Author Archives: J.R.

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About J.R.

Nerdy writer with a smart mouth and a heart of gold...or silver...well, it's shiny-ish.

A Few Things About the Site

Hey everyone. Thanks again for coming by and giving everything a look. I really appreciate the response and feedback I’ve been getting so far. Here’s a few tips that might make things a little easier on you.

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Filed under Rant Alert

Discovery

I wrote Discovery a few years ago as a sort of homage to the Outer Limits. I used to love that show and I always liked how each story had some kind of crazy twist at the end. A friend of mine actually made a short student film based on a non-sci-fi version of this story, which was kinda cool. This is definately rated M for mature, so be warned.

Discovery

The body swam in a pool of blood and the stench of rotting meat filled my nostrils and made my stomach heave. Covering my nose with the handkerchief that I’ve made a habit to carry on me for moments such as this, I watched as one of the younger officers ran to the next room to empty his lunch into a sink. Welcome to life on Discovery.

Discovery is a deep space exploration station whose mission is to travel the unmapped regions of space and document anything that might make the scientists back on Earth wet themselves with glee; or at the very least, to find new planets rich with resources we can either harvest or colonize. We left Earth just over sixteen months ago for what was supposed to be a three year mission. Right now I’m wondering if we’ll even make it past this month.

Discovery was named after the NASA space shuttle from the late twentieth century America, back before the United Earth Nations were formed. The powers-that-be felt that the name would inspire us to “boldly go”. Personally, I think it was just a great PR stunt. The security officers had begun to joke that the station was really named Discovery because every morning we “discover” a new body. I’m not amused.

It was believed by the people who get paid to think shit up for a living that sending out a huge mobile space station filled with all the comforts of home would help to combat the bouts of space sickness that typically plagued similar missions such as ours. Unfortunately, the last two months seem to have proved them wrong; and all the extra people: the families, shopkeepers, technicians, et cetera, have just provided a wider range of victims, if not potential threats themselves.

Space sickness is what happens to someone when they’ve been out in space for too long. Usually it only happens to people who have been stuck on a confined spacecraft for long periods of time. The symptoms can be different for everyone but the end result tends to be the same: insanity.

The first victim was a young woman who worked for one of the various cafes we have on our entertainment level. She was single, white, about twenty years of age, and she was found with as many stab wounds on her body. Unfortunately, there were no signs of forced entry, no hairs, no bloody murder weapon with fingerprints. There wasn’t so much as a dust mite in her apartment. She lived alone. Had no family on the station, apparently no friends, and she kept to herself. To sum up, we had jack to go on.

Next up was a double homicide, which was not nearly as clean: An elderly man and woman found with their throats slit. The man was a member of the custodial staff who had reportedly volunteered for the mission so that he and his wife could have one last “adventure” before they retired. This time the murder weapon, a knife, was found on the scene. Lucky for us, it had a crazed lunatic attached. A few shouted orders and about ten gunshots later the case was closed.

Murders keep occurring that way across the station, about one every few days. Sometimes they end up like the elderly couple case, where the crime scene is messy and the killer, gone space sick, is easy to find. It’s the others that have me worried. Not that the space sickness that appears to be running rampant doesn’t worry me, but these other murders appear to be planned. They’re clean, efficient, and leave no trail, which leads me to believe that some nut, or perhaps an entire sack, is using the current situation to cover up their own bloody agenda.

People all over the station are starting to get more than a little paranoid and reports of assaults from overzealous “self defenders” have been flooding the security office. The best part is since I’m head of security they look to me to correct the problem; as if I haven’t been trying since we found the first human sprinkler watering her apartment floor two months ago.

Now we have today’s victim: A member of my own security force. His name was Lt. Daniel McGregor, a warm young man with a decent sense of humor. Danny was the kind of guy that tends to light up the room with his personality and make you smile just being around him. Everyone in the security office loved him, and because he was the youngest he had become the kid brother of our little “family.” He was only twenty-two. Now I’m pissed.

“So what’s the story Doc?”

Jack “Doc” Kelvin, our resident physician and wise-ass, glanced up at me. “He’s dead, Jim.”

I rolled my eyes and temporarily lowered the handkerchief from my nose. “Har, har.”

