(photo by Miles Tsang*)

Some promoters wouldn’t book you because you weren’t popular enough, others because you were popular with the wrong crowds. I met this one set of Rastafarian cats running a venue out of Harlem who told me my bands couldn’t play because they were white. I asked if the word “unity” rang any bells with them, and he asked if the word “apartheid” rang any with me. The point was moot and I had no choice but to tell “Blunted Me with Science,” the Rasta New Wave band I was managing, that they couldn’t play with their idols Bad Brains because of the color of their skin. It was a shame too, the fellas in the band had been telling me about this “Devo style cover of ‘banned in D.C.’” that I was dying to hear.

More often than not you could find ample booking if you were willing to settle for the emo scene. This being the heyday of New Jersey’s emo fallout, every church, VFW, and basement was a retrofitted showcase for self-indulgent, misguided, tight-jeaned Maiden fans convinced that they too were the next big thing. Hard to blame them, record companies really WERE snatching up bands from the area like hotcakes. Having dibs on a venue during this period was like staking a claim on an undiscovered oilfield, promoters could just kick back and watch the money pile in.

Local emo bands became bitter rivals, fighting to death for opening slots on gigs they themselves wouldn’t have paid to see. Record contracts were popping up in the strangest of places. Suddenly even the smallest showcase presented the potential for life-changing emo success. But people only wanted to hear what they knew, shitty high school poetry sung over recycled Taking Back Sunday riffs. Ska and punk bands were confined to two venues on either side of the state that were perpetually overbooked and impossible to play. I only got on one of these venues once, and it was a nightmare. I’d misread the show’s roster and accidentally booked my Latin/Jazz fusion group on a September 11^th punk show.

The first sign of trouble came when the opening band, who arrived at the show in a leopard print hearse, started their set shouting “FUCK FIRE FIGHTERS!” Hernando, the leader of the Latin group, went into a frenzy. He came from a long line of firemen, and had lost an uncle to the Trade Center rescue teams. Nando, as he never let me call him, was a pretty level guy, but to hear someone say something like that . . . well . . .

Two sets later he and his boys climbed on stage with their horns and congas. “In response to the viscous declarations of the first band (if you could really call them that) we’d like to take a moment to commemorate a group of valiant heroes from across the mighty Hudson River.” I could feel the tension in the room, the punks gathering together in one corner making obscene gestures at the stage and the rest of the crowd waiting silently for what would happen next.

“These heroes,” Nando continued, “risked life and limb to save New York, if not the world, from a terrible threat the likes of which we’d never seen before. We hope you will join us in honoring these tragically underrated New Yorker heroes, saints even, with this song.” And with that he counted the band off. Much to the surprise of everyone in the cramped auditorium, the tune which followed was a straight cover of Ray Parker Jr.’s “Ghostbusters.” Although most of the crowd enjoyed it, Nando and co. still got beat up after the show by the opening punk band. That was a given, those guys’ll smash anything. What’s really bad is when the promoter’s the one trying to wring your neck.

I’d been living in the van with “Karl Marx and The Kommies,” a 5 piece rocksteady group on their first tour, and tensions were running high. There’s only so long you can live off Hostess’ Fruit Pies and Mountain Dew before you snap, and Fast Eddie, the band’s chicken-picking lead guitarist, had actually proposed this as his senior thesis back at Bergen Community College. It got rejected of course, which made him twice as angry as before. He wasn’t a violent person, but he could pass aggression like a motherfucker. “Donny,” he’d say to their drummer, “maybe if you stopped smoking all those cancer sticks you’d be able to keep up with the rest of us on ‘Ranking Full Stop.’ You’re going to die if you don’t, just saying.” Donny, on the other hand, was an extremely violent person and would usually respond to this by forcefully holding Eddie’s head out the window of the moving bandwagon and telling him that he’d die first.

All of this disappeared when they got on stage. It evaporated into the music. Even at gigs like this, where there wasn’t a single dude in the crowd wearing men’s jeans, they managed to draw some skanking. Not the easy kind either, but the hectic “Pick it up, Pick it up, Pick it up!” type that haunts rude boys’ wet dreams.

Overall the show was a success, the boys had more of a draw than even the headlining act, “Cross The Street Not Down The Road” (an up-and-coming emo band with a sound indistinguishable from anyone else’s), and were looking forward to a night in the lap of luxury; which, by their standards consisted of a moderately priced Chinese dinner and a round of Olde English. But it wasn’t meant to be.

The promoter played it cool, claiming we hadn’t earned the money, but after retrieving the evening’s ticket quotas from the doorman and presenting him incontrovertible proof, he came clean. He said bands like “Cross The Street Not Down The Road” didn’t play without a signed minimum of eight hundred dollars. Even if they didn’t draw a crowd (which they didn’t), contractually they were still entitled to that amount. Such agreements hold up in court, the promoter explained, and paying the band now would save him a lot in legal fees.

I didn’t care and told him so with a series of superlative attestations to his mother’s promiscuity. My boys had earned their money fair and square and wouldn’t have enough to keep up the tour without it. The promoter laughed, saying that if the band wanted to stay afloat they should “get with the times” and “play music the kids actually listen to.” I tried telling him he was a closed minded cog in a corporate machine threatening the very fabric of music itself, but he’d stopped listening.

So off I went to round up be band, leaving in my wake a slew of thinly veiled allusions as to how sorry the promoter would be when I returned. Before I could reach the door I saw him whistle to a large Russian fellow working security and give him a few violent hand signals directed towards me.

The Ruskie came running and jumped into a half kick, half lunge at my chest. Making a split second decision, I hopped back a step and pressed myself against the side of the entrance hall. It worked too, the bouncer had been aiming for me at the hall’s center and was unable to reroute his course midair. He flew right past me, ramming headlong into the church’s heavy steel door and taking an emo kid with him.

I looked down at the two, the hulking former-soviet giant sprawled out unconscious atop the flimsy, moaning skeleton hipster. His shirt read “fragile,” and for the first time I actually laughed out loud at a pre-fab, Hot Topic one-liner.

“Keep your dirty money!” I shouted and stormed out of the venue, making sure I further smashed the bouncer’s head upon opening the door. It felt so good I did it again. Then a third time for luck.

Outside the Kommies were waiting in their van. “Boys, I’m a failure as a manager and do hereby resolve to never book a show again” I announced.

“Oh come on,” Donny said, “You’re not that bad!”

“Yeah!” Eddie and Tim chimed in.

“I couldn’t get your money” I said.

“I take that back” Donny said, “He is that bad.”

“But I’ve got an idea how to get this son of a bitch back real good and leave our mark on this whole god forsaken music scene! You with me?”

“Will it cost us anything?” Tim asked.

“A little” I replied.

“Well . . .” the boys said in unison. This was a technique they’d often used to squeeze a free pizza out of me.

“Alright, fine, I’ll flip the bill,” I said, “Just get in the car; we’ve got work to do.”

“Alright!” the boys cheered.

We drove to the closest Wal-Mart and picked up 4 bottles of the most potent deer musk we could find. Then, driving back to the venue, we dumped it all over the promoter’s car. This being deer country, the smell attracted dozens of horny deer within minutes. The deer, being fully aroused and disappointed to find this strange metal contraption at the odor’s source, became enraged and tore the fuck out of the car. We could see them running from the woods in hordes as we drove away through the dreary Jersey evening. This was our mark on the music scene, and thought it was forgotten within a week and brought about no long term or radical changes to the tyranny of commercial music as a whole, you should have seen all those deer trying to run with raging hard-ons bouncing between their legs. It was priceless.

*Click here to view original photo.

View Scene It All Before at Supraterranean

(photo by Jim Thompson*)

1

“Mornin’ Roy! Have a cappucino.” I hand Roy a beer. He looks at me like I’m missing out on something.

“Water first…” he mumbles back. Roy gets off the ratty old couch that he slept on. That damn couch has to have a million little mice swimming in it, giving it a nice massage vibration. Maybe that’s why Roy always sleeps on it when we’re here. “Dude, I was feeling up all the chicks in this place! They all let me have a feel of their tits!”

Trying to change the subject, I say to him, “I think we over did it a little last night,” as I notice the vomit on the downstairs window. My view of the first floor isn’t the best. All I can see is the door, the window, and the stairs leading up to where I am. But the view out the big bay window directly in front of me is quite nice. Someone either can vomit seven feet out or someone threw it up there. Maybe as a joke since it will never be cleaned and either way, the ridiculousness of the act is impressive.

“You’re probably right. Where did everyone go even?” Roy asks me.

“Home I guess. Shit went down hill once the radio broke.” I say back, not quite remembering everything.

“Did something happen with you and Tiff last night?”

“Umm… yeah. But it wasn’t what us protagonists hope we end up with. Now, let’s go get some fucking breakfast.”

2

“Everything’s set,” Dan says. “The ice is salted, the beers are submerged, and people are coming.” It’s going to be a good night. Friday. Summer. Dusk.

I sit down with these four douche bags I call friends. There’s Dan, Jeff, Ted, and Roy. Roy’s the only one I would really consider an actual friend. The rest are just people that I drink with.

We’re talking about some bullshit that happened last time we did this. A window broke. Ted was punched in a case of mistaken identity. I accidentally pissed my pants by taking them off and then urinating on them while they lay on the floor. The usual party stuff.

A car pulls up. We’re on the back balcony, but can hear it from around The Beaver Den. That’s where we are, The Beaver Den. Roy’s brother’s deer camp. A nice little two-story shack of a hovel. It’s clad with two couches and a bitchin’ flat-screen TV on the top floor. The bottom floor contains a bar and the exits. Those exits are a God-send.

A car door opens and shuts. Then another one. Another. We don’t move. It’s Dan’s girlfriend and her friends. Brigette, Dan’s girl, is basically the leader. Her friends, Tabby, Donna, and Amanda are sycophants to Brigette’s way. She’s an evil dictator with great legs and a smile so shiny that you need a camera obscura just to look at it. These girls are your modern, every-day, Abercrombie & Fitch wearing, “The Hills” watching, all-American stuck-up bitch types. They feel superior because they’re attractive. Together, they have an IQ of about 300. We watch them slowly appear over the horizon that is the stairs. One after another. Brigette in the lead of course.

“Hey guys!” I hear Brigette say. She opens the door in between the statement, making the ‘Hey’ quiet and ‘guys!’ loud. If she was a man, I’d slap her. The rest of her friends wave and say hi. We all reply in a similar manner.

“Hey babe,” Day yells in an attempt to be funny but ends up being more asshole-like.

“Dan… You are a jackass,” Jeff tells him in an obvious statement, shaking his head. Jeff and Dan are cousins and have known each other for their entire lives. Jeff’s one of these guys that will always tell you what he thinks of you. This usually offends no one and if it does offend a person, that person is a tool and needs to get over themselves. Jeff would be the kind of guy to tattoo ‘Love’ and ‘Hate’ on his knuckles if he wasn’t afraid of needles.

“Shut the fuck up, Jeff. You’re gay!” Dan retorted back. Dan wasn’t very clever.

Looking around, everyone seemed to match up. Dan was with Brigette, Jeff was dating Donna, Tabby had a guy in a different group of friends, Roy has the same situation as Tabby. Amanda was freshly single and being persued by these douche bags from an adjacent town. Ted is dating in the same group as Roy. I am the odd man out. The one searching desperately for someone to sleep with while no women wanted to touch me outside of an occasional hug.

I was surrounded by people but I was alone. These people are the most shallow folks on the planet. I felt like an Angler Fish amongst Salmon, even though I was a about three feet deeper than these fools.

3

…And the night advances. Dusk has passed into the early stages of night. A warm dark canvas easing us into our self-propelled idiocy. The conversations have turned at this point, getting more serious. Politics comes into the forum.

“I’m glad we’re fighting this war!” says Dan, “It gets it so we can do this.” He’s referring to sitting on a balcony, drinking beer. Dan’s ignorance toward the current occupation is only matched in size by his ego.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask him.

“Those sand niggers want to take our rights! I’m glad we’re killing them all.”

“Most of the people we kill are innocent.”

“Well so be it. Why do they hide with the terrorists if they don’t deserve to be killed?”

“They are just living in the places they grew up. Just like you and I, Dan.”

“Let me ask you a question, Leo. You have a gun to your face. It’s between you and three innocent people and it’s your call on who gets killed. What would you do?”

“If they’re definitely innocent, I’d die. No question about it.”

“Yeah, well if you had a gun in your face you’d think differently…”

At that point, Tabby changed subjects which was most likely a good idea.

“Did anyone see the new episode of The Hills? Can you believe it?!” These idiots nodded except for Ted, Roy, and myself.

And thankfully, we heard another car pull up. It was some guys from the adjacent town mentioned earlier.

4

Things start to get blurry at this point. Far more people have shown up. It’s officially night. Everyone’s dancing and drinking and passive-aggressively flirting. Ted and Roy’s female companions show up with their friends. Ted leaves with his woman off into the darkness of the outdoors, but Roy is too drunk to care about his woman. The radio’s playing some mid-90′s country song and everyone is dancing like the white people that they are.

“Dude, lets go have a smoke,” Jeff tells me while sneaking up on me out of the crowd, from behind.

“Sure,” I answer back.

Walking out the front door of The Beaver Den and onto the porch, you get a sight of the woods and the couples in cars making out and fucking. I was envious. Sex at this time in my life was something that eluded me. I was too fat and weird to be appealing to the women in these cliques despite my fevered attempts to get their pants off.

Jeff hands me a cigarette and lighter, but I never inhale the first drag of a smoke. That’s where all the demons are hiding.

“So Leo, did you see that Tiffany’s here? Man, she is fine as hell…” Jeff blows out smoke and fans it away with his hand.

“Yeah she is. Gotta love them red heads.” I look back through the window on the door and glance over at her. A stunner of a woman if I’ve ever seen one. She looks like a young Rita Hayworth. Long flowing auburn hair cascading down a moon-round face with vivid blue eyes to shoulders exposed by spaghetti straps. Your eyes can’t help but follow her frame which would remind one of a thinner Marilyn Monroe with tits like ripe grape fruits and an ass that would set your hand on fire if you tried to touch it.

“She’s single now.” Jeff hinted in hopes I would make a move. I’m positive of rejection, though. Tiffany is the chick that everyone puts on a pedestal. Even other women stare in awe.

We both look in the window at her and it’s clear to the simplest idiot that those parts of Venus she calls her legs are taking her outside to us.

5

“Hey guys,” Tiffany shouts with a big silly grin wrapping her face. “What the fuck’s goin’ on?” Her speech slurred, it’s very obvious that Tiffany is (to put it bluntly) shitfaced.

“Hey, Tiff,” Jeff replies, “Whats up with you?”

“Fuckin’ partying, man! Hey Leo, can I have a smoke?” She’s 17, so she can’t buy her own yet. I give her a cigarette and light it for her. “Thanks, hun,” she says with it dangling from her soft, delicate lips.

Tiffany looks up at the sky and blows out the first puff of smoke. “Can you believe what Roy is doing in there?” she says.

“What’s he doing?” I ask her.

“He’s running around poking girls in the boobs.”

Jeff’s eyes grow big. “Ah, the Witch Stick!”

“What the fuck is the ‘Witch Stick’?” she asks.

“It’s where he runs around poking girls. In the morning he’ll talk about how he was touching tits.” I tell her.

“…okay…”

“Well, that Roy. He doesn’t mean any harm.” Jeff says. And the truth is that he doesn’t. He just wants to touch women but tries to do it appropriately. He fails.

“I need a beer,” Jeff states after throwing his just-emptied can toward a random couple making out against the wall of The Den. He left me out there with Her… the goddess of the tri-county area.

Nerved up by our recent abandonment, I try to start a conversation. “So what’s been up with you?” I light another smoke as she puts hers out. Talking with Tiffany is like being on stage by yourself. It’s far too easy to get anxiety and pass out.

