Broken Paths Options

[redsrock]

Here's something I've been working on. It's for my post-apocy world, and before I start I need to explain something. The setting for the story (for the most part) is inside the Pentagon, and I need to explain what the Pentagon is for those who don't know. It's located roughly in the middle of Indiana. It's a system of five cities, and around the five cities is an extremely tall concrete wall, and if you were to look down at the wall from the sky you would see that it looks sort of a like a pentagon, hence the name.

Enjoy.

The man with the black overcoat glared at Alan in the tiny room while sitting across from him at the even tinier table. His yellow teeth showed and he was starting to become impatient. And even with the room dimly lit, both men could the see the anger in each other’s eyes very clearly.

“I don’t believe you, Alan. You’re trying to tell me that it wasn’t you? You’re innocent and they’re the ones who are guilty? great compassion. That doesn’t make any sense. We found you lying outside of the building, blood covering your body and an Uzi gripped tightly in your right hand. Excuse the cliché, but we literally caught you red-handed, dumbfuck.”

“I know all of that dammit, but it wasn’t me! I’m not lying! I swear to you I’m not lying!”

“Prove it then, Alan. Prove to me that it wasn’t you. If you can then maybe I can persuade him to let you live. But if I catch you lying I swear to God I’ll fuckin’ shoot you right here. I don’t have time to play games with you, Alan. Do you understand that? You lie and you’ll die. You’ve already had plenty of chances. I know you’re some kind of baseball nut, so consider this your third strike if you lie again.”

“I…it’s hard to remember everything. I don’t know if I can remember it all in one sitting. Give me another day so I can rest. Then I’ll be able to remember everything. Then I can tell you all of-“

“No! You tell me now! Think hard, Alan. Surely you can remember what happened. It’s not every day something like this goes down. Think…”

“Fine, alright. I’ll do my best. But first give me some water. I need something to help my throat. It hurts like compassion.”

“No, you tell me the story first and then you’ll get your water. Until I find out what I need to know you ain’t getting nothing.”

“No water, no story.”

For almost a full minute two simply stared one another down. Eventually the man with the black overcoat began to sweat, and he swiped away with the sleeve of his massive hand. He sighed.

“Goddamn you, Alan,” he said, shaking his head and sighing loudly. Then he turned toward the closed door behind the two of them, and yelled outside to one of the guards. “Pete! Get the prisoner some clean water! There, you whiney umbrella seller. He’s getting your goddamn water. Now talk.”

“I want to wait for the water first. I just said my throat was hurting. Don’t you think I need a drink before I actually start?”

The man gritted his teeth and turned back towards the closed door. “Hurry the hamster up, Pete! Jesus Christ, how long does it take to get a glass of fuckin’ water? What the hamster is this, compassion! A goddamn parade?”

Right on cue, the lock to the door turned and into the room walked an extremely thin man holding a plastic cup of fresh, clean water. He was wearing a black mask that covered his entire face, just like the man with the black overcoat was wearing. The only features that showed through the masks were their eyes, noses, and mouths. Other than that there was nothing else to see. Even their hair (if they had any) was covered.

“It’s about fuckin’ time!” The man yelled. The much thinner man set the cup of water down on the small table and then left even quicker than he had arrived, locking the door once it was it was closed. The man with the black overcoat turned back to Alan and looked him in the eyes with a most serious expression.

“There’s your water. Now drink up and talk, you prick.”

Alan downed the cup of water in seconds, but it barely did anything to help his throbbing throat. Still, even he knew he was better than nothing. After clearing his throat he set the cup on the table and stretched his neck.

“Alright, alright…I’ll talk. But you have to promise not to interrupt me, alright?”

“Yes, yes, just get on with it!”

“Fine…”

************************************************************

He stood in front of me with a dirty shovel and an even dirtier smile. Sebastian always was a schemer, but at least he and I were on good terms. I couldn’t say that for many other money-borrowers to the Boss. Most of them wanted me dead, and in fact several had tried that, both by themselves and with hired killers. Both tactics failed of course. It actually found it surprising that Sebastian hadn’t tried to kill me yet. I was lucky he and I were somewhat friendly with one another, or at least as friendly as a Hunter and a money-borrower to the Boss could be. Though with a clever man like Sebastian you never could be sure what he was thinking.

