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Sparse commuter traffic blew by the dusty stripmall the same way it did every day. A few cars littered the lot here and there; while there were some stragglers to be seen leaving the grocery store most of the action was down at the other end in front of the watering hole. Most of the other fronts had long since died, most notably the mart-style department store located between the grocery and the Spirit. The little restaurant looked hopeless and sleepy between the dead giant and riff-raff of the tavern, but it did surprisingly well given the global economic conditions and offered its small crew a comfortable niche in the world.
Major Ka never forgot to be thankful she had found such a safe and perfect existence after so much disaster, and even after her two separate lives had come to be one back on Earth she enjoyed the time to just be Kathyann, away from the crisis and drama and all things Eden. It was bittersweet memories at best-- a mountain of guilt and loss otherwise. Feeling selfish to forget it completely, she walked in the back door and began her duties with a casual aire while keeping her thoughts of events outside of Earth's safe haven always at the back of her mind. It usually seemed more surreal when she first woke up or went home alone for the night, other times in the middle of the day it was easy, and she supposed permissible, to let herself drift away from even the emotional responsibilities the fall of Eden had left her with. For now she was safe. Out in the dining area, behind the bar, Dave chopped away rhythmically at half an onion while taking an occasional glance at the television. The TVs would all be shut off during dining hours, today was no exception. In twenty-five minutes or so, the restaurant would be prepped for business and the meager Asian authenticity would take precedence over anythying that wasn't a major televised event-- a bar set high in the current state of the world. As such, these pre-opening hours were a sacred time for self preparation and relaxation before the hysteria of the Friday dinner rush. As unbelievable as the empty parking lot would suggest at 4 pm, the night would be busy. Busy, fun, and profitable. The sun cut horizontally through the darkened dining room in a long, low beam beneath the door curtain. The blinds were drawn, and the lull in activity outside made the close surroundings seem isolated, quiet. The knifebeats, the sound from the television, and the hum of the food equipment created their own universe only intermittently broken by voices and laughter and the kitchen. Dave zoned in and out of his world, content after a day's work at the store and a couple of brews to face an evening at the partnering establishment. It was fun enough; very social work. Relaxed compared to his usual business environment. Long coming, an engine noise strayed from the road, followed shortly after by straining brakes and then silence. A door opened and closed. Someone's a tourist, Dave thought bitterly as he looked at the clock. Taking a swig from his open beer, he went back to preparing vegetables. He generally ignored any outside sounds until the very moment he would unlock the front door, and waiting was the prerogative of anyone foolish enough to arrive off business hours. They were boldy painted across the front window with a bit of an attitude, so as to ward off any patrons nagging to be seated for drinks before the restaurant was technically open. Such deterrents regardless, footsteps approached the storefront indicating a particularly tenacious individual. Surely enough, a knock followed. "Yeah, yeah I hear ya," Dave muttered. He grabbed for the remote to turn the volume of the game down, as inside noise was a sure way to antagonize early customers. "But'cha can't hear me." He had barely set it down again before a second barrage of knocks-- definitely official, mean and hard. Dave startled and turned toward the front door. "Open up," a deep, dry voice called with bored impatience. "Fire Department." Visible through the glass just beneath the billowing curtain, were two shined shoes connected to a pair of pressed slacks, the rest was just an imposing authoritarian shadow, one Dave didn't recognize as the local official always sent out to them. He rolled his eyes as he trudged weightily around the end of the bar like an angry teenager. "Gotta be fuckin' kiddin me, on a Friday--? Yea, just a second!" The shadow sighed as Dave fought the sticky deadbolt. He pulled the door open, peering out into the stark light of the late desert afternoon. He shielded his eyes and found the fireman's face at last. "Help you?" His eyes down, the guy seemed to not even notice Dave was there, after all the preamble. He leafed through some papers or bullshit he had with him for a few moments, addressing him at length. "Dave Beltrees?" "I look like a fuckin Kim Kweung to you?" Dave huffed in reply, cocking his head to stay in the other man's shadow out of the sun. The fireman eyed him sternly over the top of his sunglasses for a moment, before regarding