“Oh, nothing. Just waiting to graduate and working.” She’s looking for an escape. This is my chance to make any moves that I need to make to get her naked.

“So…” I pause, trying to come up with something, “Have you ever been on a tour of the Den?” Such a stupid thing to say in an attempt to get her alone in some shaded corner where no one will know and we can be in peace. The Beaver Den is about the most one-demensional place you can get in these parts.

“Umm… well yeah. It’s just two floors and no rooms.” She eyes hard for a way out.

“Well what about the secret areas?” I ask. My responses keep getting lamer and lamer.

“What secret area?” She answers. Tiffany sounds intrigued and thoughts pop up in my head about how I haven’t entirely lost my chance yet.

“Come on. I’ll show you.” She followed me off the deck and into shadows.

Thank God (or more likely carbon and hydrogen) for booze.

6

We walk around the outskirts of The Den. I have no idea what I’m looking for or how to keep up this charade. I point to the area behind the 80 gallon propane tank.

“Shh… It’s a secret!” I tell Tiffany, trying to persuade her of my spontaneous and incredibly stupid remark.

“Umm… okay…” she says, looking around for any of her friends that have since either found someone to fornicate with or are looking for such a match. “So what is the big thing that needs to be kept secret at The Den?”

I sense my chance and move into her slightly. She doesn’t back away. “This…” I say and make the move. I plant my lips on hers. She tastes like Vodka and Marlboro.

And Tiffany doesn’t move away. I start to feel her body. Her back, her legs, her ass, her tits. She’s smooth and warm. A small gasp leaps from between her lips, enticing me in further.

Suddenly I’m launched into Heaven. I’m on a sunny beach. There’s a slight breeze. Tiffany is laying on a towel next to me, topless and on her back. We’re in Hawaii and I’m flying a kite and drinking a Corona. Some kids are making sand castles off in the distance. You can hear them laughing. I’m in a lounge chair, under a big umbrella. Everything is at peace and I am happy. Once again, thank God for booze.

Then she pushes me away. “I need a beer,” she tells me.

“Uh, yeah. So do I,” is my reply. Unfortunately, it was true. I follow her around the corner to the deck, walk up the steps, open the door, and hear a crash.

7

The radio flies down from the second floor towards Roy’s head while he dances like a jackass to the same music that everyone else is dancing to. The radio misses him by a few feet. Looking up, Dan is standing there, shaking with anger and panic.

“Fuck you, Roy!” Dan yells, “Stay away from Brigette!” Apparently, his Witch Sticking got him in some trouble, and even worse, with one of his best friends. I’m not surprised. No one is off limits when it comes to the Stick.

“Dude… What?” Roy asks Dan. I wouldn’t be surprised if Roy doesn’t remember doing what he’s accused of.

“Dan, you broke the radio!” Five or six people yell out just barely out of sync and pissed about the lack of music. Looking straight forward, Dan projectile vomits so far that some splashes against the bay window showing him a barely lit view. With Dan still shaking, two guys from the adjacent town mentioned earlier grab Dan by both of his shirt’s shoulders and throw him down the staircase. He hits the wall that’s right before the stairs turn the corner, tossing a little more spent booze onto the window there. He stops his roll. Before Dan can get up, these two big fuckers grab him and drag him out the front door.

“Fuck you…” Dan tries utter as he’s being tossed onto the ground just off the deck. Kicks fly towards his stomach while he’s down on all fours. I feel bad for just standing there, watching. I mean, here’s a person that’s supposed to be one of my best friends getting the shit beaten out of him, and I do nothing. But oh well. He really doesn’t deserve to be physically hurt. Maybe by Roy, but not from these two losers. One holds Dan in a Full Nelson while the other gut punches him.

About five seconds later, Jeff (Dan’s cousin, if you’ll remember) runs out and clocks the Full Nelson-er in the jaw, causing him to release Dan and fall to the ground. The other douche takes a swing at Jeff, but misses while Jeff catches him with an upper cut.

Everyone is whooping and hollering for one side or the other, but no one else makes a violent move. Jeff bows to everyone watching; a condescending action, but a deserved one also. The assholes that jumped Dan get up, holler a bunch of threats, and drive off. No one cares.

8

About an hour passes since the fight. Dan had a bruised stomach with a matching ego. He left with Brigette to go to her house. The lucky fucker… despite getting his ass handed to him, he’s still going to get some actual good ass handed to him.

And here I sit at the bar of The Beaver Den, beer in hand, smoking a clove cigarette (where the Hell did that come from?!), talking to total strangers. The guy I started talking to looks like a Gregory Peck with Downs Syndrome. The girl is a cross between Judy Garland and Julia Roberts, if that makes any sense…

“Well, Leo,” the guy says, “just keep your chin up. Tiffany should realize what a fucking great dude you are.” Booze has a wonderful effect that makes strangers love you and vice-versa.

“Yeah,” says the chick, “You’re cute. I mean, you’re no Spencer (Hills… kill me), but you’re okay.”

“You guys,” I can’t stop smoking the clove, which is about burning my lips at this point, “Tiffany is… more than okay. She’s more than ever!” I realize that ‘more than ever’ doesn’t make sense in this context, but don’t care. I spit out the clove and light a regular smoke as soon as the clove leaves my mouth.

“Dude… Leo!” the guy yells like he’s out of breath, “Everything. Will. Be. Alright.”

“I know. She’s just so fine and what-not.” I say back. I eye the bottom floor of The Den, looking for Tiffany. She disappeared after we were together. Maybe she left. Maybe she left with someone else. Sometimes I hate my thoughts.

“Who the fuck!” a voice is heard from upstairs along with footsteps towards the staircase.

“Oh, fuck… here she comes,” the guy says in a whisper towards his womanly counterpart. And from atop the staircase appear those amazing legs, followed by hips sharp like razors, followed by a torso curved so beautifully that it made you believe in God, followed by a beautiful round face containing sharp blue eyes, followed by hair red like leaves in fall.

“Is somebody talking about Tiffany?” Watching her mouth move is like looking at Aphrodities’ tits.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask, squinting at the lights that seem to back-light her curves.

“Leo… Why are you guys talking about me? Leave me alone.” Ouch. My heart.

“Tiffany, would you like to go out with me sometime. Sober, even?” Asking this question after 15-some-odd beers still makes my heart beat fast.

“Ugh… come outside with me, Leo.” This reply lets me know to prepare for the worst.

9

Tiffany amazes in the moon light. Her eye color responds well to the lack of abundant light by glowing themselves. Her hair reflects ideas of the Heaven I felt earlier.

“Leo, I’m sorry. I don’t feel like we would make a good couple.”

“Didn’t you feel anything earlier?” I ask. “I felt electricity. Why didn’t you feel the same?”

“Because you don’t give off the same voltage.” I hate when people think of clever comparisons to things I’ve said.

“Well, so you don’t like me… Fuck you.” I tell Tiffany. This makes her soft, delicate lips pout and tremble a little.

“It’s not that I don’t like you… It’s that I don’t want to date you,” she confides, trying to throw water on the bridges I’m covering with lighter fluid.

“Why not? Am I too fat? Am I too ugly?” My insecurity is starting to show. The match is lit.

“No! You’re just not the kind of guy I would date.” She’s right. Her boyfriends up to this point have been asshole jocks. The type of douche you’re surprised hasn’t hit her. The same guys along the line of those that beat up Dan.

“I’m sorry I’m not an asshole!” I shout, thinking that would shut her up. ‘Boom!’ goes the bridge

“Oh, but you so fucking are!” Tiffany shot back. And she was right. The second those words left her mouth, I knew that she was right. Leave it to The Beaver to show how wrong I am.

“I’m sorry…” I tried to amend.

“Shut up and give me a cigarette,” she said with eyes that shined like tears were too afraid to dive from the ducts.

I took two out of my pack and handed one to her. The last two, signifying the night’s end. I lit one for me, then the one I gave to her.

10

The world is filled with sadists. The assholes stuck in early morning traffic that complain so heavily want to be there. The assholes that beat the hell out of irrationally upset drunks prove that they want to be hated. The self-loathing cynical losers that do nothing but tear people when they get rejected, even though all of us want to be sad. What stops us from leaving? What stops us from giving in and shooting up our respective circles? What stops us from adventuring outward?

Humanity is full of fright. Especially when it comes to leaving what you know. Even when what you know is the opposite of what you want.

This story was originally published on Supraterranean in August 2009. *View Jim Thompson’s photo on Flickr.

View Fighting For Love On Mars at Supraterranean

View Meeting Devin at Supraterranean

Here was the conversation as it actually happened:

“Oh, so you play drums.”

“Yeah . . . you too?”

“Uh-huh, this is my big paycheck, I lead the band.”

“Cool, man. Dig it.”

And here’s the conversation that wasn’t happening:

“So you’re here to steal MY blankets to sleep with MY girl?”

“Sounds about right.”

“And this doesn’t bother you?”

“Nah man, a girl like this you can’t control, she’s like the wind.”

Well, I sure got a taste of my own medicine when I tried to let Annabella’s crazy antics fly in the secular world of Washington Heights. My band was playing a show, and just as our singer spit the words “I don’t need another lover to complicate the situation,” Annabella was outside rounding up people for an orgy.

This wasn’t her first attempt, either. Previously she’d tried to swing a three-way between me and her other boyfriend while her pops watched. Needless to say I did my best to bow out of that one, but this time she caught me all sorts of fucked up and ready for anything. Problem was, by the time we got to leaving the bar, there were only 2 girls in the group and about 7 or 8 guys. Annabella wasn’t setting us up for an orgy; she was shooting for a gang bang.

As the second half of the crew drove off to meet us at the apartment, it was Anabella, our friend Stacy, Conrad, Harold and myself who walked down through the Bronx that evening to Washington Heights; the girls stripping down to their panties and screaming the whole way. Crowds were forming around them as they urinated down city steps and fingered each other. It wasn’t long before they were totally naked and walking past the 50th precinct. Harold and I were in a total panic, but the cops just smiled and waved.

When we got to Stacy’s place we were stopped by an off-duty Bx7 line. “HEY YOU GUYS, COME HERE, I WANNA TAKE A PICTURE” the driver shouted. He looked as though he’d had a few to drink himself. He invited us on the bus and quickly explained that he had a camera somewhere and that we’d have to wait for it. In the meantime he offered to drive us around.

This was good enough for the rest of the crew, who hopped into the back, got naked, and began to fuck, but Harold was skeptical – for one thing, we didn’t need to go anywhere, we were already at our apartment, and for another, where was this guy’s camera?

Finally, after the fifth or sixth loop around the block, Harold noticed the driver starting to slip out of his pants. He grabbed us by the hair shouting “THIS IS OUR STOP” and flipped the door switch out of the driver’s hand. As we bolted out into the street, the driver came to a halt and stood at the side of the road glaring at us. For the rest of the evening, each time I’d walk to the bodega to get more beer, he’d be right there in his bus demanding I come over to take care of some “unfinished business.”

Back in the apartment, everyone who’d been admiring Annabella all evening hopped on her like a 25-cent grocery store ride with me in the corner getting drunk. I got into the fray for a little while and even tried shit with Stacy, but it just wasn’t the same. Seven guys to two girls just isn’t right.

Other guys in the room sensed this too and asked if I was really down with them balling my girl. The response every time would be one which, just a week before, I’d been pretty fond of: “a girl like this you can’t control, she’s like the wind.”

As the evening wound down I found myself sitting with a couple of the benchwarmers downing the rest of the 40s. The conversation between them went as follows:

“I think everyone in here thinks you’re gay.”

“Nuh-uh, everyone in here thinks YOU’RE gay.”

My sole contribution:

“You’re both gay, now shut up so I can get some sleep!”

The next morning insecurities were still riding high. The first thing I saw was Annabella in the middle of a mass of naked bodies vaguely resembling the pantheon. I had a Clash sort of “should-I-stay-or-should-I-go” moment and eventually decided that she was happy and that was good enough for me. She was shipping out to another festival that night though and I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to say goodbye. I grabbed every coin in the room and flipped them for an answer. Each concluded that I should go, but I didn’t like that answer. I sat on the corner of the bed with my pants and shoes on for a minute when out of nowhere, Annabella throws everyone to the floor and tackles me. “What are you doing,” she says, “jealousy isn’t a good look for you.”

We spent the rest of the day together in the apartment fucking – she’d apparently only been with really lazy hippie lovers and needed a good old fashioned Jersey railing to spice up her life – when she started spouting stuff about love. Not the hippie sort of “I love everybody” routine either, but things like “I know saying you’re the love of my life is clichéd, but you make me LOVE my life and I love you more than anything.” Shit was starting to smell of monogamy, and since we really didn’t have anything else in common, that was all she’d talk about. Every other sentence was about how she could see us together for ever and she would die for me. Every sentence besides that was about the moon being in Aquarius and the spirits mingling with the goddess for some kind of celestial kegger. Needless to say, I was getting a headache.

I took her to a Harlem pickup game and she couldn’t grasp it. She’d honestly never seen basketball before. She told me that these “natives” with their “ritualistic chakra cleansings” were just what she needed to “ease her spirit” before it was forcibly “removed from her body” by the “evil force.” I looked down at my hand and caught that it was tightly wound in a fist. I’d never been this frustrated with anyone before.

“Do you ever listen to yourself speak, or do you just black whenever your lips start flapping?!” I demanded.

She just looked at me and smiled. “I know, I know, I’d be thinking the same thing if someone started spouting this bullshit at me. I’m surprised you’ve even put up with it for so long.”

So needless to say, I’m through with hippie chicks. Somebody get me a nice businesswoman in pants suits.

View The Disproportionate Orgy at Supraterranean

After making this affirmation, Bob’s gaze shifted back down to his unfamiliar bed. In it, curled next to him, was a figure of particular heft and altitude. From under the comforter protruded the most heinous set of bunions he had ever seen, and somewhere amidst them was a pair of feet too. He knew he had to get out of there before this sleeping giant awoke, but his pants were nowhere to be seen.

Throwing himself upon a set of scattered dresser drawers, Bob rifled through for dear life. The only thing not covered in blood or semen was a bleach-stained floral print muumuu. He was about to throw it back when he heard a coarse, screeching yawn from the bed and knew it was too late.

Walking out onto the streets, Bob was hollered at by everyone he passed. It annoyed him at first, but then he realized how easily free shit started coming his way. He never had to pay for a train ride or cigarette again. He could even get some lovesick businessman to buy him the 40s he needed.

“Thank God I 86’d that mustache the other day,” Bob thought as a stockbroker bought him a half dozen St. Ides, “or else this scam woulda never worked!”

Clutching the bottles in hand and waiting for another train, Bob thought to himself about women’s rights and equality. He couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would want to relinquish free gifts like these just to be on a level playing field with the opposite sex. As a man, he had to busk his ass off in the streets to make money; learning how to play guitar since no one would support a bum with no talents. But within his first 12 hours dressed as a woman, he’d raked in more freebies than he could ever imagine.

Just then, a group of scantily clad Jezebels approached twirling purses filled with bricks. “Look at the new girl,” one laughed amidst dainty chomps of a White Owl stogy. “Cuttin’ in on our territory and not givin’ us a cut!”

“Poor form,” said the hooker at the head of the pack, and before Bob could get a word in he was on the receiving end of an imitation Prada pummeling. Somewhere in the fray his bottles fell and smashed with a vibration that ricocheted off the linoleum walls.

The fight was called when there were no more press-on nails to reapply. The head hooker rallied her troops, gave Bob one last kick in the ribs, and said “You ain’t getting no more freebies in this town looking like that. Now you godda work for it like the rest of us!”

As they left the terminal, Bob sat on his bench and wept. Even dressed as a woman, he couldn’t find it in him to hit a woman back. What’s more, without the alcohol he knew we wouldn’t allow him in the apartment, and he didn’t even have money for a train ticket. He was at an all time low when a pudgy business type waddled in and took the empty seat next to his.