Doc smiled weakly as he stood and ran a hand through his hair. It had started to go from brunette to gray in the last year since we had left Earth, as had his moustache, which began to twitch as he talked just like it always did when he was disturbed but was trying not to show it. “Well, cause of death was a knife, or some other sharp object, through the base of the skull. Looks like the poor boy put up a fight though. There are multiple bruises all over the body, and his knuckles are split.”

“Just like Danny-Boy to go down swingin!” One of the officers muttered.

Another spat. “Damn straight! I hope he broke the bastards jaw!”

I waved them down and gestured towards the door. “We all feel that way guys. Why don’t you go ahead and take off so the clean up guys have room to work. Give everyone a call and tell them I want a full assembly in fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you down at HQ.”

“You got it, Cap.”

They all filed out as what we’ve dubbed the “clean up crew” came in and took the body down to the morgue and started to clean up the blood. I stood and watched for a few seconds before turning back to Doc. “I take it this is another one of the ‘clean’ ones?”

Doc looked pained as he nodded. “No murder weapon, no evidence on the body. The others didn’t find anything either.”

“Dammit!” I slammed my fist against the nearby wall, which made the clean up guys glance up excitedly.

Doc patted me on the back. “I’m sorry, Jim. I know how hard this all has been on you, but now to lose one of your own…”

He trailed off as he saw the look in my eye. “I’m going to get the bastard, Doc. When I do he’s going to wish to God that he never stepped foot on my station.”

He nodded. “I expected no less, but the others…”

I arched an eyebrow as I allowed him to lead me out of the room and I put my handkerchief back into its pocket. “What about ‘em?”

He took a second before answering, no doubt choosing his words carefully. “Well, they’re just are on edge.”

“What the hell do you expect? We have cases of assaults taking place all over the station along with, what, twenty or so murders? And this last was one was Danny. Little Danny. Sonnuva bitch, Doc! He was only twenty-two!

He nodded and grasped my shoulder, forcing me to stop. “I know Jim, but what I’m saying is you have to be careful. They’re on edge and everyone is paranoid. It wouldn’t be very good for officers to stop anyone who looks ‘suspicious’ and beat the tar out of them. Get what I’m saying?”

I knocked his arm away a bit more forcefully than I meant to. “Yeah, I got it. I’ll keep an eye out.” I started to make my way over to the lift as he followed me with his eyes. “Send me your full report when you’re finished, Doc.”

The lift doors cut off his response as they closed behind me. I felt a bit guilty for the way I treated him. After all, he had a valid point; but I knew I was already going to get at least one lecture today from the higher ups and I didn’t need another from my best friend. Besides, the sting of losing Danny was still fresh and I wasn’t in the mood to be civil.

I held the destination button and muttered, “Security.” The lift beeped to let me know it had received my destination; then it took off. I felt my stomach doing flip-flops as it moved through the right tubes to reach my office. Up, right, down, right, up, left. It made me wish for the days when everything was just built on top of each other and elevators only went up or down. By the time the lift dinged to let me know that I was there, the small pounding that had been forming at my temples had become a full-blown migraine.

I stepped out of the lift and into the security office. I saw that everyone had assembled as I had ordered…with one exception. I wasn’t suprised. I did my best to put on my “strong and fearless leader” face as they parted like the Red Sea to let me through. They nodded as I passed; most eyes red-rimmed from recent crying, some still with tears rolling lazily down a cheek. I pretended that I didn’t see it and kept moving. When I got to my desk I turned to address everyone.

“I know you are all hurting. I am too. Danny was a good man, a part of our family, and he deserved much better than what he got. Now we have to take that pain, and use it. We have to focus all that rage we feel inside, and put it into finding the sick son of a bitch that did it to him.”

There was a low current of muttered approval and vows of revenge. I let it go. I realized what Doc had warned me about was a valid concern, but to be honest, I didn’t care. Just then Raynard stepped off the lift, looking like he had slept in his uniform.

He was about my age as near as I could tell, a narrow face with a permanent five ‘o clock shadow and a leer that seemed to be permanently plastered into place. He matched my height, about 6’1, and had close to my build. His hair lay in a greasy mess on top of his head, and he was working a hand through it now, as though he were making a small attempt to appear like a civil human being. The others always ignored him, as they did now, which didn’t seem to bother him. He was more than content with getting attention from me. I decided to take the other officers’ unspoken advice and did the same as I finished up.

