9 of them in a tunnel. The beams of their flashlights glistened on the moist walls of the cavern. Echoes of their hurried footsteps sounded off down the dark, winding passageways as they continued down the passage. special forces. Sourced from the remnants of the US Navy SEALS and the SAS. Highly trained and highly disciplined, they walked in a tight formation and carried an arsenal that must have certainly put the boots to the taxpayers: Spectrum analyzers, NV goggles, emp charges, fragmentation grenades, breaching charges, modified MP5 subs and enough ammunition among them to quell an uprising or displace a foreign leader. It was usually rare for the united council to assemble strike teams and secrets ops. The council was more of a diplomatic medium for the many independent territories that populated the earth. Given that during the cold war, many of the efforts made were towards science, technology, and exploration than military conquest. Wars had been fought, much like the milky way galaxy of the previous chapter, in fact there had even been a “world war” much like the ones fought in the previous story’s dimension. This team had been dispatched to investigate a distress beacon on the newly colonized, sparsely populated, and largely unmapped planet of Mars. A distress beacon from somewhere in the deep, uncharted reaches of the phlegra montes range. It was an intercepted signal from an enemy group classified by the united council as dangerous terrorists: The Axis of International Revolutionaries, or “The Axe” as they are commonly referred to as by friends and foes alike. The well-trained strike team continued cautiously down the wet cavern. The Suspected FOB was not far off.
“All teams check systems”
“Alpha team systems go,
“Copy that.”
“Bravo team check”
“copy.”
“We have no Idea what we’re going to find down here, fellas. Watch your six, watch the man to your left, and absolutely positively do not let your goddamn mind play tricks on you in the dark. Stay frosty.”
That signal is only a click and some change up ahead. I’m surprised we ‘aint smelled ’em yet, sarge. I bet they took off already. Those little commie rats always fuckin’ scurry off in their little tunnels.” A surly commando with a drawl in his voice said with laughter.
“You don’t know that,” the sergeant hissed back. “you don’t know how many winding passageways and drop offs this place has or if there’s any at all. Truth be told, I think you’re scared to kill ’em ’cause your mama made you go to church. Now stay frosty, or I’ll dismiss you and make you walk back to what’s left of Texas.”
“Yes, sir.”
The passageway grew slightly more narrow as they continued toward the beacon, the point man on alpha team held his heartbeat detector in front of them as they slowly pressed on. After several more minutes of quiet movement they came to a fork in the cavern. They were both average-sized passages, and neither appeared to be a dead end. The strike team had anticipated this. The only problem was that the direction from which came the enemy’s distress beacon was exactly between the two open caverns inside this mountain. The captain halted the patrol.
“Bravo, take left, Alpha: right”
“sir”
The teams walked down the passageways on either side, it was very dark in the cave. The separation of each team made the light source of each squad dwindle a bit. The captain checked communications.
“Bravo. You boys good down there? Talk to me Tex”
“Yeah we’re moving cap. No sign of anything yet.”
“Keep me posted. I have a feeling these rooms will connect in some kind of large chamber, and that’s why the signal is smack in the middle.”
“copy…. Ah shit. Motherfucking son of Mary and Joe SON of a bitch” The squad leader from Texas let out a string of curses. “Cap. We got an issue. Everybody! Safeties off!”
“What’s going on over there?”
“Smells like Sulphur. Sulphur. I’m smelling Sulphur. I didn’t think they were in this part of Mars…. Something about the fuckin’ underground ice.” His voice was shaky and Anxious. Not a good sign if a trained killer armed to the teeth feels shaky and anxious.
“Fuck. Hey. stay cool. you got plenty of bullets. Remember your training, soldier!”
“Yeah cap, we’re gonna stay frosty all right. Tighten up Boys! Shoot anything that fuckin’ moves!” was the last thing the UC captain heard from his sergeant.
