(Knacker Wagon Chronicles - XII)
Rev flicked the photograph back onto the shelf. "Consider it your first personal effect. This was supposed to be his cot. It's yours now. He didn't even get it warmed up."
"What was his name?", asked Baye.
"Lucky Eddy." Rev replied. His thin lips stretched into a toothy grin. Baye was growing to hate that expression. Rev could really wig him out. What he hated more was the thought of Rev telling some future sop how 'Lucky Baye' kicked the bucket - his life reduced to satisfying the pleasures of a sadistic maniac.
"Anyhow, gotta run. Sarge has more interesting business for me to take care of. I'm done babysitting you. See if you can survive the rest of the day." Rev left Baye standing before the cot. Baye wasn't sure which would be more interesting to Rev, finding out Baye did indeed survive, or finding out he did not.
The day had been a long one. His legs felt weighted down by lead bricks. The cot was looking mighty inviting. Besides, a person needs to actually use something for his ghost to haunt it. He sat on the edge of the cot. It was stiff but not entirely uncomfortable. He swing his feet up and leaned backwards. He could feel his mind swimming with the onset of sleep.
"You the new guy?", a voice asked.
Through closed eyelids, Baye responded to the intrusive noise, "Yeah, genius, what gave it away?"
"Genius yourself, if you want to survive a while, you'll learn better to know what's around you." Baye opened his eyes and cocked his head to one side then the other. The voice was coming from his immediate right.
"What's it to ya?", Baye asked.
"I've been waiting for the 'new guy'. I wish you arrived a little later. Like never. I was just catching up on my beauty rest and now you've bothered to show up. Let's go, you got toilets to scrub." Baye held his tongue. Rather, in his sleepy state, he just couldn't think of a good rejoinder. "Catch." Baye received a brush and bottle of cleaning fluid. He was relieved it wasn't merely a toothbrush.
"Name's Lenny. I don't care who you are 'til tomorrow. First prove you're worth knowing." Apparently, Lenny didn't have quite the charm that Rev carried. Baye hopped off the cot and followed Lenny out a side door.
Given the dreary nature of the compound at-large, Baye was surprised to see the bathroom in near pristine condition. How odd, he thought, that such care would be taken at the lavatory. He hadn't seen a single woman around anywhere.
"Scrub the bowls good. Make them shine. You might be eating off of one tonight," Lenny said. Baye got to work. Lenny watched for a few moments but appeared distracted, like he was mulling something over in his mind. Baye pondered if he could surprise Lenny. One quick move, and he could throw Lenny off balance. A second move and Baye could have Lenny drowing in a bowl of toilet water. But that wouldn't be the stall in which Baye would want to eat.
"So, newbie, how do you like the scam?" Lenny asked.
"Scam?" replied Baye.
"Yeah, this prisonless scam."
"Uh, sure looks like a prison to me."
"No, no, no, man, you haven't figured anything out yet, have you?"
"Hmm, let's see, armed guards, sniper towers, concertina wire, barriers, and complete with prisoners like us, what's so hard to figure out?"
"You don't get it. We're not prisoners in that sense."
"But we are prisoners."
Lenny creased his eyebrows. "Oh yeah, we're prisoners; we're prisoners of the System. We're under the hand of the Man. We're under the Thumb of tyranny."
"Yeah, like I said...," said Baye.
"You think those towers are for us? You think those guards are staring us down? Follow the money, newbie. We pay for them. We've paid for the towers."
Baye was baffled. Maybe Lenny had been sniffing too much toilet cleaner. He let Lenny continue.
"This whole place... this is our protection. We need a refuge from the good society. If we didn't have camps like this, like Nowhere, here, we'd be gone in a heartbeat. Every time the good society got their undies tied in knots they'd look for an excuse. What better, than to blame everything on us, and then take their frustrations out on us in a most violent way."
Baye noticed the cleaning fluid was rather powerful.
"We're outlaws newbie. That means what's done to us is outside the law. No repercussions, at least from Justice that is. We're in constant danger, newbie." Baye was picking up on the idea that Lenny was a talker. That was good to know. Eventually Lenny might say something worthwhile. There might be a lot of manure to endure, but Lenny might be prone to revealing secrets.
