Post by curvestone on Apr 29, 2007 16:22:33 GMT -5
Catharsis Part 4
By Nathan Cook
“Oh, he's a good man,” Reese said as he helped me with my bags. “You just got him in a bad humor. Besides, I think he's usually like that toward the newbies.” It was six in the morning, and I was exceedingly tired. Reese was prepping me for my our trip to the West.
“Usually like what? He usually tells the new people that they're screwed-up?”
“Oh, no. He's usually that uncongenial. I don't think he wants to make you laugh the first day. He wants people to know from the beginning that he can be a tough cookie, but most of the time he's just a soggy old muffin.”
It was definitely a comfort. I'd hate to think that I'd be under the employ of a man who acted all the time in the way Dempsey had the night before.
A sort of peace had come over me that morning. There was a strange feeling of comfort when I was around Reese, and for the first time in my life, I found a homely feeling. Overnight, I had let myself adopt the idea that Reese and Dempsey would be my comrades for however long life required. Strangely for me, I liked it.
It had always been hard for me to take strongly to someone else. I had a real problem with my parents, which was understandable, and my aunt never rubbed me the right way either. When I'm forced to think about it, not even one of the girls I had ever been with had ever made me feel special, and not one had I ever gotten attached to. Things were very different with Reese. Even Dempsey was easy to take to. When I was around them, I had an odd sense of familiarity. It was in the air in which they walked. To say the least, I liked it.
We went by train back to Philadelphia, and then headed West by the same means. Dempsey, who turned out to be quite the opposite of a dismal or threatening fellow, made it his business to keep me in the loop. It doesn't matter what came up during that trip, I heard about it. You couldn't go to the bathroom without me knowing what you had to do and how long it took you to wash your hands. The great part was, I found out what happened not by watching it happen or even moving out of my seat for that matter. Dempsey taught me to listen to everything around me and pull everything I could from what tiny bits I got to hear.
An interesting thing happened though, at the end of that curiously long train ride. I was asleep when the train stopped. Unfortunately, I remain blurry on what town we ended up in. My best guess is that we were in a town somewhere in the north, which has to be true. The following events rely on that being factual.
The night was still when Dempsey shook me awake, which was surprising due to the fact that we were on a train. Signaling me to be quiet, he slipped to the end of the car. I followed, unsure of what exactly was going down. Though it took me awhile to realize it, the train had indeed stopped. Dempsey jumped out of the train as I approached him. Once again, I followed. In the darkness, I could see Reese waiting with our bags. Walking up to me, he handed me my laptop case.
“Help me shove the rest of this in the truck,” he whispered as he led me to a large moving van outside the gate. We loaded the back with haste, and proceeded to load ourselves into the front. I didn't ask why it was a moving van that would be carrying us to where we needed to be (wherever that was.) I knew already from books, films, and other learning mediums that it can be helpful to disguise one's means of travel.
We drove under cover of darkness with me squeezed into the middle of the front seat. The first thirty minutes of that drive are still hazy for me, but some things never leave you. I do remember trees, trees so beautiful and green that you could not help but be in awe of their very being. It was also very cold. I might have seen snow, but I honestly can't remember. The clattering of Dempsey's teeth next to me are one of the few things forever locked in my brain. At the wheel was Reese, staring hard at the road ahead, almost challenging it.
It is poetry that I remember next, and it is what happened at this point that I don't think I'll ever forget. Reese, calmed by the silence of the ride so far, reached out to turn on the radio. “Dark Side of the Moon” by Pink Floyd began playing. It was the movement of that song that made everything that followed feel so bizarre, and I suppose it's the song that's the most important detail.
Behind us, I could see the lights of a black SUV approaching. They came up fast, showing us their guns but never firing a shot. No words were spoken, but I suppose all parties but me understood everything already. Dempsey saw the confusion in my eyes. “Enemies, as you can gather. I'll explain the rest later,” he whispered.