“You look so much like you’re father, Alan. Did you know that?”

“Of course, Sebastian. How could I not? You only tell me every time I come to collect payment.”

He chuckled at that. I was well aware that it was a forced laugh, though. Just another way to stall time until I forced him to get the money that he owed. He was always good at that as well.

“The Boss wishes for money that was never his to begin with. Don’t you find that ironic?”

“I don’t think about any of that because it means nothing to me. The only thing that matters to me is payday, and I can’t get that if I don’t get the money from you. So hand it over, Sebastian. You’re already a month late and he’s not going to give you any longer.”

Sebastian laughed and dug his shovel deep into the shovel where it stayed upright. Then he took his gloved right hand and wiped the sweat from his tanned, wrinkled forehead. The bright sun shined down upon the field, offering its energy to the growing plants underground that Sebastian was digging at with his long wooden shovel. His house right beside the tiny, pathetic excuse for a field, he could have run inside and locked the door if he wanted to. But he did not. Instead he was just as brave as he always was.

“I ain’t the smartest man in the world, Alan, but I already know I’m a month behind on my payments. But things have been tough. People don’t wanna buy my food, and that’s mostly because one of the other Hunters told everybody that I sell outdated vegetables. That’s horseshit, by the way, but the people believe it anyway cause I am a lowlife peasant. Of course, most of us are anyway. This is Henderville after all. It’s funny, life is. People don’t want to have anything to do with until they need you. You know what I mean?”

I raised a hand for him to stop talking, because it was too damn hot to stand around listening to him ramble on.

“I need that money, Sebastian, but I also know you probably don’t even have all of it to begin with. You’re a pitiful farmer and a pothead, and that’s not an economically smart combination. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you. Give me seventy-five percent of what you owe, and I’ll persuade the boss to give you an extra week to come up with the rest. Seventy-five dollars are all you owe me. How does that sound?”

His wrinkly, hairy face lit up with happiness, because once again I was letting him off the hook. It was a nasty habit of mine, but at least I was getting something. A lot of times borrowers would try to get out of paying anything at all.

“That sounds like a fair deal to me. Thank you, Alan. You’ve always been my favorite Hunter, you know…”

“Just stop stroking my thermos and get the money, Sebastian. You’re not the only person I’ve got to deal with today. It’s only noon after all.”

Sebastian simply laughed at that and then walked inside his small, sorry excuse of a home. Broken windows, graffiti spray-painted onto the walls that I knew he was too lazy to wash off. I was actually surprised that he had enough will to do anything, let alone farm a field, even if it was the tiniest farm I had ever seen. It was probably because he was so desperate. Desperate to feed his hunger. His hunger for more drugs. He lived in the lowly parts of Henderville, and Henderville was the poorest and lowliest city of the Pentagon anyway. So I shouldn’t have been surprised to see such pathetic lives being lived, especially when I was around it all day. Hunting down druggies certainly had its downsides, but it definitely had its perks as well. It’s taught me never to fall down to their level, because I know that if I do I’ll never get back up.

Sebastian came out of his house holding a small, wooden box. He opened the box, and inside were eleven bills total; ten tens and a five, the tens green and the five a burnt orange. It was highly likely that he had more money inside the house, but since I was lucky enough to get anything at all I didn’t pester him any further.

“Here you go, Alan. Seventy-five dollars, seventy-five percent of what I owe the Boss, just like you asked,” he said, handing me the bills and then snapping the box shut. “Thank you again for giving me more time. I promise I’ll have the rest next Friday. You did say I had a week, right?”

“Yes, I did. And be sure you do have the money, Sebastian. I’d hate to think what the Boss would want me to do to you if you don’t. I’m serious about that. He’ll likely want you dead. I advise you to get that money as soon as possible. And don’t even think about running away from town, because you’re being watched. You’re all being watched. Don’t tell anyone where you heard that, though, because I don’t tell that to everyone.”