The captain put his radio back on its port, “Sergeant Jenkell smells raptor shit. We’re probably gonna have a fight on our ha-” an ear splitting scream erupted from the rear of his ranks. The teams’ flashlights could only catch a glimpse of his light being dragged along the craggy floor around a corner. The room exploded with gunfire. Several more men were eviscerated, in one instant their body halved by a feircly quick tendril that had some kind of sharp, chitinous edge. The raptors were absolutely lethal, and the Earth-trained special forces unit was outnumbered and well into the raptors’ territory with little to no experience with such a species. They managed to down one or two of them, but before long both squads had been torn apart and were now being feasted upon by these monstrous, insectoid creatures.
Bravo team heard the gunfire coming from the other cavern, and readied themselves. One of the creatures came hurling at a young corporal from the UK at breakneck speed. It’s two massive, scorpion-like claws gnashing out in front of it. It’s two beady eyes astride it’s gaping mouth lined with razor sharp teeth. from under it’s mouth was (probably) the most ghastly thing about this martian fauna: two small, pink, fleshy appendages with four tiny “fingers” on each. It resembled a pair of infant hands, and it had pieces of their comrades’ small intestine dangling from them. It moved fast on it’s massive hind legs and it’s amphibious, webbed toes. (hence the name “raptor,” given by the lucky, few, traumatized surviving commandos. Very little is known by the council about their origin or their composition.)
“Fire, FIRE!!! GAAAHHHHH!!” the captain yelled as his men were dragged off screaming into the nether. The force was decimated rather quickly, as the one in the other cavern was as well. It was a gruesome scene. Men who had pledged their loyalty to god and country screaming for their mothers as their limbs were mercilessly torn from their torsos. The crunching sounds of bones being gnashed by claws and fed by reptilian baby arms. The distress beacon glowed it’s soft, red light upon the soil of the cave, about 100 meters down the cave. There was no distress from the Axe, just a pile of sulpherous guano and now a heap of broken flesh.
....................
I awoke in a dark lab in what seemed like some kind of bombed out shelter. The man from before was standing over me. After threatening a desk cop we managed to get down into the parking garage of the station, where he activated some kind of strange grenade that emitted pulsing waves of electricity, as well as a noxious pink gas. I blacked out soon after. The lab was a part of a larger underground facility. I could see part of a hallway and a sliver of someone’s double bunk bed from where I was sitting. We had been discussing some of the differences between our dimensions. I learned that the year was the same as mine, and that some things were similar. However, there were also many differences that were staggering and tough to wrap around at first.
“So you let ’em into a cave full of fuckin alien freakshows?! I Asked, cringing, yet laughing just a bit. “You guys sure aren’t fuckin around. I just watched the, uhhh, news reel thing about it. They had to spray those guys off the stalactites!”
“Shout out to Ramirez for running in there and dropping that beacon. ” he said with a laugh. Foam dripping from his freshly cracked beer, “YO! Johnny. How many times you piss yourself?? Those things really look like great big scorpions under that set of clamps?! Or are they more like rampant shrimp?? HAH!” he slapped his leg, laughed and then coughed a bit.
“FUCK YOUUUU’ A very brooklyn accent resounded from the next room. “You ever get chased by 9 raptors?! Fuckin TST mines you gave me barely worked you’re lucky I brought my own fuckin ‘ active camo! Those goddamn things are fucking DISGUSTING. Like arthropod vampire bats hunched over. Scurrying against the fuckin’ walls, bet if they stood up straight they’d be nearly 8 feet. Fuck man, and those baby hands… fuck I swear one of them tiny little eyes winked at me. Fucking abominations, man. Arthropod reptiles with shiny little eyes and baby hands… Maddon… What a world.”
The man who took me from the police station chuckled as Johnny Ramirez came in from the small adjoining kitchen unit and sat beside us. “Tough motherfucker, you are, Johnny. glad to call you a comrade.” He said as he clapped him on the shoulder. He had changed clothes from the beat up cop uniform to a pair of dirty green camouflage BDUs, worn combats, a dirty slayer T-shirt with cigarette holes in it and a rough looking Astros cap turned forward over his greasy, long hair. A nihilistic Junkie before the contact war. A politically charged refugee guerilla after the repression of himself and his family in the chaotic years after the treaty and the surrender of half of North America to the Malichi. Johnny Ramirez was a bulldog of a man. His fashion straight out of the bodegas of the old New York slums. Before the contact war. Also a refugee, his size, big attitude, and ghetto fashion sense often obscured the fact that he was top of his class upstate. An honor roll student by day, Gangbanging hustler by night. The war had all but made his higher education obsolete, and he was forced (with the rest of his neighborhood) to pick up a weapon and fight for the survival of his community until the treaty allowed ships to pick them up.
