Tuesday 24 November 2015

Black Thursday | Theland E. Thomas


An Exerpt from the short story collection, Grandpa Alfred's Christmas Tales, now on Amazon Kindle...


Decorations brightened the entire house. Strings of reflective tinsel spiraled around the banisters and railings. Colored lights, like the ones meticulously wrapped around the pine tree, brightened the entire living room. Outside, red and green lights adorned the roof. The lights outshined the stars at night. All the world joined in the celebration of Christ’s birth by cluttering their yards and gardens with bright recreations of Santa Claus and the virgin birth and of elves and toys and baby Jesus.
Greg turned his back on the shimmering Christmas tree and gazed toward the decorations that adorned the ledge between the living room and the kitchen, his gaze settling on one in particular. Past the miniature Christmas tree and the elves and the nutcracker was a two-tiered slate leaning on the wall. On the top half was a depiction of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus in the manger, and on the bottom a horned Satan and two smaller demons writhed in a fiery inferno.
“What?” Sandi said as she walked into the kitchen.
“Oh, just the same thing as every year: I hate that stupid plaque. It’s unsettling.”
The oven released a burst of sweet aroma as Sandi opened it to retrieve the gingerbread cookies. “I just don’t get it. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s showing the triumph of Jesus’ birth over the defeat of the devil.”
“Yeah, but look at their faces.” Greg leaned closer to the picture to view the contorted, red demons. “They’re supposed to be in torment, but the devil kinda looks like he’s smiling. It’s like he’s secretly happy about it.”
Sandi stopped. “You’re being ridiculous.”
DING-DONG! The doorbell sounded, triggering a reminder that he never did get that bell that played the melody of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” for Sandi. Maybe next year. “Well, that’s Dad. I’ll let him in.”
“Wait!” She followed him down the hall and to the door. “You have to make sure he’s appropriate this year. Last year was out of hand.”
Greg turned to her. “C’mon Sandi. He’ll be okay.” The doorbell rang again, and he opened the door, allowing in a blast of cold air. “Hi, Dad!”
“Hey, sonny!” Grandpa Alfred, who was wearing a red sweater that read “NAUGHTY” in white cursive, shuffled in and hugged Greg. “I brought eggnog,” he said with a wink, holding up his bag. “The fun kind.”
“Oh, boy,” Sandi said.
“Sandi!” Grandpa hugged her too. “You know you can have some eggnog with us.”
“Grandpa Alfred!” Sam and Simon rushed thunderously down the stairs.
He bent down and embraced them both. “Little munchkins. I haven’t seen you in . . . well I don’t know how long! Look how tall you’ve both gotten.”
Sam pulled away. “Grandpa, you said that yesterday.”
“Just because I make an observation twice, doesn’t make it any less true, young lady. Now who’s ready for a Christmas story?”
“Meeeee!” The kids cried in unison before running to the living room. Grandpa Alfred started after them.
Sandi cast a long glance at Greg. “As long as it’s Rated PG.”
Grandpa called back, “I wouldn’t dream of anything more.”
The family gathered in the fireplace-lit living room, the kids on the floor before Grandpa in the rocking chair, and Greg on the couch, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Bespectacled, Grandpa Alfred pulled a thick, burgundy book from his bag. “I think I’ve got a story you little ones haven’t heard before . . .”


Black Thursday


One cold Thanksgiving evening, there was a lowly retail employee—let’s call him Tom. Now, the world was such an evil and crooked place that, instead of spending Thanksgiving with his girlfriend, Tom was forced to go to work and serve the hordes of greedy customers lined up outside of his store. She said it was okay, that she could just go to a friend's, but Tom knew that she was really disappointed. Black Thursday night began at 5, and people were excited. Countless customers were lined up all the way down the block. Many had even set up tents in the parking lot—all to get the best deal on a flat screen TV or a cell phone or some other electronic.
So, understandably, Tom was mad. Just thinking about the fact that he had to be missing quality family time working for these greedy, greedy people was enough to make his teeth grind. But, like many people in his position, he kept quiet and did his job and hoped the paycheck at the end of the week was big enough. Speaking of which, he did not receive time-and-a-half for working on the holiday.
“I’m so pissed I’m here right now,” he said to his friend, Courtney.
Courtney was also pissed, but chronically so. Tom supposed it was from being given a girl’s name. “Yeah,” Courtney said, nearly yelling to project over the absurdly loud Christmas music. “You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna start fights. As soon as the door opens, I’ll just throw a punch here, a kick there. No one’s gonna know it’s me.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Tom replied offhandedly as he stared out the sets of sliding double doors at the crowd of people smashed up against them. They were pounding against the glass, shouting, peering in with angry faces that looked like the masks of ghouls.
All the employees turned around when the boss walked in. “Alright,” he said. “Who’s opening the doors?” No one made eye contact. “Thomas!”
He cursed under his breath as the boss threw the keys to him.
“Take your positions everybody. Doors open in thirty seconds! And no screw-ups. I will fire you!”
Several employees lined up behind him as he approached the doors. Past the wreaths and tinsel and the banner that read Black Thursday Extravaganza, he walked, each step filled with dread and loathing. The banging and screaming intensified as he approached the door, so much so that Tom couldn't even hear the music. He gulped, took a deep breath, and pushed the key into the door. BOOM! Tom jumped back, heart pounding. On the other side of the door, at eye level, a crazed man slammed his face against the glass. As he slid toward the ground, he left a smear of spit. This incited a frenzy amongst the crowd who redoubled their assault on the glass doors. The noise. He just wanted it to stop.
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Tom heard the boss holler. "Open the damn doors already!"
With a gulp, Tom turned the key in the latch. Before he could even move to activate the automatic doors, the horde flung them open and stampeded in. Tom spun desperately to flee, but, alas, was knocked to and fro by the savage shoppers until he finally lost his balance and toppled to the ground. Paying no mind, the crowd earnestly stomped on and around him, a minor sacrifice, of course, for the greater prize. All Tom could do was cover his head and pray that something out there would rescue him from this wretched nightmare before Christmas.
After a few minutes, all the clamor had passed. Tom listened around and glanced about and slowly collected himself, taking a moment to inspect his wounds. Both of his hands had been crushed, his swollen lip throbbed, and pain radiated from various bodily wounds.
"It's the most wonderful season of all!" the singer on the intercom proclaimed gaily.
Tom stumbled to his feet and limped into the mess of moving shopping cart traffic, anger stewing inside his heart. In that instant, blindingly bright lights shone behind him. He shielded his eyes and turned around to face them. The glare was so dazzling he couldn't rest his eyes upon it, the heat so intense, he broke into an instant sweat. Suddenly, the lights died out, leaving only splotches of orange in his vision. The cool rushed in through the open doors. Squinting, Tom could make out a huge, red work truck. All of the doors swung open in unison, and several Hispanic men unloaded from the inside with several more leaping from the truck bed. A man Tom assumed to be the one in charge strode up to him.
"Hello," he greeted with a thick Spanish accent as he extended his hand. "My name is Jesús, and we are here to fix your problems."
Tom's heart sank. "What problems?"
Jesús unfolded a pink slip from his pocket and glanced at it. "Eh, your plumbing, heating, electricity, and drywall."
"Uhhhh," Tom started to turn around. "Hold on, let me get my boss."
With that, Tom bound into the throng of wildly weaving shoppers, dodging, ducking, dipping, diving, and dodging with surprising agility given the plethora of injuries previously mentioned. He hurried toward the back of the store until he came upon a large group of people in an all-out brawl. They were throwing fists and items at each other with abandon, grappling, groping, biting, and backstabbing. They fell over carts with cries and grasped items with grunts, shrieking and scratching. Tom was going to have to find another route. He took a step back and bumped into a body.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Courtney said, rubbing his hands together slowly.
"You did this?" Tom asked.
"No, of course not. They're obviously the ones doing it."
"Okay, whatever, where's the boss?"
Courtney shrugged. "Probably in the back with the new girl. As usual. Dirty bastard."
Tom rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated puff as he made the detour around the brawl. The intercom blared “What Child Is This?" at deafening volumes. Coupled with the din of shoppers, the clamor was unbearable. Tom actually breathed a sigh of relief when he finally made it into the back offices, amid the company of grey, lifeless walls. Wincing in pain, he knocked on the boss' door.
"Just a minute!" the boss yelled from the other side. He heard rustling and a belt buckle and, sure enough, a woman's chuckle. Tom ground his teeth and tapped his foot as he waited. Finally, the boss cracked open the office door. "What is it?"
"Just some guys here to fix stuff. The plumbing . . ."
"Shit! That's today?!" The boss barrelled past him, leaving the door to slowly swing open.
Tom's jaw dropped when he saw who was in that office. "Veronica?"
His girlfriend quickly covered herself with her blouse. "Tom, it's not what it looks like," she cried with desperation hanging in her voice.
Pressure rose to Tom's face. "It's not? Because it looks like you two were in here fu—"


