Sunday, October 11, 2009

SS Chapter 2: (Also to be revised)

After lots of thought I've found much I want to change about this chapter. The characters have evolved quite a bit since I've written this so I will need to make some big changes to how they act in this situation. I also want to put more emphasis on the fact that the protagonists had a troubled childhood and that the ones they fight in this scene are almost a mirror of their previous lives, which will add to the guilt of each character, not just Theron. When I wrote this these characters were kind of like shadows and I had no idea who they were, it was very much an exploration of possible characters and situations. So once I have written further chapters I will come back to this and redo this scene with fleshier characters.

I also want to put much less emphasis on long drawn out fighting scenes and focus more on character. The fight is still important, but I want to tighten it so the action is much shorter and more meaningful. (For some reason Kill Bill 2 comes to mind and the last scene with David Carradine and Uma Thurman, for those of you who have seen it. It has alot of build up and than about 10 seconds of fighting. But it was very meaningful.)



II. Pretend Soldiers

Each of us took a place against the dank bricks of the alley buildings. I slumped to the ground and my eyes began to close. I felt a dusty fist slam into my right cheek. My right eye opened a slip to catch Jack’s quasi-masochistic grin. “Don’t fall asleep on me Conroy.” He chuckled.

“Thanks Superman,” I rubbed my cheek in good humor.

“Someone is watching us,” Theron glanced upwards briefly, her expression remaining as cryptic as ever.

“Then why aren’t we dead yet?” Bonaventure jested while heaving warm air onto his glasses which he had placed in his right hand; then rubbed it with the sleeve of his grey uniform.

“Shouldn’t we be up against the factory right now?” I asked as I relaxed the muscles of my legs and arms. I glanced up to see the tower of bricks above me.

Jack studied the dark mist in the afternoon sky and then plucked at his teeth with his tooth pick. “We need to find a way in this industrial complex. It looks as if all of the emergency exits are sealed from this end.”

“Why don’t we just walk in the front? It’s not like we made it obvious we were coming,” I teased as I began to languor my way into a standing position propped slightly against the mixed red and brown brick.

“Actually, I was thinking more of just knocking the wall down,” Jack snickered. “Bonaventure. The honors…” Jack stepped back and wagged his hands in a welcoming gesture.

Bonaventure grunted as lumbered a good distance away from the factory brick. We all slowly made our way safely from where the grinning agent was pointing his chubby automatic monster at the wall. He carefully etched a small bullet into a snug new hole in the cold red block. An explosion followed creating a generous gorge for us to slip on in.

“Bonaventure, you get to have all the fun old man,” I mumbled.

“This baby isn’t for little boys,” Bonaventure grinned as he patted his weapon.

“Alright. Let’s keep it down,” Jack whispered his order as he embraced his own weapon, a Longman piercing rifle, which was our standard issue firearm. Theron and I quickly anted up as well, holding our weapons close like cold bullet yielding teddy bears. It seemed as though we had busted our way into an old mail room. It was quite strange because mail was all electronic now days and the only people who used snail mail were the poor ones who couldn’t afford a computer. This factory had the smell of old dress shoes, with just a hint of yesterday’s polish. This factory was not here when we lived here. Going by the familiar shops I saw outside before we got to this factory, I’d say that this factory was built in the location of Mahogany’s Bar and many other small shops. My memory of this place began to emerge again. Suddenly I had no urge to fight these terrorists. I just wanted to feel back at home, in another age. I wanted to feel nine years old again. A jarring click, clack, click, woke me up from my reminiscence. What was that sound?

“Ya hear that?” I droned.

“Hear what?”

Am I going crazy?

“Now that you mention it. A slight click?” Jack cocked his head.

“Sounds like the chirp of a bell after baking a warm pie…” Bonaventure mused.

Whew. Scared me a moment there. I guess we’d find out soon what that little sound was.

This was a gigantic old battered structure. The purpose of this industrial building was not really evident. But it was definitely falling apart. The constant war outside must have slowly ebbed away at its solidity. As I followed them into one of the gaping holes in the side I glanced up at the ceiling. There were tall file cabinets and a dusty desk and on it scattered papers. There was a hole directly above us that spanned out into some darkness. I felt a bit paranoid about the sturdiness of the canopy and could have sworn that a piece of debris fell crumbled at my feet from plummeting from the ceiling. Jack threw me down beside the desk as Theron and Bonaventure scattered immediately. I guessed that there were two possibilities: the sky was falling regularly here, or someone had been watching from above.

“We aren’t safe in here,” Theron whispered hoarsely from her crouching area beside a cabinet. There was a creaking sound above us from somewhere. I shuddered for a moment and nodded my thanks to Jack. Jack remained low and made his way towards the door which was in one piece for some odd reason. It seemed out of place in a broken world.

“In here…” Jack motioned for us to follow and opened the door slightly. We entered into a long hallway. The ceiling seemed to be more intact compared with the last room. So we crept one by one through the dark hall. It smelled like the tower office in Bastion central. The small hallway branched off into two sections to our north and our right. Jack nodded to Bonaventure and led us down the right path. As we made it to the next door Jack put his ear to the metal. “The sounds coming from in here.”

“Caution… this may be dangerous.” Jack took the lead once again and began opening the door. The chirping continued and did not falter. As we entered into the small room a desk was to my right and beside the next door a small machine clicked on the wall. “A time clock.”

“It keeps clicking… someone put it on repeat?” I scratched my head.

“Like someone’s clocking in over and over again…” Bonaventure chuckled.

“Another false alarm I guess. The thing must be broken,” said Jack as he proceeded forward. As he opened the door we had view into a large room full of silent machinery. I was wondering what had been in production when this factory was operational. As I hazily observed there were long lines of different machines and conveyor belts. Rows and rows of long conveyor belts motionless. I exchanged glances with Bonaventure and Theron as we all slowly crept over the dusty floors and past the machines. This factory was probably built after we left. Ghetto 13 wouldn’t have something this fancy. Our old neighborhood had changed so much. I started to wonder if any of my old friends worked here at one point. By now my pills were a distant memory and everything seemed perfectly clear. This either meant my mind was too numb to notice how tired I was or I was fully asleep and in the realm of dreams. I found it easier to assume I was awake these days, safer for me and everyone else. I’m sure this way, the worst thing that could happen was I did the right thing… dreaming or not dreaming. In the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something shiny on the ceiling a few meters from me. I watched it as it came closer to me. I observed the glimmering steel intimately as it approached through the air. I caught my own image in the stainless metal. By then the small sharp object had dug into my shoulder and pain shot through my body. I wobbled in slow motion falling behind one of the machines. I thought I had seen Jack leap the other way. As my hearing returned I finally realized Jack was calling out orders.

“Conroy! Are you critical?” I heard his voice float over me.

“I don’t think so…” I shouted aloud clutching my shoulder. “Okay, now I regret taking so long to get out of the way,” I thought to myself.

“Theron, Bonaventure. All of you stay out of the range of sight. They are in the ceiling… listen carefully.”

“We have no time either. Who knows where they are. They are closing in on us,” Theron thought.

Bonaventure unlatched the weapon on his back and gripped it tightly. “I say we bring this floor down to us… Jack?”

“Alright. Just get ready to run everyone. We need to make it to…” Jack interrupted himself and I could see him turn his head to look for something. “That door right there. Who knows… this whole place could come down if we’re not careful.”

“We’re safer covered in rubble than facing these shadows,” said Bonaventure as I saw him clutch his large weapon. He ran his fingers down the smooth steel of his elaborate machine gun. He smiled morbidly as he fiddled with one of its features. “Now, Theron… I want to know where he’s hiding.”

“Yes.” I hardly even heard the smooth patter of her boots somewhere behind the machine that hid me. Then I heard it for sure this time. Another whizzing sound. But no clash or crunching of flesh.

“I caught it.”

“Thought so.”

“I’m on it!” My eyes caught Bonaventure rolling from under his hiding place. His machine gun lit up his face as he volleyed a line of bullets into the ceiling above him. Bonaventure grinned again as a line of explosions laced the ceiling structure. Debris fell all around us. Above me a few pieces nicked my head and wounded shoulder but I hardly noticed. A box fell not too distant from where I was seated uncomfortably. The crate exploded and objects inside burst out of it. I closed my eyes for a second expecting the worst. When my eyes opened I caught glimpse of a new sneaker that had bounced into my vicinity. Battling unseen foes in an abandoned shoe factory? I couldn’t help but chuckle at the small mark on the shoe claiming its loyalty.

“Where did Theron go?” Jack wondered.

I glanced up at the missing ceiling. Wondering if I could catch any of the action. Where were these guys?

“I’m up here,” Theron answered. “I’m on the next floor…”

“She must have jumped onto the next floor through the new hole in the ceiling,” I thought to myself. They could jump like us.

“I wounded him.”

“How?”

“He was careless. I think I got his arm with his dagger, but I could be wrong. He’s slower now, but just made it away,” Theron spoke to us from above. I could feel her steps not too far away.

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“Only briefly… and it was an obstructed view. He seemed small and goblin-like, some sort of malformed creature…” Theron explained. “Okay… here I am. I made it to one of the windows. This is where he crawled up.”

“Think he’s headed for the roof?”

“Very possible. I think he’s scared. Didn’t expect us.”

I paid close attention to Theron’s vision and did my own observations of her surroundings. It seemed familiar to me… the place where she stood - almost like I had seen it in some dream. “That’s where one of them was sniping…” I spoke up.

“I’m going to follow him to the roof.”

“Okay… the rest of us will move out of this room,” Jack ordered as we all got up and began to move towards the next door far past the row of assembly lines. I couldn’t get the clicking of the time clock out of my head.

“I’m heading up the side to the roof now.”

“Be careful,” Jack spoke as he glanced up at the ceiling as if looking at her. We all ran up to the door. “Against the wall people… I’ll open the door.” Jack began inching open the door and blood spurt from his arm. He clutched his wound and fell back and slumped against the wall.

“They’re so fast…” Bonaventure mused with a certain vague respect while he stood back.

“What do we do?” I wondered as I began to attempt at taking the sharp object out of my shoulder. More of my blood sprayed on the ground. Against the better judgment of medical science I pulled it out completely. More blood. “It’ll be harder to stay awake with no blood.”

“Conroy… you stay back and deal with that wound,” Jack looked to Bonaventure who was routing through his back pack to find medical supplies for Jack’s arm and my shoulder. He threw me a small iron like device that I pressed to my skin freezing it cold as ice. My shoulder would be a bit numb for a while but feeling wasn’t really something I was accustomed to anyways. Through the door I was able to see that this door was a way outside. The backyard so to speak of this dank factory. The area was extremely peculiar given our circumstances. It was a kid’s junk-schoolyard dream. Old wiry pipes made out to be a jungle gym. An old tire swung from a twisted wrecking ball machine. Old sheet metal was shaped into a slide extending from atop an old shed with a rickety ladder in the front. I caught a brief glimpse of the trail of blood on the ground. At the end of the trail crouched a small cloaked figure that glanced back at me and snarled. Jack pulled out his guns and aimed. The figure began to whimper and seemed to clutch a wound on its shoulder.

“A child?” Jack was taken back. He cautiously began lowering his weapon. Not really sure on what to do we watched him crawl under an old crane machine of some kind.

“Larry, it hurts, it hurts!” We heard the boy cry out. “I’m bleeding!”

“Shut up you idiot!” We heard another child-like voice nearby. “You want to give us all away?”

The sleek body of Theron bounded into sight landing right in front of the crane, crouched. She glanced back at me. “He’s in here?” I heard her thoughts as I stared into her hypnotic eyes.

“Don’t hurt me anymore!” The child glanced out from the rubble and looked pitifully at Theron.

“It… it’s…”

“Theron. Kill the target now!” I could hear Jack’s order over the clouds in my mind. But she just stayed there paralyzed. I could feel her heart beating faster and faster as she observed the pathetic creature pleading for its life.

“I can’t…” Bang! A cloud of smoke emerged where Theron had crouched motionless. We all felt her pain.

“She’s injured!”

“A bomb… from above.” Bonaventure looked at me. “Get her out of there Jack!”

“Fool!” Jack growled as he disappeared into a flurry of speed. His shadow danced along the ground and Theron was dragged out of the smoke in a matter of seconds. No one could see how fast Jack moved, it was his attribute of the unique. “You idiot.” He said aloud to Theron.

“They’re children,” she moaned. “God damn it Jack, they’re just kids!”

“You’re lucky to be alive!”

Immediately three other cloaked figures dropped onto the ground not too far from us. They were all children. One had his head covered in a small white bandana and a brown cloak. Another was a small girl with beautiful flowing blond hair that just about touched the ground. Very uncommon for a soldier. Even if they were children. These kids looked as if they had been in multiple wars. The injured kid uncovered his head to reveal a long gash overtop of where his right eye used to be and straggly burnt brown hair. To the right of them stood a tall child with a bandage completely covering his eyes. He was blind. Or so it seemed from his appearance. Why these children were suddenly showing themselves, was beyond me. Arrogant. This was the Chikamauga Squad in all its glory. It took some confidence to come stand defiantly like that in front of your opponents. They were strong. And we would truly find this out the hard way.

The bandana kid approached us slowly while the girl began to comfort the injured boy. “Looks like you guys finally made it!”

“Kill em Larry. It hurts!” The injured child whimpered.

“Stop being such a baby Johnny!” The bandana kid sneered as he glanced back. “How did you hurt Johnny?”

“Ya, no one has ever hurt us in a loooong looong time!” The brown haired gash kid bragged.

“What are kids like you doing on a battlefield anyways?” Jack finally spoke.

“Who are you calling a kid?” The injured one spat.

“You are children are you not?” Bonaventure mused.

“We’re soldiers! I’m just curious how you guys actually hurt Johnny. Our squad hasn’t been touched in years let alone lost a battle.”

“Cocky kid,” I chuckled.

“You guys trying to get through or something? Well we ain’t jus’ gonna let you pass!” Johnny blurted.

Jack chuckled. “We’re not here to pass through. We’re here to find you. And found you we have.”

“Find us? And what? Take us back?” The little girl whimpered.

“We ain’t goin nowhere!” The injured kid said.

“We’re here to kill you.” Jack grinned and he pulled out his pistols.

