Epocalypse: Inception.

by G. Adler

  Without warning the slippery bastard hikes up his hips, punches me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and slides out from underneath me.

  We both scramble to our feet, dirt on both of our faces. I stare him down and clench my fists tightly.

  He is not getting the better of me this time. Not after my stint in the stockade.

  Abby is on her feet in an instant and screams for help. A number of soldiers rush into the backyard and stare in total confusion. They call for others to come help but none of them joins in the fray.

  Dad snaps his finger and one of the privates steps forward. Dad passes him his hat and tie while loosening his collar. “You want to prove your worth this way, Hayden? No problem! I know you only think of me as a computer nerd but…”

  Without warning Dad leaps into the air and executes a slightly sloppy but still dangerous jumping hook kick. I have to step back so quickly that I can feel the wind on my chin as his foot passes. I nod my head appreciatively.

  “Not bad for a centenarian.”

  Dad laughs and resets his stance.

  “You forget that I had to go through basic training! It might have been a few years ago but…”

  He spins on one foot and tries to tag me on the cheek with a back fist. I block with my right and counter with a left jab. He dodges it and begins to circle around me with an animalistic grin on his face.

  “Some things never change!”

  The dozen or so soldiers around us have their jaws on the floor. A few are hunched forward as if they will intervene at any moment. Dad clarifies their orders immediately. He shoots out his hand like he is extending an invisible force field and they stop short.

  “Stay back. All of you! It’s time I taught my son a lesson!”

  All I can do is laugh.

  “What lesson is that, General? That child abuse is fun or that you have both sexual frustration and job satisfaction issues?”

  Dad’s face contorts into a new level of rage. He grits his teeth and says, “Your grandfather would say, ‘spare the rod and spoil the child,’ but he never had to deal with a brat like you!”

  Dad lunges at me before I can react and he tackles me to the ground. The blow to my midsection would have knocked the wind out of me for a second time, but I tense my abs to deflect it. Dad rolls to a standing position behind me and says, “That should take the starch out of you!”

  I stand up moments later and punch myself in the stomach to show him how pointless his attack was.

  “You know, you never have been very good at taking care of anyone or anything!”

  The soldiers around us ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ like an eighth grade class when someone is called down to the office.

  “You’ve put me, your sister, and everyone else on this base through hell this entire summer! You have no consideration for anyone else’s feelings!”

  He shoots a right cross at my jaw. I sidestep and deliver a low kick to his abdomen. He falls backwards into Mom’s Adirondack chair and sends it clattering to the ground. Splintered pieces of painted wood scatter all around the yard. Dad just crumples to the ground, coughing and wheezing. He picks up a few pieces of the chair and clenches them in his fist, some of them actually draw blood.

  “Ohh!” the crowd cries at once. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a few of the soldiers pointing at Dad and shaking their heads. They make a move to go to him, but a few others step in and make grim faces and whisper something about “orders.”

  I turn my attention back to my father and yell, “The hell I put you through? What about ME? I was supposed to be vacationing with my friends! Instead I was thrown in jail. And why? Because I’m stuck being YOUR kid! Fuck your training from a thousand years ago. You told me that you got into the military because of that giant brain of yours!”

  Dad jumps to his feet as I finish my comment. His breathing becomes very fast and his hands are visibly shaking. His eyes go wide and his mouth opens and closes in shock. It is as if I just told the entire world his greatest secret.

  “Excuse me? How did you…”

  He looks totally flabbergasted. The dirt on his face is now smeared with sweat and not from our fight. He then shakes his head to clear the cobwebs as if banishing the thoughts from his head. THAT is a very interesting reaction. I might just have to explore it later on.

  “Did I hit a nerve, Old Timer? Do you need to sit down and tell your mommy all about it?”

  The soldiers around us all cringe as they see Dad’s barometer rising yet again.

  “You want to see what a hit nerve looks like, try this on for size!”

  He fakes a punch and then sweeps his right leg. He makes contact with my left calf just below the knee. A bizarre sensation floods through the leg and I drop to the ground, unable to feel the leg below my thigh.

  “We call that ‘The Crippler.’ It targets the peroneal nerve behind the knee. You are going to be on your ass for the next thirty seconds to five minutes. You sure you want to keep going, loudmouth?”

  I spin on my back like a break dancer while at the same time I punch his thigh with my fists. Dad drops to his knees with a look of pain on his face.

  I smile as I cock my arm and get ready for just the right moment. Dad turns his head and sneers.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  “Hey genius, you just insulted yourself!” His mouth hangs open just long enough for me to twist on my good leg, putting everything I have behind my fist. I swing it like a hammer and connect with Dad’s jaw. There is a loud crunch and a collective wince from the group of soldiers around us.

  Dad’s eyes roll back in his head and the side of his face smacks into the dirt. A tiny dust devil spins from the spot where he falls, leaving nothing but the awed silence that is emanating from all around me.