He nodded, and I saw him swallow hard. “Thanks, Alan.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He went back to his digging into the earth, and I walked away, slipping the bills into the large zip-up pocket inside my dark green coat. The bills were lonely, but that would change soon enough.

Howie’s Eats and Treats was jam-packed when I arrived at around twelve-thirty in the afternoon, as soon as I had left Sebastian’s in fact. I shouldn’t have been surprised by this, but there were so many people that all of the seats were taken. But just as I was about to leave, I was spotted by one of my fellow Hunters, Edgar Roosevelt. He quickly shooed away a civilian from another table and pulled the chair up for me.

“Alan Duncan! Sit your boat down and stay for a while!” he yelled. “I know you’re eager to bust some more balls, but drink a few glasses with us for once, will ya’? We hardly see you around Howie’s anymore. It’s been what, a week since you last appeared around here? Hell, I haven’t even seen you in Henderville for that long! Where’ve you been, man?”

“I just got back home last night after taking care of some business in Tull, and that’s all I can say,” I said, giving Edgar and the boys a quick wink. They sure loved that, just like they loved me. It was agitating sometimes, but I guess that’s what I got for being the Boss’s favorite.

“compassion, I prolly don’t wanna know anyway.” Edgar motioned for a pretty waitress from across the medium-sized tavern. “Hey Wanda! Get your sweet boat over here and pour Alan a drink! Put it on my tab, alright?”

The table laughed, and I looked around to see four other familiar faces: Rex Hughes, Tony Dunn, Leroy Williamson, and Miguel Hernandez. All five of them together made up the Boss’s Hunters, and I was the Boss’s main man. I didn’t quite like to think of it like that, but I had to admit it was true. After all, it was always me he asked when he needed the toughest jobs done, other than my regular duty of money-colleting of course. In fact, it had been a while since I worked with someone else. At least a month. I almost didn’t consider myself a Hunter anymore, and rather something else. Something more, something…bigger. The townspeople felt this as well, for they treated me differently. A lot of them were downright scared of me, and I didn’t really know why. Sure, I got the job done when I had to, but at least I wasn’t an boatmaster like Edgar and his goons.

Edgar looked back and me and smiled. “I’m sorry you have to drink our nasty beer, Alan. I know it’s not nearly as good as the wine in Tull,” he said mockingly, laughing along with everyone else at the table.

“Thanks for the drink, Edgar. But, after I’m done I will get back to the field. I have catch up to you all, since I’ve been gone for a week and all that.”

“compassion, Alan, you’re already ahead by too much! We’re still catching up to you! Come on, man, just stay a while. When’s the last time all six of us sat down and talked to one another, huh? I’ll tell you how long, ever since the Boss decided you was his favorite!”

Again he laughed, and again everyone else did as well. That’s how it always went. Edgar would say something, and no matter how funny or not funny it was, everyone laughed as hard as they could. It was almost to the point where the laughter actually sounded pure and not fake. The reasoning behind all of that was because Edgar was sort of the “leader”, and they laughed because they thought they had to. Maybe they did have to. Edgar was a mean sonofabitch sometimes. Not to me, though. With me he was more of a smartass, but he was also intelligent enough not to go too far. He knew the Boss liked me most, for reasons I still can’t explain.

“Fine, whatever. But only for a little bit. I have to hit up at least Jangles before I call it a day. And then Jimmy of course.”

“Jangles? Old “Johnny”? That Jangles?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“He’s dead, man. Leroy and I found him a couple of days ago with a bullet in the back of his head. He gone, Alan.”

Jangles, dead? It didn’t surprise me that much since it had always been rumored that he was running with one of the minor gangs. But still, I had collected money from Jangles ever since I was inducted into the Boss’s circle. It was a weird feeling thinking of him dead. He was tough as nails and as sharp as a razor.

“Goddamn. Dead? Did you find out who did it?”