They drove up beside us. Everything was moving so slow, just as the song. It was very much like floating, except they were floating faster than us. No one made any sudden movements, nothing quick or jagged, and then suddenly it changed. With the growing intensity of the song, the SUV sped up suddenly, but not going forward. They rammed up against us as hard as they could. I was thrown against Dempsey. Reese shoved back, ripping paint from both vehicles. Then, with the passing of the chorus, things slowed again. It was all very surreal.
From the left left of the SUV, a man emerged, a gun clinched tightly in his hand. He climbed onto the top of the car, murder in his eyes. A bungee chord tied to the man's belt kept him atop the SUV, which was a discouraging factor for us.
Dempsey looked at me again, “Reese is driving. He can't take that guy if he gets onto our roof.”
As the chorus came once again, Reese beat the moving truck savagely against the SUV. The man fell to his face, but though he lost his weapon, he managed to stay aboard the moving car. He came to his feet and stared me in the eyes, like a tiger eying its prey, and for the next few moments, I heard nothing around me. All I my mind could comprehend was this man beating his eyes into mine, a sick hunger written on across his face.
Unhooking himself from the cord that kept him aboard the car, he pounced at our truck. Furiously, Reese threw our vehicle into theirs with such force that they toppled off the road, but the man had not left our truck. That skillful Indiana Jones wannabe climbed off the top of the truck, and down to Reese's door. He hung there, beating against the window. Then the glass broke.
For a moment, I could have sworn on high heavens that he was going to get in. From his back pocket, the man pulled a large knife. Smiling heinously, he waved it in front of us. As he started laughing, I bit down on my lip, praying for something to happen when suddenly, I heard someone else laughing, too.
As maniacally as deranged Nazi on crack, Mr. Dempsey went on laughing and then, as he finished pulling back relentless on the trigger, stopped. The man fell from the car, limp and lifeless as an old fish. Reese shuttered the man fell beneath the wheels, but I, quite frankly, felt nothing, and as I look back on it now, I can't help feeling disappointed at that.
Looking down, I noticed a handgun lying unnoticed on the floor of the car. I seized it. I already knew that Dempsey couldn't possibly have a clear shot at the other driver from where he was, but I did, and I took it. The driver's face flopped down on the wheel, as he inadvertently steered the SUV off the road.
© Nathan Cook, 2007
By Nathan Cook
“Oh, he's a good man,” Reese said as he helped me with my bags. “You just got him in a bad humor. Besides, I think he's usually like that toward the newbies.” It was six in the morning, and I was exceedingly tired. Reese was prepping me for my our trip to the West.
“Usually like what? He usually tells the new people that they're screwed-up?”
“Oh, no. He's usually that uncongenial. I don't think he wants to make you laugh the first day. He wants people to know from the beginning that he can be a tough cookie, but most of the time he's just a soggy old muffin.”
It was definitely a comfort. I'd hate to think that I'd be under the employ of a man who acted all the time in the way Dempsey had the night before.
A sort of peace had come over me that morning. There was a strange feeling of comfort when I was around Reese, and for the first time in my life, I found a homely feeling. Overnight, I had let myself adopt the idea that Reese and Dempsey would be my comrades for however long life required. Strangely for me, I liked it.
It had always been hard for me to take strongly to someone else. I had a real problem with my parents, which was understandable, and my aunt never rubbed me the right way either. When I'm forced to think about it, not even one of the girls I had ever been with had ever made me feel special, and not one had I ever gotten attached to. Things were very different with Reese. Even Dempsey was easy to take to. When I was around them, I had an odd sense of familiarity. It was in the air in which they walked. To say the least, I liked it.
We went by train back to Philadelphia, and then headed West by the same means. Dempsey, who turned out to be quite the opposite of a dismal or threatening fellow, made it his business to keep me in the loop. It doesn't matter what came up during that trip, I heard about it. You couldn't go to the bathroom without me knowing what you had to do and how long it took you to wash your hands. The great part was, I found out what happened not by watching it happen or even moving out of my seat for that matter. Dempsey taught me to listen to everything around me and pull everything I could from what tiny bits I got to hear.
An interesting thing happened though, at the end of that curiously long train ride. I was asleep when the train stopped. Unfortunately, I remain blurry on what town we ended up in. My best guess is that we were in a town somewhere in the north, which has to be true. The following events rely on that being factual.