“What’s wrong dollface?” said the suit as he produced a tissue and wiped Bob’s tears. “So you got a little banged up, it’s a rough neighborhood, that sort of thing’s bound to happen.”

“But,” he said as he whipped out a wad of bills, “at least your lips still look good.”

View What’s Wrong, Dollface? at Supraterranean

“They’re the tastiest!”says Scorager, who is camped in a symbolic lack of luxury – one 1974 Dodge Caravan with nothing more than the last remaining case of Peach flavored UNITHONG panties.

“You could say this is the only thing I have left to live for,” says Scorager.”NO, really, you couldsay that. I don’t even like when women wear them anymore. It’s fucked up. I can’t help it. I just want to eat the panties.”

Scorager then went on to describe his diet consisting of different flavored panties to correlate with the days meals. “Each one has to be a three courser,” says Scorager. “Seriously, I need some help. This is a cry for help.”

Scorager, having recently only come out of his household shower (in which he subsisted on only Unithong panties and tears), has developed what scientists like to call “Panty-gut;” a self-inflicted disease not dissimilar to scurvy, in which one’s tear ducts become relocated to the salivary glands. “Why are you laughing when I talk, I seriously need help. You’re the first person I’ve ever felt comfortable enough to reach out to. Why don’t you acknowledge what I say? Turn the tape recorder off!”

When asked when Scorager was planning to come out it was suggested that the interview be ended and that I never come back

View Martin Scorager at Supraterranean

A form of pure excitement infused and consumed with happiness.

Then a mission a massive improbability defeated by skill knowledge and planning.

Eggs over-easy. Recruitment plans detailed. A punk show. Some crazies.

Pancakes. Soundwave weapons, and community planning. Things started to happen faster.

We built the school. We recruited parents with prospective kids, prospective parents, and teachers building the community.

Adding to it ourselves popping out a boy then a girl. We taught, we fought and sometimes even parented.

* * *

Pitt, he got his name at four or five when he decided to make a pool and dug a giant hole

while we were out reclaiming some plutonium the Army “lost” to one of the remnant factions of the neocons.

He spent all summer digging that hole, more I think because he was trying to live up to his new name, than wanting a pool that bad.

Of course after I got the pool plumbed and self heated using a reflective bottom and a greenhouse canopy.

But Courtney had to spoil things showing him another Pitt to use a s a namesake.

Sethra got her name at about the same age when she beat me for the first time in SC2. She was already familiar with the character

and took it as a great compliment. It took three days for her conscience to win out and confess to hacking.

“Cheating’s ok as long as you accept the repercussions,. noogie time!”

Everything and everyone seemed to accelerate changing to rapidly for me to catch.

The kids covering the biology I learned in college in elementary.

Craig and Jen running the school deciding what info needed to be disseminated to the elite of the next direction.

Ryan and Marc making weapons then creating defenses against them.

I was falling behind. The only times I caught up or pulled ahead were concerts, opps, and doin it.

Time was moving faster than I could handle.

* * *

“The West Wing, Scrubs, Homicide,,, My So Called Life” Courtney “Are you only letting them watch the stuff you grew up with?”

“Yyyeeessssssss”

“Don’t you think you’re depriving them of being a part of modern culture.”

“Modern culture is for rejects and retards. So yes I will “deprive them of that.”

“And the only regular tv you’ll let them watch will be Browns games right?”

* * *

“And the UFC, for educational purposes.”

“Hey Jen! Vers finally lost it!” Craig yelled across the office.

“How’s that?” Jen

“You should have a religion class.” I

“Says the penultimate atheist.” Craig

“Think of it like a vaccination, a dose of the virus without the ability to reproduce.

Tell them all the stories showing them the incompatibilities, impossibilities and internal contradictions, those will be the antibodies.

You already have a mythology class what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?, the big deal is mythology at least has some good writing.” Craig

“Zing!” Jen

* * *

As I sat in bed kneeled staring at myself chugging a milkjug of coolaid I wondered how I got so sweet.

I went down to get some food and found Trudy and Shade making meatnormises while Courtney was giving

the youngins a run down of what material was being covered according to their teachers’ planners.

“Isn’t that cheating?” I asked.

“It’s called reconnaissance Courtney

“We could intimidate and threaten them instead.” Sethra

“Blackmail?”

“Hold em hostage.” Shade

“Is torture going to far?” Trudy

Nos came from everywhere.

“Are your classes that hard?” I

“No, they’re great, this is just for entertainment purposes.” Sethra

Pitt “I think we should be spending more time discussing issues that are contested rather than

wrote memorization.”

‘Hhmmpf…he wants a class on “What the Browns need to do to win the AFC North.” Sethra

“I like it, maybe we could make it into a practical by terrorizing the Learner family into giving us personnel control.” I

I received stares from all directions.

“What you can do it, but I can’t.”

* * *

We painted a happytree rasturbation in one of the upstairs rooms, planned to take

out a known East African arms dealer and me and Courtney hooked up with the German teacher Mrs. Alexander.

It was a good day.

* * *

For breakfast we had german pancakes with fresh berries, whole and or mashed up into an almost jam.

Later I went to the shop to see if Ryan could whip something up for this ‘party’ I was planning.

“So, Ryan, you know those soundwave weapon dohickeys, do you think we could use them as speakers?”

“So you can kill people with music?”

“I want to put them in the pool, and like there aren’t any pool speakers remotely close to powerful

enough to make you feel the music the same way as you do standing in front of a regular speaker.

And I figure that if the 50 cal only penetrates three feet into water those soundwaves would create something

where the bass would toss you around and the treble blasts through your body vibrating all your small bones the same way regular bass vibrates the long bones.”

“Sounds plausible, when do you need them by?”

“Not for quite sometime. This is like step one of like lots in having a party at the house.”

“I’ll have em ready in two weeks.”

“You just said it was plausible a minute ago.”

“I didn’t care at that point.”

* * *

We put “the monster jumper” rasturbation in another room, planned a raid on a white pride group in Virginia, and I put it to Courtney real good.

It was a good day.

* * *

I reach out and hold her tight, it’s all I need.

And there’s my pet three headed dragon,

we’re out on the beach playing, fucking around and shit and one of the heads steals my hat and acts all retarded.

Then another takes it, does the same, and then the third, but on him it’s fuckin perfect he’s totally a fuckin tard.

And from then on I take them everywhere, and we go to Walmart, and Scott is there and he’s like

“What do you feed them?” and I’m like “Customers, nobody’s ever gonna miss these people.”

“Don’t you worry about their cholesterol

“They burn it off!!!” Hahahahahahhah.,. they’re fucking dragons they don’t have cholesterol.”

“But I might have to start towing away their cars.” I wondered as the dragons tossed back a few fatties

And then we went and played at the park. It was awesome. I loved those dragons,,. I woke up.

Still, they were great pets.

Potato pancakes for breakfast. Talk to the kids about the relationships between lines of fire and zone defense.

Ask Ryan for random ways to store a breath of oxygen. Go to sleep with Courtney.

Just knowing she existed would keep me going forever, but actually touching her, holding her, she felt like home. I sunk into the feeling.

* * *

I woke up with Courtney lying next to me her embrace sa,, Coffee I smell coffee. I scrambled downstairs and found we had unexpected visitors, the very best kind.

I smiled an earth shattering smile hugged them all ran over grabbed some food, the coffee pot, and herded them all into the living room.

Why, because these were people that made not being comfortable impossible.

Von and Vanessa were already engaged with the kids, Allie and Brandon interrogating Trudy on the effects of THC on lammas, on which she surprisingly know enough to

speak authoritatively. By that time I had enough sugar and caffeine to allow me to function.

“You want to put candy all over a lamma and to do this you want to get him stoned?”

“”If everybody shotgunned him he’s have to get high.” Brandon

“I like it.” Shade said a little too seriously.

“Can we try to get him to dance with us?” I

“Of course he’ll dance.” Brandon and Courtney said at the same time but in totally different ways.

At the shop Marc showed us some electron emmisomething something, lightning gun, it was sweet.

I asked Ryan if there was a good way to have an Abyss type entrance from the pool to the house, but he didn’t get what

I was saying so I told him I’d download it and show him. “Meanwhile how bout you work up some super evaporation fabrics.”

“Are you trying to create the next level of exercise apparel

“Fuck no, I love the feel of sweat, I just dislike wet swimsuits sometimes.”

“And you want me, me to work on it?”

“Umhm.”

Courtney and I spent the night snuggling. It was a straight up snuggle fest. I felt the carebears approve, understanding them far better.

* * *

“So we’ve got all these nukes that we don’t need right? I say we shoot em into space and blow em up in like prime numbers to

show anyone out there that might be watching there is intelligence out here.”

“But what if there’s martians and they think we’re trying to attack them.”

“We wouldn’t set them off in the solar system, if it’s possible I’d like em to go off outside the galaxy so there’s

more chance someone could see it. It would probably take like thousands of years, or fuck millions, I don’t know, and millions more for someone to see it,

but wouldn’t it be cool to say to the universe “There was someone out there.”",. “Besides Bugs could kick his ass.”

“I wasn’t talking about Marvin just martians in general.”

“Oh.” “Hey Pitt do you think Bugs could whup any martian or just Marvin?”

“Any martian.”

“Couldn’t aliens pick up our radio signals?” Trudy

“On the scale of things and with all sorts of criss crossing radiation no way any alien is picking up shit.” I

“I mean send a huge radio signal emitter out into nowhere instead of nukes, we could send a lot more information.” Trudy

“Trudy, in your plan nothing, nothing blows up. What’s the point?” I

“He has you there.” Shade

* * *

I woke to a sense of warmth in my stomach. A feeling of deep contentment and growth, possibly bowel cancer.

“Babe if I had bowel cancer do you think, would you be ok with, if I called it Quato.”

We walked downstairs to find mulberry yummyness and coffee that I swore had a hint of cinnamon.

After scarfing some of each I began to listen to what everyone else was sayin, instead of just faking it, while nibbling and sipping seconds.

“I’ve got a debate today with Brittney Burrow in philosophy Sethra

“On what?” Trudy

“Abortion, she’s prochoice.” Sethra

“You’re prolife???” Courtney

“Prorequired. Population control.” Pitt

“And for Lit I wrote a poem about rainbows!” Sethra

“Elitist rainbows that kill people?” Trudy

Later Ryan told us all about something or other.

I was staring at Courtney’s butt the whole time so I didn’t catch any of it, I hope she did.

Then Courtney told us all about capturing some people for some reason but the tank top was too much.

* * *

“How’d the debate go?” Trudy

“I won.” “She accepted my position

“What won the tight ass over?” I

“She was ok with any population control as long as there wouldn’t be any more of me.” Sethra

“No need to worry on that front.” Pitt said causing Trudy to tilt her head and Shade to smile.

“How was practice?” I asked Pitt

“The coach is a tard farmer.” Sethra

* * *

“It was good, we’re installing a spread option offense and running a tampa two.” Pitt

“He’s a tard farmer.” Sethra

* * *

Courtney’s hair. Courtney’s hair in my face. It feels good.

It feels nice. And I’m climbing again. It’s a cliff a thousand feet high.

and I’m there in the middle. And I’m in bed arched back looking out the window and I can’t understand. I’m climbing, climbing with purpose.

I woke up slowly but for realzies with my head mirroring Courtney’s which makes whatever happened insignificant, but still..

“Have I ever gone mountain climbing in South America?”

“You don’t even know how.”

Downstairs eating breakfast. “I want to go to USC next year.” Pitt

“For what?” Courtney

“Chicks.” Pitt

“Hell yeah.” I

“I going to go too.” Sethra

“And you want to go for?” Trudy

“The chicks.” Sethra

* * *

Sethra was failing number theory cause she wrote about how 7′s were happier than 3′s “Did you mention 3′s Look like E’s, and E’s suck?” I asked

“He said it didn’t prove anything, and

I told him ‘That’s why it’s still a theory.’ Then he just got pissed and told me to leave.” Sethra

“I was planning on flunking Latin.” Pitt

“And…” Sethra

“I ended up flunking Microbiology.”

“Because..” Sethra

“I stopped screwing Ms. O. and started screwing Dr. Reuss.”

“And..” Sethra

“They’re sisters.” Pitt

Shade gave him a hi-five while Trudy gave an evil look to both.

Me, Court, Truddloo, and Shade spent the afternoon tripping on shrooms and playing in haystacks.

Losing track of who was what and what was who.

Tunneling and tunneling over under around and through an endless ten foot circle.

* * *

Strength flows through me spreading and multiplying, completing and renewing.

Coffee was being poured in my mouth.

I looked up.

“How do you feel about us raising you to be super intelligent weapons.” Courtney

“It’s pretty fucked up.” Pitt

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sethra

“Well we may need those skills.” Court

We all gave a wtf look except Sethra smiling and eager with Pitt exclaiming “Yessss”

Courtney nodded towards the opening door where Ryan was entering.

“We need to take out Kim Yong-chun, we need to do it now. He’s given command and control to field officers.” Ryan

“Why?” I

“He can’t win.” Courtney

“The Chinese will crush him.” Trudy

“Cause he’s crazy.” Pitt

“He has the power he’ll use it whatever the results.” Sethra

“Possible casualties?” Shade

“This could start WWIII.” Ryan

“Direct casualties, how many.” I

“100, 150 million.” Sethra

“What happens if we kill him?” said Courtney earning her some looks. “I mean how bad could the repercussions be?” Courtney

“It’s 100 million people it doesn’t matter what the repercussions are.” Pitt

“It would be a group of Americans killing the leader of powerful country that itself could trigger III” Trudy

“III centered and directed at the US.” Shade

They all looked to me. “We just won’t get caught then.”

“So what do we do?” Pitt

“You guys go to school, Ryan back to work, and the rest of us are gonna finish planning the party.” I said which was returned with a blank stares.

“I’m really starting to get paranoid about our movements being watched I don’t want anyone to think we’re about to make a move.”

“How can we plan without any time. This is a major operation it needs major recon and major logistics.”

“We have few days we’ll do it when we should be sleeping. A few modafinil each and we won’t even mind. That and some addys.”

“Drugs during a world crisis? Naughty naughty.” said Pitt smiling

“We’re already on every steroid, hormone, and SCGT just stay in shape. You don’t think that has more of an effect on our mental states than any psychotropic ever could?” Trudy

“Wait till we start jacking shit during the operation. You’ll change your mind.” Shade

Me and Courtney could add nothing more than to smile and nod.

“What about Ryan coming over couldn’t someone have noticed that?” Trudy

“If they know us that well then we were fucked before this even happened.” Sethra “Vlad logic.” she said explaining her statement

“Ok then, so, to summerize we’re going to throw a huge party while planning a globe changing assassination,

trying to pull it all off unnoticed in under three days cause that’s how long it will take to put mass destruction into the hands off crazies. This is gonna be fun.”

“You know we might have been better prepared for this if you’d let us come on operations Sethra

“We haven’t had any opps in three years.” Courtney said. Sethra just stared.

“I’m sorry if I was an overprotective mother not letting my fourteen year old fight against trained killers.”

“So I was thinking on part of the pool bottom we could put that OLED film across the all of it, and I

know the whole point of having the glass is so the people in the basement and the swimmers can see each other, but what if we leave

the film mostly transparent and have wonderful images floating around every once in a while.” I

“Like fish and shit swimming around?” Courtney

“If we add rainbows and stuff I’m in.” Trudy “In” “In”

* * *

That evening instead of me and Courtney scoring the new bagger girl at the grocery store the six of us

gathered, the other four presumably feeling the same minus the bagger girl guilt. So entirely different.

“So we’ll get some Russian gear and pretend to be, ya know, Russian.” I

“We might need a few more details to ‘ya know’ survive.” Courtney

“Pitts has arms connections in Russia.” Courtney gave him an astonished look.

