Mickey walked up to him with a friendly smile and said, “We got the radios working, G. Looks like we’re set. Anything you need from me?” He was doing his best impersonation of a brave soldier. Mickey’s desire to be held in high standing with Greg was similar to a teacher’s pet, a teacher’s pet that also happened to be the dullest knife in the drawer.
“What is the estimated battery life?” Greg asked.
Mickey was anticipating the question, “The box said thirty-six hours full battery. I feel confident in them making it through the night. I packed backup batteries too.”
“Did you measure their charge?”
“Ah, crap. Nope. I’ll go do that right now. How much time do we have before we leave?”
“I’ll wait for you, Mick. I should address the rest of the group before we go, so let’s try to be gone in the next thirty minutes, acceptable?”
“Love it, G,” Mickey said. “Do you, mind if I call you G?”
“Sure, Mick. I can handle it.”
-
Greg’s attempt at being in control and a leader was adorable. He was as strong as Lynn, but he acted like the only real man in the group. Well, other than Asher and Ben, but they were more like cyborgs fueled by the power of ten thousand suns. They thought everyone was afraid of them, but really they were just unique and kind of creepy, like a pair of shaved cats.
Greg was a boy trying to be a man, and it was adorable. He had a crush on Edie too, which was also adorable. He couldn’t even look at her straight while trying to give his manly instructions and acted nervous every time she smiled. The boy might even be cute if his whole face wasn’t broken apart, but he was still a boy, and Edie wasn’t really interested in starting a romance, let alone robbing the cradle. If she was going to be a bride of the apocalypse, she at the very least wanted to see her options.
Those crackled lips quivered when Greg said to her, “So, can we talk about tonight?”
So cute. He probably uses the same type of language when asking a chemistry partner to borrow her beaker.
“I’m open to talking, sure.” Edie said.
“Okay, thanks,” he said. Greg fidgeted with his feet and kicked whatever wasn’t on the ground in front of him. Edie felt the desire to kiss his ugly, swollen face to break the ice. It would be gross, but the shock on his face would be worth it. Really though, he would probably fall over dead with a heart attack. “I want to make sure you are prepared for tonight. I’m taking two people, and you will be low with men. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being left endangered. We will return promptly tomorrow morning.”
“That’s very nice, Greg. You’re sweet.” Edie patted his arm. He clenched up immediately. Adorable. “I think we will be okay. We have the bed assignments taken care of. Harry is in Room 442. He wants to be alone tonight. We have ample food and water. Ben will be outside Room 342 and 344, but he agreed to check with the grouchy bear. If grouchy bear-Harry calms down and joins us in the third floor split, me and Jenna will share a bed in 342, and he can stay with Lynn in 344. If not, we can let him blow off steam alone.”
Greg’s attitude went from nervous to intense quickly. His eyes narrowed, and he looked at her, this time like he was a man not just a boy with a crush and said, “This is good, Edie. Thank you for being on top of things. There is one other thing I would like to ask from you.”
“Anything, cutie.”
Still no reaction, not even a subtle blush. This kind of made her anxious, like when Carl in housekeeping asked her on a date…in front of his wife.
“I need someone awake throughout the night.”
“Oh, of course, we already figured out the shifts. Even with Ben here it’s still…”
“That’s good,” he interrupted, “but it is important for someone to keep track of their movements. If you feel comfortable with it, please crack the blinds enough to see out the window and monitor their actions. I acknowledge the fog will make visuals difficult, but please record even the most basic observations. It should be easier to see from above than it is on ground level, as well. We need to know what we are dealing with, and do everything in our power to learn as quickly as possible. Ben can protect you from a high number of wolves, but we’re dealing with a population.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Besides, I have not seen him in action and neither have you. I would rather be safe and try to prepare for life without Ben and Asher. They are only sticking around for tonight before heading off on their suicide mission. Information gathered prior to their exit will be at a premium. So, would you dig up paper and maybe have anyone on watch keep a log of their movements? Just tell them to log everything they see.”