"AH, AH, AH, U-UH, U-UH!" Greg interjected, waving his hands. "Hey, Dad, why don't we just skip this part of the story?" He glanced over at Sandi, who responded with an icy death glare.
Grandpa Alfred looked up from the storybook. "Aw, but this is the juicy part."
"Yeah," Sam chimed in. "This is the juicy part, Daddy."
"Well, I'm not really a fan of juice after all. I prefer water. Let's . . . tone it down."


Tom stormed out of the office with tears brimming in his eyes. The pressure pounded in his head and blinded his judgment like the water blinded his sight. He tore from the back rooms, ready to rip the boss apart. He was going to kill him! He was going to knock him out . . . He was . . . on second thought, that wasn't such a great idea. Tom clenched his fists and ground his teeth. He really needed this job.
He arrived at the front of the store just in time to hear Jesús through the din of the checkout line and holiday shoppers. "We will start on the pluming first and then do the heating and electrical work, okay?"
"No, it's not okay!” the boss cried. "This is the busiest day of the year! You can't just come in and tear up the whole place!"
"Buddy," Jesús said, "it’s not my fault you scheduled us for today. We're busy people too. Maybe you should manage your store better instead of screwing around when nobody's watching."
The color drained from the boss' face as Jesús and his crew brushed past him. He turned around and glowered at Tom. "Don't you have work to do?"
Tom ducked his head and turned into one of the aisles. The shelves were a wreck. The ones that weren't stripped bare were ransacked. Items lay torn from their packages, some completely missing. Toys littered the floor and had been smashed underfoot by the insatiable horde. He got to work, removing the defective product and pulling what little remained to the front. Soon, the repetitive work allowed Tom's mind to rest—to fall into that sleepy complacency that so often accompanies manual labor.
"Hey, mister?" A child's voice shattered the calm, and the clamor came rushing back. The voice came from a little boy who oddly resembled that kid from Home Alone. "Where's the water fountain?"
"It's . . ." Tom started to point, then reconsidered. "Follow me, I'll show you."
He led the little boy through the aisles, passing shoppers stuffing their carts, clawing over items, and screaming at each other. A commercial blared over the intercom: "What better way to spread holiday cheer than to get the perfect gift here at . . ." He glanced behind him to make sure the kid was still there. Finally, they arrived at the water fountain by restrooms in the far corner of the store, but when the little boy took a sip, he spat it out with a cry.
"Ew," he said. "This water tastes like metal!"
"What?" Tom pushed the fountain, and sure enough, red, rusty water poured forth from the spout. "Welp, sorry dude. You'll have to get your mom to buy you some."
The boy looked down at his shoes and quietly said, "Actually, I don't know where my mommy is."
Tom rolled his eyes and told the kid to follow him to the customer service desk. As he passed the front of the store he found Jesús and his crew walking the opposite direction as him—the opposite direction of shopper traffic—causing patrons to swerve to avoid them and further congesting the walkway. Jesús gestured toward him as he approached.
"Hey, guy, where is your boss?"
In that instant, the rage Tom felt earlier that night rushed to the forefront. Suddenly, the blood pounded in his head, and he choked out, "I don't know."
"Well, tell him we're done with the plumbing, and we are going to start on the AC."
Before Jesús and his crew continued past, Tom stopped them. "Hey, you guys did the plumbing? There's rust in the water."
"Yeah, just run the water and that will clear out," Jesús said.
"Are you sure? That's never happened before."
Jesús started walking away. "Don't doubt me. I can do my job."
So, Tom continued to the service desk thinking what an ass that guy was. He dropped the kid off with the new service desk girl all the while fantasizing about how he could get back at his boss. On the one hand, he needed the money, and he was a pretty loyal guy, but on the other hand, this job had taken more than he was willing to offer. His outside life, his girlfriend . . . Veronica. Right then, something broke. Finally, the emotion welling within spilled over into action, and Tom marched diagonally through the crowd back to the service desk.
The new girl announced over the intercom, "Braden Wilson's mom, he is waiting for you at the service desk. Braden Wilson's mom, he's here at the service desk."
Before New Girl could put the phone down, Tom snatched it and said, "Also, Veronica, I hate you, and I was going to break up with you anyway!" He looked around at the mildly interested faces, already regretting making such a rash decision. Well, it was too late now. Feedback screeched on the intercom as he put the phone back up to his mouth. "Have fun with fatso. I don't care. This is my last shift!" He dropped the phone on the counter, and the thud from the speakers pierced his ears and made everyone wince.
With that, Tom held his head high and fought the crowd to get to the electronics section. The teeming of bodies caused the air to stifle and the temperature to skyrocket. It actually seemed to get hotter the further back into the store he traveled. Soon, sweat flowed from his pores, and his throat was parched. When Tom made it back, the brawl was even bigger than before. The sweaty fighters used sales items as weapons, bashing each other with signs and posts, ramming others in the ankles with carts and allowing the mob to converge on them as they fell. To his right, three customers tugged a TV, their red fingers and faces a testament to their determination. Suddenly, a fourth guy jumped and elbow-slammed the TV, smashing the screen through the box. Tom pushed past sticky bodies to find Courtney reveling in the violence.
"Hey, Tom," he said with a crazed grin on his face. "Isn't this great?"
"Yeah," Tom laughed. "Did you hear my announcement?"
Courtney frowned, "Nope. Hey, man, it's kind of hot in here." He pulled on his sweat-soaked work shirt.
"Yeah, some guys are working on the AC."
"Oh." Courtney turned away to watch the show.