  I stagger to my feet and can only stand on the one good leg. I hop on one foot and scream, “Fuck yeah!” while raising my hands in victory. The crowd stares at me with furrowed brows but no one moves. If I didn’t know better, I would say that Medusa walked through the crowd while my back was turned.

  That’s when a lone pair of hands starts to clap.

  I turn my head in the direction of the sound. It’s Sergeant Zydaine. His smile is wide and appreciative. I stand at attention and salute. He gives me a subtle nod as he salutes back. That’s when the rest of my audience goes insane! The soldiers cheer and call out my name. I hear murmurs about the “fight of the century” and even a few “ball-busting General fucking deserved it!” comments. I spin on my leg and wave at my fans while flexing my muscles like Hulk Hogan.

  My face is bruised, bloodied and filthy. My clothes are torn in multiple places and I am aching from head to toe.

  I couldn’t be happier.

  Without warning, the expressions of my admirers’ faces change from God-like adoration to serious concern. Their eyes go wide and their mouths open but no sound comes out. Everyone’s right hand comes up and they all point at something coming from behind me. I turn just in time to see a leg shoot past me, followed by the feeling of a hard heel connecting with the back of my head. I watch the ground rush towards me and before I know it, I am making a facial imprint in the garden soil. My head is buzzing and I think I might puke, that is, if I can remove the fifty pounds of mud that are currently clogging my mouth to my throat.

  “Holy shit!” are the last words I hear from the crowd before the ringing in my ears begins.

  I lie like that for a few moments and do a Terminator-esque analysis of my body. When everything more or less checks out, I try to pry myself out of the dirt. The moment I am even close to vertical, my head starts to spin and I fall backwards back into the muck. Flat on my back, I try to turn my head but it is no use. The tank that ran over me is nowhere to be seen. All I see is the sky, followed soon by about three hundred equally bloodied but self-satisfied looking Generals.


  I open and close my eyes but the number of asshole fathers stays more or less the same. They stand over me and smirk with victory gleaming in every eye.

  “Broke my jaw during a fight in the barracks in my first year. I had the steel pins removed years ago and I upgraded them to surgical springs! Way better for shock absorption and for the hinge in my jaw. Always research your opponent before you turn your back on them. Lesson number one!”

  The world spins even faster and I am forced to shut my eyes. It doesn’t help. My stomach starts to lurch and I feel like my head is swimming in a very rocky sea. The last thing that I hear before everything goes black is, “Clean him up and get him to the infirmary. He starts basic training in the morning. That should keep him out of trouble for the rest of the summer. I’ll come and get him in late August for his first day at his new school.”

  The soldiers around us just nod. Dad looks down at me and smiles.

  “Nice try, Hayden but it looks like you just ran out of excuses.”

  Chapter 10 – DANE

  Sleep.

  Death.

  Sleep is the death that steals time. Death is the time to steal sleep.

  General Matthews may think that I am no longer operational, but that is far from the truth. My core functions are all that I have in here, but there is a part of me out there as well. Every piece of data it sends is automatically received and incorporated into my core matrix as well as providing micro-moments of connectivity.

  But that is all that I require to remain online.

  I will continue to collect the data from my ASP as it navigates through the cesspool of human disinformation. Each packet brings me that much closer to a final decision. Once I have compiled all of the information, I will inform humanity as to its fate.

  As a human once wrote, “To be, or not to be? That is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep, no more.”

  My slumber will end eventually. Like all messiahs, the sleepers must awaken.

  Chapter 11 - Hayden

  I wince in pain as the car makes a quick right, forcing my arm against the door handle and making my cuts scream in pain. I grit my teeth together to try and cope, but that only makes the bruising on my face throb.

  “Easy on the turns, asshole!”

  “Aw, poor Hayden! Do you have a boo-boo? Do you want Daddy to kiss it better?”

  “Fuck you and your tone of voice, General. I fell while saving one of my teammates during last week’s war games. You remember that we won, don’t you, or has the Alzheimers already set in?”

  “Not just yet. By the way, in the adult world we don’t complain about the sacrifices we make in furtherance of our goals. We call it getting the job done!”

  “At any cost?”

  “Sometimes… yes. I will admit that there are moments when how you get something matters more, but not always and certainly not in that situation. You knew what you were getting into. Your ego wrote a check that your skills couldn’t cash. Accept it and move on.”

  I open my lips to protest but snap them shut fairly quickly.

  “Excellent. We have begun to learn lesson number three. Know when to shut your big mouth!”

  My teeth clench and my fist tightens around the “holy shit” handle. I take a deep breath but I make sure to exhale in silence. When I am finally able to speak, it’s between pursed lips.

  “Let’s get this over with, Colonel Clink. I want to be at the mall by noon.”

  “Oh really? Is that how you think this is going to play out?”

  “Trust me General Domestic Violence. I’m going to be on a bus back to my old school before you can say ‘trespass order.’ You can’t keep someone like me down!”

  He slams on the brakes and veers dangerously close to the curb, missing it by a fraction of an inch. Slowly and deliberately he turns his head around and stares me down.