“Names Deacon.” the man in the haggard slayer shirt stuck out his hand. “Now that we’re here I can do that. Wasn’t sure if we’d make it.” I reached out and shook his hand. Deacon had the air of a rough type, but his speech and culturally alternative style suggested an upper class childhood. The suggestion would be right, as Deacon McDowell was a second year ivy league dropout and an embarrassment to his (former, now deceased parents)
“So, all that….” I started, “was it really all necessary? Talkin’ about my life like that? All that dark shit? Did you really need to know all that? You guys doin’ some kind of ‘experiment? I’ll be honest, for people who believe in positive consent at all times, you really are roping a brother into this.”
“The times are Desperate in this world, my friend. We did not have World War 2, but we endured the destruction of our home and the degradation of our people by what many perceive to be literal monsters. Had to be 100% sure you were the guy we needed. Your history, lifestyle, past trauma, all of it. I’m really sorry we took you from your life. but if it makes you feel any better, they had agents hunting you as well. There are certain technologies that interact and alter the part of your brain attached to memory, association, as well as stress. Long story short, there aren’t many people we’ve scanned who wouldn’t get fried by the operation we’re going to offer you. Well, there ARE plenty of junkies with horrible lives, but we can’t do shit for somebody who’s let the trauma of their life turn ’em into drooling, mumbling messes. Even then, the mods would probably fry them because their cerebellum’s let ’em BECOME drooling, mumbling fuckwits. … I don’t know. your numbers are off the charts, that is all I know, my friend. I also don’t think you will mind being one of those silly things your pre-extraterrestrial society makes movies about. Christ, those guys make so much money off those “spider dick, asphalt man” movies. Ha!” He slapped his knee.
I thought for a moment. “I didn’t have much going for me,” I said. I was suprisingly even headed about it all. “who’s the ‘They you mentioned?”
“The U.C. of earth. The world’s a different place. I don’t think you learned quantum mechanics so it’d be hard to explain. But, basically, history took a different path here. You’ll learn as ya go along.”
Deacon walked over to the kitchen segment of the small, windowless dwelling and opened the cabinet.
“whiskey?” He asked
“yeah”
He produced a liter glass bottle of Jim Beam. At least some things were the same, I thought.
“Here’s the thing man.” Deacon set two glasses on the table beside the chair I had gotten up and sat down in. “we’re not fucking terrorists. We’re communists. And I promise that we are not the pieces of shit that the media make us out to be. I read some of your dimensions’ novels, not long after we got ahold of a transmuter. Awful what your people did in the name of Guiliand, or.. I’m sorry,” he waved his hand at his mistake, ” that’s our guy who was kinda like that…yours was…..Marx? right? The ‘dialectical materialism guy’?”The builders and the buyers are nothing alike? Not once have their interests reconciled ‘ how did Marx say it? ‘The working class and the employing class have nothing in common?’ Heh. Funny how many of the same themes we both have. I was expecting something far less similar. Anyway, we’re not forcing you to stay anywhere. We will tell you of our world and how vile and treacherous it’s people are. We will also offer you a host of cybernetic modifications that you will most certainly enjoy. Dig it?” Deacon reached his drink out to me, “cheers, comrade.”