Tom spoke into his ear over the noise, "Well, I caught my girlfriend cheating on me with the boss."
"That bastard!"
"So, I'm quitting after tonight."
"Yeah, that's how it is? We should get him! Make him pay."
"What are you going to do?" Tom asked. "You're still going to be working here."
"The hell I am!" Courtney said.
Right then, the boss emerged from the crowd. "Where the hell is that Jesus guy?" He shouted, pronouncing the name in English. "Do you know how many complaints I've gotten about this heat? Thomas, go find him!"
Heat rose to Tom's face. He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to tell the boss to piss off. He wanted to punch him in the face. Instead, he ate his words and turned to complete the errand, courage depleted. It really was hot in the store. The hectic movements of the shoppers devolved into a slow drag as the sweltering heat sapped their energy. There! Tom spotted one of Jesús' crew. He jogged up to him, panting after traveling the short distance.
"Hey, where's Jesús?"
The worker gave him a blank stare and started, "No . . . No espeak English."
"Jesús?" Tom spoke louder, as if that would cause him to understand.
"No," the man said. "Me llamo Pedro."
"No." Tom shook his head and spoke even louder. "No, donde Jesús? Where is Jesús?"
"No . . . no sé . . ."
Tom walked past him, annoyed at the useless energy expenditure. Amazingly, the back rooms were even hotter than the rest of the store. He braced himself on the wall when he entered, resting to pant for a little while. Then, he continued down the corridor. Eventually, he found Jesús and part of his crew tinkering with the air conditioning system.
Tom gasped, "Hey . . . Jesús . . . it's so hot."
Jesús turned from his work. "What?"
The crew looked perfectly fine. Not a bead of sweat hung from any of their faces. Tom wiped his forehead. "Jesús, when are you going to finish? We're all dying out here."
"We're almost done here. I've got guys on the walls and electricity."
The intercom squawked overhead, causing all of them to look up. Courtney’s voice came on. "I'm sick of working here, so I'm quitting! Anyone who's sick and tired of being abused and not making enough to pay rent, come join me in the electronics department and express your frustration!" The intercom clicked.
Jesús stood up and wiped his hands, staring Tom straight in the eye. "If you know what's good for you, you wouldn't go over there." He pointed at him. "You got a pure heart."
Tom turned away. "You don't know about me."
When he stepped back onto the sales floor, the customers were running amok. Only a few workers remained at their posts—the others ran around toppling shopping carts and throwing merchandise from shelves. Tom headed to the electronics department where a ring of employees surrounded the everlasting brawl. Courtney led them in a chant: "We want fair wages, we want fair treatment!"
Filled with awe, Tom stared at the spectacle. There was so much chaos that, for that moment, it seemed like the world was coming to an end.
And then it was pitch black.
Everyone in the store drew in a collective gasp. Then someone screamed, "Take everything!"
The calm blanket of darkness instantly transformed into a into a veil of madness. People ran left and right, bumping Tom forward and backward. So he joined in. He ran blind, arms outstretched whacking anything and everything in his path. Aimlessly, he tumbled down the aisles knocking items off the shelves, euphoria masking the pain in his hands. He reveled in the rebellion, the most he'd ever experienced in his life. He ran at such a rapid pace that he didn't notice the ground begin to shake. A deafening rumble crashed on his left, followed by a blast of dust. The euphoria Tom had experienced quickly evaporated as he realized what was happening. A section of the store had collapsed. Screams of those trapped floated from the black rubble.
The rest of the store sprung into a panic, and the bodies shoving past Tom now all fled the same direction—to the front doors. Tom spun around in the darkness. "There's people trapped!" he shouted. "Someone help!" No one paid any attention to him, and no one saw as he waved his arms. Another rumble erupted, this time from the other end of the store. The ceiling crashed down in a wave of flames. A lump caught in Tom's throat as panic set in. He turned away from the screams and ran toward the front.
"Boss! Boss!" Tom heard in the distance. He turned around to see Courtney with his legs trapped under debris. The boss slowed to a halt. He was holding Veronica's hand. "Boss," he strained, stretching out his bleeding arm. "Help me. Please."
The boss cast his gaze down upon Courtney's fallen form. He let Veronica's hand go and grasped Courtney's as he crouched down to look him in the eye. "Courtney . . ." he started, "you're fired." The boss stood up and walked away.
Veronica screeched, "You're not going to help him?"
Black smoke hung in the air, scorching their lungs. "C'mon," Tom said as he rushed over to Courtney. He and Veronica tried to lift the slab of concrete, but no matter how hard they pulled and strained, it wouldn't budge. Another section of the ceiling collapsed, and the debris slid forward, crushing Courtney's lower torso.
He coughed up blood and wheezed, "Just . . . go . . ."
The smoke stung Tom's eyes. "No, man, we're going to get you out of here."
"Go!" Courtney insisted. "You'll die too."
"Let's go," Veronica said, pulling Tom's hand. Tom stood and ran hand-in-hand with Veronica, hot tears streaming down his face. Unfortunately, between them and the front door was a flaming stack of rubble. They slowed to a stop as they realized the inevitability of their impending doom. Standing before the flames was the boss. He turned around to face them, glancing down at their clasped hands and back up to their faces. Together, they contemplated in silence until the building collapsed upon them as well.
As Tom lay dying, body pinned mercilessly under concrete and rebar, he saw Jesús and his crew on the outside of the building. In Jesús' arms was the little boy from the water fountain. Smoke clouded his view as he watched them all pile into the work truck, but the headlights burned through in a blaze of glory. And just as quickly as they'd arrived, they disappeared.