I continued “Sethra is the best strategist, loathes disagreement, let alone compromise.”

Courtney acknowledged the first begrudgingly the second enthusiastically.

“That and the grocery doesn’t close for another ten minutes.”

“The little brunette bagger girl?” Pitt

“Hell yeah!”

“Five bucks says she goes nuts on top.” Pitt “It’s an eight or ninth sense.”

* * *

We woke up, I think simultaneously, Brook tucked into my right arm Courtney’s head

resting on my left pec staring up at me smiling.

“Breakfast.” A like twelve syllable word for me.

We stumbled downstairs to find french toast and coffee. And the others.

“So how’s the planning committee?” Courtney

“The absolute best weapons Russia has to offer are stolen American weapons, and the second tier aren’t so great.

And Russian protection suits don’t exist as the only thing they have enough of to waste is people. But that’s ok cause we’ll just

install a burn mechanism in our suits.” Pitt

“You know Mrs. Butterworths had a breast reduction.” I interposed

“Really?” Sethra

“She used to have some real nice cans.” I “And you could tell she was black.”

“You guys planning to kill somebody in Russia?” Brook

“Korea, made to look like a Russian hit.” Sethra

“It’s kewl, we’re also throwing a party so our karma’s balanced.” Courtney

“He’s evil karma’s on our side there too.” I

“I don’t think karma approves of killing in general.” Trudy

“As long as what you’re doing is good overall you’re fine.” Brook

Courtney replied “For the forseeable future.”

“Ah but who holds vigil on the unforseeable future.” I

“Blind people.” Pitt, lollers.

“How the hell are you two gonna focus during class?” Shade

“It’s neurobiology you don’t need to focus.” Sethra

Shade gave her a look.

“It’s the only discipline where you stress the things you don’t know and why you can’t know them.” Sethra

“It’s galileo prevention.” I “In the past the gods were among the stars, when he showed

the stars were not as they thought he destroyed/altered their vision of god.

Now god is in their minds. They must protect him and keep him from change. The better question is how am I gonna focus?”

* * *

“Vers” “Vers. Are you ready?” Shade

“I’m always fucking ready motherfucker.”

“What were you thinking about.”

“I was trying to permanently burn last night into my mind by reexperiencing it with all my senses.

Of course I’ve already lost nearly all of it besides a few hi-lights and general thoughts and feelings.”

“It’s not lost it just isn’t right in front of you. When you start to have similar sensations it’ll come back.” Courtney “Just take some serotonin

I gave a confused look.

“We attached it to bradykinin molecules to smuggle it across the blood brain barrier, it’s the yellow button.” Shade

I smiled and hit it. A few seconds later I really smiled wideyed.

“What are the other buttons?”

Pointing “Meth, MDMA, serotonin, adrenalin, heroine, morphine, psilocybin, LSD.”

“People do work better when they’re happy.” I

“Makes up for the crap weaponry.” Courtney said with a shit eating grin.

As the compound came into sight three planes few by traveling many times faster leaving something like a sonic explosion.

Our only outside help was gone from view even before the antiaircraft guns erupted into flames.

Ryan and Marc our piolets slowed allowing us to exit, those stationary laying down cover fire for those descending.

My group of Sethra, Jen and Craig alighted the south wing as I lowered a little further to the cut power and communications lines.

The hellis turned and fired as defenses emerged.

I placed mines on obvious feeds along with the hidden ones leaving one extra that I gave to a gnome hoping he’d know where to put it.

The other group Courtney, Trudy, Shade and Pitt were hopefully doing the same on their side. Hopefully as our lives depended on it.

The unmistakable feel of EMPs came from the tower, but the copters were protected from that as well as most everything else.

They were no Russian mass produced crap. The top floors of the central tower ceased to exist as Marc fired a rocket

while presumably Ryan engaged the signal jammer causing static to erupt from our short range communication system.

“With this much distortion we’ll need signal enhancers every thirty.” I

“What!?”

Maybe less I thought to myself.

Flash, and a moment passed as new lenses were replaced to my nightvision.

We raced into the building knowing all was lost if Yong-chun reached the escape tunnels.

The power went completely as the mines sounded.

Craig forced open the elevator doors and Jen shot down through them enough to ensure death to any possible occupants.

We jumped on top, Sethra swinging down for a second to click 5B and set a mine.

Counting the floors we stopped our selves at nine opened the doors descending the stairs as the we felt the boom.

I heard a staticy Pitt give coordinates for a bunkerbuster airstrike.

Then Courtney “How do you know?”

“It’s where I’d dig.”

Apparently it was enough. Both groups entered the sublevel to a blast of concrete and dust, the northerly tunnel collapsing.

“Three minute ETA on air support two minute scram time.” I barely heard Marc say.

Without even a word we separate again each group to one tunnel leaving the fourth open hoping the odds wouldn’t fail us.

A moment later my music cut out interrupted by Courtney “Something feels wrong.”

“This is no measured retreat, they’re on a suicide mission.” Trudy

“Take the fourth tunnel.” Sethra

* * *

My group met weak resistance one that meant they thought we were too late or on the wrong trail.

I drove myself faster sure I was on the right path.

“To me!” I yelled

“We’re coming.” Courtney

“1:30.” Marc

I prepared myself to round a bend and saw Courtney’s group sprinting towards us and smiled.

At opposite angles Craig and I led the way firing short range while Sethra sniped the long as Jen called out high explosion and long range weapons to her.

The sound of engines and a 90 degree turn lie ahead. “Wait there’s five…” Jen

I stridered off the far corner my high friction soles allowing me to jump off the wall shooting down on three guards as they tried to adjust their aim.

Craig swept down pivoting around the corner blindly backhanding a knife up and into the chest of one as he slid the length down the throat of another with a left reverse grip.

Ahead were five vehicles pulling away as the final passengers scrambled in.

All of them wearing nanodefense suits many of them of the same design.

We were essentially out of weapons.

Courtney had them five seconds behind.

I came flying down directly into a sprint drawing my firey katana taking a few well aimed shots from their rear guard.

Sethra let her dagger fly deflecting a grenade from my path.

“Fire forty yards in front of me n..!” The exit collapsed crushing the lead car.

A rocket flew by impacting near Jen.

I struck through their suits the fabric not contracting to the type of attack, they fall but I still take damage.

My sword flies out of my hands leaving me weaponless.

Sethra exchanged weapons with a perimeter guard shooting, reaiming, shooting the rear guard’s launcher to the ground.

Then she turned back throwing the gun back at him apparently not happy with it’s performance.

And we see Courtney’s team round the corner fully loaded.

Courtney shooting out the lights assuming our night lenses would work.

Mine did not.

I watched for muzzle flashes attacking at angles I knew not what.

Brightness and more brightness, the vehicles turned towards us accelerating.

“Me and Trude got the rear.” said Shade

I ran towards the vehicles trying to get past their firing angle bouncing off the impacts till I was through.

Courtney and Pitt take out several of their mounted artilleries.

Shade calls out “I got the lead car.” and two seconds later it explodes.

Sethra picked up my sword glowing brightly from the heat it emitted and stabbed it through the window of the second car killing the driver, losing the sword.

A shot fires from inside the car and someone was gently reminded that bullet proofing works both ways.

Pitt jumped on top of the second car bending down as the door opened snapping a neck.

But Pitt falls as the car lurches forward again.

Courtney takes out the armored car’s sensors blinding it.

The third car far ahead the second behind then the armored following blind scraping along the right wall.

The third is bolting Shade and Trudy the only ones in the way

Shade crouched his minimech suit leaning and thrusting forward up under and into the front transaxel flipping the vehicle.

Two exited from the far side trying to set a perimeter as the other cars came to their defense.

Yong must be a passenger of the flipped car.

Sethra had regained her dagger, I had regained my focus adding the necessary chemicals and blasting NFG.

“And if I stop ever thinking of you”

We all converged.

* * *

A larger more mechanized personnel armament device exited, it must be him.

The second car looks like it’s going to overshoot then applies the rear breaks and spins firing upon us but yielding no results.

I reached down to regain my sword and there was a pause

this tiny fraction of a second, almost a moment, but comparatively forever.

* * *

guards exiting the armored car.

Courtney looking to Shade’s rear checking for reinforcements and seeing none.

Shade on Trudy taking in her positioning.

Trudy on Sethra, Sethra to Pitt. Pitt to Chun.

Racing forward a few steps, several sharp impacts, and we are upon them.

Sethra goes down in front of the main car but gets up savagely stabbing her opponent’s chest driving through lifting and throwing him back.

Those from the armored car occupy Shade.

Trudy and Pitt rush the main Pitt is blown back by a rocket fired by Chun.

I too headed for the main pack specifically at Chun but was waylaid by two elite guards and two of his personal honor guards.

I reluctantly drop my sword drawing my knives.

One honor guard took on Courtney, one went to finish off Pitt.

Two elites engaged with Trudy while Sethra takes three.

Shade crushes his four elites one at a time but takes a rocket to the back as he finishes.

Pitt cranks the honor guard moving on towards Chun.

I struggle with my twos making their differing styles conflict with each other.

The Hg’s looking to make a single finalizing blow, the Elites looking to gain any slight advantage.

Courtney scored an ippon throwing her Hg to the side towards Trudy.

Trudy receives him her Elites still falling her knives spraying blood.

Sethra kills one, two allowing the third to strike. Into her chest he drives it home, she reaches back around finishing him, stumbles.

Pitt slips with Chun’s strikes taking punishment looking for an angle.

I block an Hg to strongly letting an Elite to take my side.

It sinks in deep but he’s given up the Hg’s back and Courtney takes it.

I step forward taking one in each arm pushing forward letting my arms slide.

As my knives slash across each chest I pull back slightly and sharply then plunge them home.

Courtney eviscerates the other my sword pulsing in her hands.

And Pitt goes down.

* * *

Bullrushing Shade attacks but Chun’s mech is stronger and tosses Shade to the side.

I tackle him at the knees knocking him to his back.

And Courtney plunges the sword into his chest nailing him to the ground.

He struggles to move. In anger I tear his helmet off.

And it’s Tran and he smiles, everything explodes.

* * *

Aaaaaaaahahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

* * *

Rrrrrraaaaagggggggh

* * *

“We pulled him out too quickly he couldn’t readjust.”

* * *

“His brain activity went off the charts .07 degrees above the temp we used for routine nutrient infusions.”

“And when we tried to ease it back down his mind crashed. All activity stopped.”

“We went back to the planned process hoping to regain him with traditional DBS once he was fully animated again.”

“But he came back where he left off, mind racing. We thought we might get his functions back and deliver neurologic depressants directly into the carotid, but he went blank again just before we got his heart started.”

* * *

“He blew a fuse in his mind. There was too much, too rapid change.”

“Now there’s just random spiking in a few brain centers. The bad ones.”

* * *

“I’m going to be taking over. I’m going to bring him back.”

View Spell-Checked Padding, pt. 4 at Supraterranean

He wasn’t sure the call was from Janine, but he knew it probably was. He reasoned as clearly as he could, his mind clouded by the five milligrams of Vicodin he’d swallowed an hour ago. Five milligrams wasn’t much, not by any addict’s standards, but then, he wasn’t an addict. Just a man who was done feeling for the day and whose friend had undergone dental surgery and didn’t like painkillers. At most he took one pill a week on Friday nights when he was alone, or wanted to be.

Last Friday night Janine had come over unexpectedly. Not exactly uninvited, but the idea hadn’t been his either. So he hadn’t felt too bad about surreptitiously ingesting a pill while she’d been in the bathroom. She’d stayed over that night too, which had been okay. He liked a warm body next to him in bed; it could even be soothing if it was the right person keeping him company. Janine probably wasn’t right, but she wasn’t necessarily wrong, and so it had been okay for her to sleep over.

It was just the morning after that he dreaded. As Janine would practice and preach, Saturday mornings are for sleeping in. He knew that’s what he was supposed to believe, and sometimes, he even wished that he agreed. But in his world, Saturday mornings were for working, not for cuddling and bagels and newspapers and slowly sipped cups of coffee.

And Friday nights, they were for sleeping. Or at least lying prone, motionless, letting thoughts blur into unimportance.

Janine thought Fridays were for fun, to take advantage of all New York had to offer, and she’d told him last week that their Blockbuster night was an exception. She’d stay in with him this once, she’d said, but in general, he needed to get out more. With her.

He hadn’t argued—the Vicodin had kicked in by then—but if he’d had the energy to speak he might have disagreed, would have considered explaining how little her opinions mattered to him. Instead, he’d shifted his position on the couch, making a gesture that could have been interpreted as a shrug.

He didn’t care much about Janine, but he cared that she was calling him at eleven thirty on a Friday night. He envisioned her standing in a bathroom stall at whatever swanky bar, probably in the meatpacking district, she and her friends were spending their paychecks at that evening. He mentally debated her intentions, whether she’d implore him to come out or insist on coming over. He decided quickly that the best way to avoid either was to do nothing.

The buzzing stopped. Seconds later, maybe a minute, another vibration resonated at the small table next to his bed. Voicemail.

The next morning at seven fifteen he was halfway to the diner when he decided to check his messages. He’d remembered the unwanted phone call as soon as he awoke, and before a short shower, he had verified that it was Janine who had disturbed him. After getting dressed and leaving his apartment to get a quick breakfast, he’d summoned the will to hear her voice.

“Kyyyyle, don’t be an old fart. Call me back and come meet us! Pllllease, you are only twenty-eight.”

The way she said please, it sounded like a question and a demand at the same time. Janine’s ability to convincingly whine was impressive if not attractive. He was sure there were men who would have felt tempted to accept her plea for companionship. But those men would have answered the phone. Or really, he figured, those men would have called her first. He didn’t understand why women bothered to pursue him. It was against the natural order of things. It wasn’t that he opposed feminine independence; it was just that it didn’t work. Once a woman pursued him, he lost interest. Every time. Especially if she was sexually appealing.

The Westway Café was not crowded yet, but even so he didn’t notice the girl until he had almost finished his omelet. She was in a booth at the back, near the kitchen, typing on a laptop. A coffee mug sat to her left on the edge of the table. It was accompanied by an empty juice glass and half a glass of chocolate milk. He toyed with the idea of approaching her, asking if she was thirsty. He hated pickup lines, but it was hard to meet a stranger without one. He shifted his gaze to the window and focused his eyes on the people walking down Broadway while he considered the pros and cons of a possible conversation.

Pro: She was using a laptop in a diner early on a Saturday morning. It was unlikely she had been up all night partying. But did that mean she was a fellow workaholic? Con: He didn’t need an enabler. He turned his head to look at her again. She appeared young enough to be a Columbia student, but old enough to have graduated, which put her in an acceptable age range. She had blonde hair and he preferred brunettes, but she wasn’t overweight.

He refocused his gaze and watched her as her fingers danced across her keyboard. Without glancing away from her screen, she reached for—maybe the coffee mug, but her forearm clipped the glass of milk and chocolaty brown liquid cascaded onto the floor. She looked over quickly, a hand flying up to cover her open mouth, and he jumped to his feet, as if to offer his assistance. She saw him move toward her, and a flicker of confusion passed across her face as he took three steps, turned around and walked out the door.

He had work to do.

© 2009 Christina Bryza. This story was previously published on Chronicles of New York on 11/9/09.

View Table for One at Supraterranean

This time all we had to do was write and sell infotech, and be regular cool nerdy folk.

We fit this description already except for the infotech, but we could fake it till we figured it out.

This wasn’t even as hard as it was to act like regular agents.

The three of us pooling our money could afford a small house all by itself a hundred miles from the city,

and with jobs that didn’t require much if any travel there proximity to L.A. wouldn’t matter.

And with an army base close by we could still head out Immediately for emergencies.

Keeping and promoting the rest of our team was Shade’s idea, and it turned out perfectly.

They moved into to three of the nearest neighboring houses.

Naturally Craig and Jen together. Just as naturally Ryan and Marc were together. Trudy was by herself renting.