his material again and droning on his present business. "City sent me here to take a look at your establishment." "Rich was here four months ago," Dave fired back defensively, before realizing he shouldn't have affronted. The fireman's words sank in wholly. Lenient and personable, Rich Handley came every year from the town office. If for whatever reason he was believed to be incompetent, the state would come down hard having little else to do. Dave wondered how Handley had gotten himself under the microscope, and was briefly overcome with both fear and irritation at this wonderful new predicament. Don't most governments shrink after a devastating world event? Or was that only romantically portrayed in science fiction movies where vigilantes rule the new land. At any rate, as legitimate as it was, this sort of formality seemed excessive and old-fashioned in the years that had followed the Gulf void. Whatever the case, he shouldn't be sassing any guy holding his future. There must have been some sense of his apprehensions by the other man. "Looks like your usual guy wasn't keeping proper documents... Rich-ard Handleyyy..." he said the name awkwardly, like it was a foreign language. Dave stalled. There had to be some reason he could reschedule the visit. He scrambled for something that didn't sound insane, knowing it would be anyway. The fireman lowered his papers, looking Dave in the eye. "You can let me in anytime Mr. Beltrees; fines are one thing, but a rare arrest comes with a lot of paperwork that I frankly don't feel like doing today." He'd established himself thoroughly at that point. Dave's eyes lingered downward to the fireman's belt apparati; radio, pen, satchel... and a badge and a gun. Christ, he was a marshal, even more unheard of. He meditated a moment. "All right," he said finally, still downcast. He thinned his lips in a resignant half-smile. "...Come inside." He pulled the door open wider, allowing the officer to enter the restaurant. After re-locking the deadbolt, Dave met the fire marshal in the middle of the dining room, which regrettably had provided ample seating past-code for a while. But the fireman didn't seem to be counting as he removed his glasses and stowed them away, glancing absently into the kitchen through the door window. In fact, everything about the huge man's body language was as bored and obligatory as a high school athlete in a drama class. His eyes were lackadaisical; his muscular frame seemed to dislike being idle and he shifted his weight a lot. He doesn't wanna be here any more than I want him here... just throwing his goddamn clout around with this kind of talk-- blowhard's either new to town or just got promoted. Fine. Get a look at the place and get the fuck out. As if on cue, the fireman turned to Dave with a coldly bemused expression. But his face... hadn't actually changed, Dave realized as he smiled in recovery, leading him toward the kitchen door. Maybe the uncanny timing just made him feel like the guy was pissed off by his inner sentiments, or maybe his face was just like that all the time. Whatever the case, he suddenly felt very ill at ease in his presence for a moment, and it wasn't just the pending legal ramifications of the visit. Maybe it was just being alone near the guy, because as they neared the kitchen, the onset dread suddenly and suspiciously diminished. So Dave got bold. "What ah, what did you say-- I didn't get your name, back there," he said with blatant annoyance. "Terry Z... whaddo you want a badge number already?" "Considering it," Dave replied challengingly, with an upside squint. "They send you out for every little thing do they? Sure you get a lot of folks complaining about being made to feel like criminals trying to run a business." "Certainly Mr. Beltrees; but fortunately here in New Mexico we liken code violation to crime." "I haven't violated any codes here mister." It was a good bluff. As a taxpayer, Dave hoped his "irate customer" attitude would hold some ground with the official; a familiar tactic in his line of work. But he didn't seem any softer than a cop would be. "S'good enough for me, but since I'm already here I'd better have a look around." The ridiculous statement was delivered in total seriousness. The sarcasm was angry. Dave rolled his eyes and shoved past the starchy bastard. He was not going along for the inspection just to be grilled and patronized, oh no-- one of his peeons would do it. And he knew exactly who he wanted to torment with the insufferable experience. --- Outside, the desert sun beat down on a parked truck, cooking the unlikely and unknown occupants into a glum, sluggish anxiety. A bird called out a set of dry calls as it traveled overhead, adding to the atmosphere. "Fuuuuuuck this place... how can anyone live in this part of the world." Seth flicked a cigarette butt out the passenger side window into the baked parking lot. It wasn't completely done, but it was too hot to smoke the whole thing. It felt gross. He looked at his cell clock, which made him feel worse. It had only been three minutes since Terry had gone inside