Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Volume 2: The Big "It"

The Big “It”
Steven Ormosi

I've spent all my life observing.  I’m really a journalist at heart.  I like to be near important events, but not involved, no, never involved.  It ruins the integrity.  Sometimes it’s impossible not to get involved though, you know?  Sometimes lives depend on you doing something.  That’s not a responsibility that I take lightly, so yes, I’ll tell you what I was doing that night, and no, I’m not sorry, no matter what you do to me.

And it doesn't matter what you try to do anyway, I've got friends you can only imagine having.  I've got friends and they will string you up by your toes if you harm one hair on my head.  And you’ll wonder what happened and how you got into this predicament, as you’re hanging upside down by your toes--that is, if you’re not in too much pain to wonder, and I’ll put my pudgy little face up to your skinny little upside down face and say, “I told you so.  Why didn't you listen to me?”  And you’ll say “Ahhhhhhhhhh, MY FUCKING TOES!”  And I’ll laugh.

Ok, Ok, I’m getting to it, relax, no need for name calling.

Let’s start from the start.  You already know my name is Jenkins.  Bruce Jenkins really, but everyone just calls me Jenkins.  As to why I was in the city when everything crumbled, well, I've been a drifter my whole life.  I like to be where the action is.  I like to see what people are made of when things get uncivil.  I've had help in my travels, but I've also been through tough times, where I only had myself to depend on.  I've been to the Middle East.  There’s always a good war going on somewhere out there, always something happening.  At least there was.  You know those flaming oil fields you saw on the news?  I saw those with my own eyes, let me tell you, something really gets lost in the translation when you see it on TV.  I've seen kings and sultans and czars and dictators and presidents and CEOs and come to the conclusion that they’re all full of just as much shit as you and me.  I prefer the common man, the little guy, the everyday Joe facing extraordinary circumstances.  And that’s what brought me here, actually.

There was a man in the city that this burnt out shit show used to be, who claimed he was a psychic, a real psychic and there was even some evidence to back his story up.  So I came to meet him.  I spent a couple days following him around.  He acted normal enough, you know, went shopping, went out for a drink at the local bar, whatever.  He never showed any sign that he noticed I was tailing him.  Then one day he turned around and walked straight at me.  I kept reading the paper and glancing up at him as he approached and finally he got right in front of me.  So I casually put the paper down and said, “Can I help you?”  And he said--and I’ll never forget this if I live to be a million years old--he said “If you want proof, this is the best I can do.   It starts today.”  And then he pulled a revolver out of his pocket and before I could even get up to try to grab him, his brains were on the sidewalk.  That fucked with me.  That was the day they found patient zero munching on his mother in a little town in Cambodia.

I’m gonna have a smoke.

Mmm, nothing like a good cigarette when the stress of the world is getting to you.  Seems everyone is picking up smoking these days and these Jackals are the only damn thing around anymore.  Too bad their execs are probably busy trying to eat their consumer base.  A lot of people are going to be in a bad way when we run out of our supply.  It is relaxing though.  And hell, after living through the apocalypse, I guess people aren't so worried about lung cancer anymore.

So as I was saying, this guy basically told me he knew the world was ending.  No one realized the seriousness of the whole situation at the time, but looking back I wish I’d done a little more stockpiling.  In the days and weeks following my psychic’s revelation I had gone about trying to gather information on his life.  I talked to his friends, family, whoever had been in contact with him and he hadn't said anything even remotely as fucked up to any of them.  I guess he’d just been keeping it bottled up, or maybe it had all just come flooding into him and he couldn't take it, I dunno.  I try not to speculate too much.

So anyway, here I was when everything went down, out west.  I was actually contemplating going out there to check it out, but the airports were shut down and I didn't want to waste a lot of time driving, especially since there might not be anything left when I finally made it.