I clinked my glass against his. “Shit man, that’s alot to take in. I studied some marxism in my younger days. Gone to protests, all that shit. They weren’t at all as dangerous as the media of 2021 made the… you guys out to be. In fact, that’s why I left… Organizational structure of every movement broke down because nobody could get along. The nerd circle jerking never got anyone very far. Y’know? No offense…”
“None taken. I did happen to notice a bit of a narcisstic hive mind culture amongst earth’s revolutionaries… Not that we don’t have the same problems. Just, well, the geopolitics of this dimension are different. It’s a lot, as you can imagine. See… we, “The Axe” as the west calls us, are all Russian citizens. I would say two-thirds of our ranks are american immigrants and refugees from the contact wars. We formed as an opposing political party In Russia’s Parliament. Those so-called “social democrats” still wave the red flag and hold a massive celebration every red November. Still Decry “western imperialism” and still teach Dialectic Materialism in school. But they are no different from the capitalists. It is a strange world and fate so has it you have been picked up by us. We are offering you an oppurtunity to become cybernetically enhanced. We have the funding of many special interest groups across Russia and, given the results of your cerebral output scans, you are poised to become one of the most powerful supersoldiers this planet or this dimension has ever known.”
“the fuck you say?”
“I mean to say that there are things in this dimension unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. The history of the world, the arc of human existence, is vastly different. Technology is well beyond the cables and dangerous generator boxes of your world. They found a mineral on mars that generates power when stabilized! virtually cut air pollution in half! Instead of WW2, we had the contact war. When we were introduced to the life outside of ours. I969 We made contact in a peaceful manner, but of course several months later three american warships surrounded the vessel that had docked itself in the Pacific after the visitors refused to aquiesce to a formal ‘weapons and technology’ search. Ha. Typical American Imperialist bullshit. Anyway, this more than made up for the second world war you all had. Godawful, that business with the nukes in Japan. Most of America was demolished, thus the reason many of us here are russian born, but speak like americans. The country is far weaker and practically starving in this reality. Instead, the whole of earth was unified and the world’s leaders formed a commitee to establish a cohesive defense strategy against the far outnumbering malachi. A peace was established, in exchange for dismantling the United States’ military capacity. A hostility still exists among many westerners towards Malach, and they generally keep to their own kind, as they themselves have a rather nationalist and conservative culture. Homogeneous, not like ours. Their tech is far advanced, but they are governed by one sole Archaic, religious, and patriarchal lineage. After the war, Many immigrated to the east, where they are despised by native Europeans and asians. So, you see…. many similar tones, but wildly different than where you are from. There are libraries full of books, if your interested. We have many, ourselves. We do not keep prisoners and we do not opress people into service, however, we invite you to take a look at the world around you for a few days. You will see it. The inequality is far more advanced and complicated here. There are massive amounts of people who are displaced. There’s areas, entire countries, of pestilent ghettos due to the council’s focus on space colinazation. They’re leaving the poor behind. They are slowly commintting genocide on the people they don’t need anymore.
“Fucking hell, brother. I’ll have to see this for myself. I appreciate everything you guys have done… Lord knows my previous life was not a good one.” Probation office visits, ex girlfriends, enemies, the bars, the skeezy associates. All of it. I was grateful to have a fresh start, although I was still thouroghly confused and frightened.
“Hey man,” Deacon said, “We’ve got you a small room downstairs. Cot, table, even a little TV. Get some rest. We can talk more later. You can stay as long as you’d like and you’re free to leave whenever.”
…………………..
The sunset was gorgeous. The oranges and pinks dropping down behind the streaks of clouds was like a dream. I stood outside on the deck, looking down the hill over countless favelas. I had had several drinks over dinner. I felt almost light-spirited. For the the first time since I hurled through a strange wormhole with a practical stranger, my haunting anxiety had subsided.
Ramirez was standing in front of me. He was laughing bemusedly at the stories I had been telling him.
“Some of those Presidents’ of yours were some fuckin’ pissers huh?? Andrew Jackson shooting that guy in the woods. The fuckin’ orange guy talkin’ bout fuckin his daughter. HA! Man we had one of ours actually get caught doing that. Yeah. Real dark. not long before the aliens showed up. Guy got connected to some kind of large scale pedophile ring. Turns out, he was sterile. So he funneled orphans and derelict teenagers through his sick international ‘market.’ Occasionally, he adopted one and had it pose in family pictures. Sick shit. Apparently, one of his customers was Malachi, They say that the contact war and all the shit that got destroyed was necessary. There’s a commonly held conspiracy theory that the malach race created us, or at least some distant ancestor race of theirs did. They say it was the malichians fired upon the warships first, and used some kind of cutting edge optical illusion weapon to make it seem otherwise. Pretty compelling, if you listen to them, but who knows. The entire world watched the attack begin on millions of livestreams and televisions. The Deities of the old manuscripts would most likely deride the stinking decadence of politicians and business leaders. I believe that if the Malichi were indeed the chosen people they would smite upon the flagrant hypocrisy of politicians and business leaders of what was once a grand symbol of imperialism and slavery.” He pulled on his ciggarrete and smirked to himself. He then reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and produced a small comb, which he took to his scruffy, longish black hair.