Grandpa Alfred set the book down on his lap. The family sat in silence, listening to the cracking and popping of the fireplace.
"Wow," Sandi was the first to speak up. "How is that even a Christmas story? All that was in the book?"
"Well," Grandpa chuckled, "I ad-libbed a little bit."
Greg glanced down at the storybook and noticed that Grandpa was holding it upside-down.
“Wow, that was the best story ever!” Sam exclaimed. “Can you tell us another one? Pleeeease?”
“Yeah,” Simon echoed, barely able to pronounce the words. “That story was reawy, reawy . . . reawy reawy . . . the best story eva!”
Greg refused to meet Sandi’s eyes, saying, “Only if Grandpa promises it’ll be more tame.”
Grandpa peered over his reading glasses, eyes shifting between Sandi and Greg. “You know, I don’t like making promises I can’t keep.”
Sandi glowered. “We’re not asking you to.”
He raised his eyebrows and flipped a few pages in the storybook. “Okay . . . something tame. Oh! I’ve got just the one . . .”




Want to read more? Get Grandpa Alfred's Christmas Tales on Kindle today!

Saturday 31 October 2015

Mission to Mars | Alexander T. Damle


            As the man clumps together the backs of his boots, a bit of red dirt falls to the floor, and he watches as the individual particles are rolled about by the dull rumble of the train. His beat up old bomber jacket is coming apart along the seam of the left arm, and he picks at it briefly. Something to do, anything. A train without windows is really just a tin can on a track, he thinks.
            He glances around at his fellow passengers, all dressed in clothes patched over five times too many, faces tired, eyes downcast, and behind him somewhere a child cries.
            With the surge of noise he considers the music playing. There are only nine songs left, and this is number four.
            “Lookout out a dirty old window
            Down below the cars in the city go rushing by
            I sit here alone-
            The people are broken but the car isn’t, not yet. There always has been something about the trains, the Exclusion Zones seem to protect them from whatever it is that’s infected the rest, even as they are all that is ours that lay in the zones.  
            He imagines what scenes play themselves out beyond the walls of the carriage, and he knows he can’t, that’s the point. There are rules. In life and society and physics and reality and in the Zone there are not. Just how it goes. He looks at the seat below him, fine red leather, the walls some expensively stained wood. Above a chandelier swings slightly as the train rolls forwards, real gold and what look like precious stones (what’s precious - now, in this life?).
            “Outside a new day is dawning
            Outside suburbia’s sprawling... everywhere
            Really tired of this song, everyone is. But they can’t just make more, can they? In the Foreshortening much was lost, and art was, in the grand scheme of such total destruction, a relatively minor victim. Afterall, they still have the Nine.
            A trolley trundles down the centre aisle towards him, come from somewhere in the front of the train, it somehow still perfect though he wonders who cleans it, who bothers, and why. And yet, though the trolley may be perfect, and the glasses on it crystal, the water within them is clouded with dirt and muck. Survive.
            “Water?”
            “Yes.” He reaches across his duffle bag set in the seat next to him, grabs a glass, nods at the old woman behind the trolley. He settles back in his seat and looks to where there should be a window, but still isn’t.
            From behind him, commotion.
            “You’re all sheep! God save the Zone!” He turns his head, a man, bedraggled, long beard, matted, shitty old jacket picked full of holes, under it what looks, based on assumptions of some old movie (one of Seventeen), a homemade bomb.
            “We’re the kids!
            “I’ll blow us all back to the Zone!”
            “We’re the kids in America!
            “From the Zone we were born, so back to it we shall die!”
            “We’re the kids!
            Behind the man, the door to the carriage opens, and three men cladden in olive fatigues, plate armour real bronze, in their arms old Russian assault rifles (not much survived, Kalashnikovs and cockroaches, goes the joke. Humour didn’t), and the gunfire in the tin can on rails is near deafening.
            “We’re the kids in America!
            The man’s skull pops open back to front and blood sprays across the leather and wood paneling and the bronze trolley, and before any of the passengers can be returned their faculties from gunfire’s clutches, the flesh that was once man is dragged out the carriage by the soldiers.
            From the PA system, the song peters out,
            “Next Stop: Omaha.”

            The man disembarks the train and coughs, the air hung thick with smog and dust. The train station shoots up impossibly towards a concrete roof choked black with tar off the train smokestacks, all concrete and grey and black and all the people dressed so too. Across the station he catches briefly the eyes of a man and the eyes they too are deep grey, and half-hid under a scarf of some sort, but as soon as their eyes match both pairs are turned back to their proper position in study of shoes and pavement below. He makes for the doors of the station, these once inlaid with a gold scroll but now, with the constant overhanging smog, their colours should come as no surprise.
            Out the station now, and he looks up and down and all the same. Born into but barely more than one colour, it can’t be a thing worth noticing, and yet still he thought somehow here it would be different, a gateway and a portal. He walks to a nearby railing and looks down, two hundred, three hundred feet down, a thousand feet up, buildings made pure unpainted concrete, uncountable windows all looking out unto nothing, but looking in?
            Down below is cloaked half in darkness, furrows of steam float gently up towards him then above, above more walkways, below more walkways, until finally somewhere the infamous street level, cloaked in so much dirt and grime and Nothing. No escape not ever, but, rumour has it, escape lies somewhere here.
            And yet, escape not even in death, as from somewhere deep within the train station the soldiers walk with their man with the bomb and the message, clasped tight in chains, guns pointed at him, then gentle down an airship flutters, the path of its wind about clearing a chasm amongst the swarming en-massed crowds, and the perp is led on and briefly the Man and the Perp make eye contact and then the doors to the airship glide closed with a hiss like life run out a party balloon, before whisking upwards into the smog’s upper reaches and some greater permanence than this endless life of grey.
            The man reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, takes one, taps it on the banister before him, then takes a lighter from another pocket. He rolls back his thumb and watches the flame dance, real colours so rare now, feels its heat as the metal of the striker warms from the flame. The paper and tobacco smoulder red and yellow and orange, it’s shape curling and unfurling in ways so unfamiliar under harsh rules of Concrete Architecture. He inhales and remembers a story told to him once by an old man about a time when cigarettes were a sign of something else, a something so long gone to them, not since the Foreshortening, cherished once, even as it was hated, beloved, as all spurned its touch. But in the Exclusion Zone... or so the story goes.
            The man, he sees what he’s here for, so flicks the butt of his cigarette off the edge, and watches briefly as the embers flicker off towards darkness and smoke, then turns around, picks up his bag from the ground, and heads towards the doors labeled, quite plainly, “Down.” Many around him wait, and he looks briefly to their faces, but they like his are blank, the essence of feeling lost with death, but that matters not because always there is pain. Then the doors slide open to reveal a cage ensnared in mesh on all sides but the ground, a thick sheet of some metal unknown. People press inwards and fore and aft, the man feels the crush, and smells some great stink and knows it’s not One but All, the price of life. He stands pressed near to one wall, and looks out the great blocks of concrete stretching from ground to eternity.
            The cage begins to rattle and shake, a few people grab out for stability, most find only one another, they, however, are used to this, the shoddy construction of the capital cities, so far now over capacity, with nothing left to clear the bodies.
            As they move slowly downwards, each foot with a suggestion of a threat of massive speed up, painful though it may be, considered welcomed, the city’s grand design spreads around the man, and he understands briefly just what this place is, ten million people, in a space so small, between the walls, beyond the clutch of the Zone. Windows of apartments stacked to the sky, through them rot and ruin, laundry drying brown and grey out in the smog, a man looks at the man, smoking a cigarette out an open window.  
            Somewhere in the cage, a baby begins to cry, and around the man muffled sighs. But nothing more, nothing more to be done.

