Apocalypse at Harpers Lane

by Mackenzie Mazerolle

  ...

  Of course, Joe was speechless, always thinking.

  “What do you want?”

  “It’s simple Joe, I need a story.”

  Chapter Five

  Poetic Justice

  Words! Words were all I knew, what to say what to note what to know not to remember. Which to scratch and who gets what word. Words, words and more fucking words and all I ask for is just a little help...

  Small metal keys rummage the paper, tearing its purity into something born of rage. Jim called it verse, but he knew this would not be the mystical scripture that would lead him to the afterlife. He had done what Mr. Dystopia asked. Joe was the key he said. Yet here he was and of no aid was he worth. Always gone, always distant when he was there… Jim remained in the large and ancient house. One of the first in the city he believed, and just like in its infancy the house still lacked any light. Daylight and candles were and always have been its only light.

  “Whiskey, I need whiskey…”

  Jim prepared himself for the venture to the kitchen. Ridiculous for a single person to be occupying such a vast estate… Especially with so many unfortunate souls out and about, not able to pay even the simplest of bills this month. Less electric heat and more blankets for the baby; but that’s just the world we’re living in, isn’t it.

  At least for once, the house was clean. Joe hadn’t done much writing. None at all in fact. He prepared the house for what he said would be the time. A clean house was needed for a clean mind, he said, and a clean mind is most necessary for proper writing.

  Proper mind, Jim thought. Some whiskey would deliver just the same. All the same, he couldn’t help feel cleansed, a slight bit less restless with the counters the way they were. To be able to reach into the cupboard and have a glass untainted by weeks of exposure. To be able to walk through the house without your shoes, this surely was a treat, he’d give him that. But it wasn’t a clean house to which he summoned Mr. Pig. He was supposed to be it, the man with the plan, the fucking key he said!

  Jim’s face swelled up as he overdosed the whiskey, cringed as it hit his tongue, burning his lips far too early in the morning.

  Smoke always handy, Jim pulled on and waited as the stove lit up well enough to light his relief.

  Fucking wanker... He’ll be getting to work soon enough, he can be sure of that. He’ll help me, that or I reintroduce his sorry ass back in the clutches of that mad clown Mr. Dystopia!

  TWO

  The sun... What a lovely phenomenon it most certainly was. That’s all you need, just a good dose of the sun. Better than any pill, more cleansing of the mind than any paper deity...Jim, what a poor individual that is. Always looking for something more, something new he knows nothing about.

  But that would not disturb, the infamous Pig. For now, he walked through the city which his companion disliked so... Why he wondered, why would he think other places be any better?

  Joe was making his way by the main intersection, leading him west of the downtown district. It was similar, just a pay grade above, or below depending on one's habits. He could see the infinite variety of people passing by, always serving a multitude of dress styles but always retaining its randomness across the change of city. Pay grade or not, people got weird and that was just the way it was.

  Time would pass slowly, but that was just the way Joe liked it. He knew now was a pleasant moment, and that it could and certainly would change at any moment.

  At last, Joe had met his destination. Jones Lake it was called. It looked the same as it had where he came from; it was the night that really made the difference for where he came from there wasn’t any stars.

  It was now nearing five in the afternoon; the chill was worsening but Joe was both prepared and unconcerned. It would be worth it, for this tonight. Jim wanted him to write, and that he would. But not now, Joe had things to think over, but before even that he would watch the stars.

  THREE

  The night was falling, and still no Pig. Where the fuck; Son of a bitch followed by a slow senseless rant of fury. Jim would scream and shout, drunk and stupefied by his so-called friend’s insolence to ‘him’.

  The candles were yet to be lit. The sun was fading, Jim wrote frantically, more so than usual. So this would be the game he played would it? Taking off when he pleased, ignoring or completely disregarding HIM, the person who created his ass!

  No, not this time... Too many times before has he let people walk over him! Delude and forget about him as if HE did not exist! Well, according to his only true companion, Mr. Dystopia says, and he will be real beyond any doubt. He’ll show these creatures just how significant his life is!

  A laugh, beyond cynical… Perhaps sadistic? No, insidious.