“You hear that Sherry? These old men think they can kill us?” The boy with the gash looked back and grinned mischievously at the small girl.

“You’ll have to catch us first.” The girl looked up playfully.

“Let’s play a game then!” Said the bandana kid. “The game is tag.” In a matter of seconds he reached into his cloak and pulled out a small pouch. “Your it!” A hurricane of fire engulfed the air around us. Sharp burning pain shot all over me.

They were so fast. It was as if time were not applicable to their actions. My clothes were singed when I fully realized what was going on and pulled myself up from under one of the old machines. “I smell like smoke. Are you guys ok?” I thought quickly. This was serious. I listened for heart beats in my mind’s ear. I could faintly sense the pulse of my comrades one by one. We were scattered. My vision cleared a bit more and I could now see a huge gaping hole in the wall where the door outside used to be.

“How is Theron?” I caught a glimpse of Jack rising, a few steps ahead of me, and lying next to a few scattered boxes.

“I can hear her heart.”

“I’m ok guys.”

I could see Theron’s vision returning. She was not far off. We had to think fast. These kids were more dangerous than we could have ever predicted. “Unbelievable.” I scratched my head. “Time to get serious.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I could faintly hear Theron speak.

“You have to,” I spoke. “We need you.”

“It’s so cruel. How could anyone train kids to be like that? They’re just kids Conroy.”

“We’re going to have to let out all the stops if we’re going to complete this mission,” Jack added. “We can’t hold back or we may fail.”

“So what do we do?” Bonaventure joined the thought process.

Jack deducted the situation, “We need to split up and chase each one down. We are somewhat aware of what two of them are capable of. One of them, who may be the leader, seems to be using explosives. I’m guessing he has this whole place rigged with them. The other one who injured Conroy uses throwing weapons. They could be capable of much more, we can’t be sure.”

“They are much faster than normal,” Theron stated as she spit blood.

“Spectre said they were like us.” Said Jack.

“Are they better?” I chuckled.

“They may have caught us off guard a few times, but now we need to view them as more than a human class threat. We need to be ready to kill,” Jack said as I caught his expression through the piece of a shattered mirror.

“They’re children… how on earth are they a threat to us?” I thought as pain shot again through my shoulder.

“You were children once,” I heard Bonaventure’s shared thoughts.

I felt Theron’s consciousness heave with anxiety and I almost felt her pain. Mine was more of a pain of misunderstanding. I wanted to be able to feel that way. Sometimes I wondered if she was the only one with feelings left. But would that only bring her closer to death than the rest of us? We were going to make these kids bleed. Kids. We were kids once. We probably went through some similar harrowing situations. I never lost an eye of course, I do have some scars to show for it, but no real losses.

“Conroy, wake up, let’s get going. Crawl out of that damn wreckage and let’s make some more noise,” Jack said as I felt his pulse race. He loved this stuff.

“Theron, those kids are obviously not forced to be here. They are enjoying every minute of this.” Jack tried to reason with her. We all could feel her overwhelming sadness, as it even continued to magnify.

She remained silent. “Theron, we’ve gotta do this. So many people are depending on us,” I said.

I felt her hesitation in the distance but some movement could be heard from her direction.

“I’ll protect you guys even if I have to give up the rest of my soul to do it. Just know that it’ll cost us… it’ll cost us big.” I could see Theron crouched like a cat in the distant wreckage. If she was ready, I was ready.

“Sure you’re up for this?”

“We have to survive.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Alright, they think this is a game. We’ll show them how serious we are,” Jack said as he stood defiantly and disappeared. I felt the air move as Jack moved. He appeared at the doorway where we had stood before. I looked through his eyes to see no one near the crane in the small outer space touched by the sun.

“No one.”

“No one.”

I closed my eyes despite the danger that sleep could bring if it caught me up in its lustful embrace. Bodies began to move around in the dark spaces behind my eyelids. Colors danced. Life pulsed. Little hearts beating wildly with excitement; perhaps fear. I couldn’t quite tell. There was always a slight barrier between the minds of my enemies and myself. A personal barrier that could not be touched. Always vague. “They are hiding. Watching.” I thought. I felt the approval of the others. They listened to the ringing in my brain and the colors that danced. As I looked from side to side inside my darkness, images flickered now and then. The ignition of dreams.

“Stay awake!” Jack shouted. “We need you.”

“Let’s go.” My eyes opened wide with determination. I lept with great speed through the hole in the ceiling onto the next floor and darted through the shattered offices that had blended into each other like cubicles. Dust trickled off of my face and hands. I could feel the movement of my comrades. The Other began to flow through our veins.

The Other, it’s something I can’t really explain to you as I run down these hallways. A presence, a thing, a person, a raging beast, a feeling, an illusion. It is all and none of these things. What is there and isn’t there. It is what makes us who we are and who we are not. I can’t really express to you what I do not fully understand, but what embraces me and nursed me in its womb. To explain it wrongfully, but perhaps understandably for the time being, would be to call it our abilities. Ambiguous, but ultimately powerful. I feel life pulsate around me. Yet, life is far from me and distant, a doused wick. See, it’s pretty hard to explain. And I sound like an idiot. And I’m falling asleep with you, trust me. Although I sleep, some harsh and stinging wakeful consciousness hounds me. My enemies lay naked before me, ready to be slaughtered.

Our enemies began to move. As I came closer the signal of life evaded me. I leapt onto the top of the building and opened my eyes. Above me the clouds shone with brilliance. I took another grand leap over the lifeless iron silo-like chimney. I saw no one inside like I had predicted earlier. Where was this kid?

“Behind you, Dozy,” a voice of mockery hit me from behind. I didn’t even bother to turn around. I had been fooled. “I wouldn’t move though.” Finally I felt his presence. But it was too late.

“That’s a pretty nifty ability you have. You can see us, but you can’t. Isn’t that right?”

“If I could explain it to you I would, kid,” I chuckled keeping my back to him.

“Haha, yah! Now I remember why we will beat you,” the child let out a piercing half laugh.

“How is that, kid?” I sneered.

“Well for one thing, you move, you die.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. Trust me on that one.”

“What? Will you shoot me?” I was tempted to face the annoying kid.

“Don’t need to. Well you were running I gave you a little present when you weren’t looking.” He seemed so proud of his handy work. Gutsy. I began to itch, but for the life of me I decided not to scratch it.

“When I wasn’t looking?” I thought. How did I not notice this kid when I was running.

“I know you see things. That’s all you’re good for,” the kid snickered.

“Hey!” I groaned. “That hurts man.”

“But you seem pretty blind to me. See with your eyes, or your mind… it’s all the same blindness to me. I was right behind you. Gave me just enough time to put those movement sensitive explosive tags on your back.”

“Oh I see the trick,” I chuckled morbidly. Well that was quick. I was starting to think these kids were better. But, he was a little too confident for his own good. If we were both drawing on the same source, there was no way he could be totally confident. “I’ve got a question for you kid.”

“What?”

“How did you guys see us back at the building. You guys were the snipers right?”

“You must be talking about Sarah. She was the one with the big gun.”

“Are you saying there was only one of you sniping?”

“Of course, why would we all waste time on that dumb tower you guys are building.”

Wow. One kid was holding back an entire army. These kids were somewhat extraordinary I had to admit. “So how did she see us?”

“Hehe.” The bandana kid giggled. “Well it’s kinda complicated you see. Our leader doesn’t see or hear but he ‘can’, you know? Kind of like you, but better.”

“So you guys can see each others thoughts then?” Hmmm. The blind kid picked up on us even though we were invisible. And Sarah picked up his feed. It wasn’t about sight, it was about us actually being there. Our place in time and space. Like there was a big map in his head and he saw little red dots running around on it and pressed the big button. The more I knew about these kids the easier it would be to find their weaknesses.

“Yup. We were trained like this. So that one day we could kill you guys.”

“I’m flattered kid.” Trained to kill us? Us specifically? “Are you going to finish this or what?”

“I don’t know buddy, I’m waiting for you to start sweating. This is a game remember. I want to have fun, because once we’re done killing you we won’t have much else to do except what regular kids do.”

“Wouldn’t you rather do what regular kids do? Or do you like this?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite old man. We know all about you guys too.” By then I had fully awoke. My eyes had found themselves wide open. How did these kids know about us? It seems Saladin had done much more than just his homework.

“So why would you want to spend your whole life waiting to kill some strangers you’ve never met?” I asked.

“Although we’ve never met. I know who you are. Or maybe I should say what. You are the representative of an evil philosophy. Manifest Destiny.”

“Those are some pretty big words for a kid.”

“Don’t look down on me so easily. In reality your back is still turned and I’m the one who has your life in my hands. So shut it! We’re soldiers just like you. You have no idea what suffering really is. What we’ve been through. It was enough to turn anyone into a man. And so here I am, a bigger man than you. And I’m only twelve.” The kid guffawed.

“I don’t care what you’ve been through, a kid is a kid. There’s no difference. You’ll cry just like anyone else.”

“Shut up!” I could feel his anger rising. Images started to help themselves to my brain and I closed my eyes and tried not to move my hands. I wanted so badly to put them on my head. I felt his movement. His right foot moved forward. I could feel his intensity. “You’re going to be the one crying!” He fumed.

Dying here would not be what I expected in the least. Couldn’t die yet. Too curious. I felt the confidence to turn around. I leisurely turned my neck to peek behind me. Just barely did I catch a glimpse of the child. Standing like an angry comic book super hero with his hands on his hips. He was the child with the turban and the eye patch, probably the most menacing of the kids, aesthetically at least. I cracked a smile as I realized why I wasn’t dead yet. “Face the little bastard…” I heard as I felt another presence behind me.

I was now seeing through Bonaventure’s lazy eyes which were burrowing into the child’s as the turban boy was now facing his second enemy. “Unfair!” He whined for a second but regained his angry composure. “This doesn’t change a thing.” The child sneered.

“It’s your lucky day,” Bonaventure said as I felt the crack of his smirk.

The child began to whistle as he rummaged through his ruffled bag of goodies. He pulled out a snake green, egg shaped object, and then chucked it under his own legs. I watched as the grenade tumbled along the building top towards me as my back was turned to him. I returned to my own line of sight just in time to see it roll under my legs right in front of me. Hmmm. He must not have noticed what Bonaventure’s presence provided. I immediately leapt in the air, tossed off the malfunctioning explosive tag, and clutched my rifle mid air. Aim. Fire. The child was surprised only for a moment. He jumped into the air as well.

“I can jump high too!” He spun in the air with immense speed tossing small firefly shaped objects. Most of them missed but one caught my shin and a small explosion ensued. I dropped as fiery pain shot through my leg. I clutched my limb as I plummeted. Before I could even hit the ground another explosion engulfed me from below knocking me in the air again, this time at a good angle to send me soaring like a charbroiled chicken off of the building. Now I was queasy with aching that would knock out any normal human being, but I was cursed with throbbing clarity. As I flew Eastwards I caught a glimpse of Bonaventure before multiple fires erupted around him like a town buried by a volcano.

In my haze I ended up smacking against a wall or something and falling down into a pile of debris. Strangely, I was wide awake still although a bit numb. One of the children leapt out of one of the glassless windows, down onto the ground, and than began to run in my direction. I wasn’t quite ready to start another fight. I realized he wasn’t running after me, but running away from something. When he saw I was sitting limp in a pile of broken equipment his eyes grew wide and he jumped over me and his feet touched the wall that reached above me. To my surprise he began to run up the wall. I wondered if I was dreaming. Next Jack jumped out of the same window in which the chased boy had come from.

“You alright?” Jack thought to me as he continued his pursuit.

“Ya man, just make em bleed for me.”

“I’ve got two on me… maybe you can help.”

Jack was much faster than the first child. Without hesitation, he jumped onto the wall as well and sped his way towards the enemy. In a frenzy the injured child tossed a fury of razor sharp objects. Jack moved back and forth like the wind as he zig zagged through the cloud of weapons dodging every last one. Before the kid could even blink Jack had his left hand gripped on the child’s throat. He then leapt from the top of the building with the boy’s neck gripped and slammed his head into the gravel.

The child’s eyes grew wide as he squirmed weakly on the ground. “No, no, no, no! Please, no,” the boy croaked as his life edged away.

While holding the boy down, Jack lodged one of his guns in his enemy’s mouth. New blood was still splotching the injured child’s little army garb. It had spread over to the right of his chest. Jack seemed to tighten his grip without mercy and the little child seemed to give up trying to breathe but his eyes remained wide and full of fear. My conscience was like a screaming voice under a pillow as I watched pleasantly the life slip away from this tiny soldier.

A bullet fired. Blood shot out from Jack’s chest and he loosened his grip on the boy’s throat. The blindfolded child sneaked out of the hole in the factory where we had come from and was aiming his solitary berretta. Another bullet fired from the blindfolded boy’s gun. Precision. Two holes now stood out of Jack’s chest. Jack breathed heavily as he glanced down at himself.

“Save me. Please save me. Please save me.” The near dead boy with the scar lay almost motionless on the ground besides the tiny movements of his lips. “I don’t want to die. I’m just nine. I want to be ten first. Please. Please,” soft and lifeless sounds came up from the shattered child.

His blindfolded friend paced his way, totally ignoring Jack and touched the dying boy on the forehead, then continued to stroke his hair, his lips silently moving with no voice. He couldn’t speak either. A dumb and blind soldier. Able to hit Jack twice in the chest. Part of me wanted to lose and just be buried here in this strange place watching the tire swing creak back and forth almost motionless. Why didn’t I look like that little boy, eyes wide with the fear of losing a bright future filled with the wonders of life? I knew we were far from dead. Jack wouldn’t be finished so easily. The blind boy cocked his head and then darted to the side just avoiding Jack’s other gun being pointed in his face.

Ignoring the child below him, Jack stood again, his foot digging into the wound of his enemy. Blood was no longer climbing out of Jack’s healing wounds. Jack’s world moved much faster than the rest of us. Everything about him spoke of an unnatural speed. He moved faster and he healed faster than his body could die. Every time I saw his abilities in action I was in awe of what the Other was capable of. The blind child’s face was stern and fierce now at the knowledge of his dying comrade and how much more complicated this battle had become. I was too weak to contribute, so all I could do was sit back and watch their dance.