"The Man finally figured out that less laws can mean more control. Strip away laws protecting us and we cower. We do the bidding of the Man without any law to say we must. But we must if we want to survive. We're the colonial Georgia. We're the settlers of Australia. We're the new penal colony. Only we're not in a new land, we're in camps like Nowhere. Then the Man has the gall to say we're not in prison. We may not be under lock and key but we're still prisoners. We're prisoners of the System."
Friday, March 7, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Parade.
(Knacker Wagon Chronicles - XI)
"Let's go. We need to get to the barracks." said Rev, as he started walking away. Baye noticed that the rest of the crew had piled into the van. He was learning that despite the unpleasant qualities each crew member had, they did work rather efficiently as a unit. For the sake of learning, he'd go along. But he was getting tired of wearing the ridiculous pink No Splat shirt.
"We walk, they drive, kind of unfair isn't it?" Baye queried.
"Yup", Rev retorted.
"Whatever you do, don't take off the No splat shirt."
"Vengeance Crew comes here too?", Baye asked.
"No, they're part of another camp. There's a bunch of crews here and they're just as bad as Vengeance. You gotta watch out for them."
"What gives with the shirt, are they like vampires or something and this stupid shirt is blessed with holy water to ward them off?"
Rev spun on Baye and glared at him. "Vampires only drink blood, Baye. Knackers are worse."
They walked through the compound. Dull, gray, concrete structures were everywhere. A fine dust covered the roads and walkways, adding a bit of grit to the air. Scrub grass and weeds
predominated the floral landscape. Baye half-expected John Wayne to stroll out of a building,
carrying a rifle in his hands and pair of sidearms on his hips. The buildings had a geometric
arrangement - they weren't scattered randomly about, rather there were long lanes like alleyways between rows. At the end of any given row was a tower, complete with sniper's nest. Baye had difficulty with the notion he was not in a prison. The layout of the compound was designed to accomodate kill zones. He could quite clearly see heavily armed guards marching around in combat fatigues and bullet-proof vests and assorted riot gear. He, by contrast, was armed with merely his wits. He didn't mind the guards having a disadvantage.
They approached a cluster of people. Rev didn't bother to slow down or acknowledge them. They, however, took delight in noticing Baye. The catcalls descended upon them. Lurid, suggestive body motions were cast as well. They reminded him of Tweed. He shuddered. Rev tried to steer around them but they blocked the path. They were composed of a handful of scraggily looking derelicts and a pair of guards. Baye couldn't see the guards' expressions through the visors on their helmets but the jostling of their shoulders let him know they were enjoying this spectacle.
"Hey, can you dance real purty-like?" snarled one rough-looking man.
"You boys are marching so fast, looks like a parade", jeered another.
Rev grabbed the front of Baye's No Splat T-shirt. He clenched his hand into a fist, gripping the fabric. "Lay off, meatheads! You wanna smell trouble! Smell this, you louts!" Rev pulled on Baye's shirt, forcing Baye to take a couple steps closer to the ne'er-do-wells. One stepped forward and sniffed towards Baye. He sneered and raised his arms in a surrending fashion.
"Alright, alright," he said, dejectedly. Rev released his grip on Baye's shirt and pushed his way through the cordon. The catcalls continued for a while longer. To Baye, the shirt just stank, and nothing like holy water.
Rev marched on toward a non-descript building. There was a lone person resting on its small front porch. "'lo Rev," he said. "Is the newbie as dumb as he looks?"
"Dumber."
"Maybe he'll live longer than the last moron."
"Maybe. I wouldn't hold my breath." Baye felt a flash of anger but refused to show any emotion. Rev strode across the porch and opened the door to the building. Baye followed Rev inside. The interior was dim. They entered a long narrow room. There were two rows of cots along the length of the room. Baye stopped at the entrance. Rev walked halfway down the room and leaned over a cot. He reached toward a wooden shelf, about chest level, on the wall.
Rev picked up a photograph from a wooden shelf and handed it to Baye. "That's what happened to the guy you're replacing. Within 24 hours of his pickup he tried to escape from this camp. You can see what the result was when another crew got hold of him." Baye studied the picture. It looked like the inside of a garage or warehouse. There was a body lying on the floor; mouth slack, arms and legs splayed, eyes, not even staring, but missing, and a huge cavern where his torso should have been. The top of the skull had an unnatural straightness and shortness to it.