Saboten. He clicked and sighed impatiently, pulling his hair off his forehead to air it out as he leaned on the window frame. "How long is this gonna take, dude? Wouldn't a Fire General drive like, a nice truck? That has A/C?" Baryx was slumped in the middle seat of the truck's cab, fidgeting with his bandanna in his lap. "Marshal," he muttered flatly, wilted with the sticky heat. "And he didn't aim so high just for the job perks he didn't want the guy to say no to him." "Whatever," Seth grunted as he picked his feet up off the floor to rearrange himself. "I'm just gonna be glad when Terry pulls that little hussy out in cuffs, bet she'll cry or some shit MOVE OVER ALREADY Jesus you've got like the whole driver's seat over there!" The vehicle shook as a small shoving match ensued. In short time it was settled, but the tension of the impending operation hadn't lifted. A lot was riding on it, and after two months of waiting and the failed attempt prior, expectations were grim. The reality seemed as intangible as it ever did, even sitting outside the restaurant on that day. If all went according to plan, they were leaving this place with a very frightened, very angry Major Ka in their possession. Seth wasn't looking forward to the next few days-- or God forbid, weeks. A pause followed as the hare tried to absorb the idea with all of his imagination. "You think she's gonna be a bitch?" he spoke up at length. "How long do you think we gotta do this?" Baryx leaned his head in his hand, gazing upward out the window. He let a few seconds pass then shrugged. "I don't know how it's going to be when we get back. Not exactly getting a new puppy." "Yeah but, no seriously-- no one's ever given me a straight answer to how long we're gonna have to watch her." "Depends," Baryx said with a funny tone of sadness. "For you, might not be long at all, couple months... if Terry wants to move you around somewhere else or if Boscoe finds a use for you back in the city." Seth smirked a little, nodding. "Yeah, NYC is pretty baller. I wouldn't mind shippin' out there. We should all go actually--" "Don't be ridiculous, there's no way we could get away with hiding out in that place." "What!!" Seth sat forward with a grin of disbelief. "That's the easiest place TO hide. Not out here, I mean a dog shits in the desert and it's a fuckin landmark even if you're not Samson." "It's not about people or habitation. We can't blend in like humans can, so those things wouldn't hide us. Grimmway is hiding us. And it's easier to separate a house and a few empty acres from this world and have no one miss it than it is to isolate a penthouse apartment surrounded by other people, and part of a large and grandiose structure, which I know you're envisioning..." Seth slumped back into his seat. He knew all of that, of course. He wished he had someone more fun to talk to. "This is pretty much a forever-type deal, ain't it." His voice was low. "Yeaup," Baryx answered. "Unless Samson dies or loses interest." Seth sighed through his teeth. "Same thing as forever..." to be continued. EDITOR SEZ: of course, the logical thing to do would be to start at the beginning. but there's actually a lot of gray area there; a few concrete events aside a lot more conceptual work is needed before i start LOA from page one cold. in fact the whole first two seasons are more episodic and about atmosphere until just before the third arc. i think anyone who watches me is more familiar with these characters anyway (and let's be frank it's more fun for me to write about and therefore for anyone to read). i'm also trying to keep the installments short (shorter?) unfortunately, like so much of my work i've spent too long with it in total isolation to have a well-informed opinion of how good it is. but it's close to my heart, and i hope readers take interest and enjoy. until i get a panel artist which will be after money shoots out my ass like skee-ball tickets. stock image for the background: [link] NO SNICKERING. PART ONE  PART TWO [link] PART THREE [link] PART FOUR [link] |
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ALL THE COOL KIDS ARE READING IT
Don't expect the best, you won't be disappointed when you take a bite and watch the worm crawl back inside.
But I've been meaning to. Your writing is epic win. xD
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ALL THE COOL KIDS ARE READING IT
Don't expect the best, you won't be disappointed when you take a bite and watch the worm crawl back inside.
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ALL THE COOL KIDS ARE READING IT
Don't expect the best, you won't be disappointed when you take a bite and watch the worm crawl back inside.
I just must not've commented.
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I Proudly Ship SokaroxKlaud. If You Do Too, Join Us.
-I Snipe For The RED Team-
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ALL THE COOL KIDS ARE READING IT
Don't expect the best, you won't be disappointed when you take a bite and watch the worm crawl back inside.
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