            Then, finally, the ground level, some dispatched on each the walkways, now just half a dozen in the cage, the man in their midst. The streets are choked with oily brown runoff of industry and man, agriculture up on rooftops a mile off, floating thick in it scraps of paper, egg shells, used condoms, toilet paper rolls, orange peel, chicken bones, the corpse of a large rat, a baby doll’s eye, half a book torn at the spine, a mould infested loaf of bread, and a smell to make God cry. The man, he too stifles back tears, before reaching into a pocket and procuring a mask, to block the smell a little, enough.
            He gazes down the street at which the cage found the end of its journey. It narrows down to blackness not more than a hundred yards away, sun choked off by skyscrapers, ill-lit besides. What can be seen with man’s eyes is choked with steam, billowing out of vents on buildings’ sides, it infected with a sweet, rotten smell quite singular, and from amongst the steam the man sights a group of kids, shirtless and wild eyed, clutched in hands handguns the size of heads, and the kids laugh and jeer, then one the guns goes off in an explosion of fire, colour amongst the grey, and a child across the street is struck in the chest, blood fountaining outwards, caught slathered by a bare lightbulb hanging above doorway, white steam turned red, shadows colour macabre, refracted all across the alley like an old movie projection.
            Still the kids laugh.
            The man walks towards them, and they quiet, watch him back. Their companion on the ground, the blood flow slows, then stops, and gently his eyes flutter re-open, he feels the blood, still warm, tastes it, then stands back up, sights his gun at the one who shot him, and the man quickens his pace.
            Down alleys he wanders, jaunt right then left, forwards and back, feels as circles, but his memory, it’s good, he knows the directions. Follow them and you’ll get there. “Where you go from There is up to you.”
            It starts to rain, somehow all the way down here a few drops still, and he sees them hiss against building sides and asphalt, feels them against his flesh, not how water feels but a slight soapiness, like cleaning bleach.
            Some poor soul, trapped forever caught just beyond sewer grate watches the man, stark figure caught in the rain in old clothes, bones and muscle sagging downwards with stitches, duffle bag caught firm in hand, and the soul thinks to cry out to him, imagining into him maybe something good, but before he can a new tsunami of sludge washes towards, him and as he opens his mouth to scream, he is caught by a taste of death, and though this is all he longs for, it is not, in this sensory format, what he seeks.
            Finally, he rounds a corner, the rain coming down hard now, crashing and clattering like snare drums on runoff in road’s centre, and there across same road is the sign he’s looking for, illuminated like turn-of-some-century cabaret sign, lots of bright white lights spelling out a name too obvious.
            “Bar.”
            He crosses the road, the brown oil come almost to boot tops, almost coming flooding in on toes barely protected by thread worn socks.
            Beneath the sign he pushes open big heavy door in thick steel once stainless, now blackened.
            Inside lights are dingy, the very bulbs stained brown by dust not-cleaned, beat up wooden tables, beat up wooden bar-top, beat up man, beat up bartender, dirty glasses, old whiskey bottles behind counter, now probably paint thinner, shoe polish, all dulls the pain the same.
            Creaking out over a speaker in the corner, number seven starts up anew.
            “I don’t care if Monday’s blue
            Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too.
            Up to the bartender the man steps.
            “Looking for someone.”
            “Yeah?”
            “Told to find him here.”
            “Who?”
            “Thompson.”
            “Yeah.”
            “He here?”
            “It’s Friday I’m in love.”
            “Sure.”
            “Gotta talk to him.”
            “What about?”
            “Heard he knows a way in.”
            “Maybe. Maybe not.”
            “I got it.”
            “What?”
            “Saturday wait
            And Sunday always comes too late.
            “What he asks for.”
            “Not a lot Thompson asks for.”
            “I got it.”
            “Show me.”
            The man hoists the duffel bag up onto counter, his muscle tingling underused with the motion, pulls at the rusting zipper. Bartender looks inside, his face shows only the slightest hint of caring, but care he does.
            “Good?”
            “Good. I’ll call him.” The bartender picks up an old phone, with each number punched in dust plumes out. Talks for a few clipped seconds. Hangs up the phone, turns back to the man.
            “He’s coming.”
            “Good. Pour me a drink?”
            “Sure.” From under the counter, hidden from sight for some reason once known but now forgotten, values gone to the Foreshortening, a green bottle is plucked, shit-coloured liquid slithers its way out into glass dusty as all the rest.
            “How much?”
            “You paid enough.” The man takes the duffel bag and the glass, pads through the thin layer of dust on the floor, leaves tracks, sits down at a table.
            Tucked into bar's corner sits a figure with back hunched, drink clutched hard between two hands, eyes burnt out into a colour red but for the light.
            “It’s such a gorgeous sight
            To see you eat in the middle of the night.
            “You.” The man looks up at the figure.
            “Yeah.”
            “Why?”
            “Why what?”
            “Why do you want to go?”
            “Get away from this place.”
            “You will never truly know what’s beyond these walls.”
            “I know one thing, and that thing is death.”
            “You think you know another thing.”
            “Zion.”
            “It’s there.”
            “You’ve been?”
            “Yeah.”
            “Why you here?”
            “There’s death, then there’s Zion.”
            “So?”
            “Only two things are forever.”
            “What?”
            “The cities and trains. And death. Not Zion.”
            “What do you mean?”
            “What the Zone gives, it takes. Except death. Death is, itself, a taking.”
            “Monday you can fall apart
            Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart
            Thursday doesn’t even start
            It’s Friday I’m in love.”
            “Why’d you go to Zion then?”
            “I didn’t know. But more, I thought there would be art.”
            “Art?”
            “The songs. Movies. In Zion we can create them again. Hasn’t been taken from us.”
            “Songs beyond the Nine?”
            “Yes.”
            “It sounds...”
            “It’s a trap. Choose death.”
            “To be kind... to be kind... to be kind...” Song number one now.
            The door is pushed open and in walks Thompson, long jacket caked thick with soot and tar and mud and shit and blood. But the jacket is special where nothing is special and Thompson loves the jacket because it’s special.
            “You the one?”
            “Yeah.” The man hands him the duffel bag. Thompson opens it and as he sights his prize, his eyes remain impassive.
            “Good. You know what you’re buying?”
            “Yeah.”
            “You ready?”
            “Yeah.”
            “You.” Thompson speaks to the figure.
            “Yeah?”
            “Drink up. Bar’s closing.”
            “Sure.”
            “You.” To the bartender.
            “Yeah?”
            “Get your gun.”
            “Okay.”
            The three, the bartender, holding a homemade shotgun, Thompson, and the man, walk through city streets, darker now for sun’s absence. The duffel bag left behind, its prize already taken. They walk in silence and move to only the sound of boots splashing through the layer of muck gathered up on sidewalks in the rain. In the shadows occasionally flit spectres, some with guns, some with knives, some with hands and flesh naked, some silent, some screaming full.
            Finally to a door they come, and Thompson opens it with an old skeleton key, holds it ajar for his companions. Within is a tunnel, lit barely, but better than the streets, old incandescent bulbs hanging every thirty meters, bare but for the dust that cloaks them. The walls and floor concrete as outside, but here somehow dry, even for all the pipes run and hung about walls and ceiling.
            They walk as the man through the alleys, twisting towards point unknown but to Thompson, all clung close together for fear they will not speak of powers they cannot know. Occasionally they come to patch with bulb dead or shattered, and the barman feels something rising through his throat as the shadows claw long towards them in these spaces.
            Despite an incredible urging in the very atmosphere, through these passages they make it unharmed. Then they reach another door, and Thompson pulls a large pistol from under his jacket.
            “Beyond this door, you cannot stray from us until we reach the door at the other end. Once you touch the handle of the second door you cannot stop. Otherwise it will break you. Through the door is the Zone”
            “What is through this door?”
            “The broken.”
            “And what are they?”
            “Like us, they do not die. And yet, all they see is the Zone, but they cannot step through the door. That is pain you cannot understand.”
            “How were they broken?”
            “With door in hand they hesitated. Or they made it to the Zone, came back, and sought the Zone again.”
            “Why did they come back then?”
            “This I cannot know.”
            “The guns?”
            “Won’t stop them. Might slow them. Ready?”
            “Yeah.”
            This door the bartender opens. Beyond is cloaked mostly in darkness, but for three bulbs, each fifty metres apart, and the Passage is silent, but for a reverberating growl that is felt but not heard, and the air stinks of something that is not shit and is not death and is not rot but is something much worse. Then briefly the silence is broken by a cry and the cry was once human but it’s not anymore. The three begin to walk and the two with guns constantly circle around one another, keeping no angle unseen but still they feel eyes on them that they know they will never see, not until it doesn’t matter what they see.
            Out from a side passage blood flows liberal towards them, first a trickle then a gush and wordlessly the barman and Thompson begin to run and then the man matches their pace before it reaches him and the noise rises to a pitch too high to hear but like its lower register brethren is just enough to be felt and this feels of pain and cries and the man thinks maybe he needs to stop to catch his breath but he doesn’t.
            The door then, the door the man imagines is the last door, and they reach it and with his gun Thompson gestures to the handle, and the man pauses ever so slightly before grabbing it...
            space fire on fire after fire after birth viscera and claws ripping inside and out that time you screamed and screamed and screamed long into the night and no one came
            and he pushes the door and falls forwards through it and
           