"You could say he lost his mind."
"Let's go. We need to get to the barracks." said Rev, as he started walking away. Baye noticed that the rest of the crew had piled into the van. He was learning that despite the unpleasant qualities each crew member had, they did work rather efficiently as a unit. For the sake of learning, he'd go along. But he was getting tired of wearing the ridiculous pink No Splat shirt.
"We walk, they drive, kind of unfair isn't it?" Baye queried.
"Yup", Rev retorted.
"Whatever you do, don't take off the No splat shirt."
"Vengeance Crew comes here too?", Baye asked.
"No, they're part of another camp. There's a bunch of crews here and they're just as bad as Vengeance. You gotta watch out for them."
"What gives with the shirt, are they like vampires or something and this stupid shirt is blessed with holy water to ward them off?"
Rev spun on Baye and glared at him. "Vampires only drink blood, Baye. Knackers are worse."
They walked through the compound. Dull, gray, concrete structures were everywhere. A fine dust covered the roads and walkways, adding a bit of grit to the air. Scrub grass and weeds
predominated the floral landscape. Baye half-expected John Wayne to stroll out of a building,
carrying a rifle in his hands and pair of sidearms on his hips. The buildings had a geometric
arrangement - they weren't scattered randomly about, rather there were long lanes like alleyways between rows. At the end of any given row was a tower, complete with sniper's nest. Baye had difficulty with the notion he was not in a prison. The layout of the compound was designed to accomodate kill zones. He could quite clearly see heavily armed guards marching around in combat fatigues and bullet-proof vests and assorted riot gear. He, by contrast, was armed with merely his wits. He didn't mind the guards having a disadvantage.
They approached a cluster of people. Rev didn't bother to slow down or acknowledge them. They, however, took delight in noticing Baye. The catcalls descended upon them. Lurid, suggestive body motions were cast as well. They reminded him of Tweed. He shuddered. Rev tried to steer around them but they blocked the path. They were composed of a handful of scraggily looking derelicts and a pair of guards. Baye couldn't see the guards' expressions through the visors on their helmets but the jostling of their shoulders let him know they were enjoying this spectacle.
"Hey, can you dance real purty-like?" snarled one rough-looking man.
"You boys are marching so fast, looks like a parade", jeered another.
Rev grabbed the front of Baye's No Splat T-shirt. He clenched his hand into a fist, gripping the fabric. "Lay off, meatheads! You wanna smell trouble! Smell this, you louts!" Rev pulled on Baye's shirt, forcing Baye to take a couple steps closer to the ne'er-do-wells. One stepped forward and sniffed towards Baye. He sneered and raised his arms in a surrending fashion.
"Alright, alright," he said, dejectedly. Rev released his grip on Baye's shirt and pushed his way through the cordon. The catcalls continued for a while longer. To Baye, the shirt just stank, and nothing like holy water.
Rev marched on toward a non-descript building. There was a lone person resting on its small front porch. "'lo Rev," he said. "Is the newbie as dumb as he looks?"
"Dumber."
"Maybe he'll live longer than the last moron."
"Maybe. I wouldn't hold my breath." Baye felt a flash of anger but refused to show any emotion. Rev strode across the porch and opened the door to the building. Baye followed Rev inside. The interior was dim. They entered a long narrow room. There were two rows of cots along the length of the room. Baye stopped at the entrance. Rev walked halfway down the room and leaned over a cot. He reached toward a wooden shelf, about chest level, on the wall.
Rev picked up a photograph from a wooden shelf and handed it to Baye. "That's what happened to the guy you're replacing. Within 24 hours of his pickup he tried to escape from this camp. You can see what the result was when another crew got hold of him." Baye studied the picture. It looked like the inside of a garage or warehouse. There was a body lying on the floor; mouth slack, arms and legs splayed, eyes, not even staring, but missing, and a huge cavern where his torso should have been. The top of the skull had an unnatural straightness and shortness to it.
"You could say he lost his mind."
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