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Authors: Andrew Kjelland

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BOOK: Black Box 86ed
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“What was that about?”

“I don’t know, they said they are taking all the registered firearms off the streets. Something to do with the protests, I guess they’re worried.”

“Damn that’s pretty intense.”

“It’s bullshit, totally against the law. The whole reason for the second ame
ndment is for times like these.
And when it happens they just say screw it and break the constitution.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well looks like I hav
e to go buy a gun off the grid.
If they think I’m a threat when I do it legally I suppose I’ll have to do it illegally and they will sure as hell have a threat.” “I won’t be without my protection.”

“Well good luck with that.
But if you ask me you’ll probably just get your gun back when the protests are over.”

“Ya we’ll see.
Well I got to go, I’ll talk to you later.” He walks to his car peeling out and down the street.

I hop into my car. Normally something like that would send me to my computer to see the outrage play out, but it I’m about to have the most important day of my life.

I pull out of my driveway and head down the street. About five police cars are at another house down the block. Dam I didn’t know there we so many guns in my neighborhood.

Stopping at the end of my street I tune the radio to 93x the rock station. Expecting to hear the same five or six songs that apparently comprise the entirety of my local radio station’s song library, I’m surprised to hear what is clearly Obama.

“It is with great remorse to inform the American public that for the first time in our history martial law has been implemented. Now let me be clear. This is a very limited in scope and objective policy. Those whom are not taking part in these once peaceful, now violent protests will most likely not notice much of a change in your day to day lives.”

I sit in front of the stop sign at the end of my block just listening. “To put it simply, if you are fighting in our city streets. If you believe to be a war with the United States of America. If you attack those whom we have been put in place to protect us, you will be the ones to feel and understand this implementation of
policy. I will not stand for all out war o
n the streets of some of our major cities. This is not a proper way to discuss policy, and we will not allow the actions of a minority of people to highjack the day to day lives of the average American. With that being said along with the implementation of martial law I have also suspended the right to habeas corpus when it comes to acts against the United States. If you are arrested for acts in any way related to this so called uprising, detainment without trial has been authorized. Resistance in any way towards these policies, whether it be refusing a stop and frisk, will be met with strong and swift punishment. Let’s get this straight, the quicker our streets are safe, the quicker our laws and lives will return to normal.”

Two black trucks go racing by lights and sirens blaring. They must be going eighty in a thirty. I peel out trying to stay up with them, but not to obviously. I’ve gone a block and they’re already three ahead of me. They tear down into a subdivision. I follow, slowing so I don’t look suspicious. About halfway down the street a total of six black vans and a few cop cars scatter the street and front yard of a blue and beige two story house.
      
I’m about half a block away but I can already see a police officer laying in a sizable pool of blood behind his SUV parked in the driveway. Another cop laying on the cement next to him not moving. A man over a loud speaker yells to who’s ever in the house.

“I repeat, come out with your hands up. If you do not want to
be
shot come out with your hands showing.”

The man looking out the second story window yells something back, but I’m too far away to hear.

“We can work this out, come
out with your hands showing.
If the policeman dies you will face charges which are punishable by death.”

The man fires a round at the SUV in his driveway. Several people, I guess they would be FBI agents take shelter behind their cars. One of them sees me. He gets the attention of his partners as a few of them turn and jog over to me. I hit the car in reverse and take off out of the neighborhood.

I’m about two
blocks away from the liquor store when police lights flash in my rear view mirror. Fuck, can I get in trouble for follow police cars? There’s no way they could know that you followed them Will, just say you were visiting a friend. Good that’s good, I think to myself. The police officer and his partner get out of the car, I fumble looking for my auto insurance. Taking to either side of my car, he taps my window. He’s tall with a stern look on his face, his brow furrowed over his aviators. I start to roll it down, and before it’s even down half way.

“Sir, can I have you step out of the vehicle.”

“Uhh ya sure” I tell him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m going to jail. “What seems to be the problem ossifer?” ...Shit

“This is purely procedural, we will be checking yourself and your vehicle for weapons, drugs, or anything else illegal.”

In an instant I search the car in my mind, besides the loose pot seed here and there I should be fine, I left all my weed at home.

“Uhm not to be argumentative but don’t you have to have some kind of reason to do that.”

“Not as of this morning, now sir do you have anything you would like to tell us just to make our job easier?” I shake my head. His partner opens my passenger side door taking out his flashlight he begins tearing through the front of my car.

“Place your hands on the hood of the car sir.” I do as he says. “Now is there anything on your person that could poke, stick or prick me?” I shake my head as he kicks my legs into a wider stance. He begins emptying my pockets onto the hood of my car and pats me down.

“You know what’s happening on Mayberry Street?”

“The government has started confiscating all registered firearms in order to protect the public. It appears there has been a confrontation related to this.” He finishes patting me down. “How’s the car looking?”

“Cars clean.”

“Well not anymore,” I reply, he ignores me.

“Sir you may take your things off the hood of the car.” They turn and walk away without so much as a good bye. Dam I guess I know what it feels like to be used. Like a bad one nightstand, my stuff all disarranged.

It’s finally here, the occupy protests weren’t even that crazy in Chicago. Last I heard they government cracked down and arrested most of them. I guess this is probably happening all over the country now. Now that our rights have been suspended. I put my ridiculous amount of change on the hood of my car, back into my pocket and continue to the liquor store.

Pulling into the jam packed parking lot, it’s never this full
, people must be stocking up.
I walk in the shelves almost completely bare, and Wally the owner obviously overcome with joy behind the cash register, he’s been raking it in. I walk down the aisle, only a few bottles of jack, Bacardi, and the occasional UV. I get to the
end;
o thank god I exhale grabbing the last plastic bottle of vodka. I will forever and eternally have a love affair with cheap vodka.