  Yes... HAHAHAHA!

  The insidious laughter trailed the barren rooms and to the unsuspecting night sky. Tonight, there will be no more stars, and with that, the most disturbed character of fiction would change the world.

  FOUR

  Something was wrong. The night sky was not what he had expected. No brilliance, no answered questions available billions of light- years away. Joe knew what this meant, the cold, the black sky. Something terrible was at hand and he knew exactly who it was.

  The ground began to shake, but the lake looked still. Very still for a moment more but then something strange. It began to what seemed like breath, the lake. The world was back in dysfunction, their dimension distorted. Something, somebody was stirring things up.

  That bastard Jim! Joe knew he was weak.

  At that moment Joe knew exactly what was going on, Jim had been influenced, most likely in conspiracy with Mr. Dystopia all along.

  The lake kept growing and then shrinking back down into a hole, again exhaling like a sleeping baby, and then back down into a deeper, darker hole.

  Joe rose, he knew all the signs and he most certainly and very much intimately knew what was going on. The lights flickered around him, the lake rose so high. It starred Joe down like a mountain of the darkest water; it peered seemingly into his soul like a beast to its prey. As it plunged back into the ground Joe was already running.

  Joe was off; he would run faster now and longer than he ever had. Not this time… You won’t get me now! I’ll find you and I’ll change it all this time!

  Behind Joe could feel the void from the lake as the mountain of water collapsed into its progression; this time however it continued its descent. A slow-motion whirlpool took effect and the hole lost its bottom. The benches, the grass, the painted lined on the streets, everything began to be consumed by the vacuuming swirl inside the hole where once remained a lake.

  FIVE

  More laughter drowning out the screams from afar;

  “Die you bastards! Face your maker, rule out your worthless equation!”

  He did not need to be there, Jim knew very well what Joe had seen. He knew what he now saw; as fast as his body would allow he ran. A bit faster than what otherwise had been possible, behind him a vacuum to which only his laws disputed. All other matter which surrounded began and continued to be swallowed up by the dimensional shift. No one seemed possible to stop Jim as long as ink remained within his machine.

  People, dogs, trees and unsuspecting cars making their way home drove and ran straight into the infinite pull of the black hole. This time was different, it would not expand into a blanket of nothingness, it would create a flow, all would go to it, their fair city; the center of the universe.

  “You think you got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  Jim’s attention was cut off too short, in his story, Joe was merely halfway to the house, so nearly himself about to be swallowed by the effects of flawed existence.

  “What... How!”

  “You think you’re the only one who can write? Word are words Jim... Or should I call you Mr. Dystopia?”

  “I told you already, I’ve never met him.”

&n
bsp; “You haven’t met Mr. Dystopia like I’ve never met a black hole. A few times now Jim and to be frank, I’m getting quite bored with it.”

  SIX

  Laughter confirmed Joe’s suspicious, Jim had lost it.

  “HAHAHA YOU FOOL! I AM JIM, JIM FUCKING WELSH!”

  “You’re a fictional character Jim, you’ve been influenced by a concept, and madly so I must say.”

  The walls began to shake. Not again, Joe thought, and especially not again in this house!

  “Stop this Jim; he cannot fully control you, not if you don’t let him!”

  “Silence you swine, you fucking cunt! I will make it to the world as I’ve been promised, the real world! You just wait you, Mr. fucking Pig!”

  “It won’t happen, Jim, get over it!”

  No reply. I could see beyond him the muddy lake that crossed to Riverview, a glowing a dark shade Joe was unfortunately too familiar with.

  “Listen, Jim, the other world, it’s no better. It’s just the same as this, everyone looking for a god, looking for a secret truth that would lead them to a better life. It is what it is man! If there is a heaven, a different dimension it probably is just as shitty as this one!”

  “You still don’t understand, you never did hah ha...”

  Jim proceeded to sit down in front of his typewriter and continued to type. He did nothing but laugh and type hysterically. Joe could feel the ground shaking more than ever bellow his feet.