As soon as he finished, he returned to being the adorably goofy and misplaced leader of their group. His battered eyes softened, and his awkwardness came back. There was no grace nor power to him. His brain was his muscle, and lady-kryptonite was almost old enough to be his mom. In those moments of confidence, soooo cute.
Edie enjoyed their time of small talk before Mickey returned with the fully charged Walkie Talkies. The square jawed ‘cool kid’ was ready to go play war with his nerdy friend. He was handsome, in a dopey shallow kind of way. With that being said, Edie would be playing match maker between him and Jenna. Jenna, with all her razzle dazzle sunshine was more glitter than gold and would be better suited to have a matching Ken doll boyfriend. Unfortunately, Asher was the perfect Ken doll, but superheroes only date the damsel in distress in movies.
Anyways. Those things didn’t really matter. For all Edie knew, she might be dead before sunrise.
The Chat
Bryce Chapman
Radical/Founder
4/14/2016
The New York Knicks are the signature team of the NBA. Their history is not as decorated as the Celtics or Lakers, they don’t have a Jordan statue outside their arena, but Madison Square Garden is the Holy Mecca of Professional Basketball. Since the team was purchased by Ned North in 1982, they have become the most desirable free agent destination, despite the New York media being more heartless and spiteful than a yellow cab taxi driver.
Ned North built the team around values and second chances; he took a risk on Head Coach Brian Moore weeks before the 1991 season, the Louisiana High School coach had never even been to an NBA game when Ned offered him a five year contract. Brian had “a shining to him”, said Ned, and built a rapport within the state as a basketball savant. Ned believed he found his Phil Jackson, and after 25 years of consistent excellence; no one can disagree.
I have been a fan of the Knicks since Brian Moore’s first game; I battled childhood-depression after my parents’ divorce, so when my dad’s weekend came up and he told me we were going to a basketball game, I refused to be excited. I knew nothing about basketball and had no interest in taking the long bus ride to a game.
My world changed once we arrived.
Players ran plays, refs called fouls, Icky Jones shot too many threes, but Moore was a maestro in directing the flow of the game. He inspired me. I tried to play, but after being cut from the freshman team (as a sophomore, mind you) I felt inspired to possess the same beautiful poetry of control in which Coach Moore exhibited over ninety games a year. Eventually, it helped me find writing.
He never had the best team, nor the best players. Thanks to superstars like Jeffries, Beanie and Kingston; the Knicks were stuck on the outside looking in, patiently plotting and biding time to get the elusive Title. After three crafty trades and a lottery balls falling perfectly; Mo Burgess became the first great player in the Brian Moore era. No longer were they a threat for Conference Finals, Mo made them a potential dynasty. The 6’4 point guard from South LA could become the best at his position, and the work ethic to become an all-time great. Yes, I said it; Mo had it in him.
I’m sorry. The fires in Salt Lake City have tragically taken your friends and family, while I’m talking about two men whom I’ve only met on two separate occasions. Death toll projections hover around 200,000 people. Moms, dads, chi
ldren. Friends. Brothers. Sisters. Teachers. Preachers. All walks of life. Sadly, FEMA has not disclosed much information, other than their inability to gain ground access due severity of the fires. We, the people, have cried for more intimate action; after all, what if there are survivors trapped in safe shelter who need immediate attention? But FEMA, and President Watt, remain silent. Many pundits and experts have come out in support of President Watt’s evacuation plans any city within a fifty mile radius of Salt Lake City. They say this fire is a modern scientific anomaly of which we must take the most precaution. I do not have a PhD beside my name, nor have I done the necessary amount of research to critic their decision. I just want someone, anyone, to give us hope. I want our country to believe there is a chance for survival through this tragedy. Because like Coach Brian Moore had done for me 25 years ago, the American people need a white knight to save the day.
Be Radical.
-bc
Night 3
How do you hunt wolves?