I grab the bottle, and after a solid ten minutes standing in line I realize how dumb it was for me to go directly to a liquor store after the police just saw I’m only nineteen. Wally gives me a wink. He was a friend of my dads, they grew up together or something and ever since they died he’s been letting me buy alcohol. “Need smokes today Mr. William?”

“I suppose it can’t hurt.” I joke to him.

“Ha, that’s not quite what my doctor told me.” He retorts tossing the pack to me. “On the house free o charge now if you would stop drinking this horse piss vodka I would maybe give ya a discount on it.”

“Everyone’s got their vices.”

“I suppose, it’ll be fifteen bucks kid.”

Handing him a crumpled up twenty. “You know what’s going on with this stars thing?” I ask.

“Only thing I’ve heard is something about showing that there are more people for the government than tho
se occupiers.
Kind of just making it seem like the protests are a lot smaller
then they’re made out to be.
But that was just some gossip I overheard, sounds pretty stupid if you ask me.”

“Huh, ya I’m taking the train up to Chicago and getting one today.” I say grabbing the vodka and heading towards the door.

“Well you be safe now.
If things get any weirder you can always come hang out at my house.”

“Thanks I’ll keep it in mind.” I tell him as I head out the door and to my car.

Pulling out of the parking lot I see two more cars pulled over with the owners being searched. One of the police, patting down a rather large man, his hands wedge between the fat folds under his beer gut.

 

CHAPTER…

I feel it. The blood rushing through my ears as my entire body prepares to see her. I don’t know why it happens, it just does. The uncontrollable heart rate, the smile painted on my face. Think of a joke, think of a joke! I tell myself the words echoing off the walls in my head. So loud and over bearing that I’m not even able to try and think one. I knock on her door, “I’ll be right there!” she yells from what sounds to be the other end of her trailer. My heart racing as I hear her scurrying around trying to finish getting ready.

Finally she opens the door her broad crest whitened smiled highlighting her already baked eyes. She’s stoned out of her mind.

“Hey,” she says. Causing an instant electrical shutdown to occur in my brain.

“Hey,” I’m able to muster out as she wraps me in a hug. I try to keep the blood in my ears from flowing to other places.

“So, what the hell is this about stars?” She asks as she jumps from her top step into her mini trailer yard.

“I don’t know, it’s probably just to make us feel all warm and fuzzy. All for one and one for all sorta thing. Oh, wait look,” I tell her as I produce the vodka.

“Is this how we die in Chicago?” She asks with a glorified smile.

“I wouldn’t say die but if I’m getting on that farris wheel then I’m going to need some motivation.”

“I have only one question, where in the hell do you plan on carrying such a large bottle?”

“…Shit”

“HAHAHAHA, I can in no way fit that into my purse.”

“You see this is all your fault if you would just forget the dam Farris wheel.”

“Oh, oh, it’s my fault is it? Well I suppose if your balls would actually drop, you wouldn’t even need it!”

“Hey now let’s not say something we can’t take back. My balls are perfectly fine where they are.”

“Ok, ok I’m sorry how bout this we’ll drop this off at your house and when we come back from Chicago we’ll just drink it there.”

Now this has to be a hint towards something. “Su, su, sure that sounds good.”

CHAPTER…

We walk back to my place, drop the bottle off and get to the train station right as it pulls in.
      

The train slowly comes to a stop and we are instantly greeted with a sea of people already on their way get their freedom stars
. Quite an ingenious name. We slowly push our way past the first few rows and take a spot standing about halfway into the rail car. It’s so pack that when I turn around I can feel every part of Grace against me. It's... distracting.

“Well this is just peachy, a half hour of ass touching,” she smiles

“I know right I need to take the train more often.” We laugh.

“Hey do you have a phone charger I could borrow?” a well dressed black man asks us. Grace obliges rummaging through her purse.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks” he says continuing down the train pushing people aside looking for an open outlet.

“Well you’re never going to see that again,” I tell her.

“O it’s fine, where’s he gona to go?”

“Ya your right, but I'll still keep an eye on him just to make sure he doesn’t try to get away from us.”

He stops and plugs in his phone. Turning it on and immediately calls someone. Probably just a family member he’s meeting to get a star with I assume. But something’s o
ff. He starts to yell. “What?
What are you talking about?” He pauses listening. The blood rushes from his face. Immediately hanging up the phone and yells. “EVERBYBODY NEEDS TO GET OFF AT THE NEXT STOP THERE IS…
” A deafening explosion, it happens so quickly as the man’s head flies by still holding his expression of terror. I instinctively wrap Grace in my arms trying to protect her. In an instant the air fills with the sounds of twisting and crunching metal, mixed with panic screams.

My ears feel as if they’re blown out, everything sounding as if its miles away. I grab Graces chin to have her look at me. “Are you alright
?” I yell unable to tell how loud I’m being.

She nods as she puts her hand to my forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

I reach up and sure enough not a large but steady stream of blood is coming from the left side of my head. “It’s nothing, you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yes I’m sure.”

I pull her in to me, wrapping her in a bear hug. Thank God I think. Turning around to survey the aftermath. The right side of the train almost completely blown out, with only shards of twisted metal flowing in and out of the gaping hole in the train. I look down to the people who were once there. But I see now that they were just as once people as they were standing there. It’s a mess. For about ten yards the train is a stew of interchanging almost unrecognizable body parts and insides. A man
whimpers and moans half sitting half lying, his chin dug into his chest. His right leg and left foot completely gone, his shirt jagged and ripped soaked in blood
.
Staring entranced at the stream of blood and pouring from the wounds, he’s done for. He’s dead
, deader than dead.

BOOK: Black Box 86ed
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