Shade Courtney and I created our programming company by telling Ryan and Marc

to come up with something sweet so it was easier for us to act interested.

They decided we should pretend to be working on AI through a sort of digital natural selection.

Then they changed it to a digital representation of objects with completely accurate physics including

energy exchange and chemical reactions by

starting at an atomic level but scaling out when working with larger objects to

avoid using a redonk amount of computing power.

But then they changed it back when Jen pointed out that if we created the one it could create the other on its own.

Not that we could do it, but it was something to work for in between

defending our society from forces of evil.

Evil, lollers, more like defend our wealth and power from others wealth and power,

but I guess I did believe in some of the ideals I thought we were upholding, kind of.

After a few weeks of contouring ourselves into our new life positions, we

managed to confuse two private investors enough to give us a cool fifty mill starting funds

for twenty percent of our profits with no actual control of operations.

This was accomplished by abusing their sense of logic.

[i]I am super rich. Rich people are smart. Therefor I must be super smart.

I am super smart. I don’t understand what is being talked about. If someone is talking about something I don’t understand they must be super geniuses.[/i]

All it took was an hour’s conversation peppering in gibberish mixed with technical jargon to overcome their antintellectualism.

A few super computers and a gigantic cooling system spent nearly half the funds.

We might just have to produce some practical applications to keep this going.

*     *     *

On an unrelated note I wanted to make some reusable water bottles kind of like Nalgene,

but with home of poi lighting and effects. Make it a high end product that people would be proud of both for

it’s looks and the resources saved even compared with improbable 100% recycling rates

But Ryan and Marc shot that down pretty quickly so I just left it to them.

We, meaning me and Courtney, decided the only help normally needed for field operations would be Shade’s,

leaving Ryan, Marc, Craig, Jen, and Trudy to work full time on our semifake project.

Shade agreed except for Trudy. He pretended she was indispensable in Bo missions.

I was about to ask why, but Courtney flashed me a look telling me to just accept it and move on.

My group of four began retraining ourselves in acknowledgement of our lack of superiority shown by Blondie.

Our marksmanship needed to improve, along with our communication skills.

We needed to diversify our weapons arsenal, and diversify our own abilities,

meaning we had to crosstrain into other members’ specialties.

That along with adapting to the ever changing world of weapons tech

and adapting to the new era of personal protection suits kept us more than busy.

A few weeks into the assignment Ryan and Marc had finished off the whole water bottle thingy and

licensed it out for a few million plus a percentage of sales.

Those snooty nerd fuckers didn’t even apologize for talking shit about it.

The super quick albeit small return on their investment kept our investors happy.

The bad side of this was it meant we getting no where with our stated purpose.

We all got together to discuss the situation.

*     *     *

After meaningless salutations and bullshiting, I decided

as usual, that what I had to say was the most important and opened up with

“My belief is organic life is the only known way to create choice, and choice multiplied by reason

is the ultimate base of intelligence. So we must create digital life to attain digital intelligence.

To imitate life we must convert life’s attributes both internal and most likely external to an alternating one dimensional process.”

“This may be hard.

I think our efforts should be split in two. Maybe not ourselves splitting two different groups working on separate problems,

but rather separate the perspectives from which we think of this problem.

The first to fully understand how and why life actually is the way it is, both mentally (the complete picture of the decision making process) and the physical processes that create the environment in which the activity can take place, and of course self replication and improvement. Improvement may itself may be the single most important factor but I think we must explore the whole field to understand improvements full necessity.

The second how to translate our reality into a one dimensional format with only on and off to work with.

Think of it. How could we explain anything in one’s and zeros alone with no prior reference.

I hope and expect the two will explain each other, but we must at least recognize these two perspectives.

Let us first consider”

“Holy fucking shit” interrupted Courtney

“Holy shit what?” I replied knowing full well she about to mock the length, and presumed self importance, of my soliloquy.

“Holy shit, do you even know how gone you are?”

“It takes a little craziness to create something new, besides it’s fun, and despite that thoughtful comment, I think we should discuss some basic concepts of life from both angles.

Like the energy process.

In life there’s a complete full scale scavenging and transformation of free energy to its own energy forms and other necessary components.

In the computer world it is fed, or not, a simple standard single unit of energy without effort or the possibility of self control.

The need for consumable energy most likely creates need itself and the possibility of survival I suspect creates want.

Want becomes separate emotions that are moored in physical sensation and compressed memory.

These feelings based upon the desire to continue or prevent them then develop into a decision making process.

The decision making process being a main section and most likely the beginnings of we call thought.

Choice is then made when a majority of thoughts, feelings agree.

Or a different way of saying it is, thoughts are created by the memories, emotions, and sensations.

Past events being memory and emotions being compressed memory.

Each memory created in an effort to thrive or mearly survive, exist.

Existence made possible by energy.

It works both ways, forward and back.

Which in my experience shows the ring of truth”

“Missing like eight million steps and so far away from the level of complexity that it’ll probably mislead us more than it helps, but it’s a start.” Courtney

“Thanks Court.”

“Anytime.” she answered.

“Well what about working from the computers’ perspective. What’s a 1 what’s a 0″

“What if we ran a true dual processor one for input and one for reaction. creating rather simply a non one dimensional being

but something that can handle four possibilities

“What do you mean by true ‘dual processor’”

“One standard processor to interpret information that is dependant upon the reactions to the input

but itself creates the ability for the input to continue. A truly circular interdependent relationship”

“Ok, if I except that where would it lead us.”

“We’ll make the input realistic presenting real situations for the second processor to reprogram and react to and its survival will be determined by whether the reaction would have kept it alive in reality

“Yet again I ask how do you create choice, and if you simply state random chance I must say the ability will forever be limited to an inverse exponential figure of the input given.” Ryan

“How do we turn a guess into choice?” Marc

“We simply make it guess. But give it knowledge. Knowledge of the actions of others and its own past.”
“Giving it more and more complex questions and sometimes with more complex answers.” Court

“The first decision it must make is to reproduce, it’s the most basic life process.” Trudy

“The second is to grow more complex.” Shade

“Too allow complexity in these operations we must start with the simplest of commands, complexity is no where near second.” Marc

“The first should be memory.” Court

“No it can’t be memory that’s too complicated. I agree with reproduce then react, not grow.

Eventually they will need to grow but not next.” Shade

“How can they react when they have nothing to react with?” Court

“We’ll figure that out, but what will we have them react to is my question Marc

“We’ll start off with series of simple survival choices with limited response possibilities.

Those that survive our virtual world move on and will be given more abilities.” Ryan

“Along with memory it is essential to include the ability to at least conceive of the future, to allow for growth in between major choices of survival.” Court

“I believe dreams give us our conception of future. They give us a time where we make decisions forced upon us with no godlike control over

and we must and do respond but the choices have no real consequence just as the future does not directly effect the past yet defines it.

What ever that means.” I added

“I honestly have no idea what you guys are talking about.” Jen

“I don’t either, but I’m thinking that’s a good thing.” Craig said to Jen

I started in again “Another realistic factor is to have the possibility to delay response or even change the question forceably or at least approach it in a different way,

maybe even changing the situation by altering the enivronment.” then more confidently. “Yes, definitely, the ability to effect the environment creates freedom, which I think is a necessity to evolve and most likely to life itself.”

*     *     *

“It’s not getting it do complex things it’s getting it to want to do complex things” Shade

“Should we include a value on speed, I mean if the purpose is to produce

something that thinks faster than us if not better than us, well then I think we should some how inculcate a preference for expediency.” Trudy

“How could we do that,., maybe time alive is inverse to ability to make mistakes to a point, not absolute.” I

“We should allow for rest. Make choices necessary but not a constant pressure, at least not always.” Court

“It would be amusing to make death a removal from a system rather than destruction.” Marc

“And ship them off to computer heaven?” Trude

“Wouldn’t that be sweet?” Shade

“We should make it like reality, physical destruction apparent with the possibility of existence on another plane, however unlikely I

“But certainly a bad decision shouldn’t mean death, maybe multiple bad decisions or major bad decisions.” Shade

“A lesser punishment, the equalivent of pain.” Trude

“Yeah, I hadn’t made that connection yet, but thats totally what I mean.” Shade

“Make zero and one bad and good. A lack of one’s equals death., and maybe too many of them.” Marc

“That’s a good way to translate into one dimension

turn everything into good and bad pain and pleasure

life and death.” Shade

“You can’t boil life down to good vs bad it’s so much more than that.” Trudy

“No you can’t but it’s a good point to build from, and I believe it should start as simple as possible, but I freely admit this idea may be completely wrong and may

be what I see as the first misstep, the initial programming may need to include all the base properties that will exist later.” I

“I don’t see how we make a nonliving thing want something I don’t think it’s possible.” Ryan

“But it is.” “Or I don’t see how we could in the first place. We are purely and simply made of a few basic particles, or possibly strings, and yet we do think, we do want.

And since we do we must assume it’s possible somehow.” I

“So you think there is a natural tendency to or natural imbalance toward ability to want like the imbalance toward matter rather than antimatter.” Marc

“Yes I believe that’s true despite never exploring the thought fully or anywhere near that direction” I

“Meh” Ryan

“We have enough for a start?” I said looking mostly to Ryan, but also taking in others responses.

“Enough to fuck around and feel like we have a focus I guess.” Ryan

*     *     *

We had been given an assignment for the end of the month.

It seemed rather straight forward so we decided the best way to spend our time

till then was to go to the New found Glory concert on the 25th, leaving a few days to recover

before the mission.

Trudy unused to our forms of preparation asked “How the fuck are you going to fuck around at a concert when you should be

preparing for a fucking shootout?”
“Shade…” Court

“Look,.,., a NFG concert is like a thousand times more intense than a firefight, and its an

intensity that breeds more of itself leading you to a point where a shootout is kinda fun.

And that’s when you’re at your best when you’re having fun.”

“What?” Trudy

“It helps ok.” Shade

[i]The wall explodes into a dust cloud she appears crashing through head first as rubble rains down. Look left look right. Fire fire. Fire fire. One two. Three four.

She finally hits the floor looks staring up, currently forward, and fires, fires. Five six they drop, as she rolls to her feet sprinting forward.

At the intersection where the bodies of five and six lie she turns left ever so cutely. She runs on. Pulling out an automatic shotgun, she shoots open a doorway following with a few scattered shots

to clear her path. She throws the gun forward crossing arms and pulling out two grenades with each hand, the pins attached to her vest. She backhands them into the room

as she pulls out her hip sheathed P220s. She enters without slowing, a moment before the grenades explode. Bullets thunk into her suit jarring her yet failing to make her

stumble or lose control. The four guards react to the grenades emulating their behavior as she passes to the next room fire and fear riding at her heels. She pulls her backpack forward

opening it as she slows nearing the next intersection. Without a glance elsewhere she pulls out three mines setting them to five, ten and eighteen seconds. She picks up the ten and eighteen

second mine one in each hand as she starts them all. Taking shelter in a doorway the five second mine explodes with a massive force. She throws the second in

before the fire recedes. Time slows as four seconds melds into eternity as another explosion is felt, but lesser, further away. She waits a second longer and tosses the next. Attached to her vest

by a bungie from the backpack she fires a bolt into the wall, reloads the P220′s, closes her eyes, absorbs the concussion wave and dives into the three floor crater.

She bounces down once, observing. The second she adjusts her angle and aims at the single open area over and over not able to make out individuals through the dust.

The third decent she fires head shooting the remaining guards, detaches, and remotely kills the power as she pulls on night goggles. She pulls her final mine from the pack and places it on the wall.[/i]

Before me the wall erupted and with it my last hope. But the fire receded before it consumed us. A ghost walked in. A clunking thudding sound retreated towards the corner where our assailant waited for us.

They scrambled and screamed afraid of another such explosion. Pause. Pause, nothing. The ghost silhouettes a bowling motion and I hear an all to familiar sound of a C-13 frag rolling. It and they explode.

Courtney turned around and smiled at us. She signed for us to follow her showing that she at least was having some hearing problems. We ran past bodies turned a few corners

and entered an executive office. An executive office with a private access elevator. We entered it and as the doors shut the tension drained away, not because we were safe it was just that Santeria was playing. I mean how can you not be relaxed to Sublime. We went straight to the roof despite Shade wanting to stop at the sixthninth floor and entered the helicopter as Trudy let the copter drift past bodies still twitching and bleeding all across the roof. She did nice work.

*     *     *

A concert a mission and a good meal later we got back to our conversation.

“Going back to good and bad, from the very start I think we should strive to make what we see as good as what they see as good so we have the same goals.

And later when using real world situations we should occasionally check the projections with reality as a form of calibration.” Craig

“Dude you’re jumping ahead like super far.” I said

“I know, I just thought it needed to be said and I though I would get lost in the conversation and forget it.”

“Oh, ok, kewl, sorry”

“Kewl”

“At first I believe they should receive free energy and allow for exponential growth, but eventually they must at least partially convert their own energy to maintain life”

“That’s hardly important now we need to focus on the creation of memory, replication and growth.”

“Look at us we expect constant growth it seems fucking hardwired into us to just expect it, and

it’s quite possibly going to destroy us.”

We have control over its environment

we can limit their growth easily without making the programming more complicated.”

“If we intentionally change the environment it will destroy the evolution,

once we start with rules we must stick with them, otherwise I guarantee the system will crash. In all ways.”

“And I suspect that if we are to create something superior to us we must provide it with at least as accurate representation of its environment as our own preceptions.”

“I believe to be accurate we must allow for free growth initially because it’s there, but later they must choose to lose numbers to grow individually.”

“That would leave an ultimate survival of the fittest mentality.”

“Ooorr to grow more complex. Allowing for internal growth and external.”

“Can we stop now?” Ryan

“Sure., and you’ll be glad to know we have an assignment coming up on the 28th.” Courtney

“Glad you’re adding even more to our workload?” Marc

“No its just us three and Trudy”

“Then why do we care?” Craig

“Vers might get shot.”

Marc “Yes” overlapping with “Sweet” from Jen

“Super sweet” Ryan

“Super sweet times like 17.5.” Craig

I leaned over to Shade whispering “I get the feeling he added that .5 on just for effect.”

*     *     *

“Cofffeeeeeeeee!!” I yelled to Courtney all weak like, after rolling over laboriously and seeing she wasn’t there.

Ten seconds later she came in bearing coffees and danishes.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

We ate for a while slowly coming alive staring at the coffee and each other.

“Do we have to do it on the 28th”

“The smash and grab?., not really we could move it I guess. Why.”

“There’s a Rise Against concert I really wanted us to go to on Thursday.” I

“They’re like three days apart.”

“You’ve obviously never been to a Rise Against concert. We’ll need at least two days to recover and four to be at our best” I

“Are you serious? This from the guy who went through the continuous 72 hour Bo training course that ends in a fight with a

professional mma fighter and ankle locked him?”

“I’m telling you Rise Against is intense.”

*     *     *

[i]The crowd divides down the middle the strongest and fearless taking a spot along the front line.

Tense slight agitations reverberate through the crowds like a pulse, yet no one moves.

The music builds slowly upon itself gathering speed and energy, the feeling grows within.

We grab it and become it, and as the first vibration of the first note of the refrain drops, the crowd drives and is driven together.

The note climaxes, the sides collapse, bodies collide from all directions with their own force plus all those behind him.

The crowd mixes as the second verse is played, but some realize what should and now will happen and begin to separate again reforming as each sees fit.

The verse is sung all around, and it all repeats.

The Red Sea opening to the beat of Rooftops.[/i]

*     *     *

Three days later we descended upon the port of Baltimore.

A medium sized port by most standards but absolutely vital as it’s one of four capable of receiving crude in the US.

“Why don’t I get to have guns again?” I

“Cause any of your errant shots of which I’m sure there will be many, could blow shit up.”