- Ben blake
The air hung heavy over the city. The sun hung low behind the clouds in the closing minutes of daylight. Each cloud basked in a dull, but multicolored glory. It would be a gorgeous view if it weren’t for the desolate wasteland lying underneath. The earth was covered by a thick powder of the residue falling from the clouds. The substance wilted away like ash under Asher’s fingertips. It did not feel any different from cooled ash or dust, yet it slowly was decomposing the city. Only two days pass, and already the buildings were worn down to the point of falling apart. Bricks broke to pieces by a simply touch, leaving nothing more than clumps of a faded, bronze soot. The streets were once filled with debris from the first night’s devastation, but all that remained was the dust. Other than the cars, which looked like rolling dunes along the road. The city was no longer a city, it was a desert eaten by the wolves’ atmosphere.
Asher’s group should have rushed to set up the trap in the pharmacy, but Mickey and Greg wasted the precious time searching for unnecessary supplies in the pawnshop. For his brilliance, Greg was narrow-minded and did not act concerned with the growing desolation surrounding them. Instead, he was distracted by Mickey’s fascination of the endless toys at the pawnshop. Greg’s brilliant plan to observe a wolf up close was getting off to a very weak start.
Asher could hear Mickey inside when he said, “You’re not interested in that Jenna chick, right? I’m not calling dibs or whatever, but I have a shot. Probably a good idea to get these things settled between us, since, you know we’re like the last two eligible bachelors in the world.”
“I am not presently interested in having this conversation. We need to remain focused on the task. Okay?” Greg replied.
“No way dude, we need to sort this stuff out. It’s as important as dissecting the frogs. This isn’t just life and death. It’s the future of our species.” Mickey said and laughed. He was pretending to joke.
“We’re not cavemen, Mickey. We don’t claim the women. We don’t call dibs.”
Mickey remained silent.
“Besides,” Greg said, “We’re not the only two eligible bachelors in Salt Lake City.”
“What? Him? Ha! No way.”
“Yeah. Him. The guy looks like a Calvin Klein model.”
“Maybe if a Calvin Klein model ate another Calvin Klein model,” Mickey said. “He’s not even a human. Did you see him or his brother eat or drink anything? They’re not like us. They probably don’t even like women anymore. And they’re leaving, remember? Suicide mission to save the world. The Hammer and the Shovel, they’re just a couple of tools.”
Asher got up and walked in before they could continue. “Gentleman. It’s time to go. We’re low on light, and you still need to build your trap.”
They tightened up like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. There was a reply, but it was only a simple “okay” without eye contact. A burlap sack laid near the door filled with more blankets, two pairs of goggles, and bleach.
“Come on, guys. We’re burning daylight,” Asher said.
Mickey grabbed his last random objects (box of nails and rubber gloves). Greg, on the other hand, defiantly took his time tying up the sack. While he didn’t look at Asher, Greg was playing the scenario of arguing back in his head. There was a lot to appreciate about these two, like there was a lot to appreciate about Harry, but that didn’t stop Asher from punching him to calm him down.
He wondered how his brother was doing with the group. Then, he wondered how the group was doing with his brother. By the end of tonight, Benny would have them either walking in a single file line or crying in a corner.
Asher did not have the same effect on the boys, but they were moving in the right direction. “Alright, let’s go over this plan one more time, please.”
Greg sighed before replying, “We’re going to build an oversized rabbit trap with three bags of concrete as the counterweight. After catching the subject, we will combine bleach and rubbing alcohol to generate chloroform. If their chemical makeup is remotely human, they will be sedated and safe for examination. If not, then your talents will be appreciated.”
They started to work as soon as they arrived at the pharmacy. Finally there was urgency to the boys and very little expected of Asher. He was more like a bodyguard than a player in their game. His only impact being when the rope needed tightened and drawn to the snaring position.
