any resonance to somnolent ears.
“Aren’t you gonna be late for work?” the woman coming out of the bathroom asked, tilting her head slightly to the right as she put in an ear ring.
“Don’t worry about it Nora, aren’t you going to miss the breakfast rush”
“Ahh shut up James”, Nora picked up her bag which sat on the floor and grabbed her coat which hung next to the door. “I’ll call you later” I did not respond. She closed the door behind her and I listened to each clang her high heels made as she proceeded down the narrow stair case just outside my apartment door.
“Fuck!” I sighed.
I placed my finger in my mouth and outstretch my thumb to resemble the barrel and hammer of a gun.
“Bang” I called out. “If only” I thought.
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