“The Malach… What are they like?” I asked.
“Very advanced. Had it not been for that pyrris they found on mars.” His accent made it sound like he said “ma’s. “We never would have even made it to the peace treaty. After they swatted that american missle strike out of the sky they hit Washington DC with one of there fleets. Gruesome shit. They weren’t much for sparing people during that time. I was in the Marines. Fuckin’ shit I saw, man. Watched three of my comrades get captured. Those tall motherfuckers skewered James, Rosales and Ryans on a shredded hunk of street lamp and roasted em over a burning volkswagon. Ate there charred bodies right there while I hid in a pile of debris. They weren’t into playin’ checkers, and one could hardly blame ’em. We didn’t know they could speak for the first two years until an ambassador reached out to an agent in Britan. They talk with small blips, frequencies too high for us to hear. Fucking terrifying listening to those things attack. even when ya kill ’em they don’t make a sound. They’re all the size of basketball players but their footsteps don’t make no noise. In our nation’s-and our world’s-decadence and greed, we did not listen to reason. They slaughtered us and forced us out of our home. The Malichi and our own countrymen. You oughtta see Brooklyn now. Heh.” He smiled darkly, attempted to draw from the cigarrette between his fingers and, realizing that it had burned itself into a leaning pillar of ash, tossed it over the balcony.
.........
A convoy of torn up cargo trucks, dusty jeeps with homemade weapon attachements , and a handful of old tanks advanced through the arid, rocky valley. I had come to find out that we were in what was eastern europe on the old map. Georgia, to be specific. We were in one of the Jeeps, near the front of the convoy. Ramirez was standing in the back, leaning himself casually against the fixed MG that was crudely welded to the frame. Deacon sat in the drivers seat, glaring through his thick shades at the setting sun.
“Our friend is gonna hook you up my man. I know you’re nervous. But I promise nobody’s gonna open up your skull once you’re under. It’s an electrochemical process using pyrris. I’m not a scientist, but Sheylo is a former top specialist for the UC. Defector. Your brain, having processed intense trauma, will be able to harness the power of a yet unexplained anomaly. Some Swedish guy about a decade or so discovered a way to refine the stuff and cut it with some kinda buffer, then intravenously run it through someone’s bloodworks. I don’t know how he figured that one out. But he definitely had a lot of animal rights people pissed off. Hah. Anyway… It’s gonna make all your senses a dozen times more acute, gonna be weird at first but you’ll find your way. There’s a good amount of others in this world like you. The UC’s been poaching from different timelines since the 90’s. Some advanced cartels can even do it now, too.”
“Lucky one of those gorillas didn’t find ya!” Johnny Ramirez from Brooklyn shouted over the wind. “You’d be in New Atlanta fightin’ suped up cars in a cage!”
...........
We pulled up to an old garage in the middle of nowhere. The sun was going down. The garage and adjacent door were both closed. I could feel the eyes on the other side of the bulletproof camera mounted over the top of the building. A very abrasive looking man stepped out of the adjacent and walked towards our vehicle. He wore an eyepatch over his right eye. A gruesome scar could be seen coming out of the sides of it. He was covered in prison tattoos, though several streaks of severe burn scars erased some of them. As he approached the vehicle he shook Deacon’s hand without saying anything, all the while regarding me cautiously with his good eye.
“Hey Nelson.” Deacon said. Nelson continued to peer at me. “Sheylo back yet? We’re probably a little early. Nelson gave a slight nod, looked at me once more, turned, and walked back to the open adjacent. I followed Deacon and Ramirez through the door. The rest of the convoy began to pull gear from the cargo trucks as the smaller vehicles made way for the red soldiers to camp for the night.
