Volume 5: A Midday Connoiter

A Midday Connoiter
by Steven Ormosi

That’s mighty kind of you gentlemen, mighty kind.  Since you’re walking me out of this rat trap, I might as well tell you the story of the time I rode a Killer Whale from California to Hawaii.

What?  Sick of my bullshit stories?  Well that’s just plain rude is what it is.  First off, not a single story I’ve ever told is bullshit.  There may be a little embellishment, sure, but they’re always rooted in the surreal and sad reality we’ve all faced and if you don’t believe that, well you’re no better than the gloomy ostrich stickin’ its head in the sand.  Luckily my brother ain’t as judgmental as you two or I’d surely be dead by now.  You know, I was told he’s sending me out on an expedition into the wilderness.  Most likely I’ll be seeing more whacked out scenes than I bargained for out there.  I tell you what, when I get back, I’ll regale you guys with all new stories of the great unknown.  Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate people that have seen more than you.

You’re right, probably not.  But I’ve never given up on anyone yet, and I never will.  People need to hear these things.  The news needs to spread somehow.  No internet anymore, hell we don’t even have a telegraph.  It’s word of mouth again, the simplest answer.  That Occam fella knew what he was talking about.

Anyway, it looks like this is where I get off.  Thanks again, it’s been a real pleasure talking to you.  I hope you don’t hold a grudge for me saying this, and it’s no offense meant to you, but I’ll be glad if this is the last time I ever see this place.  Now it’s off to connoiter with my kin.  I do believe he’s asked to see me personally.

Oh, don’t give me that shit.  It is most certainly a word.  If it wasn’t, how would one ever reconnoiter?  Honestly.  Goodbye.

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Brother, so good to meet you at last.  I’m sure you have questions, but let’s stow those for a while.  I’ve got much I need to tell you.

First and foremost, I’d like to thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death, the pomp and circumstance of an execution.  As much as I love being the guest of honor, I hate somber parties and if I had to make a walk while everyone was giving me their serious, angry face I would have flat out freaked.  I’ll tell you right now that I didn’t kill those children.  I never would.  Children are our future.  You don’t have to believe me yet, though.  I know we’ve only just met.  So, let me tell you a little about myself.

I was raised by our father in Massachusetts.  It was a normal childhood for the most part.  He remarried and didn’t have much time for me, so I spent most of my early years exploring the town we lived in.  I think that’s where I picked up my penchant for vagabonding.  There were so many secret places that I knew.  I befriended a small group of the town kids and we would just scoot around town all day long playing games, tag, hide and seek, and so on.  Naturally, because of my afore mentioned surveying, I always won.  I actually spent a day and a half stuck in a small tunnel, hiding from the seeker, a red haired boy named…oh what the devil was his name?  It doesn’t matter, we all called him Red, anyway.

Later, in high school, all of my exploration afforded me the prime hideouts for drinking and smoking a little reefer as everyone knows is a beloved past time of all high schoolers.  We would sit for hours in a deserted section of the town park, just getting high and talking about what we would do when we grew up.  Once, we were on a water tower and a good friend of mine fell off and hit his head.  He didn’t die, but he was never the same.  He would just mutter for hours, always the same thing.  “I’m Peter Pan, I’m Peter Pan.”

Please, brother, Ed, don’t interrupt.  I know you’re the mayor now, but I’ve been thinking about what I’d say to you for a long time and I just want to get this all off of my chest.  Where was I?  Oh yes.

Then we grew up.  People went to college.  Others got jobs.  Some of them got married and had little kiddos of their own.  That wasn’t for me.  I left.

Dad died a year later.  I was in London, barely surviving and couldn’t even afford the trip back.  I’m told it was a nice, small funeral.  I spent years, puttering about Europe and Asia.  Never knowing what I was looking for.  Maybe I wanted to be Peter Pan, too.  Maybe I just wanted to go to Neverland.  Not Jacko’s though.  That guy was a few pages short of a novel, if you know what I mean.  Anyway, I saw lots of things.  Things most people wouldn’t believe.  In fact I was being told I’m a bullshitter just before I came in here.  I’m not a bullshitter though Ed, people just don’t want to believe what doesn’t fit into their worldview.  They’ll believe that a man can walk on the moon, but not that a man can move things with his mind.  Short sighted, is what it is.  Everything evolves, Ed, everything.

I came here to look for more answers.  I’m sure you heard the report from the sheriff or whoever that was that took my statement.  You saved my life.  You were my god from the machine.  I thank you for that, from the bottom of my heart.  And I’m more than willing to go out there, into the untamed wilds to see what I can see for you, because you’re my brother and that’s what brothers do.  They help each other.

When I was in Australia, there was a man who came back to life after being dead for nearly a day.  It was hailed as a miracle.  When he woke up, he said that he’d been given visions of a plague that would destroy the world.  The doctors just attributed it to brain damage, but I believed him.  I believed him because after experiencing something impossible, one has earned the right to speak one’s mind.  Don’t you think?  Anyway, it looks like he was right.  I wonder if he’s still alive.  Probably not, most people only get one miracle.  The sad thing is, the vast majority of us don’t even notice it when it happens.

Anyway, I went and spoke with him afterwards and he told me that he knew there would be one final bastion of humanity, where we made a stand.  He told me to seek my kin.  I thought he just meant fellow human beings at the time, you know, a vague reference to the brotherhood of mankind or similar drivel, but now I know that he meant you.  And thank god for that.

I had some dark thoughts while I was rotting in that cage, Ed.  Contemplating your own mortality will do that, I guess.  But listen, the one thing that got me through was that I knew you’d save me from the pain.  I knew you were here and you wouldn’t let me go down for something that I didn’t do.  I won’t sugar coat it, I have done some bad things in my life.  I killed a man once, for money.  I shot him right between the eyes because he was cheating on his wife and she offered me twenty grand to do it.  I’m not that guy anymore, though.  I never took pleasure in doing those things, but I did what was necessary to survive.  Like we all did when the end came.  Only difference is, I needed to survive earlier than that.

So, brother mine, I will go and face down the beasts for you.  I will help make this world safe again in whatever way I can, because now we’re fighting for everyone’s survival, not just our own.  That’s something that makes a man humble.  It’s something that I can get behind.

Speaking in confidence, which I think I can do with you, I’m not sure we’ll be very successful on this mission.  What is there out there for us anymore?  I think we’ll be met with fire and brimstone.  Hell on Earth is all that waits outside the gates of our humble paradise.  But we must be optimistic, right?  It’ll be a cold day in Texas when I don’t wake up with a smile on my head just because I’m alive.  Optimistic realism, that’s what that is.  The optimists die for lack of preparedness and the realists die for lack of hope.  Combine them both and you’ve got me.  I toe the line, I sit on the fence, and I realize that it’s the only way to survive.  Now, what were you going to say, Ed?