            The man screams in his stomach and his mouth vomits up a stream steady, uniform, gold then deep scarlet red then blue then green, and each his features pressured slowly and slightly not by needles but gentle hands beautiful woman, pleasure from the pain as he slides down neon river against ink black sky. This is Good and the Zone isn’t meant to be good but Good doesn’t last.
            He falls through that ink black sky towards the earth, sketched out on the ground lines of blood, rivers and oceans and lakes and ponds and streams of foaming, frothing blood and pain and as he nears he sees all covered in thin black spikes and then the sound, screams and cries and pain so much pain part of the air now, soundwaves and airwaves and sea waves, bashing his body against rocks sharp as needles, bare skin crunched down to bone, he feels his member pinched repeatedly under rough stone, cheese grater, and he feels it mish-mashed out of proportion and shape and with each crunch of body to stone he feels something slip out of place not in body but mind, and he waits for the shock to protect him but it does not come and he remembers what he was told, stay above it but he slips into it and he can’t think because it’s all pain and and the pain runs deeper than he goes and what little man was there before the door, what little passion and pleasure and pride and aspiration in a land of skys always grey now swallowed up to the Pain and through the Pain he tries to find something and he loses even now his name, so un-oft spoken, and to the pain he loses the image of the back of his hand, his mother’s face, the eyes of a woman he fucked, to the pain he loses all feelings once good, member slipped so perfectly into woman with such pleasure now nought but blood and when he tries to find that pleasure as Something to claw out onto all he finds now are shadows and fog and desperation for an escape and now, more than ever, though such a dominant emotion for so long, now he wishes himself truly dead.
            A place where none of the rules apply. How could he be so stupid as to think from here he could find any sort of salvation? He remembers as he remembers so little one rule: always forwards.
            Down to the surface now, how he got here he knows not, as he knows so little. The surface he sees at first red, and thinks of blood, then as he lifts a foot and feels it spring and sponge neath’ his weight, he thinks of flesh rended from bone by blade. He looks about him and the land is cloaked like the alleys at night, until a great lightening fills the sky and he’s reminded of some old notion now long dead of a God, but knows it’s not this, and the light beats towards him, at first pleasant, then overwhelmingly bright, he closes his eyes but still the light. It seeps in under eyelids and rips cornea wide, afterburst afterbirths of light blown outwards from central wheel in colours still un-named.
            Forward, he falls, then crawls, with each his hand’s grip fingers tearing slightly into the flesh of the earth, and he feels little bits of Something Awful caught up beneath his fingernails and this close he smells something, shit and vodka and vomit and sweat and semen and operating rooms, rotten meat and gone off fish and cheese turned green, that giant writhing mass of grey and white too perfect to be real that once grew up off a cauliflower that still for his hunger he had to eat, and the smell it almost kills him, but he pulls himself forwards bit by bit.
            Keep moving always keep moving, stay above the pain, focus, destination, goal, moving.
            Then a breakthrough, he knew these would come but he’d almost forgotten.
            Where there was pain there is now only light, a sensation run all down his body, oscillating through his spine, into his fingers and toes, across his face, something best approximated as an orgasm but an orgasm all to the Self. He opens his eyes, and he stands and at first he understands not, beyond that he is in a sort of Eye of an endless storm, a land of colours Wrong but not grey, skies purple and grounds orange, trees of bark ebony hung not with leaves but with fingers and toes (human).
            He begins to walk as he begins to see, creatures marvelous, one beast the size of a skyscraper, long neck arching like a giraffe, only each vertebrate made of cubes bony, something sticking off each corner, and up on top not the face of an animal, but a man, a sad clown, its eyes crying out for some sort of escape, some sort of salvation, even as its lips are sewn shut, as blood pours out where ears belong but instead hang flaps of corrupted flesh.
            A man walks towards him, nude, he sees, but his flesh slowly strips itself away, slopping off his frame and falling with a sloshing slathering splash to the ground in little piles, and he looks to the man’s eyes and these are melting slowly down his face, running round the corner of his lips, down his bare chest, and suddenly the pupils turn from their downwards course to look up at him, and the mouth opens and the noise it makes is not like words but like a song, but not one of the Nine, and from this man’s pain the man takes pleasure, more than what already owns his flesh, and he begins to stop to listen.
            But then he remembers and keeps moving.
            A pair now and both they look at him, one a woman beautiful in essence but not in fact, face of perfect symmetry, body venusian form, proportions exact, but somehow just wrong, in maybe the ways her eyes are deep black or her mouth is beset not by teeth but by fangs, or, maybe, perhaps, just maybe, in the man’s mind the fact that he knows he’ll never have her makes her somehow evil. The figure other is a man, and the man is the man but he’s just a man too, and this new man seems to beg to the woman as she ignores him and stares at the man. Then the woman, she procures from somewhere a razor blade and takes hold this new man’s head, turns his body out from hers, so the two mens eyes meet, and she presses the blade into flesh of neck, and his whole body begins to twitch and convulse and he screams out as blood jets out in gentle arcs, as flesh is rended from flesh and the slit that finds itself on his neck begins to smile at the man, and the new man is, as his last scream runs from him, a man no longer.
            So much more seen, so much indescribable, pleasure and pain, waves tumbling and crashing over him, great then terrible, terrible then great, and he walks still forwards, his legs tiring him and threatening to betray him but somehow never doing so though he almost wishes they would, let him give up, let death take him, let him be finally free.
            Then he tops a rise, and he finds himself in the back of a box canyon, walls of stone on three sides rising up to meet a sky the colour of rotten grapes, and on the walls’ jagged outcropping bodies of men and women naked and penetrated about the abdomen by the sharp stones, and still they live for still they cry and the sound pops the man’s ear drums and yet still he hears. Then below him he looks down and sees now for the first time his body, cut through with little spikes of black keratin, outgrowths of once healthy skin and he feels all them now, cutting deeper than they run, and he begins to fall, but he remembers, and pushes on, tries to run, though every time he does so the growths on feet bottoms jab into tender baby’s flesh.
            Valley eventually begins to curve downwards, in an almost cartoonic perversion of land’s shape. Soon he finds himself running down at angle threatened to betray feet to slip-slide, but still he moves.
            Finally ground levels off and through narrow passage in rock he steps, and on other side after veil of blackness he sees lake, surface perfectly reflective, and he stops for there is nowhere to go but in or back, and he can’t go back, so he goes forwards and the surface as soon as he breaks it morphs and begins to eat up his legs and torso, up to his arms, and as it reaches his face he considers briefly that it feels, somehow, right.
            The place the man is now is a place that cannot be understood or explained, and all the man knows is that he exists and he does not know if anything else exists but he knows he can stay here and he knows if he stays here he will die or he can move forwards and if he moves forward he will be in Zion and he doesn’t really know what’s in Zion.
            He moves forwards, because he feels there must be something, something other than here, other than what lies behind.