Jack and the boy began to each circle the dying boy between them, sizing each other up. Why Jack wasn’t firing at this kid was beyond me. He was obviously faster. So what held him back? Immediately Jack leaped out of the way of a falling explosive. Multiple explosions followed Jack’s jumping trail. On top of the factory stood the boy with the bandana smirking at the destruction below. He must have gotten Bonaventure too. Now Jack was against two opponents.

“Theron, I know you’re in there. I need you.”

“Jack, I have my own problem to deal with.”

The child up top shouted for all of us to hear, “So how does it feel to have bombs dropped all around you?” More explosions trailed Jack as he moved out of the way each time.

“Do these kids have some sort of grudge against us?” I thought.

Jack was being forced into the defensive as he was bombarded from the top and the gaze of another blind assassin burrowed into him. The blind one saved his bullets for the next perfect moment. He must know by now that bullets alone won’t stay Jack. Jack became a blur as he increased his speed. My tired eyes couldn’t keep up with the fight. Jack was now right behind the child. His gun fired and the child moved his head just in time to avoid the shot from behind. The child whipped around and caught Jack’s face with his foot. The battle had now evolved to close combat. The bandana kid stopped his bombing tirade above to watch his leader fight our leader. Jack was set aback by this sudden move and I felt his pain. This child was strong. Much stronger than a regular adult let alone a child. As Jack stumbled back the blind child attacked with amazing speed and strength sending his fist straight into Jack’s stomach, not just knocking him over, but sending him flying into the walls of the factory smashing a hole for Jack to hurtle through.

“Son of a…”

“Jack? What happened.”

“Strong…”

Jack was being beaten. By this kid. I started to rise out of instinct to save my friend but an explosion of smoke erupted around me. I spit and choked on the grungy cloud hanging over me. As I stumbled out of the screen of smoke I could barely make out the bandana child thrusting his injured friend on his back. A glob of spit flew into my face and the boy leered. He jumped over my head and ran up the shack behind me and disappeared. The bombing raid had left a hazy fog lying over the playground making it hard for me to see what was what. I aimed my rifle self-consciously in front of my face while half crouching and standing.

Next, I felt the collision of a bullet in my shoulder from above, right where my previous wound was. Blood spurt out of my aching skin and into the mist above the ground. This was much worse than the last wound. A powerful bullet must have exploded inside my shoulder. Maybe some bone was broken. I was in pretty bad shape. Where did this bullet come from? Above it felt like. Must have been another one of those kids. Was Theron still injured? Was Bonaventure dead? I searched the spaces in my mind and found faint life spread around the blurry rooms in my senses. They were alive… but this was not good. Not good at all. I… felt tired. Needed sleep. Really needed it. Maybe being dead was the next best thing. Another bullet! Why? Just kill me! This was good. I actually felt tired.

“Good… night.”

“Wake up!”

When I jerked awake again I stared into Jack’s gun barrel. “Don’t sleep Conroy… whatever you do,” Jack smiled mischievously.

“That second bullet was you wasn’t it?” My shoulder was still bleeding. But now two shoulders were bleeding. “You shot me!” I coughed.

“Don’t act like I haven’t done it before!” Jack croaked. He didn’t look too good himself. He was bleeding from his mouth and sprawled against a small piece of machinery. We were inside the factory, hidden behind some old equipment. “I think I’m bleeding inside.” Jack pointed to his stomach. “A fine mess this is.”

“Are they alive Conroy? Can you feel them?”

“Barely.”

“They have us right where they want us. You know we’ve all been holding back.”

“You think? I’m just not at my best. Need sleep.”

“No, that’s not it. Theron’s not the only one who’s having a problem with these kids. We’re all holding back, and we don’t even know it.”

“Believe me, I’d put a bullet in any of their heads if I could just wake up and do it.”

“Would you though?”

“I think I would. I think so.”

“We’ve never had to fight kids before. They knew what they were doing when they sent them after us. We’re holding onto that last bit of conscience and our hearts would almost let us die to protect it. Something so irrational could have us killed so easily. Our enemy knows us much better than I could imagine. We’re up against some serious opponents here. They knew exactly how to push us to our limits. I don’t want to fight these kids anymore than anyone else Conroy. I really don’t. But, one thing I will always fight for is to keep the rest of you alive, no matter what it takes. I’ll go through a thousand children if it means our survival. I don’t care about the cost.”

“You hear that?” I interrupted Jack. There was a light patting sound. Someone had given themselves away. I peaked through a small opening to see the little blond girl’s body slowly materialize out of the wall.

“She can walk through walls?” Jack shared my thoughts.

“She blends into her surroundings I’m guessing. Maybe she can go ‘through’ those surroundings as well. I wouldn’t put anything past these buggers. She must have been the one who shot me from above. The bullets for that rifle are made to do a lot of damage when they get in your skin. She was the one who sniped from the building.”

“Ya I heard your conversation.”

“Thought you might have been too occupied.”

Then to my surprise, the injured boy sneaked up to the blond girl. He looked fully healed, as if he hadn’t been scratched. “What’s going on here? Can they heal too?”

“Should I fire?”

“Wait. There’s something weird about this.”

“Get out of here, you’ll give me away,” the blond girl muttered.

“Where did they go?” The boy slammed his fist on the firm wall. “I want to get them back for hurting me.”

“How did you get okay so fast? Were you just faking it again?”

“No way, I’m… I’m just tough.”

“You were faking again Johnny.”

Johnny frowned and his eyes were filled with anxiety, like the whole world was on his shoulders.

“Well don’t dawdle Johnny, help me find them.”

The boy just stood there in a state near to tears.

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you always have to be such a...” The last words of the young girl were drowned by a gurgling sound of death as blood frothed from her lips. To our astonishment but quick realization, the boy in front of us had thrust a small knife into his comrade’s throat. Her eyes pleaded for some kind of answer. Johnny gripped her shoulder as the knife was firmly held in her throat with shaking hands. The girl’s eyes widened as waves of electricity flowed over the boy’s body, and his shape changed. His person was replaced by the true body. My heart leaped with excitement.

“Of course!”

“It’s Theron. She used it.” Jack grinned. “This fight just got easier.”

Our conversation was diverted by the scene that followed. The girl whose life was draining away didn’t squirm anymore or try to speak. She threw her arms around Theron.

“She’s just a child.” Her eyes watered as she slowly returned the embrace. “Why did it have to be like this?”

“Theron, get away from her!” Jack warned.

“I’m sorry.” A tear trickled down Theron’s cheek as she drew the child in closer paying no heed to the blood pouring onto her. I was humbled by the sight of tears. Something my team hadn’t witnessed amongst each other, for a very long time. I painfully got to my feet and began to stumble towards my friend. Theron rocked back and forth gently, cradling the child. Then her compassionate eyes quickly changed as the child tightened her embrace violently and opened her fierce eyes one last time.

An explosion emitted from within the child shattering her body and engulfing Theron. Her mangled body slumped onto the ground.

“No!” Jack screamed as he scampered from his sprawling position on the floor towards the shaking body of our friend. Blood mixed from the child and Theron was matted on her body as she breathed heavily and looked up at me.

“Who would do that to a child? How could they?” Her thoughts were racing through mine.

I got down on my knees and threw down the small bag on my back. “You fool.” I put my hand gently on her wet cheek.

Jack’s eyes flared as he gritted his teeth. He lifted his two pistols one by one. “I’m going to kill each of those bastards. I don’t give a damn if they’re kids or not.”

“How could they order kids to kill themselves?”

“Did you see the look in her eyes? She may have been ordered to do that. But she was definitely not hesitating to do whatever she could to take you with her,” I told her as I rummaged through my bag for water.

“But she… she wanted to be saved. I could tell.”

“Can’t you realize?” Jack snapped without looking back at Theron. “They may be kids, but they have been trained to kill at whatever the cost. It’s their advantage. They are actually an equal enemy because of the fact that they are children. And they know it. And Saladin knows it.”

Jack’s anger was contagious. As he spoke my own fury rose. How could they trick Theron into having compassion and then using that compassion against her? It’s like they knew we had one speck of conscience left in one final moral area. It would either kill us or finally kill our conscience. We had to survive. Jack was right. It seemed as if Theron would rather die than kill a child. Would I have hesitated? All that mattered then was that I pull Theron out of this battle alive. I poured water on her face and past her trembling lips into her mouth. Damn it, I was no medic. I fumbled through the half assed medical equipment in my bag frantically wondering how I was going to save her. To my relief, Bonaventure bounded down from a hole in the floor above. His face was grey like he had buried his face in an ashtray. But he smiled.

“You’re alive.”

“Not a scratch Conroy,” Bonaventure chuckled. “I sensed what happened.” His face became solemn again as he quickly came to Theron’s aid. “None of you are good at saving. Only killing. I’ll take care of her, you two finish off the rest.” He glanced down at Theron. “Child bombs…”

“They train children to destroy themselves just to defeat their enemies,” Theron murmured. “How could they?”

“Shush,” Bonaventure said as he put his finger on her lip. “You’re going to live, I’m here now.”

“Just let me die.”

“Shush I said! Get out there you two. Finish them off. Don’t let them do the same thing to you.”

It would be hard for me to leave her there. At that point I didn’t care whether we killed those damn kids. I just wanted my friend to live. Hell, I was being a bit childish myself. Maybe fighting kids makes you think on their level. Images helped themselves to my brain. I was forced to close my eyes. They were coming for us. “They’re coming. They know we’re here.”

“That’s right, they read each other’s thoughts. They’d know that one of their friends was dead,” Bonaventure said as he tended to Theron.

“Let them come.” Jack stood firm and I could feel his alertness to the images in my mind. Then he acted. He dashed away from us and into the hole in the wall where he had come. I picked up my rifle from the ground and followed him. Then I stopped. One of them was very close already. Above me.

“Conroy! Behind you!”

I whipped around to spot the explosion-happy bandana kid staring the three of us down. He was no longer grinning like he always was before. Now he shook with intense anger. “You killed her. How the hell did you do it?” His childish scream pierced my ears. “Well, I’m not going to cry! I hate you! And I’m gonna kill all of you.”

I no longer hesitated. I pulled out my rifle and fired. Before I could even get a shot off he leapt behind one of the dark machines. The battle laid itself in murky view. My brain was now filling with images of mere seconds later. An explosion. Multiple explosions.

“Get out!” My thoughts went out to Bonaventure and Theron much faster than sound. I dashed. Just avoiding multiple explosions along my path. “Get her to somewhere safe.”

Bonaventure roared as he aimed his large weapon at the machine where the boy was hiding. A horizontal rain of bullets seared into the metallic skin of the machine, immediately followed by ripples of explosions. The boy scuttled from behind the machine and to his right. Bonaventure followed him with his aim. The boy jumped up into the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“Get out of here.”

“We’ll go. Use this.” Bonaventure threw the hulking weapon my way. I threw him my old rifle and clutched my new fully automatic grenadier machine gun. Whew, it was heavy, but I managed. I leapt after the boy. Explosions still followed but I could see each one a mile away. Reality was far too late for me. I ran after him remembering what happened last time. The boy’s signature was quite clear in my mind but it could have failed me at any time. The Other flared inside of me like I had never felt it before. I felt like throwing up and singing Joy to the World. I ran along the second floor, through all of the battered offices. I took a long flight of stairs reluctantly. Some of the steps fell below straight after I my running foot had touched it. Everything was becoming clear to me now as I forgot about my feelings and became a slave to the Other. The life readings in my brain seared themselves into my consciousness. Finally I made it to the top of the building again. The wind was blowing in my ears. I leapt to the side as fire erupted from the roof door I had come out of. A rumbling ensued. The building was collapsing. My senses beamed. Bonaventure and Theron had made it out and I could sense them running into the alley where we had come from. Theron was going to live. Jack was fighting. He was fighting two at once, or he would be soon. I’m not sure what that meant but I could feel it as truth. I needed to finish this battle. Jack would need me soon.

A red light blinked in my head. The boy was behind me, right behind me. The roofing below me was beginning to shake and crumble. I threw myself back and began firing on the roof door that led to the stairway. The bandana kid jumped out from behind and we began our dance. The door and the small shack-like area around it completely shot up in flames and the two of us ran back and forth avoiding each other. Neither of us attacked for a few seconds as we each eyed each other, running alongside one another. The building below our feet was starting to fall. The floor below the boy slumped but he leapt from it avoiding a fall. I saw his actions in piercing clarity before he could even make them. I dodged right when he threw one of his little explosive tags.

“You’re faster now!” He grinned for a second as he tried to run around me.

“You’re just a kid. You can’t beat us.” I snarled as I aimed through the pictures in my head and I ran.

“We’re not kids. We’re soldiers! Real soldiers. And you’re going to realize that too late,” he laughed. He tossed a volley of over four or five explosive tags.

“What I see is a child,” I said as I avoided the tags. I opened fire again. The kid was wrong. They were kids. He didn’t know what he was saying. Real soldiers don’t cry, real soldiers don’t get angry and let their conscience or feelings interfere with a battle. Real soldiers have no feelings. He didn’t really know what he was asking for. He had no clue. These kids should be having birthday parties and playing spin-the-bottle. But no, they were fighting cold hearted soldiers. I could see his fury burning. And it made him slow and stupid. I decided to go against my training and trust the Other. Every bullet I fired was entrusted to the images in my mind. Firing based on the future instead of what I could see with my eyes. Five bullets pierced into the child’s skin. One in his right calve muscle. One in his thigh. One in both his chest and stomach. And one more in his shoulder. The boy stopped and looked at me with disbelief. He started to whimper as he felt his chest and stomach frantically with his hands.

His anger clouded his judgment and slowed him down. He didn’t move nearly as fast as he did before, giving me just enough time to aim those bullets perfectly ahead of schedule. He began to scream. “Please don’t let me die!” Blood started to soak his little clothes as he fell on the ground and began to crawl towards me. My thumb safely hovered above the ignition button for the explosive bullets. I wouldn’t be giving this one any comfort. I hesitated. Was it guilt I was feeling? It felt more like satisfaction. I stepped back slowly as the boy scrambled towards me. “You took everything from us. Our parents, and our home. You bombed it to shreds. Of course we had to fight you guys. We had to make up for it somehow.”