We walked into a large open area with stairs going up to a second floor where there was a windowless office. There were no vehicles parked in the garage, so it seemed empty.
“Sheylo!” Nelson called, his sandpaper-like voice matched his appearance. The door to the upstairs office opened and Sheylo walked out. This is a fuckin first for me, I thought as she came across the catwalk and down the staircase. Her skin was a light shade of blue, like a bird’s egg. Her eyes were… different. The pupils were bigger, as was the whole of each eye. Elongated, and almost resembling the shape of large, upside-down teardrops. Tilted at an angle, not horizontal, like the average person’s. They were also spaced a bit further apart, and there was a ridge going from her dainty, pointed nose up the center of her forehead. Subtle, but noticeable. Her head was shaved on the sides, and she had her long swath of Sandy blonde hair tied in a bun. She dressed Like a soldier. They all did.
“You’re early.” She said to Deacon. “First time I’ve seen a communist show up on time to anything.” She said dryly. Deacon laughed. Without looking at him she regarded me with curiosity, looking me up and down before locking her eyes with mine.
“Let’s take this in my office. Nelson. Hold it down.”
“Hm.”
We stepped into the back office. It was dimly lit by something that looked like a lava lamp, without the lava or the lamp somehow. It sat on a desk that was cluttered with frantic looking notes and reminders, some of which were on the wall beside it. It almost resembled a doctor’s office with cabinets lining the walls, a large mirror, and a multi use station in the middle; a chair that folded horizontally, a small table beside it, and a complex looking unit that came down from the ceiling. She asked me to sit on the chair as she calibrated something on the computer at her desk. Deacon and Johnny could be heard from the center of the warehouse downstairs, arguing with each other about something trivial. a poker game, I thought. Maybe. The device above my head hummed and clicked to some kind of odd time signature. Judging from what I could see over her shoulder, it was performing some kind of spectrum analysis. An outline of a human body on the screen pulsed between various colors as long lines of some unknown language fed down the screen.
“The program I’m going to run on you is an old Malachian supersoldier boot. It’s going to attack the parts of your brain governing stress, anxiety, and your grip on reality. The things you endured throughout your previous life will keep your subconscious from imploding on it’s self but you’ll have to rest for awhile, your nerves and your muscles will all feel as though they’ve been through a great battle, but you will be stronger and sharper than ever before.
She kicked herself and the chair almost playfully back to where I was sitting. She pulled several electrodes down and started attaching them to my head. She was actually rather attractive, and her large, vibrant eyes put me in a slight trance as they worked their way through the top of my head. Deacon had mentioned on the way up that she is ‘very rare;” In that she is born of a Malach father and a human mother. “Had she not been raised by humans,” Deacon said, “The Malach would have smashed her head against a rock. Very, very frowned upon in their culture.”
I said nothing as she finished with the electrodes. She then produced a large, hypedermic needle. “This part is gonna suck.” She said with a conciliatory laugh. “Although your file said you used to treat your arms a lot worse back on earth. I might have to use the vein in your neck! Just kidding he he.” I laughed with her, and tried to think of something witty to come back but could not. She was… very pretty. I had not expected that. She ran the needle like an IV into my arm. It did not hurt that much. I had, in fact, done worse to myself.
Sheylo attached a drip bag full of translucent, blue fluid to the unit which held the large needle in the patient’s arm. He had rough skin, tattoos that she did not understand, and he spoke in a strange accent. This was the guy the UC feds and those insurgent commies were after? She thought to herself. Very composed for a man who’d had the life that this man had. She finished her calibrations, turned around to see him look away almost undiscernibly fast. He had been staring at her. She laughed to herself. This one’s trouble.
......
The anesthesia began to take effect rather quickly, and even with my advanced tolerance towards chemicals, I was out in minutes.