            Through a narrow pass between rocks he comes and before him is a narrow dirt path, but around him all he sees is beauty. Trees of bark white dappled with sparks of black, their leaves all turned to red and gold and orange, colours from songs and books but not of life, not his life, not this life but here, here they are, streamed against the sky, it a comforting overcast grey as slowly over some horizon, it beset by rolling hills these too covered in oaks and sycamore and more aspen set to their Autumnal tones, last rays of a sun the colours of love streams its last beams of light from ‘neath the clouds, as it sets slow to give place the night.
            Then down in the valley he sees a town, lights flickering on as the sun sinks away, the buildings they not concrete but stone, each, it seems, set individually, not boxes but arches and buttresses, rose windows, beauty, in amongst the town still more of the trees in their coats beautiful.
            The man begins down that path, picking his way around rocks, across a few streams babbling down from the mountains behind (converging, he sees, far down the valley, in a river that winds it’s way in between orchards on town's outskirts right into town’s centre, looking, it seems, like a sort of centerpoint for the people growing more visible as he descends from the heights of the pass).
            Soon enough he is passing through fields then those same orchards, and he passes a few farmhouses here and there, self-hand-made out of wood and glass and something else some emotion he has never felt and doesn’t understand, he thinks he knows the word, from one of the songs, but he doesn’t know what it is, up till now a simple piece of gibberish like the tonguings of a newborn babe. He will make the connection, but not yet. From the front faced windows of one the houses oozes a scent he knows, and knows the word for but has never smelled like this, apples and cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves, all cooked together in a buttery melding, a conflagration of chemicals hung the air with some emotion their own, it tied into their nuclear structure, his own neurological structure, a reminder of another word, still extant but rarely used, cozy, even though the air blows cool with rain on it some few hours down the valley.
            Then the first the buildings of the towns, little houses all warm and welcoming and again, and still, cozy, and within, through windows and occasionally open doors, he sees families and young couples and they all seem so happy, so complete, no notion of oblivion, no apocalyptic Foreshortening hanging over them, no eternity of life in hell to bar them from... something, that feeling... and this time now he thinks of the word, but shrugs it off immediately, that can’t be right, can it?
            Into the town centre he strolls, and here people walk the street, wearing instead his proto-industrial punk, long flowing dresses in colours elegant, shirts of lace under jackets with coat tails, images stuck only to faded film reels. All the people smile and a few greet him with cheerful evenin’s or how are you’s, and once he sees a pretty woman smile at him and it’s that word again, and somehow he thinks of a throbbing guitar lick with keyboard running under, and he knows exactly the sounds in his head, but he knows not why
            “I don’t care if...” he hates number seven, so why should it come to him now, why here, set on all sides by such beauty, such stirring in his heart.
            He knows there was more that died in the Foreshortening beyond art and agriculture and death, emotion, certain kinds, beauty in certain forms, connections, what’s that word and why and why seven?
            “It’s Friday I’m in love...” then he hears something, something new, and he knows it’s a song because he knows what songs are meant to sound like, but it’s not one of the Nine, it’s a surging clattering cluster of piano keys, a beautiful female voice laid underwith, and these sounds pour out the oft’ opened and closed door of a place across the town square that reminds him of Bar but isn’t, labeled instead “The Last House,” and he flows towards the surge of people dressed so well (but not him) headed through the door, the beauty of the words, and as he approaches the words ring clear, and it’s that word again and that feeling again and this time he makes the connection.
            “Love” and this time the word strikes a chord, not just with the guitar he now hears intermixed with the piano, but with some other string, this one struck within him, run from brain to heart to member, and as it plays his whole body seems to vibrate with some pursuit of Other Beauty, some wonderful stirring, some notion of a feeling like cozy but more than cozy, like beauty but more than beauty, like camaraderie but more than camaraderie, dedication but... but now he has the word and the word he knows the word as a man holds open the door for “The Last House” to him and as he steps inside he’s struck by a cacophony of sounds, of glasses on table tops, of the instruments and voice once faint but now dominating, of voices making merry, laughter and happy chatter, energy and light and something to love.
            Now he looks about, as he’s struck in this burst by the smell, like good alcohol and apples more cooking and lady’s perfume and men’s cologne, and the sights of all these people their faces lit by some great wonderment at life and existence, and, he thinks, this is what death grants! An ability, finally, to live, to truly live, to love, and then he sees her, woman raised up on a slight stage amongst the instruments, crooning gently into a microphone, and now, finally, he understands that word.
            It’s not that sex is dead, back in the cities. There is plenty of that. But just motions and attractions, nothing more.
            But the word! It seizes him and becomes him and his heart aches and his stomach leaves him briefly, and he stops understanding anymore what it is he feels and sees, this woman tall with auburn hair and long red dress clutched tight around her curves, down almost to her ankles, and she closes her eyes as she reaches a high note, then, as the song winds down her eyes open and she sees him and their eyes lock.
            From stage down she walks, towards him she steps, and away from him his heart leaps, and then she’s but a few feet from him and somewhere from within he brings forth words which tumble out, as a piano hit with a sledgehammer.
            “Hey, uh can I drink you a buy?”
            “Haha, drink me a buy? Sure, I’ll take it.” He laughs and inwards he breaks a little bit but still he laughs.
            “Buy you a drink, I mean...” He forces a smile across his lips which feels lopsided but she smiles back, radiance, diamonds sparkling out from across the city’s endless greyness, but not any more, this land of colours and nature and cozy and art and love.
            “Sure, I could do with a drink.” So to the counter they walk together and he feels inwards like someone holds a footlight in him, and the warmth from within glows up about his features and he smiles at her again and this time it feels right.
            “What are you drinking?” The bartender asks with a smile.
            “I’ll take a hot cider.” The woman says, flashing the bartender too a smile, and at this the man feels the slightest stirrings of jealousy, and even at this he feels something beautiful, for how can one be jealous without love.
            “And what about for you?”
            “I’ll have what she’s having.”
            “Hah, sounds good!” The bartender then grants them both a jolly belly laugh.
            “How much?” The man asks with the slightest reticence, realizing he probably doesn’t have whatever counts for money here.
            “You paid enough.” And somehow the world briefly acquires a grey palour, before the light and energy of the room flows back in, and the man wonders where this darkness sudden came from, but he brushes it off.
            Then from somewhere outside he hears loud cracks, as on the train, then screams and crying and the world seems to melt around him, and the cracks become more frequent, a few sprays, crying and yelling, silenced without warning before beginning again, then the door is kicked open and inwards poor a dozen men, olive fatigues, bronze plate armor, Kalashnikovs, and they greet the room with a flurry of fire, and heads and chests pop in sprays of blood, the man watches the pianist have his hand blow off and begin to scream then his eye explodes out in another spray of blood and fire and he stops screaming, then the bartender is cut down and he realizes with a certain sluggishness that all is on its way to hell, and he grabs the woman and tries to protect her, holds her warmth, and in this, in this warmth, in this last comfort as it all slips away again, he feels, somehow now the strongest, again love, then a soldier comes up and rips him off her, and she begins to cry as another soldier pulls a knife from his belt, then slits her throat wide, and the man is reminded of the Zone, as the soldier then points a gun at the man’s chest and he doesn’t hear the gun crack this time.