Who were these kids? Where did they come from?

“So how does it feel to be a soldier?” I said bitterly. “Do you still want to be a real soldier?”

“I don’t want to die!” The boy sobbed uncontrollably. Blood seeped from his chapped lip.

“Soldiers fight. Then they die. That’s how it works.”

“I don’t want to be a soldier anymore!”

“You never were one kid. You’re just a boy. You shouldn’t have been fighting.” I felt strange moralizing with the boy I had just maimed with led. But I stayed compassion. The closer the boy crawled towards me the further back I stepped, always keeping my distance.

The boy began to scream and his face contorted with rage. Before I could think he had leapt at me like a rabid dog. My instinct pushed my thumb into the button placing five small explosions in the boy’s body ripping him to pieces in front of me.

I wasted no more time with thinking and reverence for the dead boy. I ran in the direction of Jack. He was below in the playground again where he fought with the blindfolded boy before. The building finally gave way and collapsed as I jumped off the top and down into the battle. Jack and the blindfolded child were in mid battle. When the boy had sensed my return he dashed away and then jumped on top of the old rubber swing set. He raised his fists as if ready to fight the both of us. I began to slowly make my way towards him as I raised my gun into position.

“Be careful Conroy, he’s too fast for bullets.”

“How do we take him out?”

“I don’t know. He’s not like the other kids. He’s not reacting like them.”

“He must know that two of his friends are dead. Watch for his emotions. It’s the way to defeating these kids. Being kids... it’s their strength and their ultimate weakness.”

“I’ve hardly seen a speck of emotion from this one,” Jack said as he continued to eye the boy. Then the boy acted. He had completely disappeared. A strong light flashed in my head and I turned just in time to see the boy behind me. I barely dodged his aim as a bullet fired into my arm instead of my head. I rolled onto the ground missing Jack’s reaction. “Is he going to take on both of us?” Thought Jack.

My vision twirled as I rolled onto the ground. I got up even though pain was shooting through my body again. The third time I got shot. The Other seemed to fade. I was losing a lot of blood. I pulled out my weapon and tried to aim at the blurring battle. I caught a bullet trail with my eyes as I leapt out of the way. The Other wasn’t fully out. I could see with it still. But barely. I attempted to help Jack by leaping back and forth and firing at the child. I couldn’t hit a thing. He was too fast. He seemed to be concentrating on the both of us with ease. The Other seemed to burn within this child. I could only see a burning white light floating through my head. They continued in close combat while I looked for an opportunity to be useful. We had all been taught to use our body to fight as well as our weapons. Jack was the best of all of us in this area. The two battlers exchanged blows and blocks perfectly. The boy jump kicked as Jack stayed his foot with his hand, pushing it aside. The faded image of Jack sped towards the boy but the child blocked Jack’s fist with his young palm. It was a flawless fight and I had just become a spectator. There was no way, in this condition, that I could fight in this battle. It was above me.

The next move came totally unexpected. In a matter of seconds I felt a heavy burden on my back. “Conroy!” Jack shouted as he completely interrupted the fight with his first opponent. Jack’s image faded into the air. Someone had jumped on my shoulders.

“I’m going to blow you to pieces!” A child’s voice pierced into my ears. My burden was lifted as a shadow flew over me and Jack’s image faded into view kicking the boy off of me and into the wall. I turned around to see the real Johnny spit blood as he started to rise again. He pulled out two long knives in each hand and swung them at Jack one by one. He was much slower than the blind boy and without hesitation I fired a bullet straight into his leg and ignited it. His leg was mangled by the explosion and he fell onto this face.

“No, no, no!” He whimpered holding onto his shattered leg. “It hurts so much.”

To my surprise the blind child did not react the way I thought he would. Instead of going for Jack while he was occupied he scurried towards his friend in hopes of saving him. It was too late. Johnny had one hand on Jack’s foot. His body was engulfed in flames throwing Jack backwards and into the wobbling swing-set knocking the bar off of the top.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I got some shrapnel in my leg, but I’ll be fine.” I now had my gun pointed at the blindfolded boy. Our last opponent. The bandana kid was trying to detonate himself on me and Johnny, the boy with the scar tried to do the same. These kids were all trained to ignite themselves on their enemies as a last resort. No escape. They either killed or killed themselves trying. What kind of a brutal world did these kids grow up in? I wanted to be furious for these kids and what had happened to them. Why they were allowed to participate in an adult’s war for the gain of grown men. What small political gain could these kids achieve for themselves? Kids don’t care about politics. They just want to live. They have nothing to die for. That’s an adult’s job. Only questions haunted me, my emotions were far too detached to care for them. I just wanted to kill the last one. Finish the job. My opinions at the time were only musings on an unmerciful battlefield.

Jack had risen and was ready to fight this blind child. Waiting for his next move. But the blind boy fell to his knees and began to make undeterminable sounds of agony. He took off his blindfold to reveal scars where eyes used to be. He couldn’t even shed tears. But he could cry. I looked at Jack. I didn’t know what to do in this strange situation. Would an adult soldier even have time to cry before he died? Jack raised his right hand as he held out his gun and fired one last bullet into the child’s head. The fire in my mind completely went out and the boy instantly died falling flat on his face.

I saw the resolve on Jack’s face and yet I reached into his mind to see if there were any emotions to share with me. But there were none. I felt his accomplishment. He looked to me with a solemn expression of winning satisfaction. I knew that Theron had seen everything through my eyes. I could feel her agony inside me, missing what that felt like. Jack turned away and began speaking into the small mic protruding from the back of his ear. “CC, we have position. I repeat, CC, we have position. Position cleared. It’s safe.”

“Message confirmed Commander.”

“They’ll be here in about seven minutes,” Jack said as he put his pistols back into his coat. “Theron going to be ok?”

“She’s going to need some time, but I know she’ll be joining us again soon. Bonaventure is with her. She’ll survive.”

Jack plodded towards the dead boy and put his head down as a sign of respect for a fellow soldier. “They were our hardest and easiest foe. I have no pity for them. They wanted this. Even if it were forced on them, they fought us with smiles on their faces.”

“Does a child really know what they want? Or are they told what to want?”

“Whatever the case is, we had to survive. That’s just how it is.”

“I’m weary of surviving,” I muttered.

“But you want it just as much as any of us. Deep down. That’s why we beat them.”

“We beat them because they were kids. They were just pretending to be soldiers. When it all came down to it, they cried like kids, feared like kids, and hated like them. The battlefield is no place for a child. But you’re right. I did want it. In some twisted way, I really don’t want to die. Seeing death so close made me realize that.”

“Bravo!” I heard a distant clapping and turned my head. Two men were standing on the rubble of the factory. They had completely come into our presence undetected. The first man had a yellow trench coat and long brown hair, and full facial hair around his mouth and sideburns that connected his hair to his clean cut beard. He had glasses on as well. The other man was darkly familiar. Tall. His face was white like a ghost but his the dark under his eyes contrasted heavily with it. His lips were purple. He wore a long black oriental coat running down to his kneecaps. He had a face all too familiar; although ghostly in quality when compared to the man I used to know.

“Fathom?” Jack shook. I felt a mixture of fear and fury spinning through him.

Dirk Fathom and Vandal Shapiro. Fathom was a man deep in our past. A former mentor and someone we once thought of as a protective father. Vandal, on the other hand, was alive for some reason, after apparently dying twice. Once at his own hand. Vandal was the man who had killed the one I supposedly loved. If I were ever capable of such a thing. Yet here he was right in front of me and I had no speck of hatred for the man. These two men seemed like shadows detached from my world, no longer a piece of my past.

“Bravo my boy,” Fathom said again as he finished clapping and put his hands regally behind his back. “You are both truly soldiers now. You can kill four children without a blink. My, my. This is unexpected.”

Jack reached for his guns. He was ready to continue fighting.

“Patience. I have no wish to fight for now. I just wanted to see how you’ve both grown. Little crying children have become men. Bravo.”

Jack grinned manically. “It’s not like it was back then. You must have stumbled onto a war. This isn’t the streets Fathom, what are you doing here?”

“You’re right. Things are different now. But you don’t realize. You tread on holy ground. Although it has changed, this is still my territory.”

“I’d say it’s Saladin’s territory now. You’re a little out of place. This is a war and I think you should probably move out and maybe go to one of your cozy cottages on the beach.” Jack was cocky as ever.

“But you see this is my war as well. I am now a servant of Saladin?” Fathom bowed.
“What?” Jack was taken back. “You’re one of them?”

How could one of the world’s most powerful syndicate-lords stoop to the level of servant? My awe for Saladin had greatly increased and my interest in him was sparked.

“Like you, I am not who I once was. Money was once my lord because I thought it was power. But money is only a possible means of achieving power. I search for the source rather than a mere means of achieving its off-shoots. The road to becoming gods lies before you and you don’t even know it. That’s the reason you should be here. Not some fool’s war.”

“Why have you come here?” I asked.

“We wish to exchange greetings for now. I’m truly at a loss, gentlemen. A piece of me wants to accept you into the loving arms of those who would search for the path of the gods. Yet another piece of me wants to watch you suffer. I could tear your bodies to pieces bit by bit as you stood helpless to stop me. To see you cry like you were children once again would give the worse angels of my nature some pleasure, but I will do as my master wishes.”

He was talking like some twisted monk. This was not the Dirk Fathom we once knew. I could feel the Other burning in him. Part of me thirsted to taste just a bit of that power. I almost pulled the trigger of my firearm to possibly see him wield his ancient might. I snapped out of my trance and lowered my weapon.

“The most beautiful of god’s angels.” Fathom tittered as he turned around and began to walk the other way. Expressionless, Vandal followed suit.

Jack and I stood still as the wind began to whistle around us. It seemed like only seconds later when soldiers flowed into the area, Commander Jacques Spectre at the front waiting to commend the victors of a bloody battle.

SS: Chapter 1 (To be revised soon)

I've decided to post the first few chapters for Split Subject that I finished for the writing project. Let me just make a quick disclaimer in the fact that some of the details of this story will be changed because as I've written further and thought more some of these chapters will change and perhaps whole scenes may be switched. A major changes will be a total revamping of the sniper scene at the end. I'm going to get rid of the gangs and make it a battle strictly between the protagonists and the sniper and completely eliminate the gangs and civilians that are mentioned. There is almost too much going on in this chapter and I will probably change it later when I have the time. But if you see any other problems I would appreciate the advice.



Split Subject

By Donald W. Sands

“Oh, wretched ephemeral race, children of chance and misery, why do you compel me to tell you what it would be most expedient for you not to hear? What is best of all is utterly beyond your reach: not to be born, not to be, to be nothing. But the second best for you is – to die soon.”

- The Wise Silenus, Companion of Dionysius

I. The Dysfunctional Heroes

The last time I saw Jack cry was when our best friend Francis had his head beaten into the pavement on 7th Street. I was only eleven years old when the three of us had picked the wrong fight with Dirk Fathom’s thugs; a fight that should have been reserved for adults in an adult world. Our plan had totally failed and we were left at the mercy of men double our age, and with much greater talent for apathetic hatred. This was right outside Uncle Glenn’s Pharmacy and Goods, which had the dimly lit resonance of closing time. Conveniently the stores seemed to all close a few minutes early as the three of us were dragged along the dark streets of our home, Ghetto 13. We were knelt on the pavement a few meters from the steps of the shop we used to buy bubble tape and baseball cards, with a thug attending to each of us in the middle of the rainy cement.

“I don’t care what you do to me, I won’t cry.” Francis trembled on the bone shredding pavement as the cold precipitation seemed to dig into my skin. Jack was gritting his teeth as he turned his eyes towards mine as if to warn me that he was about to do something stupid. Before I could shake my head the hood behind me dug his gun into my scalp even more.

“I don’t even wanna see your skin crawling. I wanna see the rain pound into your skulls till you pass out,” the man behind me croaked.

The thug behind Jack was almost two times the bulk of a regular grown man so even larger in comparison to the size of my skin and bones friend. He loomed over Jack like a Frankenstein monster as the rain trickled down his concave forehead. His maniacal grin betrayed his crystalline blue eyes. Jack’s eyes remained fixed on mine. The more he retained his gaze, the more I knew he would act soon, even if he was killed while doing it.

Jack jolted his head upward into the atoms apple of his monstrous captor. The thug held his throat and grunted. Jack leapt from his creeping position. His equilibrium was shattered as his captor grabbed Jack’s legs with both arms and threw him violently against the pavement. Jack’s body skidded to a halt in front of Francis who by instinct tried to crawl towards his friend. The thug behind him took the pointed baton he held and thrust it into Francis’ backside. Francis howled with pain and curled up into a ball. Jack’s captor lumbered towards his victim and picked him up, putting him back into a kneeling position. He grabbed Jack’s arms with his powerful hands and held him in place. He wouldn’t get away again.

“Kids like you can’t wait to die, huh?” the thug attending to Francis sneered grabbing Francis’ hair with his hand and holding it down to the pavement. His long white coat was drenched with rain. He began to grind Francis’ face into the pavement his cold brown eyed gaze almost seemed to pierce into the back of Francis’ head. I cringed as tears began to form in my eyes. I wanted so badly to be tough, the three of us promised each other we wouldn’t cry one bit. But I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The rain on my face welcomed the salty tears. My body heaved.

“Please stop. We’re sorry, we’re really sorry for everything. Please just let us go home,” I cried. My vision blurred as the tears and rain teamed together to stifle my eyesight.

“Wow, I was beginning to think you guys were tough kids,” one of the thugs mocked.

“Shut up Conroy! Don’t cry! Don’t you dare beg!” Jack sputtered. His captor gripped Jack’s shoulders tighter. Jack growled under the pressure.

The thug behind Francis kicked Francis’ head lightly, further grinding it into the pavement. Francis didn’t scream or even cry, it seemed like he might be the only one to keep our promise, even as his blood mixed with the cement. His body rumbled on the ground as he closed his eyes tightly and grunted, keeping his resolve. His captor moved his attention to Jack putting his hand gently on Jack’s spiky hair, patting it.