“But they get to have guns?” I

“They’re actually trying to blow the whole place up. So anything exploding is a good thing to them.” Courtney

“And we knew about this weeks ago but didn’t prevent it, because?” Trudy

“We need the info these guys have more than cheap oil, and there wasn’t any safer way to entice them to surface.” Courtney

“It’s a highly valued target for them, with relatively minimal security, leading to a high chance for success Shade

“And I’m going in by myself because you think, they’ll think I’m a diversionary tactic and commit their resources elsewhere.” I

“Yep” Shade

Courtney “Our targets are former military and most likely still are, though not openly,.

These guys are generals in terrorist costumes they won’t commit till we do and we won’t so…”

“Besides if you fail. it’ll drastically reduce greenhouse emissions for like months” Trudy

“Increased coal and ethanol production would negate the environmental gain., and I’d be dead.”

“You should face minimal, 5-10, combatants, and since we won’t be actively involved we can observe and call out any threats.”

“Whatever, lets just do this.”

“We’ve got every imaginable form of surveillance in here you shouldn’t underestimate the value of that knowledge.” Shade

“I’ll be fighting hand to hand I won’t have time to listen to you. Hell I won’t have time to listen to me, just act observe react, rinse repeat.”

“Set me down.”

“You don’t even know where you’re going.” Courtney

“Yeah I do, Marc transferred the layout into a metroid map. I played it all week.

The highjump boots are in the Jahre, spin attack is on dock eight, Craig and Rydly will be in the control tower,

and apparently I’ve already got the varia suit.” I

“You sure could use freeze beam” Shade

“We should be able to do that.” Trudy

“Really?”

“Yeah”

“Well you guys can work on it after I’m dead.” I

“Okay” Trudy

I snarled, slipped on the carbon-nanofiber mask and jumped down onto dock three about a quarter mile from the tower.

The copter though unheard will have been detected and the nearest sentinels should be on their way.,

I needed to stop thinking in Courtney’s detached semiobjective perspective and just let it flow.

Besides being “bullet resistant” my suit had a killer sound system.

I jacked up Catalyst and rounded the corner.

*     *     *

[i]Block left, transfer to right. During switch and slide, step with right thrust kick.

Finish arm break which reverse pivots into back roundhouse of next.

Switch pivot and direction right thrust to lower stomach, finish with knee to head.

Run., taking shots forward, right sweeping right block, slide in, chin crank.

Don’t stop. Enter tower taking shots, double clothesline, relax let slip past forearms slit throats.

Up stairs. Run up stairs. Run up stairs.

Throw knife into stomach of left guard driving up and into front guard using body as shield

thrust onto target one. Turn into shots of target two, block left wrapping around right arm, wrap left tripping from behind with right leg.

As he falls thrust left, break, twist right, break.

Reverse pivot, back fist not landing but setting up perfect right hand into and through target one.

One in shock the other unconscious I grab a headset fallen on the ground “Running might be a good idea.”[/i]

*     *     *

I woke up back at home and mumbled about coffee. Transforming, the mumbling got louder eventually

turning into a creative series of curses till I realized no one was around.

Using all my strength, power and skill I managed to stumble downstairs

to find Trudy, Shade and Courtney sitting on the floor eating breakfast, and YES, drinking coffee.

I stole Courtney’s cup and began the process of becoming human again. “There’s a whole meal for

you right here.” Courtney said talking and sipping what supposed to be my coffee.

I sat down asking “If you had it all set up why didn’t you just call me down?”

“It’s not cool yet and us normal people like hot food.” Trudy said finishing

off her plate and stealing a piece of my bacon.

“Besides you need your beauty rest.” Shade

“That’s for sure” Courtney

“Hunh?”
“You’ve got bruises all over babe.”

“Ah well I guess that explains the pain and soreness better than just being coffee deprived.”

“At least they aren’t puncture wounds.” Trudy said in way that would have been far too cheerful coming from anyone else.

“Eh, whatever. So what were you guys talking about?”

“Shade and Trudy.” Courtney

“Shade and Trude, what?”

“Them, you know, together and stuff.”

“You two are a thing?” I said pointing my fork accusingly.

“How could you not know?”

“It’s not like anyone told me.”

“It’s not like we haven’t been completely obvious.” Shade

“I guess I’m just tarded, ok, lets leave it at that. What specifically were you talking about?”

“Moving in together.” Shade

“Trudy’s moving in? Sweet!”

“Actually I was thinking about moving to her place.”

“But her place is boring, our place is the shiznit.”

“Boring?” Trudy said kind of stunned and maybe a little hurt.

Courtney closed her eyes and nodded.

Shade “We need a little more privacy Vers. Not everyone is comfortable running around having sex with everyone everywhere.”

“Well they should be! But you still should move in here I was planning on building an addition anyway.”

“How are you gonna manage that? The others are getting no where fast and have eaten through

nearly all the seed money securing the site.” Courtney

“Mr. Titov was getting paid 30 mil upon taking out the port.

The transfer had already taken place, probably at the point they could prove they had taken

the control tower, so I just transferred it from his to my account.”

“Money that should have gone directly to the general blackopps budget.” Courtney

“Wait, he was getting paid? I thought he was just a terrorist.” Trudy

“Hardly anyone is that loyal to country or even religion, but nearly everyone is loyal to money, like Vers here.” Shade

“Bullshit I’m in it for the chicks. But if someone’s willing to pay that amount to destroy something I deserve to get paid just as much to protect it.

Anyway I’m not entirely selfish we’re gonna use some of it on weapons tech.” I

“That’s why we needed the secure location?” Trudy

“Yep”

“I think we’ve successfully proven our inability to actually invent, why would weapons be any different from computers.” Shade

“We have access to the patent office, most anything we could want has already been invented we just need to steal and adjust it to our needs.” Shade

“Stealing, what the government does best.” Courtney

“So back to my main point you guys should live here. I’m gonna rock this place out.”

“Sounds fun.” Trudy

“You’re gonna do some crazy shit aren’t you? I’m in.” Shade

“Sweet.” Courtney

“What day is it?” I asked

*     *     *

We all met up at “the shop” as we had taken to calling it. Courtney was filling in the others on the plan to “borrow”

improve and produce patented or government funded weapons tech.

“Why?” Ryan

“You guys aren’t smart enough to design a natural evolution. And we aren’t good enough to take on everybody else.

Not without help, and the government right now is a lot more taken with quantity over quality and won’t be able

to keep us ahead of the game anymore.” Trudy

We all gave her a wtf look.

“But AI through computer evolution will easily take us to and through next gen technology including weapons.” Ryan

“Yeah but you won’t be able to do it. As Trudes said you aren’t smart enough.” I

“Then who is?” Marc

“Nobody. Just as there probably aren’t any better field agents that us, but we can’t beat everyone else all the time

and you can’t create a whole new field of science out of thin air.” Trudy

“So we give up on anything longterm, go for the quick fix, and hope?” Jen

“No. The major threats have been delt severe blows and are in rebuilding mode. We and our allies are strong.

I doubt there will be much activity for several years.” I

“Next gen weapons should keep us far enough ahead for the forseable future, and as a long term solution

we’ll need to train the next generation of BO agents.” Courtney

“Shouldn’t headquarters be training the next group already?” Marc

“They have. The #2 team just finished training, they’re based near New York.” Jen

“The 2 group sucks as is apparent by our knowledge of where they’re located.” Courtney

“In a few years we’ll be past peak, essentially retired, who cares what happens.” Shade

“We’re kinda saving the world here.” I

“And he’ll be sure to short civilization stock.” Trudy

“Just look around no one on this side of the globe is half as good as us and we’re just barely getting by.

Soon our only advantages will be experience.

As far as our own abilities go I believe we’ll need to start utilizing some standard and some nonstandard performance enhancers.

But further down we’ll need a group whose abilities, both mentally and physically, far exceed our own to meet ever more challenging situations.” I

“We were force fed training and knowledge 24 hours a day from the very day we were recruited there’s no way we someone could do much more.” Craig

“Yeah but you could start earlier, and if you started early enough you could create a whole different way of thinking for them to have, where the things we try so hard to accomplish

become natural to them.” I “An existence full of combat scenarios and tactics, economic projections paired with philosophical situations.

Invention into evolution of design, fiction into theory to reality to creation, creation altering society and belief, and”

“How them drugs treatin you Vers?” Shade

“”It’s true. I mean not in the fucked up way he said it, but we could change the way children learn producing what would amount to a human weapon.” Courtney

“They wouldn’t have to be just a weapon. They could still be as human as anyone if you did it right.” Trudy said earning her a questioning look

from both Shade and I but I think for entirely differing reasons.

“We’re not going around stealing five year old phenoms.” Shade

“Five would be too late” I

“The right type of people would beg for the opportunity for their kids.” Courtney

“Hell I would.” said both Trudy and I causing a strange look festival.

“Well that proves my statement.” Courtney

“We could start a school system recruiting from the best prospective parents promising

the best possible education for their kids.” Trudy

“It would need a whole school systems worth of educators.” I

“We can sift through and select the best teachers who happen to have elite children and bring in both.

It’ll add a personal incentive to the teachers to make the school as good as possible.” Trudy

“It’s true, I would have to do a lot of the combat educating, at least the technical stuff anyway, and having added incentive would make me work harder.”

“You just suggested we have a kid so you wouldn’t get bored at work” Courtney “Wow”

*     *     *

We spent the next few weeks training with different bullet and explosion resistant fabrics that might protect us better than our standard issue government model.

Which means I ran around while Trudy, Shade and Courtney shot at me.

We retarded the rounds by using a slightly less explosive powder and used a softer alloy for the slug, but they were still shooting me.

Some of the suits were made at the shop according to spec but the more complicated nano materials we had to go steal directly.

It became readily apparent, as I developed a full body welt, that most of the claims were falsified but a few proved protective and durable while allowing for a free range of motion.

At least it gave us something to do till Coexist came around and then a week later on the 1st we were planning to take out some antiscience

nutjobs in South Africa that were promoting some not good ways to cure certain diseases.

I pointed out that we have plenty of antiscience nutjobs right here in America that were costing just as many lives

to go kill, but I guess preventing the use of cancer vaccinations stifling funding for

stemcell research or not lowering the cost of actual medication didn’t seem as urgent.

*     *     *

So we went to Coexist. Me, Courtney, Shade and Trudy.

We get there and it’s this big three room place with everyone just showing up and things just getting started, but there’s already that buzz.

The one where you can straight up feel something amazing is about to happen. Everyone’s dressed to the nines in one way or another, fully alive.

And we met all these infinitely interesting people, and had the most life changing conversations.

But between me and Courtney, it was amazing. We,. I mean we,, we felt love, love for those around us and everyone else in everyway.

But towards each other we developed something else. Something built of love but more complex more complete and stronger, far stronger.

We could feel each other directly not needing to listen or look for response another sense of my thoughts and sensations mixing and reacting with hers.

Her excitement joining my own spawning more of itself to be met by more of hers and cycling.

Pure unadultered joy from movement to moment. The myriad fantifal sensations of dancing. The beat crashing into and through us.

We felt it all. It can’t be explained any further, it isn’t something words can represent.

*     *     *

I woke up demanding coffee to no avail so I made the journey downstairs to find the others just as before except they had WAFFLES this time.

Blueberry Waffles, jesus. “What are you gibbering on about today?” I said sweetly

“Your ‘addition’.” Shade

“I caught a glimpse of the prints it’s fucking huge.” Courtney

“It’s going to be a school. The school. The one we talked about.” Trudy

“But they started surveying weeks ago, before that.” Courtney

“I already had it planned. I was just talking about it with everyone to gauge their reaction, I do that with a lot of things.”

“So you’re attaching a full blown school system to the house.” Shade

“No.” I began. “It’s going to be a few hundred yards that way”

“How do you consider that an addition?” Shade

“It’s not but here we’re digging out two more basements I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

“Why basements rather than extending the other floors.” Trudy

“Building down is more environmentally sound. It leaves more green space, and will use less energy for heating, well, cooling.

Also it’s more structurally sound, and will last longer.” Shade

“How are you doing all this for 30 million?” Courtney

“All the workers are mexican.” I

“I thought we supported immigrants, but not paying them less than standard wages?” Courtney

“Those guys all get paid top dollar they just happen to do four or five times as much work as us lazy ass americans.” I

“Oh, cool” Courtney

“So we’re really doing this?” Trudy

“Yep.” “Who made the waffles?”

“I did.” Trudy

Looking at Courtney I said “I think I might start to like her more than you.”

Earning me an orly look “Remember that raver girl Rambo,., She’s coming over tonight.”

To Trudy I said “She wins. Good waffles though.”

*     *     *

Over at the shop Ryan had us test out some sort of heat ray.

He got really upset when I called it that taking about how it was some specially focused radiation.

I forget what else, but I gathered it was like a laser with radiation rather than light.

“But the effect is it makes things very hot?” Courtney

“Yes.” Ryan

“So it’s a heat ray.” Trudy

“No it’s..”

“Let’s go fuck with em.” Shade

It was disturbing to see how easily the suits melted. I guess they’re going to have to become multidemsional integrated defense systems.

Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to reengineer with the trickle down effect of technology tending to be more like a waterfall in weapons tech.

Besides my fear of being cooked, I was a little concerned with Ryan gutting me when he found out the school would be done in less than a year.

I gathered everyone together hoping they could protect me.

“So umm Ryan uh, the schools gonna be done in about nine months.”

“That’s cool.”

“It means we’ll have to start searching for prospective students, teachers and staff right now.”

“It’s cool.”

“Really?”

“We got a pseudo life system set up. I think if we leave it alone long enough something will evolve. So having something else to do is a good thing.” Marc

“How long till we see results?” Shade

“Well our evolution took a few billion years,. considerably less than that.” Ryan

“K then.” Shade

*     *     *

“The way I see things we’re going to need an entire community to support and populate the school. I’ve got

the buildings and infrastructure mostly worked out for a 1000 person community. It’ll be as green as we can get and

completely self sufficient

“You don’t think this goes beyond our duties?” Craig

“Of course it does. Do you think our duty to the government is more important than our duty to the future?

And since when did it become a bad thing to go beyond.” Jen

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant more like why are we the ones doing it.” Craig

“Cause no one else is.” Jen

“And no one else is going to. We should be growing in leaps and bounds from generation to generation but we aren’t.

We’re stuck in the slow motion of the middle ages where it took the reign of a king just to

make small political adjustments.

There were few educated intelligent openminded creative to make the changes necessary. Their society was

almost completely based on superstition and religious bullshit, with nearly everyone falling in line expounding the problem.

Just a few individuals sent us forward, and these individuals were harrassed and obfuscated in all

possible manners by society when they should have been trying desperately to help.”

“And today five six hundred years later socially whats changed.

Even with seven billion people we only have a few thousand working on truly new technology and theory,

and most of these will accomplish nothing as creativity has been beaten out of them by our pathetically regimented education system.

And even the top tier scientists have to beg and scrape for funding of even the most Immediately necessary research.

The rest of society still bases their understanding on superstition and oral tradition slash bullshit.

Sometimes I wonder if they’re all scitzo. I mean honestly the only difference I see between a religious person and a scitzo

is the scitzo wants it to stop.”

“We need to move a large portion of society into science 25 maybe even 50%.

And the rest of us need to support them as best we can for our own good. If we did that we’d grow exponentially.

Not in numbers but internally, socially and in quality of life. And a school, a real school, the way school should be is step one. One of hundreds

maybe thousands to transition the world into the brightness of knowledge out of the false warmth of ignorance, step one.

Step One.”

“You think we can really do this?” Jen

“None of us are educators how can you think we can make an ideal school?” Ryan

“Because each of us has a set concept of reality based on fact and we adjust to new information altering our preceptions and readjust.” I

“Meaning we observe something, try to gather more info, adjust and react. This is the base of learning, it’s all we need.” Courtney

“That and I was gonna bring in Deb Harbal. She knows more about learning and how to learn that any ten people.” I

“All that talk and you’re bringing someone else to run the show?” Trudy

“I’m a sex addicted paid killer who throughly endorses drug use do you really think I’d be a good teacher?” I

“Yes.” “Yes.”