Through the train station the soldiers walk him. The man remembers not the time between the bullet and the return to the grey. But all he sees around him are people all so broken again, and he begins to sob, for he knows he missed his opportunity for death, his one opportunity for escape, can’t step through the door again.
In a moment of deja vu, down an airship comes, this time to scoop up him, and he rides the airship in silence.
He’s blindfolded, he doesn’t know why.
Into a room they walk, and off the blindfold is taken. There is at its centre a desk of grey metal, the walls of course, are wrought of concrete. Behind the desk is a doctor, and he gestures to the chair before his desk. The soldiers leave and the man sits.
“You think you’re damned.” The man doesn’t respond. “You’re not. You will undergo six months of therapy. Then you will be released back to the city.” The man stays yet silent. “I know how poorly you feel now, but after therapy, you’ll realize how much you have to live for in this city. You didn’t really want to die, or stay trapped in that horrible zone. Things are much nicer here.” The man stares at the floor. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The soldiers return, help the man to his feet, and lead him out of the room, down a flight of stairs, to a door.
“Go on.” One of the soldiers says to the man.
He’s met by guitar chords, and he knows the words that follow, but he can’t admit them yet to himself. Around him sit people all in grey, eyes glued to the floor of concrete, walls much the same. Outside the windows more blocks of concrete and grey sky.
It’s Friday...” the man runs to the wall and begins to bash his head against the concrete, feels his skull begin to compress, the skin begin to tear, hears his jaw crack, his brow snap, sees a splattering of blood all about the grey as the soldiers run and grab him, bind his arms and feet, sit him in a chair. Another doctor comes to him.
“Nothing to worry about there, a few months and you’ll feel as good as new. Feeling a little stressed is normal, after what you’ve been through.”

It’s Friday I’m in love.”