Greg was able to power up the building with the forth generator from the pawnshop. Lights came on, the automatic doors worked, and even the refrigerators started. Asher did not care for the lights or humming of the generator because of the attention they were likely to attract. This place is going to attracted too many wolves.
Mickey loaded in the concrete bags from outside and tied them in an elaborate knot using the climbing rope. The concrete would not budge, despite Asher’s attempts to work it loose. It looked perfect, and it passed the test, for now.
“What do you think?” Greg asked. “Is it enough?”
“Hard to say. We don’t want to be overly optimistic or pessimistic. It looks the part, but a wolf is still a wolf. And it’ll be a long night whether we catch one or not. Using the generator to turn on the power for the security cameras is a great touch and should keep you guys behind those steel doors until the time comes. We will see how crafty they are; if they can avoid this contraption, you may have more work to do. On the other hand, if I am staying out here, I can get one in there, but, I still don’t really understand what you plan on doing with one, if you can get it.”
“Examine, test, and log the results.”
“Dead or alive?”
Greg smiled, “I would prefer a live candidate, but if sedation is unsuccessful, then we will execute for examination.”
“Is that my job?”
“Yes and no. I prefer you to remain uninvolved. You are only needed in case of emergencies.”
“Well, alright,” Asher said.
-
“You’re not going to like this, Tink. You’re not going to like this at all,” Mona said.
She sounded like she was ten years younger and spilled the gallon of milk. Tink could feel her eyes searching his face for a reaction. Truth is, he was numb after his date with Reba the psycho killer evil demon woman. Whatever she was, it was enough to wake him up. He wouldn’t need another energy drink. He might not ever drink another one for the rest of his life. Reba shot energy into him unlike anything he had felt since he was sixteen and, well, yeah. The road to Salt Lake was almost empty as they went through Evanston, Wyoming. No one was headed west on I-80.
He asked Mona, “Now what?”
“We’re about forty miles away from the quarantine crew.”
“What’s that?”
“Some nasty mix of military, police, and government officials.”
“Oh.” Tink said. If there were people trying to keep them out, Mona better have a plan.
“So we’re going to have to take a little detour in thirty miles. Once you
get to Echo, Utah, we will have to take an alternate route. The quarantine zone starts on both sides of Echo and ends at the city borders. We’re not breaking through, no way, no how. The city is surrounded by highly trained killers with high powered rifles. They more likely to shoot first and ignore questions.”
Tink dealt with people like this back in the day, but they didn’t have the formal training like American soldiers. The difference between the boys on the block and the soldiers at the gates was simple; the soldiers had better aim.
“So instead of getting shot, what we doing?” Tink asked her.
“We gotta go into an unpaved route on the side of the mountain for about twenty-two miles. Finally, we will end up at a tunnel that will lead us right to where we need to be. Almost as if it was put there just for us.”
“Huh?” Tink’s car was not supposed to drive to the other side of the country and now Mona is saying it needs to be an off-road vehicle too. This old thing ain’t gonna make it.
“Listen. When we get in Echo, take a right and then turn when I tell you. You’re going to drive through a field and up onto a mountain. Yes, you’re going to look stupid. But that’s nothing new for you and no one is watching this time. After we go along the mountain for twenty-two miles, I will tell you to park. I will know exactly how far and where to stop.” Tink put up his hand, but Mona pushed it down. “Don’t ask me how. I will explain that later. All you need to know is when we get to the tunnel, we are about five miles away. We will jog through the tunnel which ends about a mile away from the people we need to save.”
Tink squinted his eyes at his little sister. He said, “How do you know all of this?”
Mona ignored his question, and opened the New York Times. She read out loud, “It says here, ‘It was a beautiful evening in the majestic Salt Lake City. The peaceful streets were filled with smiling faces and avid fans of the hometown team, The Utah Jazz. The final game of the regular season featured the historic New York Knicks. Our beloved historic New York Knicks…’” Mona broke reading and looked at Tink. “The writing is pretty heavy handed.” Tink nodded in agreement.
Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1) Page 20
