Fallen behind? Catch up here.
DOOM MAGNETIC!! - CHAPTER THREE:
DARKNESS BREATHES
William Pauley III
Know what the strangest goddamn thing ‘bout all of this is? With all that’s happened t’me in my life, especially all the shit that’s come of late, I only have one thing on my mind. I can’t shake it.
The purple television.
I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. I carried it for so long, it almost became part of me. Like a new appendage, a fuckin’ third arm or somethin’. Even though I know it’s gone, the burden of it still lingers with me. A phantom limb.
I’ve lost friends over it. People have died over it. Doogan. Vonna. They both gave their lives defendin’ it. And for what? A lousy fuckin’ stage prop?
Since all this shit went down, with THE VOICE blowing the heads offa all those folks, I haven’t had a minute free to stop and think about all I was taking in. Maybe those crazy Japanese assholes are right. Maybe THE VOICE is the problem. Maybe he was just fuckin’ with me. Fuckin’ with all of us…the ones with the mark, the lightning bolt tattoo. We’re not privileged…we’re cursed. Every last one of us are unfortunate, sad sorry sonsabitches.
I think about Vonna, her body hangin’ from that rope, swayin’ in the breeze. They’ll probably keep her there swingin’ a few days at least. People, they like t’humiliate the dead, ‘specially in Chorizo, and ‘specially a woman. A black woman, at that. Shit. I have to go back. She deserves t’be buried proper. Only problem is, I’m not exactly sure where here is. This Doom Magnetic business ain’t as easy as it looks. Coordinates have t’be direct. If’n you want t’get where you’re goin’, then you have got t’be precise. Sure, you can fuckin’ tear it open and take a goddamn joy ride, but you’ll most likey end up in some godless desert, starin’ at the sun and not much else—which is exactly where I am right now.
Fuck this. Cowboys shouldn’t have t’put up with this desert shit anymore. We’ve come a long way since early America, back when cowboys lived offa their guns, drank warm liquor, and fucked dirty women. Shit, now that I think of it, I guess we ain’t changed all that much. I just like my drinks served cold.
The war changed everything. The moment Old America flew the coupe, the Japanese slapped their logo on every fuckin’ thing—countries, states, oceans, hell, even people. Every single person livin’ on that goddamn planet is considered Japanese, whether they want to be or not. I heard that in some places, those crazy sumbitches are doin’ all sorts of wild-ass medical experiments, like installing upgrades in people, as if they’re fuckin’ computers or something. I even heard that in Tokyo it’s a goddamn requirement to have remote censors installed throughout your body, as a result of them passin’ all them video game laws, so they can shoot your ass dead using 8-bit era Nintendo accessories. That world is goddamn mad. America may have been a loose cannon back in the day, but being a loose cannon is much better than havin’ to stand in front of one, I suppose. The Japanese have been wanting to test these weapons for years, but they knew better. America would have blown them to smithereens with laser land mines, or some sort of MEGA Super Scope. Shit, I don’ really know too much ‘bout it, I just know that with us gone, they view that planet as one giant-ass adult playground and they get t’make all the rules.
Shit, I don’ know who to trust. I don’t reckon I need to worry myself too much ‘bout it, though. I think Starman done used me up. He got what he wanted, he don’t need no ramblin’ bastitch like me dirtyin’ his peripherals. I guess I’ll be on my merry way.
As the sun goes down, darkness breathes its icy breath across my skin. The hair on my arms stiffen, turning into a thousand tiny acupuncture needles, uncomfortable as all get out. I wrap my trench coat tight across my body, tryin’ to save any warmth that may be left over from the day. I lay down on the sand and hug my legs to my chest. I guess now would be just as good a time as any t’call it a night.
I wake up sometime shortly after that, out of breath and completely covered in sweat. I gasp for air like I’m drowning and struggle to rip the wet clothes from my body.
Then I notice the light. It isn’t the sun. It isn’t natural light at all.
There, standing, b’fore me, is a tall demon of a cactus, covered in purple flame, shootin’ off in every direction. The heat radiatin’ off of it is hotter than I ever felt the sun burn my skin.
As I sit here on my knees, tryin’ t’catch my breath, I get the overwhelmin’ feelin’ like things are startin’ all over again.
Paid subscribers! The next chapter of this story will be posted on February 21st! Stay tuned for Haima Pulmonata.
Darkness Breathes
© William Pauley III, 2011
All rights reserved.
Share this post