And then the interesting stuff started happening here.  They started building the wall.  They started making the proclamations that we would be the survivors.  Maybe it made me feel a little like I was a part of something, some long-buried sense of community.  Maybe I just wanted to see how this would all turn out.  I stayed, I helped to build the wall.  It was an amazing thing actually, so many people working toward a common goal.  Hell, here I was, in the thick of it again, maybe the last big “it” for humanity.  I was fascinated.

And here we are five months later.  Was that the beginning or the end?  I guess we've just got to wait and see.  At least a guy can still get cigarettes.  They won't last much longer, eh?  But I digress.  

So you know why I'm in the city.  Now you want to know where I was three nights ago?  The night those kids went missing?  I was with them.  Or rather, they were with me.  I'd told them I would teach em how to defend themselves.  They looked like little uncoordinated jackasses running around slap fighting each other in the streets, playing kill the zombie after school.  Kids need to learn defense don't they?  I yelled out to them, I said, "Hey, you numskulls want to learn how to really fight?  Or you wanna be zombie food?"  We went out to the old playground on the north side.  They live over that way.  I taught em how to use knives and how to fight hand to hand.  How to take out the zombies if they had to.  We made a deal to meet there on Wednesdays to practice.  Then they took off, rambling on about showing their classmates.  I took that for a good sign.  After that I hoofed it to Kelly's and had a drink or nine.  

Now I know just from the way you've been treating me and starin' your stares that I'm your prime suspect, likely your only suspect, but I'll tell you now, I don't know anything about the whereabouts of those kids.  Too bad that psychic bit his own bullet, huh?  He might be able to tell you.  I feel bad they've gone missing, I really do, but I can't tell you the first thing about where they got off to, which really sucks for me because someone's gotta burn for this, right?  Do I get my phone call?  

Right, right.  No phones.
 
Hey, what are you in here for?

Well that's a damn sight better than me, you'll be out tomorrow afternoon.  They'll probably draw and quarter me.  For something I didn't even do, shit.  You know that election going on?  The guy running--not Donovan, Ed Jenkins--he's my brother.  Well he doesn't know it yet, but he is my brother.  I just have no way to prove it to him.  Yeah, he's been in politics his whole life from what I gleaned.  He's been working behind the scenes for this city for years.  Now he's makin’ a play at mayor.  Maybe he can help me out, you know?  Maybe he'll believe me.

You're right, he probably won't.  Desperate man saved at the last second by long lost, powerful brother.  Way too deus ex machina, am I right?

Oh, day-oos ex ma-keena.  It's when some completely unbelievable shit miraculously happens to save the hero of the story right at the end, just as he's about to bite it.  That stuff never happens in real life.  I'm gonna go down as a kiddie killer.  Those damn kids probably snuck over the wall, they're probably in the belly of some brainless people eater by now, negating any chance of me ever getting the hell out of here via the act of being ingested.  And all the while I'm answering questions for the farce that passes as the local law enforcement even though they already made their minds up about me.  Well I guess my luck had to run out sometime, eh?  It eventually does for all of us.

I've had a good life though, I've seen more than my share of incredible things.  You know, I saw a man walk on water once.  He walked right out into the ocean on top of the waves, just bobbing up and down.  Never saw him again once he passed the horizon.  He just kept walking.  I wonder if he ever made it to Africa.  

That's where he was going.  Was gonna, "heal the sick," he said.  I thought he was the second coming for a while.  Until all this happened.  No rapture, no one gets saved.  Hell on Earth is all.  But I've always known I was going to Hell, so I've been ready for it.  And then it showed up right in our back yard and all I could do was grit my teeth and laugh, same as I've always done, and always will.

So bring on the law.  Bring on the judges and forget the juries, I've got no shot with them.  Bring on the pigs, the man, the fucking boys in blue.  They say I did it, they must be right, and I've got nowhere left to run to anyway.  The rest of the world is D-E-D, dead.  Just like I'm about to be.

If you think of it, find my brother and tell him about me.  Let him know that I'll be the one with rigor mortis keeping the corners of my mouth curled into a gruesome smile as I swing low and slow.  That's one thing--no matter what, I'll smile till the end.

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