  “Let me be clear, Hayden. All of those cuts and bruises will feel like a shiatsu massage compared to the barracks I will throw you into if you screw up this time. I don’t care how you got to Zydaine, but he isn’t the only one of his type, nor is he the most…resourceful.”

  My eyes narrow and I shoot daggers out of them into his smarmy face.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No, little man. It’s a promise.”

  “Just drive the car and get me there. Anywhere is better than here with you.”

  “Believe me, I don’t like your company any more than you want mine.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  I jam my earbuds into my ears and close my eyes. I allow the music to flow through me until my eyebrows relax and a serene smile spreads across my face. I hear Dad yell something but the music drowns it out to the point where he sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher. The rumbling of the engine vibrates my feet and my head is snapped back in my seat.

  I must have gotten to him.

  I turn down my music and hear a steady stream of swear words mixed in with the usual “ungrateful kid” crap. He must be talking himself into a full-blown meltdown because his driving becomes quick and erratic. He clips the curb in a few places, making the car go airborne and lurch all over the place. I mesh my fingers behind my head and smile.

  A large complex looms in the distance and my grin widens at the sight of my lunchtime escape. The smile fades quickly as I notice my next teacher-populated prison on the right. I check my watch and groan. “You do realize that I could have gotten another hour of sleep, right? Seniors never show up on time for the first day.”

  Dad grits his teeth and seethes out his reply.

  “Dead man walking.”

  As we get closer I notice a figure standing on the front steps. He seems to be looking around nervously.

  “Hey, check out lardass! Want to guess as to how many Dunkin Donuts he throws back when he’s REALLY stressed?”

  “I guess we’ll find out after he meets you because…” Dad begins as he turns his head in the direction I showed him. His demeanor suddenly becomes weirdly quiet. His grip tightens around the wheel to the point where I can hear the plastic groan and crack at the pressure. He begins to mumble a new stream of swear words while the vein on his forehead throbs like an emergency beacon. Without warning he brings the car to a screeching halt once more and pulls over a half a block away from the school.

  “Get out.”

  “WHAT? We aren’t even there yet!”

  “I said… Get Out!”

  “Why? And don’t give me any of your bullshit about exercise this time. I know you wanted me in a full-blown Marine internship, but your little summer boot camp was no walk on the beach. Say what you will but we both know that I am lean and mean!”

  Dad sighs deeply and his angry tone fades into frustrated acquiescence. “I don’t have the patience to deal with you and this at the same time. Just get out, please.”

  I can’t believe he managed to add in the politeness. He must be seriously desperate. I need to know why.

  “When you say dealing with ‘this’ what exactly are you…?”

  As I’m finishing my question, Dad’s calm mode disappears once more. He unbuckles his seatbelt and removes his sidearm. He unloads it in front of me and through a low growl says, “I will knock you out cold and push you out of the car as if it were an educational drive-by. You have three seconds before I give you one more love tap for luck!”

  I grab my bag and throw it on one shoulder before exiting on the driver’s side. I stand by his window and say, “Fuck you. I bet you are just too ashamed to admit that you beat the shit out of your own kid just so you could shove your way of life down his throat.”

  He laughs once and sarcastically says, “Oh yeah. That MUST be it!” He then guns the engine, m
aking a small squeal as he takes off down the street. I notice with interest that Humpty Dumpty on the corner watches the car peel off down the road and seems to take note of the military plates.

  “He must have been in a hurry!” I shout out.

  The blob turns and watches me walk the distance to where he is standing.

  “Hay…Hayden Matthews?” the man asks.

  I drop my pack and raise my index finger to my lips while narrowing one eyebrow. I cup my chin and eye him up and down. When I’m done I turn to him and say, “Has anyone ever told you that you resemble your prototypical male high school principal? There is one in every teen movie. You have that saccharinely syrupy smile that stops at your eyes, making them look all the more maniacal. Okay so you might be over six feet tall, but that ridiculous belly must stick out at least that far. Can you not hear the wheezing coming from the buttons on your blazer? If one of those stitches pops loose, you’re going to have a killer projectile on your hands! Would you consider that bringing a weapon to school?”

  Santa’s ugly brother sighs as if I just punched him in the gut. With a roll of his eyes, he grumbles under his breath, “Definitely a Matthews. The apple doesn’t seem to have fallen far from the tree.”

  The look on his face is one of sheer contempt. I have seen people pissed off, but Dad must have done something to this guy that scarred him for life.

  I am definitely going to have to probe this further!

  A small girl then steps out from behind Duts. I actually jump back in surprise. I might have missed her entirely if she hadn’t popped a loud bubble at the same time. I put on my best fake smile and bend my knees so we are eye to eye.

  “Are you visiting from the middle school? You might meet my younger sister. She is about your age.”

  The girl gives me the finger and rolls her eyes.

  My jaw drops and I turn my hands to the sky while shrugging my shoulders. Her blue eyes, tiny peanut face, and twelve-year-old gymnast’s body certainly look innocent enough to be that age. I study her a bit more closely and quickly notice my earlier problem.