“Nope,” Edgar said, taking a long drink from his beer and then belching loudly. “But the bullet went clean through his head. When I picked up the bullet I knew it had to have been shot from a long-barreled revolver. And who the hell uses long-barreled revolvers, Alan?”

“The Steely Knives.”

“Exactly. We ain’t been able to prove anything, though. Those bastards are as slick as compassion. I can’t believe they haven’t ever attacked us, y’know? They got about...compassion, I guess around twenty or so members, and there’s only six of us.”

“It’s because they’re afraid of Alan,” Leroy barked, and the table again erupted with laughter, because I had to admit that time it was something that was actually funny.

“Who ain’t?” Edgar asked. “Alan could shoot a fuckin’ bear with his bare finger if he had to. In all seriousness, though, you’re prolly right, Leroy. Alan sure is good with a gun. Just like his daddy was. I’ve read the books and I’ve heard the stories. How’s the old man doing anyway, Alan?”

“Alright I guess.”

“Alright? What, you don’t talk to him?”

“Not much. I’m too busy to talk and he’s too busy to listen. That’s how it’s always been, though.”

“Ah come, on! He had to have taught you what you know, right? You two seriously don’t talk?”

“Not really. Not as much as we used to at least. But he does travel a lot in the hills and mountains outside the Pentagon. When he’s home it’s usually not for too long. Like I said, that’s just the way it’s always been. It doesn’t bother me really.”

The answer seemed suffice enough for Edgar, because he simple shrugged his shoulders and took another drink from his dark bottle of beer. A few seconds later mine arrived as well, as did the others’ lunch. Edgar asked me to order some food but I shook my head and told him that I’d drink my beer and then be on my way. Then about ten minutes later I left the tavern heading towards the home of another money-borrower, and also my brother, Jimmy Duncan.

************************************************************

The man with the black overcoat snickered and pounded his fist on the small table, making it bounce several inches off the ground before coming to a rest.

“Liar! I knew you’d lie to me, you sonofabitch! You didn’t go to Jimmy’s! Jimmy was away visiting Indianapolis! That’s what you said!”

“You said you wouldn’t interrupt me!”

“Lying is different, boatmaster! You weren’t supposed to lie!”

“I’m not even lying, dumbass!”

“Yes, yes you are! Jimmy wasn’t in Henderville that day. That’s what you told me earlier. Remember?”

Alan rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“No, I never said that. I told you he was going to, but then he got sick and decided to stay home. Well, I think some of it had to do with him being poor as compassion, just like everybody else in Henderville, and he probably didn’t have the money to travel, and-”

“Will you shut up for a second? I could swear you told me he left Henderville that day. Are you sure you’re not lying, dickhead?”

“I’m as sure as you are fat.”

The man stood up from his chair and reached over to Alan, taking him by the collar. Alan only smiled as the man’s angry breathe filled his nostrils. The man shook Alan as close as possible and glared into his eyes.

“Listen here, smartass,” he whispered. “You’re not in the position to be cracking jokes. You’re arms and legs are bound. I sure as hell would hate to accidently break your nose. Wait, no…I take that back. I would love to break your fuckin’ nose. And believe me, Alan. I’ll do it if you keep up with this compassion.”

“Threatening to kill me, eh? That’s very stupid of you, especially since you and your bosses won’t go anywhere if I don’t give you the information you want. In fact, you should probably be a lot nicer to me. I’d sure hate to seal my lips and not say a damn thing. Wait, no…I take that back. I would love to.”

The man let go of Alan’s collar and sat back down in his chair. He took out a fat cigar and lit it with his black-painted lighter. Taking a long puff from the cigar, he blew the smoke in Alan’s face. Then he sighed and shrugged his enormous shoulders.

“Just get on with the fuckin’ story, Alan.”

“Fine. Where was I?”

“You said you were about to visit your brother.”

“Oh yeah, Jimmy…”

[redsrock]

For some odd reason I've had sudden inspiration for a TES story. I'm having a lot of fun with this particular writing, but right now I think I need to take a short break. The inspiration isn't exactly where it needs to be, nor where I want it to be.

I just thought I'd let everyone know that I haven't quit this.