“Yeah.” “Unhun.”

View Spell-Checked Padding, pt. 3 at Supraterranean

“Mirs, what’s wrong?” he asked again.

“Uh,” I shook my head to regain my focus, “nothing. I just miss hearing your voice.” My dad had the gentlest voice on Earth. The sound of his voice made me stop crying instantly when I was younger.

“I miss you too, sweetie,” he replied.

“How long will you be?” I asked, forgetting the whole reason why I even called.

“We could come home now if you’d like.”

“‘Could?’” I echoed.

“Well, your mother…” His voice trailed off.

“Hi sweetie. Your father and I were thinking about, well, you’re doing so well on your own,” my mom interrupted (had she forgotten the car bomb?), “and well, we thought we should stay here until summer.” Nothing slipped between my lips. I wanted to see dad again, but them coming back would be dangerous. My throat went dry and I felt my eyes fill up.

“Stay,” I managed to say.

“Are you sure, honey?” Dad was on the line again. I tried to picture his face, but it was gone. I hadn’t seen him for four years.

“I’m sure,” I cleared my throat. “You have fun and keep in touch.”

“Will do, Mir-dear,” he said. I could tell he was smiling. So was I. We hung up and I slowly pressed down on the gas to move the car forward again.

“Mirs?” Belina called. I was fighting tears, but eventually, I let them out.

“Mirs!” Daniela said, patting my back.

“Dad” was all I could say.

*     *     *

“So how long are they going to stay there for?” Belina asked. I pulled up in the parking lot of the mall.

“Until summer.” I had gotten over it already. I figured I’ve been through four years missing him, one more month wouldn’t hurt.

“So how do we convince our parents to let us move in with you?” Daniela asked.

“Just tell them about my parents being away; I’m sure they would be okay with it as long as went home every weekend,” I said. They nodded in agreement. We stepped out of the car and the heat of the desert hit us immediately. “Let’s get shopping.”

We decided to take a lunch break from shopping and being in the crowds.

“Alright, what do you want to eat?” I asked, standing up from my seat.

“I think I want fried rice with orange chicken and an eggroll,” Belina asked specifically.

“Just get me whatever you get,” Daniela said.

“Okay.” I walked over to the register at Mojo’s MooShoo. As I was taking my order, I received a text and after paying, I checked my phone.

You can’t avoid death forever.

I took my tray and walked carefully back to the table, glancing around the mall.

“What’s wrong?” Daniela asked. I set the tray down and showed them the text, still looking around.

“Crap. They know we’re here?”

“Yep.” Just then, a group of guys passed my sight.

“I think my suspicions towards Justin have grown,” I said, pointing them out. Justin, Sean, and Conner were on the third floor of the mall. They didn’t see us. It looked like they were just walking around, talking. Talking about what though?

“Let’s follow them,” I said. We went up the escalator and followed them all the way to a sports shop. We stood by the women’s equipment which was on the opposite side of the store from the men’s, and listened.

“Which helmet pads did the coach tell us to get?” Justin asked.

“I think those ones,” Sean pointed out.

“Are you sure? I thought he wanted these…” This was getting stupid. All they talked about was helmet pads. They left the store. We followed behind, just close enough to hear them.

“So, did you ever talk to that one girl?” Conner asked Justin.

“Who?”

“That…Miranda girl.”

“No.” I scoffed at his answer. “No, wait. She yelled at me one time about taking her cell phone,” he remembered.

“Did you take it?” Sean asked. Justin’s phone went off suddenly.

“Hello?” he answered, “Is that so? Well, you know what to do. Call me afterwards.” He hung up. I pieced his words together. Could he be the one after me? Maybe he was talking to one of the snipers. Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the mall. I looked back at Justin who was staring at me. People pushed past us, screaming, taking cover. Another shot was fired and Justin ran off. Where was he going?

“Come on and keep low!” I told Daniela and Belina. We chased after them to the parking lot. Cars were screeching, pulling out of the mall. I hate to say it, but we lost Justin. I scanned the roof of the mall and spotted a black figure. My senses kicked in and I could hear the click of the trigger and a gunshot, aimed towards Daniela. I jumped and pushed her down. The bullet hit the red truck behind us.

“Hurry, we have to stand against the wall!” I said. I pulled them up and another shot was fired. The next thing I felt was a sharp pain in my thigh, as if I kicked with cleats on, but I could still run. We pressed our backs against the wall of the four story high mall where it was impossible to shoot a bullet directly down at us.

“Ah…” I cried. Belina looked at my leg. I wasn’t bleeding. I smiled and reached into my pocket, pulling out my savior; my cell phone, which was now completely damaged. I threw it aside.

“You okay?” Daniela asked, patting my shoulder. I laughed and noticed it was extremely quiet. I looked over at Belina who had her eyes fixated on something in the distance.

“Mirs! Sniper!” Belina pointed at the building in front of us. We ran back inside the mall, which was the stupidest thing we could do. I flinched at the sound of someone’s voice on the intercom.

“Attention!” his voice was familiar, “At ease girls, this will only take a second.”

“Why are you doing this?!” I shouted back.

“I was given a job. He told me you were a danger to society. It is my duty to protect my country.”

“Hayes,” I figured, “Who told you this?” There was a pause.

“He’s actually here with me now (It had to be Justin!), but he doesn’t want to speak nor be known.”

“Were you the one who told the three other snipers to leave camp?” There was a chuckle.

“Yes. And they’re all trained well. As a matter of fact, they’re in the mall with you right now.”

“If they’re so well trained, why aren’t we dead yet?!” Belina challenged him. I hushed her.

“Don’t worry. You’re time will come no matter what,” he said.

“We’ll see about that!” I turned towards Daniela and Belina, “Can you guys handle a sniper with a gun?” They grinned. It was our turn to attack.

“Piece of cake,” Daniela replied.

“I don’t really like cake. It’s too sweet,” Belina said. I hugged them both.

“Be careful,” I said. We separated and ran towards our snipers.

*Daniela*

I ran to the east side of the mall. I didn’t know what to look forward to, but I felt ready. Adrenaline rushed throughout my body, but it all disappeared when the lights suddenly went out.

“It’s Dolores right?” I spun around and saw a sniper with his gun pointed in my direction.

“Daniela,” I corrected.

“Ah. I see,” he sighed, “Well, Daniela; how do you feel about death?” He walked towards me and had his gun at my head.

“Kendall, don’t do this,” I said. Kendall looked twenty and had tanned skin and dark brown hair. He smiled and placed his finger on the trigger.

“Since when do you tell me what to do?” Right as he pulled the trigger, I pushed the gun away from my direction and his shot missed. It sounded throughout the mall. I kicked the gun out of his hand then kicked him once more at his side and darted for the stairs. I reached the fourth floor, breathing heavily. When I looked down over the railing to the first floor, Kendall and his gun was gone. A voice came from behind me.

“The elevator still works you know,” Kendall said.

“Idiot!” I thought. He smiled and picked up his gun, aiming it at my head once again. I ran up to him quickly and back kicked his hand, knocking his gun out of my direction. He didn’t waste a bullet on me this time. I kicked his side once again. He stumbled to the side and suddenly fell over the rail. Instead of falling four stories, I found him grasping the rail with one hand, his gun in the other.

“Help me,” he begged. He let his gun drop below him and reached up to me for a hand. Was this guy serious? I sighed. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I watched a guy die knowing he could have had a chance to live. I reached over the bar to grab him. His hand almost touched mine, but suddenly, three consecutive gunshots sounded and I pulled back. I heard a thud and I gasped.

“Kendall…” I looked over the railing. Kendall was on the ground; his legs bent the wrong way, dead. My eyes widened in fear. I could’ve saved him, but I didn’t I walked to the elevator and pressed the down button. When I reached the main floor, I ran to the center of the mall, avoiding eye contact with the body. All that mattered was that Miranda and Belina were safe. I smiled to see they were fine and embraced them…

*Belina*

I’m scared.

I’m worried.

I’m scared and worried.

I don’t know what to do.

I should have told them I needed help.

Look at me; saying I, I, I. How much more self-centered can I be? I shook my head to clear it. I’ve been walking on the west side of the mall for ten minutes already and still no sniper. The lights suddenly shut off.

“Well, this should be a breeze.” The voice made me flinch. I turned to look. There, with his gun at his side, his hand in his ruffled hair, and a smile on his face, was Joshua Switoski.

“You could have shot me already. Why haven’t you?” I stalled.

“Don’t rush me. I don’t like to be rushed.”

“Then I won’t rush you. Take your time, please.”

“Thank you.” He ruffled his hair again. How conceited.

“And I thought I was self-centered.” I murmured.

“What was that?” he asked.

“You’ve got something in your teeth…” I lied.

“Really?” He turned away, picking at his teeth. I smiled and ran to an electronic store, the only place that still had its lights on. I heard a gunshot from the east side of the mall and I spun around.

“Daniela…” I said under my breath.

“Hey, get back here!” Joshua called after. I had to think fast. I scanned the store and spotted a bottle of water. I poured it across the floor and up to the counter and threw the empty bottle aside. Now I need electricity. I heard his footsteps get closer. I ran behind the counter and hid.

“Come on out. I know you’re here.” I held my breath. My hands suddenly touched something that made me thank God; a clock radio. The puddle was outside the counter, so if I could throw it there, I should be good. I waited and listened. Joshua stepped forward, slowly. I hugged the object tightly against my chest and then, I heard the sound of wet footsteps. Quickly, I threw the plugged radio over the counter and only heard a smash. After three seconds, something heavy dropped to the ground. I stood up slowly and peeked over the counter. Joshua was unconscious from electrocution. I made my way around the puddle and almost fell in when I heard a series of gunshots.

“No…Miranda, Daniela…Please be alright,” I prayed. I hurried back to the center of the mall. Immediately, (and thankfully) I spotted Miranda, then Daniela. I ran to hug them tightly…

*Miranda*

I headed towards the south side of the mall, where the sniper, who had shot me, was. I passed the food court and suddenly, the lights shut off.

“Run, run as fast as you can…” I heard someone say. It sounded close. I turned and nearly screamed.

“Jayden…” He had his gun pointed at my head. Jayden Lewis was rather tall, like Justin, had short blond hair, and green eyes.

“How’s your leg?” he asked with a smile.

“Fine. How’s your aim?” I smirked. His smile faded. I watched him pull the safety back on his caliber. Immediately I added, “Why not make this a fair fight?”

“Fair?” he echoed.

“Fist.” I put up my hands, ready to fight.

“Alright.” He placed the safety back on and slid his gun across the floor, fifteen feet away from us.

“Ready?” He brought his fists up and struck first, but I dodged and kicked his knee. There was a painful snapping sound. Jayden yelped.

“Give up?” I challenged, and punched his face. Suddenly, I heard a gunshot and glanced up, turning my attention away from Jayden. He then grabbed my wrists and shoved me into the wall.

“You think you’re so tough, huh? Your friends are dead now, so why don’t you give up?” he hissed in my face, holding me down. I struggled, but he only tightened his grasps more.

“You need me to give up?” I hissed back. I bit my lip to hold back tears. He could’ve been right about Daniela and Belina…no. I should have confidence in them. I jammed my knee into his gut and Jayden limped over, groaning in pain. I jabbed his back with my elbow, knocking him down lower to the floor. I pushed him down all the way with my foot. He cried in pain.

“Argh! Get the hell off of me!” He twisted himself around and made me stumble off of him. Jayden crawled over to his gun and pulled back the safety. At the same time, I ran over to him and pushed the gun out of my direction. A gunshot went off. His finger was still caught on the trigger. We twisted and turned and another shot went off towards the other end of the mall. We were knotted up to where I was behind him and my arms were around his waist, my hands still on the gun. One last shot sounded and we both flinched. It took me five seconds to realize, I was fine, but Jayden on the other hand… My eyes widened as I watched him drop to his knees and lay dead on the floor in a puddle of his blood. I breathed heavily, staring at him.

“You…are one…scary guy!” I said to him, completely breathless and tired. I turned and ran back to the center of the mall. I was met up by Belina and Daniela and immediately embraced them both…

“It’s not over yet guys,” I said. We pulled away and waited. Someone was clapping their hands and the sound travelled throughout the mall. A figure appeared out of the darkness.

“Well, I must say, I’m flabbergasted. Those men are worthless. I, on the other hand, won’t do the same.” It was Hayes. He pulled out his gun and shot randomly at us. We darted for the exit, trying to avoid his shots. Suddenly, I noticed Belina drop to the floor in the corner of my eye.

“Belina!” Daniela and I shouted. We ran to her side. She was shot in the stomach, but she wasn’t crying in pain, just breathing heavily in fear. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell phone. The bullet was inside. I sighed with relief.

“What do we do?” Daniela asked. We were on the south side of the mall, where I was before. I spotted Jayden’s dead body, and next to him was his caliber.

“We fight fire with fire.” I took the gun and aimed at Hayes who was running towards us. He stopped the minute he saw the gun in my hands and raised his gun, aiming it at me. Hayes smiled.

“Hmm, teacher and apprentice…” he said.

“You didn’t teach me anything,” I interrupted.

“Well, I would have if I had known you were this good.”

“Tell me who told you to do this.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Tell me!”

“Hah! You wish!” he shouted. Hayes grinned and pulled back on the trigger. I heard a click, and then a gunshot. At this moment, I felt like a real secret agent. I dove on my back, dodging his shot and pulled back on the trigger of my gun. A gunshot sounded throughout the mall. I finally heard that “fft” sound. The gun dropped out of my hand and onto the floor. I was lying there, breathing heavily. Daniela and Belina ran to my side.

“Are you okay?” they asked.

“Yeah.” They picked me up to my feet and we walked towards the exit of the mall, passing Sergeant Hayes; dead with a bullet to his head.

We reached the parking lot and got in the Mercedes. We didn’t say much, probably because we were still in shock of what we did. As I drove us out of the mall and onto the main road, I glanced at my rear view and noticed police cars, bomb squads, and the SWAT Team, pull inside the mall. We got out just in time.

We arrived home, knowing now that it was safe, and sat on the couch, curtains closed just in case. We sighed and suddenly, I let out a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Daniela asked.

“We’re inexperienced teenagers who just killed four of the government’s highly trained snipers. Now tell me why that couldn’t be any more hilarious!” They rolled their eyes. I took the remote off the table and switched to the news.

“Three snipers were found dead and one was found unconscious today in the Carson Mall,” a woman announced, “FBI are still trying to figure out why there was a shooting and who shot them; more news on that tonight.”

“You think they will find out we did it?” Belina asked.

“Probably, but we’ll end up innocent anyways. Don’t worry.”

“So much for a relaxing weekend,” Daniela complained.

“We still have tomorrow.” I didn’t even believe what I said and yet I still said it. I doubt tomorrow will be any easier.

*    *    *

It was Sunday. We all decided it was time to get another cell phone after yesterday’s incident. We inspected my Mercedes (which was becoming a habit), got in, and drove out to the phone store.

“Hello girls, how can I help you today?” the store owner asked. He seemed…metro-sexual.

“We need new phones…” Daniela said.

“Actually, do you have anything that will unblock a private or blocked number, or like a tracking device of some sort?” I cut in.

“Miss, this is not a spy shop…but, I think I do have something to your needs,” he pulled out a black sleek phone, “This phone will track down callers and messengers to their location. This phone is actually illegal, but I think I understand why a girl like you would need one.” I scanned through its features.

“How much?” I asked.

“A hundred…each.”

“I’ll take three.” The man handed me a black, white and red phone and in return, I handed him a check for three hundred dollars (Mom left her check book for me in case of emergencies). I signed some papers for minutes, text, and other features, and finally, I left.