I was ten years old the first time I felt the pain of loss. My grandfather, who suddenly had a stroke and died while our family was on one of our humble, yet idyllic fishing trips. Poppa was a kind and gentle man, even though he was known to the rest of the world as a tough military veteran, and a vicious gambling shark. He would pretend to be a bear and chase my siblings, my cousins, and I throughout the old house that he bought on the GI bill after world war two. We went from learning how to clean fish in the laughter and vibrancy of the midday sun, to being huddled into a bedroom while the shrill sounds of sirens pierced our ears and men in blue uniforms carried my grandfather Jacob down the stairs attached to alien-looking machines. “Ok, ok, now let’s just all CALM DOWN” My mother shrieked through tears that she was trying to fight back. Nobody Ever calms down in this family.
.......
“Spread your cheeks and lift up your sack. OK. Now bend over.” The correctional officer said in a broken accent. The speed was wearing off. It felt like barbed centipedes were coursing through his major arteries, and in the smaller capillaries of his fingertips- fire ants. I don’t think they’ll let me out on recognizance this time…. I thought to myself. There was still dried blood on my knuckles.
.......
“You fucking piece of shit fucking loser!” She screamed as the plate flew across the room towards my head. I ducked just in time. It smashed against the decorative wallpaper behind me and rained porcelain into my hair as I crouched behind the dinner table.
.......
I lay in the bathtub. The water from the shower washes over me. It’s been lukewarm for a few minutes now, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. What parts of the day I’m not drinking, I am sleeping, or I am aimlessly laying here in this putrid bathroom that nobody in the house ever bothers to clean, save for myself sometimes. I have to see my parole officer later. I’ve been clean off of heroin for over a year, so she praises my efforts. I told her about the alcoholism and the depression. She referred me to a social worker, who referred me to AA meetings. The people in the meetings had everything to say about my condition, and, for the most part, they were right. I wish I loved myself enough to want to change. I wish I loved anything…. I wish anyone…. anyone would love me.
........
This one was fuzzy, but I recognized it. My uncle Johnny. The only memory I have of him. He took me to see some turtles by the river once, when I was about 4 years old. Can’t remember where, exactly. The image in my memory is almost a still frame- My uncle standing there on the rocks beside the river, holding up a great big snapping turtle. I’ll never forget the kind of smile he had. Like the most warm-hearted escaped lunatic you’ve ever seen. That was the day I fell into a hole dug in our backyard that was filled with raw sewage, not long after my mother had told me not to go near it.
.......
The memories and sensations rolled like a broken reel, sometimes crashing into each other. It was highly disorienting and I felt something similar to nausea. Whatever she had given me was now taking me through what I could only think to describe as a psychedelic experience. I watched my first hospital visit. The first time I got stabbed. All three prison stints, and every single moment of drug withdrawl I’d ever experienced slammed into me for what seemed to be several hours. I awoke In a torrent of cold sweat and sprawled on the floor, my elbows bleeding and my bones aching. Sheylo held me in her arms, restraining me with the grace of a dying man’s bedmaid.
………….
The massive vehicle carrier soared over The rocky terrain. The sound of the aircraft and the clicking and clanking of weapons being loaded filled the air. Ten men sat in the back of the bird. There were no UC markings, as this was a mercenary rig. It was in ill repair and had a brazen graffiti piece painted across the hull, dotted with several old bullet holes. The fearsome and respected “Cunt Smasher” roared it’s way through the arid landscape on a quest. Not for justice, but for blood.
“Gotta love the UC!!” A man with a healed over gash running down his face yelled over the whooshing air in an Aussie accent. “All those speeches ’bout Loving thy neighbor and turning the other cheek! HA! Then they give right maniacs like us a million check to gun down a bunch of Commies. HA! UC brats afraid of the guilt, I suppose. I can’t wait to crush these ants! HAA!” he produced a bag of speed out of his pocket, and shoveled a scoop of the glass into his nose with a combat knife “HAAAAA”
They descended upon the small outpost with a blitzkrieg of a landing, taking the two armed rebels hostage outside of the facility. The facility was locked tight. They tried to cut the locks, but they were designed to keep men like them out.