“You won’t shed one tear will you kid. You’re just so damn tough.” He pointed to Francis without taking his gaze off of Jack. “This one can’t act tough. He cried already. When Fathom cut his mother’s guts out and blew his daddy’s brains all over the wall. Two bad most people only die once huh? Cuz we’d do it again and again. I wonder if he’d be tougher the next time? Would he eventually stop crying? Maybe even smile and laugh with the rest of us? Like you Jacky boy. Always so tough. Well, we’re going to give you a little lesson in crying today.” His mock gentility finished as he gripped Jack’s hair in his talons pulling Jack’s face closer.

“We’re just kids man,” I whimpered. “Why are you guys doing this?”

The white coated thug sighed in response to my question. “I’m showing you what the world is like,” he sneered. “No matter how much we all try to be sane and in control, everyone breaks down. Everyone is bare and naked. You kids just get to learn your lesson early.” He turned his cold glance to me and I could see he was just as shaken as we were which even now I never understood. He turned away from me and trudged over the pavement with his head lower than usual. He overshadowed Francis once again. He knelt down and picked up Francis’ head up from the ground with his hair. Francis’ bloody streamed face still remained resolute and he glared at his older enemy. A glob of spit and blood was launched from Francis’ mouth into the face of the thug. The white coated man grabbed Francis by the neck impulsively and thrust him into the brick wall, holding him up. “Watch kids. Jackie, you won’t forget this. The image of your friends shattered body will scramble through your nightmares until you’re buried.” His fist hammered, hammered, and hammered into our friend’s head.

My heart felt as though it had exploded as I screamed and flailed my arms, unable to move as the man behind me clutched my head between both his hands, overpowering me, forcing me to witness the life of my friend scrape away. The grip of my enemy slipped away and I collapsed on the ground. Even the hulk that held down Jack had released his captive. His eyes softened and he was no longer grinning. It seemed like he was trusting in the fact that Jack and I had finally realized how helpless we were. Or maybe they were capable of some sort of respect for a dead twelve year old boy. I’m not sure what it was, but they didn’t say another word. They just walked away with their backs defiantly to us, leaving us there in the rain. It wasn’t till they were completely out of sight that tears exploded out of Jack’s eyes, and a wail that seemed to come from the deepest corners of his heart burst out. I just lay on the ground looking blankly at the vacant expression on my dead friend’s face. Jack crawled up to Francis and fell on his limp body, sobbing for the very last time.

*****

It was the turbulence of the helicopter that shook me out of the half awake state I was growing used to. My neck was sore from nodding off and the jerking of the flow of air from the outside. As I slouched, I shoved a lazy hand into one of my universal camouflage combat jacket pockets, pulling out a near empty circular pill container. I emptied the pills into a tiny glass in a side compartment and blinked heavily as I watched the pills twirl down to the bottom. Everything slows down when you haven’t slept for days. Things that were normal to you become terrifying, while that which is odd becomes strangely welcome and inviting. It was also hard to know when I was remembering or just dreaming, so my mind starting playing tricks on me, slipping little lies into my past, replacing random memories whenever he saw fit. Sorry, I’m not really a philosophical person, and no, I’m not a drug addict, I just haven’t slept for a long, long time. My comrades were as pensive as usual. Our ‘old man’ on the battlefield, Agent Bonaventure juggled a coin between his fingers as he watched the dust through his circular glasses. Agent Theron stared blankly out into the golden sky with cold eyes reminiscent of a frozen sea; her long blond hair reflecting the suns rays shining in from the window. Jack sat with perfect posture opposite of me, observing me, his dirty blond hair standing lifelessly in the air as his newly applied gel hardened. He was looking straight at me as though he was reading my thoughts. A toothpick rested between his teeth at his mercy.

“Conroy, you looked like you were dreaming.” Jack grinned with the right of his lip, which had become a trademark of his.

“Nah, just shoving around in the past,” I said as I touched my neck lightly as if it would somehow clear up the aching.

“You’re going to want to be awake for this. You need to look out the window when we get there.”

I shrugged. “It’s always different when you go back.” Unlike Jack, I was not overly excited about going to a place I used to call home. Most of the life I spent there I didn’t remember. My busy new life had overlapped my old memories.

Simply put, we are a bonded team of three. Bonaventure is our guardian. And Jacques Spectre is our benefactor. Sometimes we are a government sponsored agency. Sometimes we act on our own interests or against the interests of others. Most people don’t know we exist, including the most of the United World Government. As it was taught in my history class, Sixty-Years ago, there was another World War. They didn’t call it World War III because it got to the place where war didn’t ever stop. They called it the Terror Wars, because it wasn’t like how war used to be. The Terror War was even dirtier, and it was hard to tell that it was even a war. People committed mass suicide bombings, jacked airplanes and flew them into buildings, and pressed buttons to watch an explosion on a screen. Kids from both sides were forced to fight the enemies of their wise elders. Soldiers cloaked themselves in man sized mechanical suits which led to bio metal engineering the iron into their bodies changing the way we all view warfare. Well, anyways, it got to the place where the war just ended somehow, and a bunch of countries got together to become one country and force all the other nations to join them. Everyone was so tired of war, so most of them when along with it. Thus, the United World Government was created. Spectre says our team was formed to balance or tip the scales of everything.

Why would I return to Ghetto 13 though? My old birthplace haunted my dreams for years and now when I finally don’t care anymore. I’m forced to return. I could say I was tricked into coming back. That place I once considered my home. An unprecedented disaster brought us all home. And once we were here there was no way we could leave.

“There it is,” Agent Theron spoke for the first time in hours. Her eyes softened from their icy hold for a split second.

Jack glanced out of his window. “Ghetto 13…”

I tuned into the show as well and rotated my head so I wouldn’t have to move my eyes and stared out the window for the first time in a good while. A grey haze lay below us and out of it stood tall chipped skyscrapers. Higher than all the rest a giant tower sprung from the clouds.

“It’s been years…” Jack mentioned with a look lost in memory.

“It’s not that place anymore,” said Bonaventure failing to even peak out the window.

“Is that Rosehill?” Theron’s voice resonated like the waves of an ocean as if with a small touch of concern.

I looked out the window again. A tower shot into the sky before me. From where I was there could be seen little dots of humanity as men worked on massive scaffolds. The tower rose out of the harsh miasma reaching for the skies above as the sun was dashed against its frame. The sunset, although beautiful, seemed to instill in me a cryptic feeling as if this regular end of the day occurrence was setting the stage for a surprise second coming, something I was definitely not ready for. My body seemed to heat up and I could feel the beginnings of sweat. My feelings were quickly overwhelmed by indifference as I yawned pleasantly at the sight of the dying sun. I expected a totally different reaction from myself at the sight of this lost sector. I feared seeing it again, that maybe I’d be thrown off balance with some long lost emotion. Nope. Nothing. The boy I used to be was being buried along with the rest of this forsaken cityscape.

“So they finally realized they were going to need us?” Bonaventure mused.

“Look at it though,” Jack said as he glanced out the window again. “This whole place was torn to pieces. These are not just some regular unlicensed users who don’t even know how to control The Other. They know what they’re doing.” Jack said.

“It was a bomb though, any idiot can set off a bomb,” I said.

“There’s definitely more to it than that. There’s no mere technology that could do something like that. You saw the message from Spectre.”

“These guys are just messed up.”

“Only the most twisted minds could come up with what happened a month ago. We’re dealing with the scum of the earth.”

“They could just be sending us in to die.” Bonaventure let out a chuckle deep with cynicism.

“It’s a win-win for them,” I said. There were many in the government that would rather we didn’t exist. But they would just have to suffer till our usefulness had ended. As my eyes got heavier and heavier I thought about how strangely comfortable I was going to war. I was truly looking forward to squeezing the life out of my enemies and the prospect of meeting worthy foes only filled me with excitement. Hmm, I wasn’t really sure how much of an opponent I’d make, dozing off all the time. For a while I had been suffering from mild Insomnia… at this point it was an extreme case. I hadn’t slept for weeks. Of course that’s if you didn’t count all the times I’ve fallen asleep at the wheel or drowsed off in training. Yes, my sleeping problems have interfered with my job. I’ve almost died a few times. But meh, I guess my attitude, now mixed with this sleep deprivation, has formed my outlook that I have on life. I’m too damn good of a soldier to send to bed. I was pretty much set on the idea of finishing this mission and then finally getting some sleep. But something told me that I wasn’t going to be resting any time soon.

“Hey Conroy, wake up,” I heard Jack’s voice over the rumble of the helicopter. “We’re here. Do we have everything we need?” Jack asked as he patted the pack over his shoulder.

“Let’s get out of this bird cage,” Bonaventure mused with a blank smile.

After the helicopter touched down on top of the tower we all stepped out onto the chilly surface. The cold felt like it was seeping through into my military boots. The sounds of construction could barely be heard below when a familiar man approached us along with the rest of our grim welcoming committee. An old friend stood tall with dark skin, sporting a black suit and sunglasses. He smiled broadly as he revealed a chorus of teeth.

“Sammy!” Jack shook the hand of our unexpected greeter. “How long did they have to hold you down to get you into the chicken suit?”

“I’m doing fine, how about you,” Sammy let out a laugh that could shake the earth as he embraced Jack.

“Connie Boy!” Sam surprised me when he slammed his big hands onto my shoulders. I shuddered a bit, and then came to my senses putting my hand in his for a firm shake. Sam lifted his sunglasses so he could look me in the eye. He had a concerned look for a second but brushed it off. “It’s good to see all of you again. We have a lot of catch up on.”

He turned around and moved towards the large double door with a freshly painted new red letter H. At his presence the doors began to pull apart. “Welcome back to Rosehill.” As we followed our welcome party I heard the helicopter behind us descending into the surface below it. We stepped into a beautiful room sized glass elevator.

“Like what you’ve done to the place,” Bonaventure chuckled.

This is where most of us grew up, besides Bonaventure and Sam. Jack, Theron, and I spent many of our years in what was called Rosehill. This place was totally different than we were accustomed to. Rosehill used to be a big mansion on a hill with one of the last forested areas in the country. And now, by the looks of it, they had done some expansion. Rosehill got its own tower. Heh. Of course, it was much more than it seemed many years ago. Below the mansion were countless floors used for many different government sponsored projects. But our fondest memories came from our lives on the surface. This tower was just another way the face of our home had changed. Quite a few faded memories scampered through the tunnels in my mind as I watched the floors rise above us. So many new rooms. Men moving and shaking. Changing everything around. Lots of blues, blacks, and whites. New technology. Giant flying machines ready to release out of multiple hatches like bees out of a hive. I heaved a sigh.

“You guys know why you’re here right?” I sensed Sam’s smile fade. “They’re monsters, they aren’t human at all.”

“Like us?” Theron said as she leaned against the glass.

“No… I feel better now that you’re all here. I bet the commander feels better about it all too. We’ve lost half of our men. We had it real hard back then. We saw a lot we shouldn’t have seen, right? But this is different. These guys want us all scared. They are all about fear. It’s like the world was ripped apart.” Jack raised his hand comfortingly to Sam’s shoulder. “Have you ever seen a man’s spine broken in two in front of you?”

We were all silent.

“We’re here now, Sam. Thing’s are gonna be different,” Jack attempted a reassuring smile. As usual, the rest of us had nothing to say. After a few seconds of silence I could see Sam relax his shoulders and sigh with reprieve.

“It sure is good to see you guys again,” he said as if he had reverted back to his jolly self. Soon, I heard a hydraulic hiss as our vertical transportation halted. “Welcome to your new home.” Sam grinned as the elevator steel slid from side to side. A sprawling command room lay before us. My eyes widened at the familiarity of this place. I could almost see ghosts of our former selves dancing around the room like I had stumbled back into the past.

“We really are home,” Jack said as his eyes shone brightly. He began wandering ahead as if on holy ground. The fog of voices that filled the room before had slowly lifted and our presence was felt by the occupants. My eyes scanned the industrial blue room filled with smudged monitors and clicking keyboards. A large screen spanned the front wall like an immense pool of the clearest water flickering with small pixilated specks that could be seen under the surface creating the image of a large city map. Before this screen stood a commander’s podium where a familiar uniformed man began to turn his head to see what had disturbed the order of his office. He wasn’t fat or anything, but he was a heavy man with broad hulking shoulders. When he turned he revealed a medium bush of hair coming down the side of his face, a perfectly lined sideburn. His harsh blue eyes squinted at the sight of us. His squint was followed by a smirk. He thumped his way over to us.

“Faris. How you’ve grown…” Jack spurned.

Faris looked down slightly on Jack as he smiled diplomatically. “You made it here alive I see.” Faris lit a cigar and began to suck down the filtered clouds. He tilted his body slightly backward enjoying the sweet taste of contamination. “How about you kids make yourselves quite comfortable while we wait for Commander Spectre to return.”

“We’re going to get started right away,” said Jack.

Faris stopped. “No, it’s quite ok.”

“Didn’t you get the memo?” Jack smirked. “You’ve been promoted to spectator, Sergeant.”

“There’s no way I’m putting the lives of my men in the hands of you freaks. You’re nothing more than terrorists to me. Always have been.”

“You can take it up with Spectre.” Jack marched ahead of Faris who was still standing, remaining as calm and arrogant as ever.

“Well it looks like you’ve gotten pretty cozy already.” I heard a familiar rasping voice behind me. A short aged man with a big poof of snow white hair entered the room from one of the many elevators. He inhaled from an auburn pipe tipping out of the right side of his mouth and waited to exhale before he would speak. And everyone would listen.

“Commander Spectre, you had a safe and comfortable trip I hope?” Faris gave a firm salute right after he stumbled to hide his cigar in one of his burly pockets.

“I hate air travel,” Spectre grumbled as he unbuttoned his black fall jacket. We all stood at attention for our mentor. “At ease. We have a job to do ladies and gentlemen. Sam do you have my report ready?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Let’s begin. Come with me, all of you.” The old man paced with heavy steps towards the large map on the large frontal monitor. “I want to bring you all up to speed on what’s going on right now.” As he spoke an expansive photograph of a woman sitting on the beach in a bikini came into full view. It quickly flicked off and Spectre grinned slightly, showing off the wrinkles on his forehead. “Just ignore that.” He coughed and then continued. “It has now been three weeks since the first terrorist attack by the cell ‘Dead Presidents’. The monitor began to show a camera feed of a man walking out of an elevator. Next was a close-up of the man. He had bronze colored hair that needed cutting. Two big bushes cascading out of the right and left of his scalp. He had a yellow trench coat littered with outer pockets. His hands happened to be nestled inside. “Vandal Shapiro. The gangster thought dead long ago was seen walking through the hallways of Capital Tower’s medical science sector, where he stepped into an office and detonated himself with an explosive device.”