“Thank you, come again!” he said.

“I call red!” Belina said.

“Black for me!” Daniela called.

“Then I guess I’m left with white.” It didn’t look bad or anything, it was just a bit…boring. Oh well. Having a phone was what mattered.

“Alright, whose house do we go to first?” I asked. Daniela raised her hand.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

*     *     *

After visiting Daniela’s and Belina’s parents, we headed back to my place. Night fell.

“Why don’t we test this phone out by calling David?” Belina suggested. I pulled my phone out and dialed his number. As the phone rang, a map was displayed and it zoomed in, moved left and right and finally a red dot was pointed out. It was moving along a road. David answered.

“Hello?”

“David? Hey, it’s Mirs.”

“Mirs!”

“Yeah. So what are you doing?” Belina and Daniela giggled quietly.

“Oh, I’m at home listening to the radio.” Music started playing in the background. What a liar.

“At home huh? Okay then, just called to check up on you. Bye!” I hung up quickly before he would start asking questions.

“I bet that caught him off guard!” Daniela laughed.

“Hopefully he doesn’t end up in a car accident from being so dazed,” I said. We sat on the couch, laughing our heads off. I looked at the phone again, watching where David was going. Huh. What was he doing in Utah? Suddenly, the light disappeared and my phone blinked “Area Restricted”. That’s weird.

“Please enter access code,” it said. I jumped from the sudden voice. Okay…I couldn’t do much with it. I saved the location in my phone and turned the map off. What was David doing?

“I’m going to text Conner,” Belina said. She sent a text and a map displayed. Funny thing, Conner was on the same street in Utah as David…

“Area restricted. Please enter access code,” her phone said. Huh.

“Let me text Sean,” Daniela said. The same thing happened on her phone. Had we been ripped off or were we not getting something here?

“Hey, Conner texted back. He said, ‘Sorry, busy right now. Talk to you later’,” Belina informed.

“Sean said the same thing too,” Daniela noted. Hmm.

“Let’s…” I shut their phones, “just enjoy the rest of the Sunday we have left, okay?” They nodded in agreement. Belina took the remote and switched on the TV.

“Turn to the news,” I said. She switched to Carson City News on channel five.

“In other news today, our most wanted serial rapist was apprehended a few minutes ago. Kyle Hawthorne, aged twenty-eight, has been on the run for five years. He was found in a motel room. The man tried to escape, but authorities caught him before he could…”

“Wow. What an idiot. How could a guy like him be called ‘America’s Most Wanted’?” I said.

“More like ‘America’s Most Stupid’,” Daniela corrected. Belina switched to a movie.

“Ooh! The Fast and the Furious is on!” she announced. It was an old favorite of ours. We watched it only because we loved the speed and the cars.

*     *     *

It was one in the morning when I woke up abruptly. I don’t know why. Was it because it was too quiet? Just then, a soft snore came from Belina. I chuckled softly and lay back down, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

Could Justin be the one who’s after me? What does he have to hide? How did I end up alive after that night? I pictured the incident in my head.

I was driving; I looked up, and saw a dark figure in the road. I turned to the right and saw nothing but trees, and then I shut my eyes.

Sounds…I heard rustling, my brakes screeching…but wait, I didn’t have my foot on the brakes, so how could they have been released? I opened my eyes when the sounds faded into silence and saw I was still on the road in one piece. My headlights were gleaming on Justin who had his hands up in the air as if he was trying to stop my car. He was breathing heavily, like he was tired or worn out, possibly scared. His eyes were no longer his beautiful green, but a silver color. When he saw how scared I was, they went green again and he ran off.

I fell asleep after that and woke up with the sun in my eyes. I looked around me and noticed Daniela and Belina were gone.

“Belina? Daniela?” I called. No answer. Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the table across from me. I looked at it.

Got a ride from Conner and Sean! We’ll see you at school! –Daniela and Belina

I sighed with relief, but then my eyes shot open in realization. Shoot! Justin’s the one! And Conner and Sean are on it too! I grabbed my keys and ran out the door to my car. I didn’t bother to check it again, but before I reached for the door handle, I remembered I forgot my cell phone on the couch. I ran back inside and grabbed it, but suddenly… I was flung backwards and hit the wall.

I groaned as I tried to stand up, coughing from all the smoke. My dad’s Mercedes had just blown up, along with half of our house.

“Damn it!” I screamed. How was I supposed to explain all this to my parents?

I ran outside to the street and to my surprise, a taxi cab passed by and stopped. I ran over to it. The window rolled down to where all I saw was the driver’s sunglasses.

“Need a ride?” he asked. Stupid enough, I got inside.

“Where to?”

“Carson High on Saliman Road, please,” I said.

“You got it miss.” He drove rather quickly and I didn’t notice something was wrong until he made a turn that went the opposite from my school.

“Umm…my school is that way…” I caught glance of an ID on the dashboard. The man in the picture was African American and this guy driving was…white.

“Shoot,” I said under my breath. He stopped the car and turned in his seat, pointing his gun at my head. My body went stiff.

“Hello Miranda,” he said, removing his glasses. I gasped. It was him, the serial rapist; Kyle Hawthorne.

“I’m surprised no one’s noticed your jailbreak yet,” I said, boldly.

“Well, people are stupid to think they can stop me.” He pulled back the safety and placed his finger on the trigger.

“I’m not going to die until I find out that Daniela and Belina are safe,” I thought.

“Hmm, you know, you’re fairly pretty,” he commented. The doors locked suddenly and Kyle pulled his gun away, turned in his seat more and leaped into the back with me.

“Such a waste,” Kyle said, placing his arm around me.

“Who sent you?” I asked.

“I would have sent myself if I had known you.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“What does it matter?” he grinned and suddenly I was lip-locked with my killer. I couldn’t breathe and tried to remove myself, but my wrists were grasped tightly in his rough large hands.

“No,” I thought, “No!” I kicked my knee upward at him and he leaped back, avoiding the hit.

“Naughty,” he said. I growled and kicked him across his face. He flew towards the front seat as I jiggled the door handle. I heard a click and I was back at gunpoint.

“Now, will you cooperate?” he asked. I clenched my teeth. I could never forgive myself for the stupid thing I was about to do.

I turned quickly, took the gun in my hand and pointed it to the car door handle as Kyle tugged on it to get it back. One shot was all I needed…and I got it. Kyle’s finger had pulled on the trigger and the door opened. I gave on strong tug on his gun and pulled him outside of the car with me. We rolled on the dry dirt, pulling on the gun. He wouldn’t let go. I could hear police sirens in the distance.

“I like you; you’re feisty,” Kyle said. I kicked him across the face and dropped my leg on his arm. I heard a snap, then a scream of pain. I broke his arm and had the gun in my hand. I unloaded his gun, throwing the bullets in the bushes, walked over to Kyle who was on his knees.

“How’s that for feisty?” I said. I held Kyle’s gun tightly in my hand and hit him in the back of his head with it. He passed out. I dropped the gun onto the ground and took a deep breath. That was too much for me in a day.

I got in the taxi and drove to school. The police showed up just after I left.

“Please be okay,” I thought pulling into the parking lot. It was extremely quiet at the school. I guess the bell rang already …which means, I’m late! I ran up to the office, got a pass, and headed to my first class. But before I went inside, I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Justin’s in there,” I remember. I exhaled deeply and walked in slowly.

“Miss Evans! You are late! What’s your excuse?” Kaiser asked. I handed him the pass. My back was stinging. Justin’s eyes must have been piercing through my back, but when I turned to look he had an incomprehensible expression on his face. His eyes were green. I guess the back pain was from earlier today.

I walked over and sat down in front of him.

I was suffering in class. Time went by so slow, but when the bell rang, I darted out and bumped into Belina.

“Ow! Oh, hey Mirs!” she said. Daniela came up behind. I sighed with relief.

“Come on, we got to talk.” I dragged them both behind me into the bathroom.

“Not the bathroom again!” they complained. I looked back and noticed Justin, Sean, and Conner, staring back at us. I shoved Daniela and Belina inside. Quickly, I checked the stalls then went back to them.

“Guys; Justin’s the one!” I blurted out.

“Really? Aw…how sweet!” Belina said.

“I think she means he’s the one trying to kill her,” Daniela said.

“Oh. Really?”

“Yes! Sean and Conner are with him on this!” I said, feeling a bit relieved.

“Honestly Mirs, I believed you the first time, but now I don’t believe it. Mirs, it’s just a freak year…” Daniela started to say. My stress came back.

“No, it’s not! I can’t believe you guys! I nearly got raped and killed on my way to school!”

“What?!” Daniela and Belina shouted in unison. Had I finally awakened them?

“The Mercedes blew up along with half the house, Kyle turned out to be my taxi driver this morning, and he almost raped me!”

“Oh my God, Mirs…”

“I know, but that’s why I’m telling you now to be careful around Sean and Conner,” we stepped out of the bathroom, “you don’t know what they’re up to or capable of doing.” I looked up and went silent.

Right down the hall from us was Justin, Sean, and Conner. They must have ditched class; they were the only ones in the hall besides us. Suddenly, our eyes widened as we watched Justin make his cell phone hover in the air. They were laughing.

“Dude, I wish I could do that,” Sean commented. Justin smiled and looked up. Shoot. How could I just stand there, frozen and staring at him? I watched his turn from silver to green as Justin snatched his hovering phone and quickly slipped it into his pocket.

“How did you…” Belina started. I cupped my hand over her mouth. Oh boy. This isn’t good. They walked towards us.

“Shoot, run!” I said. I grabbed Daniela and Belina’s arm and we darted out to the courtyard. Justin and the guys followed us.

“What do we do and why are we running?!” Daniela demanded to know.

“That’s the thing! Listen, I saw Justin one night and he did something I wasn’t supposed to see. Now he’s going to kill us so there are no witnesses!” I explained. The guys were getting closer. “Come on!” Suddenly, the bell rang and a crowd of people rushed out, making it harder for us to get around.

“We have to get to the parking lot!” I said, still pulling them. And then, everything went black.

“Mirs! Mirs! Wake up! Hurry!” Belina pleaded. My eyes shot open and in front of me was Jacob.

“Mirs? Are you okay?” he asked. Jacob pulled me up to my feet.

“Jacob? Ugh, I don’t have time for this,” I took Daniela and Belina in my hands once again.

“Wait! What about us?!” he shouted.

“There is no us!” I shouted back. We arrived in the lot and came across the motorbike parking. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

We searched around the area for a box of spare keys. These bikes belonged to the Carson High’s Motocross team and from what I heard; the spare keys are somewhere nearby.

“Found them!” Belina shouted.

“Seriously?”

“No, it’s just a wrench,” she said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and looked in the box.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Which key is it?” I asked. There were twenty of them.

“Hurry up and find out. They’re catching up with us!” Daniela warned. I had lost track of time. She climbed onto the bike. Belina and I threw keys at her as she tried each of them. We were down to the last five and Justin was thirty feet away from us. I tossed Daniela a key and the bike revved up. I hopped on behind her, but Belina was still on the ground as Daniela started to move away.

“Belina! Hurry!” I reached out for her hand and she took mine. I pulled her onto the seat behind me.

“Go, go!”  I shouted to Daniela; she lifted her foot off the ground and we rode off. I looked back and saw Justin hop onto a bike and hover his hand over it, and then two other ones. They revved up suddenly.

“How did he…” I thought. Justin was becoming stranger and stranger. He sped up and zoomed past us somehow. He was ahead of us by twenty feet. Daniela slammed on the brakes and we skidded towards Justin. She suddenly lost control of the direction we were headed. I looked at Justin who had his hand up in the air like the night of the incident, and somehow, that was affecting us. Our bike came up to him and continued to move. Justin grabbed my shoulder. I hit his hand off with my arm and swung my fist at his face. He dodged me and swung a punch back at me. I stuck my hand up to stop it but unexpectedly, my hand snapped to his. My eyes shot open at the way it felt. I pulled back on my hand and Daniela revved the bike. We sped off, losing them behind.

What just happened? My hand stuck to his like a magnet of some sort. What is he?

*     *     *

We were fifty miles from the border of Utah. I don’t know why we were going there, but anywhere was better than back there where the guys were. Suddenly, we passed an old Ford truck and standing next to it was David.

“Hey, pull over,” I said.

“But…” Daniela started.

“I know they’re close by, but I get the feeling David has something important to tell me.” She pulled off the road. I got up from the motorbike and walked back over to David. “You guys go ahead. I’ll find a way to meet up with you.”

“Are you sure?” Belina asked.

“Don’t worry.” Honestly, I felt that it was my fault all of this happened to them. At least they’ll be far and safe. I watched them drive off down the road.

“David, why are you here?” I asked.

“I need to talk to you about something…” he started.

“David, how many times do I have to say this? I don’t love you like that. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is,” I said. He sighed.

“That’s not what I wanted to tell you…”

“I’m heading out to Utah,” I interrupted him, “There’s something up with Justin Moore. He’s got some weird superpowers; like he’s magnetic man, if there is such a thing,” I explained.

“Is he coming this way?”

“He should be…He’s been after me these past days, David. I just know it was him that set those car bombs and sent snipers and other criminals to kill us. It’s got to be him!”

“Why don’t you go catch up with Belina and Daniela?” David handed me the keys to his truck, “I can call someone to get me.”

“But in the meantime, Justin will see you and he’ll probably kill you too!” I said, “You have to come with me…” David pushed the keys into my hands.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“David…”

“Don’t worry.” He smiled, “Now go, before he gets here.” I hugged him quickly, and then ran over to his truck. “Be careful.”

“You too.” I stuck the key into the ignition, started the car, and drove back onto the highway to Utah. I looked at David in my rearview mirror. He was on his cell phone. I hope he’ll be okay…

*     *     *

I’ve been driving down this highway for two hours already and there was still no sign of my friends. My phone buzzed…

I have them with me. You will cross us soon.

Shoot.

I can’t believe how I got involved in this! First, I meet a new guy and have a major crush on him. Then I find out he’s got some weird ability and now, he has my friends as hostage. I passed a sign saying I was five miles from the border. When I reached the border of Utah, the first thing I noticed was an SUV; black, sleek, tinted windows; and next to it was a motorbike. I slowly pulled up towards it and put the truck on park. The door of the SUV opened and Justin stepped out. He walked up to my car and stopped ten feet away, waiting for me to come out, his arms folded across his chest. I slowly stepped out of the truck, never taking my eyes off him. Justin came up to me and grabbed me by the neck.

“Where are they?!” I demanded to know, but he didn’t speak. “Why are you doing this to me? No one else knows about your little secret except me and my two friends,” I told, but that still didn’t make him talk. “Will you please let them go?” No answer. I went mad. “Can you answer me?!” I yelled. He gripped my neck tighter.

“I can’t let you go like it was all just a misunderstanding. I can’t have witnesses; it’s my responsibility to get rid of them.” He finally spoke. I knew this was going nowhere, and so, I did what any friend would do.

“Then kill me if you must,” I said, “but let my friends go.” He blinked in shock. I guess he never expected anyone to say that just to protect their friends.

“It’s not that simple,” he sighed, “They’re witnesses too.”

“Please.” I gave him a hard look. I don’t know how long we were staring at each other, but he finally said the three words I was hoping to hear.

“Let them go.” I watched his two friends pull out my friends from their SUV, crying; pleading.

“No! Please don’t hurt her!” they said, but I ignored it; painful, but crucial. I stared back into his silver eyes, tearing up.

“I really am sorry to do this,” he said as he raised his gun and pointed it at my head, a foot away. Not a difficult shot to miss, unfortunately. I flinched to hear the sound of the safety being released. He placed his finger on the trigger and I slowly shut my eyes.

“Mirs! No! Please! Stop this!” my friends screamed. A tear slid down my cheek as I heard a click; then, a gunshot.

“Miranda!”

View The Fugitives, ch. 3 at Supraterranean