The night was still when Dempsey shook me awake, which was surprising due to the fact that we were on a train. Signaling me to be quiet, he slipped to the end of the car. I followed, unsure of what exactly was going down. Though it took me awhile to realize it, the train had indeed stopped. Dempsey jumped out of the train as I approached him. Once again, I followed. In the darkness, I could see Reese waiting with our bags. Walking up to me, he handed me my laptop case.
“Help me shove the rest of this in the truck,” he whispered as he led me to a large moving van outside the gate. We loaded the back with haste, and proceeded to load ourselves into the front. I didn't ask why it was a moving van that would be carrying us to where we needed to be (wherever that was.) I knew already from books, films, and other learning mediums that it can be helpful to disguise one's means of travel.
We drove under cover of darkness with me squeezed into the middle of the front seat. The first thirty minutes of that drive are still hazy for me, but some things never leave you. I do remember trees, trees so beautiful and green that you could not help but be in awe of their very being. It was also very cold. I might have seen snow, but I honestly can't remember. The clattering of Dempsey's teeth next to me are one of the few things forever locked in my brain. At the wheel was Reese, staring hard at the road ahead, almost challenging it.
It is poetry that I remember next, and it is what happened at this point that I don't think I'll ever forget. Reese, calmed by the silence of the ride so far, reached out to turn on the radio. “Dark Side of the Moon” by Pink Floyd began playing. It was the movement of that song that made everything that followed feel so bizarre, and I suppose it's the song that's the most important detail.
Behind us, I could see the lights of a black SUV approaching. They came up fast, showing us their guns but never firing a shot. No words were spoken, but I suppose all parties but me understood everything already. Dempsey saw the confusion in my eyes. “Enemies, as you can gather. I'll explain the rest later,” he whispered.
They drove up beside us. Everything was moving so slow, just as the song. It was very much like floating, except they were floating faster than us. No one made any sudden movements, nothing quick or jagged, and then suddenly it changed. With the growing intensity of the song, the SUV sped up suddenly, but not going forward. They rammed up against us as hard as they could. I was thrown against Dempsey. Reese shoved back, ripping paint from both vehicles. Then, with the passing of the chorus, things slowed again. It was all very surreal.
From the left left of the SUV, a man emerged, a gun clinched tightly in his hand. He climbed onto the top of the car, murder in his eyes. A bungee chord tied to the man's belt kept him atop the SUV, which was a discouraging factor for us.
Dempsey looked at me again, “Reese is driving. He can't take that guy if he gets onto our roof.”
As the chorus came once again, Reese beat the moving truck savagely against the SUV. The man fell to his face, but though he lost his weapon, he managed to stay aboard the moving car. He came to his feet and stared me in the eyes, like a tiger eying its prey, and for the next few moments, I heard nothing around me. All I my mind could comprehend was this man beating his eyes into mine, a sick hunger written on across his face.
Unhooking himself from the cord that kept him aboard the car, he pounced at our truck. Furiously, Reese threw our vehicle into theirs with such force that they toppled off the road, but the man had not left our truck. That skillful Indiana Jones wannabe climbed off the top of the truck, and down to Reese's door. He hung there, beating against the window. Then the glass broke.
For a moment, I could have sworn on high heavens that he was going to get in. From his back pocket, the man pulled a large knife. Smiling heinously, he waved it in front of us. As he started laughing, I bit down on my lip, praying for something to happen when suddenly, I heard someone else laughing, too.
As maniacally as deranged Nazi on crack, Mr. Dempsey went on laughing and then, as he finished pulling back relentless on the trigger, stopped. The man fell from the car, limp and lifeless as an old fish. Reese shuttered the man fell beneath the wheels, but I, quite frankly, felt nothing, and as I look back on it now, I can't help feeling disappointed at that.
Looking down, I noticed a handgun lying unnoticed on the floor of the car. I seized it. I already knew that Dempsey couldn't possibly have a clear shot at the other driver from where he was, but I did, and I took it. The driver's face flopped down on the wheel, as he inadvertently steered the SUV off the road.
© Nathan Cook, 2007
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