Capital Tower’s medical science sector. That’s where a friend of mine used to work. I felt like she was long gone by this time. My memories grinded inside me as I tried to come up with some speck of emotion for my lost companion. But everything about her seemed to just fade into the background as the mission called out to me.

“Didn’t we kill Vandal 8 years ago?” Theron asked. “I saw that man die in the worst way.”

“He came back,” said Sam.

“Only to kill himself?” asked Bonaventure.

“Since when did Vandal have a bone to pick with society?” I asked. “He was a ruthless gangster that preyed on the people just as much as any corrupt senator would. Don’t people who blow themselves up usually have a point they’re trying to make?”

“Yes it is strange. This is obviously a different man than the one you met,” said Spectre.

“Well at least we won’t have to kill him a second time right?” I said. “He was beyond scary. He fits right in with these terrorists. Well, if he didn’t blow himself to bits.”

“After this attack, many others took place. Random attacks of terror were strewn all over the sector. Religious riots broke out.” An image of a man of the cloth appeared on the screen. A close-up of his round face and sunglasses came next. “The commercial evangelist Uriah Count led one of the largest riots right out of his glass church. All over the city Count led over five-thousand rabid believers on a destructive rampage throughout Ghetto 13 calling out for the end of the world.”

“Priests with guns.” Bonaventure chuckled.

“Count destroyed the Falcourt Bridge that led into Ghetto 13 over the river taking almost half his people with it.” The eye of the video footage scanned from an aerial view of a bridge falling down. Hundreds of little dots fell amongst the ruins. Bonaventure let out a retrospective sigh as the images distorted in the white of his fierce eyes.

“What came after was a total upheaval of Ghetto 13.” Clips of wreckage appeared next. Roads were gutted. Automobiles meshed into leaning buildings. “A strange phenomena much like a shockwave of mist and fog covered the whole sector. At this point the President issued the order for the quarantine barrier around the sector to be activated. Next came the message.” A photograph of a pensive man with a black beard and light bronze colored skin appeared.

“Saladin?” Jack’s eyes became wide as he inched closer to the screen.

“Saladin. As you know, was a representative of the United Nations before it was disbanded twelve years ago. A full honors graduate of Philosophy and Medical Science. He won the Nobel Prize for literature and was also a decorated soldier in the Terror Wars twenty years ago. This man relayed a message to the President immediately after the Phenomena taking full responsibility for the attacks. He claimed to be in full control over a powerful weapon capable of devastating life as we know it all over the United World.”

“So what happened to Ghetto 13 will happen to the rest of the world,” said Jack.

“Precisely. Total chaos, everywhere.”

“Saladin has this city under complete control. His terrorist army roams every street and sends endless waves of men to attack us here at our last stronghold in this forsaken city.”

“So how are they stronger than the United World Army? We’re this government’s last resort. Why us?” I asked.

“You are the last resort. There is no other option against these monsters. They have ‘abilities’… but far more advanced than yours. These men have been twisted by the Other to become terrifying monstrosities. Saladin has a dream team of twelve men and women that are extraordinarily powerful. Vandal was one of them, so now he only has eleven, but he sure did his share of damage. Uriah Count is also one of them. The Chikamauga Squad will be our first target.” A picture of a tattered old building appeared on the screen. “This squad of presumably four soldiers has taken control of an abandoned factory on the next street past the commercial district our building is a part of. This factory is the perfect vantage point for them to snipe our men from their location. The four of them are ever present. Day and night. Anyone who has gone into their line of sight has regretted it. We have sent teams over there. Only a few have made it back alive, and none have seen who these soldiers actually look like. They are skilled assassins that only reveal themselves to the dead. They will be your first mission here in Ghetto 13. The rest of Saladin’s men I will brief to you later once you have brought me the heads of the Chikamauga Squad. I want the Chikamauga Squad annihilated indiscriminately. Once you have done that we will send a team to take ground at the abandoned factory where they hide to set up a second base. After you will return here for more orders. Good luck ladies and gentlemen and god speed.”

With that we all got up and slowly scattered out of the office. I decided not to see the sights and go straight to the lounge to try and take a quick nap. When I reached the lounge Bonaventure was sitting quietly smoking another cigarette and once again was playing with his coin between his fingers. He glanced up at me and didn’t make the effort to speak aloud, “I guess this is a stupid question… but what do you think about this mission? Do you think our streak is in jeopardy? Why after all of these years, after turning our backs on this place, do we finally end up back at the place we used to call home.” His dark and weary eyes shifted up slightly admiring the haze. He further propped up his arm on the neighboring chair and relaxed.

It was rare that Bonaventure asked questions, he usually seemed to know all of the answers. I was also too tired to use my voice so I played his game. “I don’t think about it too much. I just do what we always do. Only think on the battlefield, not off the battlefield.”

“Ah.” Bonaventure just smiled bitterly. “I’ve been doing the forbidden lately.” His eyes remained fixed on the sitting smoke.

“Asking questions?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well cut it out.” I grinned.

I took a second to ponder Bonaventure’s question. He backed off and turned his attention elsewhere refusing to read me anymore. After gazing blankly at my wet cement colored military pants, I slowly edged further and further into my comfortable leather seat allowing my eyelids to close gently. It was strange to actually sit down in a chair and ponder a question when you were always on the move. To tell the complete truth, I really didn’t feel like this place was home anymore. We all changed, and so did this now unfamiliar sector of the city.

After a few minutes Theron entered the lounge and proceeded to sit down in a chair as far away from Bonaventure’s smoke as she could get, sitting up perfectly straight.

“Reading each other off duty I see.” Theron said not a word and winked at both of us.

“It’s hard not to when you get lazy of opening your mouth. We are technically on duty anyways,” Bonaventure thought as he turned his eyes slightly to Theron. “I’m getting too old to have to open my mouth for everything I feel like saying.” He stroked the air with his cigarette.

“That’s true.” Theron thought giving him the same cold glance.

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell if I’m even the one thinking,” I thought to myself, tilting my head back slightly. “I’d rather just stop thinking and let you all do it for me.” As my head suspended, wisps of white and grey floated over my face, tickling my nose. “What do you think about being here again, Theron?” Her gaze seemed to burrow deep into the bricks. Her eyes remained fixed as her thoughts crept into my mind. She turned her eyes towards me as if she were surprised I was looking in.

“I hate being back here.” Her inner voice whispered harshly in my mind’s ear. “I would rip it brick for brick if I could.” Being closed, my eyes caught the flicker of reminiscences that weren’t my own. I was given only glimpses of her pain and anger, through small fiery cookie cutter images and silhouettes. A small ripped giraffe toy. A tiny truck missing its wheels. Red trailing down soft skin. Neither of us really asked each other about the past before we had met. We accepted each other as we were at that moment of friendship conception. The room was full of emotional noise. My head was congested with the traffic of revisited memories.

“You really should get some sleep,” thought Jack as he swaggered into the room. He put his hands in the pockets of his indigo long coat.

“Sleep is for suckers.”

“After a while this whole connection thing makes you feel dirty. Knowing something of someone else’s that isn’t yours to know,” Theron spoke out loud. “I’d turn it off if I could.”

Jack studied the room and then, with his intense gray eyes, he seemed to catch the thoughts floating back and forth between us like fish in a murky tank. “It’s so strange. I still remember jumping the roofs down there. Getting into a fight with anyone I could just to taste my own blood. I know none of us are excited to be here. But there’s just something fascinating about it all. Something about me is dying to rule those streets again.”

“In this wasteland, the streets will only rule you.” Jacques Spectre appeared in the doorway smoking lightly on his pipe.

“Welcome back sir,” Jack said as he saluted.

“It’s good to be working with you all again. Once again the government that despises you needs you to defeat your own. The terrorists are like you, that’s what makes them your enemy.” Our mentor wheezed a piece of melancholy firmament.

“What makes this mission different from all of the others?” I asked.

“I’ve been with you all since the beginning. You are gifted beyond anything that I have ever seen. Yet, always remember what you were trained for. Uncertainty. Chaos. The unpredictable future.” He turned his gaze towards the window looking out into the bronze clouds. “Always remember that.”

“Let’s just get this mission over with please…” I groaned. “I need some sleep. Hey Superman,” I said emphasizing the word ‘superman’ in my usual obnoxious way, “got any more pills?”

“You’re out?” Jack asked lazily.

“Yup. Last two. I’m going to need them if I’m going to have any function whatsoever on the battlefield.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jack finally sat down opposite of me.

“It’s about time for us to go,” Bonaventure mentioned as he took a long deep breath from contaminated lungs.

“Let’s go,” said Jack . Our mission was about to begin… and I could have really used some pills. But oh well. Spectre saluted us off. We once again met up with Sam as we took the long flight of stairs down into the depths of the tower’s lower floors. All of us were pretty much silent the whole time. But of course, our thoughts were bouncing back and forth constantly. Many times I tried not to read the others and I could feel them trying not to read me, except Jack of course. Jack was always reading everything. He never held back and wanted to be aware of everything, even the thoughts and fears of his team.

As we continued the ringing sound of warfare began to creep into our ears. A familiar and welcome sound. I could feel my pills slowly draining away their ability to keep me fully awake. I had asked a nurse for more pills but they had none at the time. So I was going to go into battle like this. I thought what I always thought since the insomnia started to creep up on me, “If I die, I can sleep.” It was a win win. As my eyes started to droop and my feet mechanically kept the pace there was a sudden boom and crackle. A loud noise and vibration followed. Theron gripped the railings and Jack put his hand on her shoulder. Bonaventure put his back to the wall but remained jaded and alert. I on the other hand began my decent. I tumbled down the steps as I lost my balance. I fell with a smile, like a little boy who just couldn’t play anymore and welcomed his bed with arms wide open. As my head hit the steps for the fourth time I began to come to and realize how much pain I was in. I landed in a strange wrangled position on some floor staring out into Ghetto 13. There was a huge hole in the wall and I could see a large building through it. And thus, Ghetto 13 and I had finally met again. My old friend pulled me up and out of the way. The stinging sensation on my ear must have been where the bullet had skimmed it.

“What happened?” Sam said as he pulled me to safety.

“Thanks man,” I chuckled. “I’m really awake now.”

“Somehow a shell must have made a hole in the infrastructure. This is recent. How are we going to get down there?” Sam began to sweat profusely.

“Why can’t we just run by?” I suggested rubbing my twanging ear.

“They are always alert. That is why all the windows are sealed on this side. They are always watching… always waiting.”

“They’ve got one hell of a patience margin,” said Jack.

“They have been there for a week… not once have we been able to go into the open without suffering major consequences. You are the first one who has survived in a long time. Or was it you’re doing at all?” They all turned to Bonaventure who was tumbling a set of dice in his left hand. The agent smiled for a second but said nothing.

For some weird reason I burst out laughing but stopped myself. Sometimes my thoughts, or at least what I thought were my thoughts, were too good to pass up for a mere inward chuckle.

Jack turned a glance to Bonaventure as if he were asking him a question and awaiting an answer. Bonaventure rolled the dice in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment. “The odds for the survival of one at this point are high, but I can only guarantee one.”

“Very well… I guess our mission starts a little early,” Jack mentioned.

“If we throw a smoke bomb they might just end up shooting randomly forever, and who knows how much ammo they have stocked up,” Bonaventure analyzed.

“And I can’t shoot them from here because they’re position is already set,” Theron added. “And there would have to be five of them for them to have this kind of accuracy and full alertness. I could kill about three but the last two would most definitely take off my head.”

“I guess we’ll have to break them out early,” I chuckled pointing down at a button on a device attached to my belt.

“I guess so. Activate,” Jack ordered and soon each of our physical images faded into our surroundings. Short term invisibility. “Alright, we don’t have much time. Go!” They began to run down the steps and Sam stayed where he was.

“Good luck!” he shouted.

I was the first to go and the least reluctant one to get the hell out of that enclosed space. Bonaventure and Jack followed right behind. Theron held the back and stealthily followed keeping aware. A zing could be heard above me as I saw a bit of blood squirt over my head and onto the wall in front of me. I glanced up to see Theron running boldly as she slightly clasped her shoulder. A surge of electricity sparked around her as she held her wound. “Keep going!” She yelled as we sped down the stairs together. She had been shot somehow and her stealth technology had totally malfunctioned. We began hearing the hustle and bustle of soldiers below shouting orders and commands. When they finally reached the bottom they came into a room filled with soldiers sitting behind huge metal walls built into the entrance lobby area of the tower, which had become a battle ground. One of the soldiers approached us as our stealth technology was deactivated.

“We’ve got orders from headquarters. We are now under your command sir,” said the soldier as he saluted rigidly to Jack.

“Guard this spot and we’ll advance through the bazaar.”

“I don’t know what you have planned, but if you can get through there alive, I salute you commander.”

I turned to Theron who winced in pain. Bonaventure seemed to be taking in the gravity of the situation. If it wasn’t for his luck she would be dead right now and our team as good as disbanded. “They saw right through it… they must have,” Bonaventure thought as he glanced at me waiting for my response to what I had read.

“Maybe we shouldn’t count on stealth anymore?” I asked Jack.

“You’re probably right…somehow they figured it out. In that short of time,” Jack said. “We’ve handled worse before, so we can do it. Where did the bullets come from Conroy?”

“From the dust shoot on the roof,” I mentioned with the knowledge that came to me in the strangest of situations. “I think I saw one of them actually… for a split moment he and I exchanged glances,” I explained as images of a child like face shot through my mind. Was one of them a kid? I thought. Jack helped himself to the images in my head.

“Could it be an illusion?” Bonaventure asked.

“It’s possible. There’s no other way we can do this. Now that I possibly know where one of the shooters is I think we can do it. Now Bonaventure, I’m going to need you to tell me when it is most providential for us to run. And of course there’s the battle going on out there, which could work for our advantage or be our downfall.”