“Listen here Ya pig fucking commie muthafuckers!” The aussie speedfreak bellowed, “We’re gonna start cuttin’ this fuckin spic’s digits off you don’t come outta there with our boy. “
“Wop.” Johnny Ramirez said wryly. “You cousin fuckers musta forgot I was half italian.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, boy.” A man wearing crude leather armor and a hockey mask said from behind Johnny. “Or we’ll-“
“What kill me? I ain’t a fuckin mook, Jack. I know why it’s you muthafuckas and not the UC. C’mon. You guys out here sellin’ your ass to the highest bidder ain’t stop to read the dossiers on us? Oh fuck. ” He turned as far back as his sitting bound arms and legs would allow him. “You muthafuckas can’t read, huh?” The man in the hockey mask swung the butt of his rifle like a bat and knocked him unconscious.
“Why Is that door not open yet?!” The apparent leader of the mercenaries bellowed. Rough looking bunch of thugs: Tattered uniforms with insignias ripped off, prison tattoos, ski masks very intentionally upon all of their faces, and old greasy kaelashnikov bootleg AK’s. Many of the men had gold in their teeth and spit crudely on the ground, making jokes and laughing about how they were going to “fuck the alien bitch.”
“Motherfucker’s locked tight.” A man in a Los Angeles jets pullover was wrenching at the door with an old crowbar. “And it’s on the other side. Probably gonna need the ‘tex from the chopper.” And as soon as he mentioned the explosives, they ignited in the storage rack of the helecopter, which was landed down the hill about a half mile, instantly shredding the two guards to the consistancy of a good salsa.
“Shit, boss, something’s fuckin happening here!” There was a reverberation coming from inside the warehouse. Not a sound. A humming. Like some kind of ominous silent machine on the other side of the wall. The thug who was working the door to the warehouse suddenly began to well up with tears.
“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now you little faggot?!” The merc captain remonstrated. “I’ll shoot you in the goddamn face right now, NEW GUY.” But as he aimed his rifle at the young man, The young man looked up at him. The captain gasped and his mouth fell open. The young mercenary’s eyes were like black marbles. Little waves of black shade were crawling slowly from the man’s eyesockets and his skin was rapidly growing pallor.
“Leave Us.” The possesed man said in a crooked voice that was not his own. Despite all of this, the captain had seen things just as disturbing
“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE WITH THIS SHIT. I SEEN IT ALL MY FRIEND. Government agents that could turn into mist, Hobo’s with cybernetic limbs rippin’ eachother’s dicks off, All kindsa sick shit. You think I got control of this fuckin thuggish motley crew here for givin’ people warnings?? FUCK YOU. The captain started firing. The bullets disintegrated in front of the anomoly.
Soon, the anomoly began to vomit forth the entrails of the young man. The entrails were all half-dissolved and coated with a viscous, black, oily substance. The most horrifying aspect of this was that the young man who’d joined with this band of mercs not 6 months prior, fresh out of the joint, seemed to be aware and conscious as his body was slowly turned in side out.
“Tommy!!”” ACHH”” JAMEI–UGHHHH” “KILL MEEUGHHHHH” a large section of what looked to contain his liver spilled onto the concrete walkway infront of him. The captain tried to shoot his former trainee to death, possibly the first merciful act of his life, but again the bullets became harmless puffs of ash that scattered to the wind. The surviving crew of mercs watched the young, american immigrant from the DBLOC refugee camp in the caucus mountains vomit every single thing except his bones out in front of him.
“Leave us,” The voice now came into each and every man’s head. “Each and every one of you will suffer the same. Go. Now. I promise the young man felt every moment of that. Leave Us. You have 20 minutes to be out of sight from this place.”
“Boys.” The captain removed his mask. “let’s move out. Now.”
“Where the fuck are we gonna go??” A young man with an indiscernable accent called. “closest depot 20 miles.”
“FUCKIN ANYWHERE YA DIPSHIT” Another voice called in a different accent. “You see that shit?! You HEAR THAT SHIT?! Fuckin Malach shit, I don’t play that. NOPE!”
The gross collection of Post-Americans from the squalid camps and the lower sections of Europe hurried out of the region. Leaving their three dead comrades behind, along with most of their equipment. For such a cold world, It was very hot.
The Night Watch 