  Time to whip out his ace; he thought. A small notebook was hidden in Joe’s back pocket. With it he opened and began to read aloud to his fallen companion;

  ‘How unreal, sadistic and sad it was, the potential of something great gone to waste as Jim Welsh carelessly played with powers he could not control. Sad it was his futile attempt to be a god himself. The world would crumble but Jim would travel nowhere. Here he would stay and die like the mortals he so envied.’

  The ground finally gave; as he fell Joe could see his assailant no longer laughing wildly into the opaque sky which consumed him. As I plundered I could see Jim ripping the typewriter from its place. Lunging it wildly at me in a final, desperate attempt and continued to run and jump out of the window.

  I was gone by the time the typewriter contacted the last piece of matter aware in their world; my head.

  Chapter Six

  Transcendence

  Joe awoke to the pounding on the door.

  “Police, open up, we know you’re in there!”

  A moment later the pain hit Joe like the unruliest mistresses in a night too far gone to remember. He began to remember now just the gravity of what just happened, what kind of night it actually was. Had he been transformed? Or was this still his home he called fiction.

  To his left, he could see the typewriter sprawled open on the floor... There was some blood from when it his forehead and with the pain, more memory emerged.

  Jim...

  The knocking pursued.

  “Open up! This is private property, you hear? Cooperate and there won’t be any trouble.”

  Trouble... Joe rose to his feet, still weaving in and out of consciousness; he made his way down the stairs and to the front door.

  On his way, Joe was quick to realize the house had changed. The colors now a weak shade of beige almost to the degree of grey, other than that everything else had been improved. No holes, blood or broken glass, none except for his own contribution from a night that would top the most daring.

  Joe could feel the presence of the officers’ fist aiming to contact the door. He quickly pulled it back and replied;

  “Good morning officer, can I help you?”

  “Yes, sir you can start by telling me what you’re doing here. Neighbors called in a noise complaint saying they heard shouting and what seemed like a fight.”

  “Oh, that was just a movie; tend to get carried away with the volume on occasion. Won’t happen again officer, I assure you.”

  “I’m sure it won’t Mr...”

  “Pig- err... Buckingham.”

  “Right, well see here Mr. Buckingham there actually isn’t supposed to be anyone living here. We’ve spoken to the landlord; the place is under renovation and there aren’t any tenants.

  “I see... Well, a moment to pack my things and I’ll be on my way.”

  Joe could see the officer thinking this over.

  “Well, alright, but I best not catch you here anymore ya hear?”

  “Certainly sir, um, may I ask you a question?”

  “What is it?”

  “Could I have his number? The landlord I mean...”

  Another pause for thought, the officer did not know what to make of this character who seemed to lack a defensive hate for the authority.

  “What do you need it for?”

  “I’m trying to track down the people that used to live here, some old friends as they were.”

  “Yes, I can give his number but I doubt you will have any help. Didn’t end on the best of notes, the place had gotten sub-rented to a bunch of kids. They tore the place up, nearly had to go to court.”

  “I see, well maybe I’ll try just in case.”

  “Very well… You need a ride anywhere?”

  “No sir, got a friends place just across the river.”

  “Very well, pack your things and be on your way then.”

  Joe did just that, after preparing the typewriter and the script still on the table he ventured towards the police cruiser which had been situated and waiting across the street. He provided the number for the landlord and Joe continued to make his way.

  Joe continued to walk, seeing all the busy people making their way around the downtown region. He had lied, not knowing exactly where he was going but none the less he kept in motion. He eventually made it to the Gunningsville bridge which led to Riverview. Halfway across he sat down, as the sun had been causing for the warmest day. He stopped at a bench for he waited to both catch his breath, and for the stars that he was certain would follow, no matter how long he had to wait.

  THE END

  Thanks for reading!

  If you enjoyed Earwig, be sure to check out these other titles, all part of the Monkeytown universe and of course all written by yours truly,

  Mackenzie Mazerolle

  Other works include;

  ---Blackwood Lake---

  ---EARWIG---

  Get the whole first volume of -Monkeytown- in hard copy at iuniverse

  (Blackwood Lake, Earwig and the apocalypse at harpers lane trilogy)

  Links;

  IUNIVERSE

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