Bonaventure thought for a second and then threw the dice on the ground. Every moment he thought seemed as though an hour had past. We all felt it. He opened his eyes and shouted, “Run!” We all darted for the metal doors.

Jack shouted orders “Open the gates now! Go go go! Stay alert Conroy… I need your mind open. Stay alert, all of you!” We all rushed into the hell of battle. It was just then that my pills stopped working and the world seemed to completely slow down. I tried to juggle the long lonely rifle into a useful position after I had clumsily retrieved it from my back pack. I swayed back and forth on the street almost stumbling on a few pieces of rubble and dilapidated concrete. The first shot was heard. As my eyes closed I saw exactly where the bullet was coming from. Bonaventure smiled as he closed his eyes and I knew he read my mind. He moved at the perfect time and the bullet slammed into the wreckage below him.

“Lucky…” To the side I could see a few rough looking gang members frantically trying to make sense out of the situation. One saw us and aimed his rifle, before I could even think I pierced his head with a bullet.

The next bullet rang.

I closed my eyes and Agent Theron fell to the ground to have a civilian fly over her and take the bullet. “Thanks,” she thought to me.

Jack leapt in front of a rolling tank and just dodged being crushed by its mighty frame, giving him just enough time to avoid the sight of the greater enemy. He made it to shelter and than sat down and closed his eyes. “Where is he Conroy?”

“I’m not sure… he’s moving…”

“You should have figured it out by the last shot…”

“My pills are wearing off…”

“Does your life depend on pills?”

“It depends on a lot of things… uh… whoa. I think that’s it. It’s coming straight for me,” I thought as I took my attention away from Jack to the flash catching my eye from one of the windows.

The third bullet flew.

“Good job.” Jack smiled and un-holstered one of his magnum pistols. He closed his eyes and felt the air, then fired one solitary shot with his left weapon.

I closed my eyes and held my head as I studied the wind. There was a flash and I could see two bullets intercepting. I made one last hurdle and flew into a garbage can and then rolled into the wall of a corner store. I’m not sure when I opened my eyes but I found myself stumbling into one of the bazaar stores. We made it to one of the alleys and all stopped for a moment to catch our breath. A familiar smell rolled into my nostrils. I had not been home for such a long time.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

SS: Chapter 4 part 2

Here is the continuation after the bazaar scene. This chapter is going to explain the events that lead up to the disaster referenced in the first three chapters. I could use alot of help with this one, i'm definitely not completely happy with it so critique away if you have the chance!


Split Subject: Chapter 4 part 2 unfinished

In Delphia, when it rains it really rains. Jack turned on the rain shield, energy blocking the rain from pelting the car at all. He had one hand on the wheel and the other rested on the leather in between us. I was slouched in the passenger seat, quiet and reminicient. The rain was clouding everything, but I knew I had seen the dilapidated outskirts of ghetto 13. Then, like it had all been a dream, the rain disappeared leaving the sky aflame with colors and a rainbow shot out of the clouds. I half-tuned out the world with one of my favorite film soundtracks. I kept one headphone in my right ear while the other headphone dangled to the side.
“Your eyes are a little puffy,” Jack said. “Dark around the edges.”
“Didn’t sleep last night. I had a nap on Spectre’s couch though,” I said. I played with the unused headphone.
The mountains drew closer as Jack drove at a leisurely pace of 120 miles an hour. Self-constructed mountain hovels dotted the lower hills. We were enclosed in vineyard country. Lines of yellow combed through the fields between thin columns of tailored bushes. Beyond the vineyard light green fields were surrounded by forested mountain areas. A few trees cast small shadows onto the flat land. A modest house with a brown roof stood guard and was swallowed by the rest of the wilderness between the fields and the vineyards.



“Feeling a bit sluggish today?” Jack was driving slower than his usual.
“Spectre will kill me if I hurt this thing.”
“He can afford a new one,” I mused.
“And why not enjoy the ride. We haven’t been able to do this in years. Just drive into the mountains like old times.”
“Maybe we should just keep going?” I asked.
Jack thought for a moment. I refused to read him, allowing him the privacy. It was a little game we played. When we could, we wouldn’t read each other and we would pretend to be two normal friends who couldn’t see every image or inkling in each other’s mind. When we first discovered our thoughts were connected we couldn’t turn it off and it became a curse. If we were going to have any sanity we needed to learn how to naturally ignore the thoughts of the other person, like you could ignore seeing or hearing some things. It’s grown to more of a peripheral vision, where we can ignore some things, even though we know the thoughts are there and we can choose to see them faintly. Most of the time. In a stressful situation its hard for me to block out the information seeding constantly into my brain from Jack’s mind. But looking into his mind is like trying to read a math text book by flipping all of the pages in a few seconds. Always calculating.

It sounds something like this:
“What would I do if this car crashed right now? These are the steps I would take.
Am I forgetting anything? These are the things I am obligated to do.
If I travel at this speed, what time will I arrive?
What did Lea need me to get at the store today? Milk. Apple Pie. Baking Powder. Curry.”

His brain runs at crazy speeds. So many times I can’t even keep up. As close as we are we still don’t get each other. It’s a soothing sound that sometimes puts me to sleep. I feel safer. I have often wondered what he thinks of my brain. How do I sound? Does he ever get sick of it? Is it depressing or interesting?

“Maybe Conroy, someday we can just keep driving. And we’ll bring Theron too. Just get lost in the mountains. Maybe we can even let the old man and Spectre join us.”
“Leave Spectre,” I chuckled.
Jack laughed and nodded lightly, a grin lingering on his face.
“Where is it?” I asked.
“It’s a cottage looking out on the ocean from the mountains. Beautiful, I imagine.”
“Sounds nice,” I said. “If you like that stuff.”
“You sound excited.”
“A little. I’m not all over nature like you are,” I said.
“Never understood why not. You hate the city even more. Choose one,” Jack ordered playfully.
“Hate is a strong word. I don’t concern myself with it. I’m uninvolved.”
“Yes, hate would be an emotion,” Jack teased.
Delphia’s high rises stuck out on the rear view imaging monitor. I played with it on my side of the dash. I clicked the screen with a tap of my finger, enlarging it. Many, including world scientists have called Delphia, Eden, the place where all life began. Then everyone ran away to all other parts of the world, running from each other as far as they could to escape from other human beings. Some ran to the sea and cut down trees to make the first boats and sail the ring of seas to find somewhere where they could be alone. Away from themselves. There, the world was spread. Spread by running away. From themselves and their own reflections.
“Why would we ever leave this place? It’s the most beautiful place on earth,” Jack said trying to get a rise out of me. His eyes burned into me, pushing me for a reaction.
“Watch the road.”
When we made it to the mountain road, Jack had to slow down. We avoided the tunnel heading out of Delphia into the plains of Sherigol. We wanted to take the high road. These mountains had been defensive measures against invaders for thousands of years. Yet it never seemed to stop enemies from attacking and subjugating Delphia. Delphia is made up of such a small area yet it is a desirable position between the Northern continents and the southerly ones. It is surrounded by mountains besides the Zapharian Sea that connects us to the ring of seas. This connects us to the world. Warm winds come from the mountains blessing our land with fertility and a pleasant climate. Delphia is a very small country topographically and has mainly been a stepping stone for other empires over millennia. Thanks to our ports, Delphia has been able to keep somewhat in touch with other more successful countries. The ‘have’ countries, as they call them.
Through the window, evergreen trees glided by. We were deep in the forested mountains, the car rising and falling over the hills. Even larger mountains dwarfed us from over the trees. A few heads of logging crawdad machines bobbed, a few of their long legs clutching newly cut trees; their other legs pierced the earth shaking the world just enough for me to notice. Jack slowed down to miniscule speeds and the wheels crackled over the rock driveway, leading up to a small, light blue painted house.
“The rumor is, his father came home full of the drink, spluttering and vomiting on himself, screaming for his wife to let him in. She was finally standing up to him after so many years of smashing glass on her feet and breaking her legs so she couldn’t run away. She locked the door and threw out his belongings on the ground right in front of him so he could see it and soak it in. The father called out to his son telling him to honor his father and being his father’s son, the son hit his mom over the head with a bat, unlocked the door and pushed her out onto the steps. The father kicked the mother back into the house and the son watched as he kicked her a few times, terrified for listening to his father’s demands. Something snapped and torn between both of them the son set the house on fire. The drunk father had no clue the place was burning around them and he and his wife were burned alive by their own son. And that son, changing his name to
Gendarme (one of Delphia’s historical heroes) went on to be one of the most dangerous genocidal leaders of the Delphian Freedom Fighters. The Terrible Five,” Jack said, pleased with his storytelling.
“So it all makes sense than.”
“How do you mean?” Jack asked.
“He killed millions of people because his own life was messed up. Seems kind of typical to me. He’s a victim right?” I teased, knowing it would get to him.
“No one can make that excuse. You and I have lived hard lives too, and you know it. Yet here we are, making a difference to society.”
“That’s debatable,” I muttered.
“An exhausted topic I might add,” Jack huffed. “But, we have done the best with what we were given.”
I stayed silent.
“I won’t waste any more time,” Jack chuckled, his face brightening again. His mind was calculating even faster and completely unavailable to me. “Keep your senses keen. Although this will be quite a surprise for him, he has survived for a very long time and has various methods of staying alive. He’s a cockroach.”
I shrugged and followed Jack and he crept up to the cherry wood doors. “What should we do?”
“I don’t know how he’ll react. This is an emotional place. Can you feel it?”
“It smells like memories,” I sniffed, unamused.
“Don’t know whether to take you seriously or not.”
“What place isn’t saturated with the past? Seems a bit pretentious to single this one out.”
“I’m talking about passion. Hot memories. It doesn’t happen as strongly in other places,” Jack said trudging on the yellow grass, in the direction of the house. It had the architectural flare of two hundred years ago, in the old country. Tall windows and a high porch overshadowed by a chunk of roof. The pillars supporting the roof had multiple rivets giving it an obsidian look. “Their family built it together. Gendarme and his son and two daughters and his wife. She’s gone now I think, for years.”
“Will he struggle?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we plan this out?”
“I think he’s done with fighting. Us finding him here will be the final straw. After you?” Jack fell back allowing me to enter first.
The door was open. Jack stepped off of the wooden entry steps onto a pine floor. The smell of dust entrenched the living room. A glass table was lined up with a leather couch and a fireplace was nestled in the wall. There was a high ceiling and a bit of light came through holes of glass and the cloudy sky allowed little sun to seep through. Jack and I snuck through, entering the kitchen. Someone standing in the kitchen could stare out into the sea through the lofty windows, fogged from dust and the beatings of past storms. I approached the window. Outside, the ground sloped down and was swallowed by waves. Trees forked out of the soil. A man, with his back to us, stood almost as tall as the fig trees in the middle of it all, seeming to be mesmerized by the waves at the bottom of the rise. His head was tilted as if in half-prayer, the top sprinkled with grey hairs. His grey dress shirt was wrinkled and the cuffs over his arms undone and smudged with dark
spots.
Jack looked to me and his cheeks rose in a “what do we do next” kind of way. I returned with my bored face which usually answers most of his questions, this time the answer being “why ask me?” We continued to walk slowly, crinkling the brush under our boots. There was no need for quiet or an element of surprise: He already knew we were here. The wind slashed at him, his hands in his pockets, the sleeves of his shirt shaking over his arms. He matched his description for the most part. In briefing he looked much younger. Roughly in his late fifties, this man had blocks of grey in his hair, but had broader shoulders and even more elegant posture than the man we saw on news broadcasts and old conference recordings. When we approached him he didn’t jump or startle. But something about the air changed. With his back to us, he said, “The sea sure is long,” his voice soft, protective, like a father speaking lovingly to his child. I disliked him
instantly.
“Mr. Gendarme, please come with us,” Jack’s inviting protectiveness altered and his face tensed with a police-like sternness. Gendarme turned, with his hands still in his pockets, and concern tinged his staple comfortable expression he displayed in photographs. During speeches, Gendarme spoke as if the whole world was leaning in to listen to a respected philosopher, his hands ready to aid his words, his eyes relaxed. Seeing us, his eyes shook. Or was it just me? All familiarity drained from his expression as if he finally noticed a giant wave overtaking him. He was a sensible man; he was right to be afraid.
“You’re not soldiers, and I’ve never seen you before,” he
mentioned calmly, turning fully around. His hands came out of his
pockets revealing his famous white gloves. Stories said he had some
sort of hand condition. Despite his hint of fear he stood straight
and scanned us confidently with his brown eyes. His skin was a sap
colour and his grey beard was carefully trimmed and well kept.

“Pack up a few
things: tooth brush, comb, clothes, a souvenir,” Jack ordered.

“Where are we going?” Gendarme asked jovially.

“Please cooperate quickly.”

“How did you get past my security system?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

I chuckled and it startled him like he had forgotten I was there. “We’re not really
sneaky. We’re cheaters. Cameras, motion detectors, heat sensors,
none of them really pay much attention to us,” I tried to explain
our condition the best I could. His eyes rang with alarm when I
spoke, his fear percolating with the tone of my voice. I wondered
what startled him about me. I wasn’t really hurt by his judgement,
merely curious at what made me worth a cautious glance...

Split Subject Chapter 4 part 1

Hi guys! I just wanted to start posting the stuff I worked on over the summer. This is the bazaar scene that a few of you have already read, but I'm posting it just in case some of you haven't had a chance to read it or refresh your memory. This is chapter 4 of the story I did for my writing project at CUC. Enjoy!


P.S. If you guys need me to post the first 3 chapters just say so I have them lying around somewhere.



Chapter 4 Part 1

For a child, the world is simple, and some parents view it as their job to help their sons and daughters to remain blessed with foolishness. When the parent’s vaneer fails under the pressure of the complexity and strangeness of evil that a child’s little world is destroyed and can never be regained. “It’s when you take the time to sit down and watch the people go about their tasks that you begin to understand that we are all connected,” my father said, taking a bite out of a cracker with a dab of dried tomato paste. He stood up from the bench and extended his hand to me.

The noise excited me at eight years old. Animals brayed and honked as they were herded down the streets. Children pretended to shoot lasers at each other, dropped playfully dead in the dusty road, and made awkward dying sounds, which ended up sounding more like agonized cattle. I latched onto my father’s hand and he lifted me into the sky where I could observe the world from my father’s shoulders. The bazaar was busiest at high noon and the perfect time for a father and son to bond and ponder the great questions of life. Shops and merchant stands lined the busy street on each side. The dried meat vender threw a slab of flesh out on the stone heater, frying someone’s lunch. At another store, electronic, a tad outdated, spider slaves were being sold by the gadget vender. The metal arachnids twittered and bumped into each other on the vender’s marble stand.

A merchant shuttle soars above the buildings. Trails of rainbow exhaust streamed from behind it like a silk sheet being laid over a table. The massive air vessel disappeared over the highest shanties but I could still hear it’s engines, sounding like a chorus of chain saws.

The soldiers had returned, marching in their magnificent armor. A little boy’s dream. My father stood to the side of the street and let me stare in silence at the wonder of foreign technology. “They are here to protect us,” my father said. He would tell me this almost every day we came to the bazaar. I would usually just keep looking at them. This time I looked down at my father and he was staring blankly at them. His eyebrows and eyelids stressed, betraying his jolly tone. And to me, the world remained simple still, a thought of my father’s concern never crossed my mind.

“Many people pretend that they have their own lives. Tams sells his fruit at a certain price because he needs us to pay for it. And we need his fruit to be happy. Fruit is just one of the many things we need to be happy. We are this way because the more we need the more others can be there for us,” my father said, striding confidently over to Tams’ wooden fruit stand, grabbing a melon and squeezing it. Keeping up with him wasn’t hard for me because my father was my life when I was eight. Holding onto him, feeling his powerful shoulders through his dusty brown clothes, I felt a part of the world and that it was there waiting for me.

The soldiers continued moving, always watching and keeping to themselves. I would wave at them because I thought they were lonely and afraid to be away from home. Sometimes they would wave back.

“Can I be a soldier some day?” I asked my father.

“I don’t think your mother will approve. You will have to wait until she’s dead and gone to have your own life,” my father’s belly shook with laughter.

Music from the city played from windows. Soriah, a famous Delphian singer born in the ghettos sang to her home from a box of technology in the window, singing for her homeland as if it were a lost lover:

“You’ve gone off to war

Yet you’re here in front of me

Pointing a gun at yourself

You would take me there

Your eyes are glassed over

As you drift away

Come back to me

Yet you’re right in front of me”

Against the stone shanties people sat next to fires, talking and sometimes singing. One man stood out. He had a tattoo on his forehead formed in a shape I couldn’t recognize. The ink seemed to quiver as he lifted a musical instrument called the combine, invented by our people. A wooden tube attached to a large pottery shaped holder with a hole in it and strings. He caught my eye and retained a lifeless expression, playing mindlessly on the instrument with his mouth. A man beside him sang in chilling harmony with the combine’s haunting melody,

“Will he look at me with favor

From behind my broken walls

My broken walls, my broken walls

Will he look at me with favor

What is fractured stands too tall”

The singer also had a tattoo, but all over his arms and neck as well. It seemed to crawl on his skin and seemed to reach into the glazed whites of his eyes.

“Some have completely disengaged themselves from the world to avoid pain. They believe that the world’s ills are caused by connection and that all we can do is separate from that which makes us human,” my father said, walking a little bit faster. “I want you to take time to remember names.” He walked up to the fruit stand. “Address him by his name,” my father whispered with his head turned so the burly fruit vender couldn’t hear him.

“Greetings Mr. Tams,” I said politely.

“Hi child, you are growing quite handsome and the like. Must have got it from your mother not this ugly brute,” Tams said. He was the biggest fruit vender anyone had ever seen, at least that was the rumor. He used to be in the circus and could juggle fruit. My mother didn’t want Dad to take me to Tams’ stand because she said that he talked too much and that heavy talkers have nothing good to say.

I tried to honestly listen to the advice of my mom and dad. They were, like me, observers of others and I wanted to be like them. Especially my father. I liked getting dwarfed by his shadow and loved to see the world from his strong shoulders, enduring his one side banter with the townspeople.

“I hear your daughter is getting married Tams. Why couldn’t she wait for my son to be of age? He is going to be quite successful someday.” My father placed his big hands on the wood and glared at Tams with mock intensity.

“She’d be an old maid by the time he was old enough. You bloody fool. And please keep it down. I don’t want the zombies to hear you. The soldiers’ll just a soon break into my daughter’s reception and make advances on our women.”

“But Tams,” my father mocked. “If they weren’t here my son wouldn’t have the opportunity to marvel at the beautiful foreign crafting of another culture.”

“You’re a fool as usual,” said Tams.

“See son? Some men degrade one another to connect with them. And his daughter marries because men and women are lonely by themselves.”

“You married mom because you were lonely?” I asked.

“Yes son. Men and women would die without each other. And we weren’t happy enough without a child. It’s why people have so many children. They need them. They have so much love to give and need to receive love and adoration from their children.”

“Is that why you had me?” I asked.

“We were happy but we wanted to be happier. Connection is too big to ever fill, like a glass the size of a mountain.” Father’s hand thrust into the air like a temple parapet.

“That would hold a lot of ice cream,” I said.

“It would hold all of the icecream in the world,” he said setting me down and electrifying my nerves with his tickling fingers. “We should find it someday when you’re old enough to go on one of my trips.”

“We would get sick and die.”

“You sound like your mother. Don’t let her break your spirits,” Father laughed. “You are just a boy, don’t you start worrying about eating healthy foods or going on diets or practicing some sort of asceticism. Dream of long tables filled with food and never ending tubs of ice cream. Don’t be so careful. Let it all in. For you there are no limitations to the beauty of your potential.” He pulled me up on his shoulders again. “Be careful of the hateful things people say.”

“What do you mean, father?”

“Tams is just scared, that is the only reason why he says angry things about the soldiers. I don’t want you to be imbittered against others. Our family respects others, even our enemies. Seek first understanding and you will see out of another’s eyes.

“I like the soldiers, papa,” I said, not understanding why someone could not be amazed by them, and not feel safer with them around.

My father closed his eyes tightly and his eye lids creased. I think he wanted to tell me that Tams was wrong and I was right to feel safer. His eyes darkened. But he would never share his fears with me. The trolley clanged as it stopped in the road at a small makeshift station, built out of wood, where men and women waited to go to other districts. My father’s eyes lit up when a foreign woman and her daughter exited their transportation. “Ah, watch this.” He pointed. Both ladies were dressed in clothes I had only seen on the television.

“Visitors from the North,” father explained. “A mother and her daughter I’m guessing.”

The mother stood strangely like she had something stuck in her chest. She was one of the thinnest women I had ever seen but her foreign dress was magnificent. The lace of the dress flickered from purples to blues to greens. Her cheeks were caked in snow like whiteness and her hands were very thin, her eyes tired but gleaming. She approached the soldiers, her dress flowing and changing, electric. One of the soldiers, with a 4 horned shield hoisted on his back, stopped. The shield fell from his back and anchored into the street throwing up a fly swarm of dust. His iron hands lifted to his inhuman helmet, taking it off to reveal the scarred and bearded face of another human being. With his massive hands he flicked, with ease, his child onto his back where his daughter sunk her small arms into the air around her Papa’s chest, grabbing a hold of the cold steel, she shielded his head and back from the sun’s rays.

“Some customs are universal,” said my father with a hint of satisfaction. “Like me, this man is a father and the little girl wants to see the world from atop of her father’s shoulders. Piggie-backs are a custom that can only be enjoyed and relished in a small window of time, before the father loses his strength and the child grows too big to keep up on a man’s shoulders. Conroy, promise me you won’t get old.”

“I can’t stop it,” I said maturely laughing at my father’s childishness. I waved to the daughter and she saw me and waved back. “That armor must get in the way of hugging,” I mused.

“Sometimes people disagree with each other. They disagree so much that they argue with weapons and hurt each other. And by doing so we lose touch. We lash out to protect ourselves.” The soldier kissed his wife and the daughter squeeled with delight as the wonders of another world lay in front of her. “They have come from long distances to see him. What many forget is although they are confused and lost, these soldiers, who fail like the rest of us, are connected to us.”

The singing man and the combine player were dancing in the street, while the crowds made room for them, some clapping along. The reunited family stopped what they were doing to watch the hypnotic and precise timing of the singer dancers. The daughter clapped as the instrument player started beating the outside of the base of his instrument and kissed notes into existence from the tube. He played along with the daughter’s laughter although the mother kept a healthy distance away from the Delphians and their odd customs.

My father also stopped to watch the spectacle. I began to clap my hands to the beat like the others. The daughter saw me and smiled shyly as she continued clapping her hands. The soldier laughed, happy his daughter could feel comfortable in such a dangerous foreign world. I looked to my father for approval but he carefully watched, his lips pursed and his eyes watching everything. “We,” he paused and put his hand in his hair, “are connected by music.” It was unusual for him to stutter. “I am weary of this tune.”

“If your eye causes you to sin,

gouge it out, gouge it out.

If your hand causes you to stumble

Cut it off, cut it off.

Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile

By and by, can oil and water tarry a while?

Lies, lies, lies all in a pile

Give him an inch and he’ll take you for a mile.”

My father set me down slowly and gripped my shoulder with intensity. “Go now, to your mother,” he hissed.

I kept clapping. “Why father, this is so fun. Why don’t you dance?”

“Conroy. You do as I say!” He grabbed my arm. But his grip lightened and he fell on his knees.

“Papa,” I screamed. Blood was trickling from father’s mouth. I grabbed onto his arm but felt a numbness course through me and I also fell to my knees, gasping. I could barely feel the wetness trickling from my own mouth and the taste of blood.

“May Delphia one day be free from tyranny,” the singer shouted and grabbed the throat of the mother, lifting her up. All around us the people, as well as the mighty soldiers, were falling to the ground as the combine player continued his tune, the player’s eyes dancing madly. Sweat drenched the face of the father soldier as he attempted to fight his contorting body, not even able to crawl in his wife or daughter’s direction. The singer’s tattoos now danced all over his body as if they were living entities. He sneered and spit in the woman’s face. “And God rest the souls of our daughters.” Fire erupted from the singer’s body. He and everyone close to him were consumed in light.

Although blinded, I was now bumping up and down, thrown over my father’s back. He had regained some strength by some miracle, and was limping and running far away from there. Through the haze another explosion ripped through the streets.

When some time had passed, I awoke to see my father gasping and coughing against a trash dumper. He gagged and spat out blood and vomit. My father moaned, wavering back and forth on his knees, holding his head in his hands. “God help us, God help us,” he groaned. He inched towards me and grabbed my arm angrily. “You do as I say,” he screamed shaking me, his eyes bursting. “You do as I say,” he screamed again. Then he gathered me into his arms and heaved, and he shuddered, whimpering, shattered by everything.

Although I didn’t realize it until much later in my life, my father was a fool. A lovable fool, but unforgivable for leaving me so ill equipped for the true, bitter world. Seventeen years after witnessing the evaporation of a foreign family and many of my own people to those tattooed bombers, I stood in the middle of thousands of dancing people once again; as they celebrate meaninglessness. Being connected. It’s not a plausible theory. People are parasites, sucking each other dry of all life and meaning, waiting for their next fix on the various opiates of their choosing. This is the true face of Delphia, my home, if home can be considered plausible at all for a monster like me.

To be continued...

Friday, October 9, 2009

the great chain story

An english teacher and his student walked down the streets of Roma. I have no idea where that is, but the teacher and the student apparently did, for on their walk they met a kid on one of those dusty back alley streets on their way to get perogies from Sloskic woman over at Narimskay 46. The kid was minding his own business, like all kids on dusty streets do, when the teacher and student asked for directions to Mrs. Sloskic's kitchen.

"Leave me be," said the kid, "For I am building castles with the dust of this road, and you are interrupting my progress."

Well they let him be and continued on.

The student was a little concerned since the place they had to go, Narimskav 46, which did not sound like it should be in Roma and said thus to the teacher.

"You are right, " the wise teacher replied. "I think it's in Ukraine." To which the student replied, "Ah, don't you think we're going a little too far for perogies? Where is Ukraine anyways?"

"Somewhere in the USSR or States," the teacher replied absently, for perogies were out of his mind, and in came watermelons as they passed a shop window brimming with watermelons. Lost in thought of how to get to the USSR or the States, the student did not notice the teacher walk sides into the watermelon shop.

The student was not sure how to communicate this to his teacher, and so lost in thought was he that he did not see the sitting painter at his feet, and tripped over the fellow's out-stretched legs, tripped started running head down body forward into a gaggle of a rather splendid group of sophisticated gentlemen who had at hand a changeling trickster whose attempts to rob them went down rather poorly. At last minute diversion, the student twirled on his heels and found himself standing in front of a hat shop.

What luck, he thought. A hat shop, he thought sarcastically. Oh joys, what wonders...pooey on hatshops, he added on and with that he stuck his hands in his pockets realizing at the same time the teacher was no where to be seen. Tomorrow, I will have to find him, I suppose. We need to figure out what poet or playwright will create a play about a god who got lost in a bathroom.

The student snickered. It was a rather ridiculous idea for a play, but his teacher had had a dream about a god lost in a bathroom and thought it extraordinary that such a dream would come from such a head as his. With that though still turning in his brain, the student headed towards the docks, towards the ship that....

Saturday, October 3, 2009

In the beginning...

In the beginning, the world was nothing but a room of watermelons. It wasn't a small room or a large room but a room that spread out for miles in every direction. The walls couldn't be seen but the ceiling hung low, so the gods referred to it as the watermelon room. And lo, watermelons vined their way in every direction. Watermelons came in all shapes and sizes. No two watermelons were alike. In their variety, watermelons created society, begat cultures. The watermelons of the room clustered and segregated themselves. Then it happened. One yellow belly watermelon offended a cherry-sided watermelon. That was the beginning of the Seeds War. The borders were drawn. The causalities mounted. The melons moaned.

“This must stop or we shall all parish,” the smaller weaker melons cried.
“It will never stop, for we have no common ground,” the old melons replied.

And the gods were silent, but the Trickster heard. That night, a thick mist grew to a curling twisting fog, and the fighting was temporarily silenced.

Morning came. The lights began to awaken.

And the gods chuckled and laughed to see such a sight for the entire room was filled with green square watermelons.