“Alright boys and girls, I know you’re haggard, worn out, and feel like you’ve been beaten up, but we’ve gotta keep going. I want patrols moving out to cover every sector twenty-four/seven until we find this nut job. You’re to report in every thirty minutes, and no one is to go out alone. You stick with your partner and you cover each other’s ass, got it?”

Heads nodded and muttered “yeahs” echoed throughout the room. I gave a tight nod. “Alright, then let’s get to it. First shift, head out. The rest of you better get some rest. You’ll need it.”

The group dispersed, trickling off into the few lifts we had- everyone but Raynard. He sat on top of a desk, casually working his jaw with a hand and grinning up at me. I had the strongest urge to wipe that grin off his face with my fist. “I called for a full assembly, so where the hell were you?”

He shrugged lazily. “Oops.”

As I moved in closer, about to verbally rip his head off, I noticed that he had a bruise on the side of his jaw where his hand was rubbing. I stopped mid-stride. “What happened?”

His hand paused mid-motion, as if he just realized what he had been doing, then shrugged again. “I fell in the shower.”

I felt an icy fist grip my gut and squeeze. “Raynard, I can smell you from here. Cut the bullshit.”

He chuckled. “Why you so worried about it? It’s just a little bruise.”

“I’m not worried about you, I just want to know where you got that bruise.”

Now the smile slipped from his face and I realized that my hand had slipped down to rest on top of my gun. His face seemed to darken as he leaned forwards. “Like I said, I fell. Drop it.”

He turned to leave and when I grabbed him by the shoulder he spun and hit me across the jaw. Hard. Fireworks exploded across my vision and the migraine I already had found a partner with the blinding pain shooting from my jaw. The last thing I heard before unconsciousness abandoned me was Raynard’s laughter.

***

“Sunnuva…”

I almost fell over again as I tried to get to my feet. The migraine was still there, smiling at me as it sent pain in rhythmic jolts across my head. I felt strong arms grip me and help to pull me up.

“Woah, there. Take it easy.” Doc helped me down into a chair then pulled one up himself and gave me a worried once-over. “What happened?”

I coughed, then instantly regretted it as it amplified the pain in my head. “Raynard took a swing at me.”

“Who?”

I waved a hand. “Forget it. What are you doing here?”

He sat back and shrugged. “Well, you just didn’t look so well this morning, and after what happened I just wanted to stop in and check on you.”

I smirked as I massaged my temples. “How sweet. If you wanna help, give me something for this damn migraine.”

He gave me another worried look as he bent over and dug into his little medical bag he was always carrying around with him. He came up with a blue mouthpiece and handed it to me. I bit down on it and heard the slight hiss as the meds shot out and down my throat. He pulled out a small penlight and proceeded to check my eyes. “You been having these migraines often?”

“Naw, just every day.”

He grunted as he put his light back into his bag. “Well, I’m not going to lie to you, you look like shit.”

I chuckled. “Gee, thanks.”

His expression didn’t change. “No, seriously. I think you need to get some rest. You don’t look like you’ve slept in days and I think the migraines are just a symptom of exhaustion.”

I rubbed my hand across my jaw and sighed. “Yeah, well I don’t see me getting much rest any time soon.”

I went to stand up but fell right back into the chair again. Doc stood up and pulled out his phone. “Alright, that’s it. You are now officially on medical leave until further notice.”

“But-”

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Administrator Starkins? This is Jack Kelvin. Yes, I’m here with Captain Stevens. No, you can’t talk to him. He’s suffering from extreme exhaustion and I’m placing him on medical leave until further notice. Yes sir, I do realize what’s going on right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that Captain Stevens will be off duty for at least twenty-four hours. Well, sir, luckily I’m the station’s chief medical officer and I don’t need your permission. Kelvin out.”

I snorted. “He sounded pissed.”

Doc shrugged. “Ask me if I care. Come on, I’ll help you get home.”

***

Sleep was anything but restful for me. My dreams were strange things, full of half-blurred images and half-heard voices, as though they were coming from far away. When I awoke I felt even more haggard than I did before.

Doc called to check on me and he asked if I wanted him to come and give me anything to help me sleep. I replied that I was fine and reassured him the best I could, and then laid back down again. The migraine was still there, relentless in its pursuit to drive me insane. I got up and went over the slew of reports my officers had filed while I’d been out. It didn’t help my head any, but at least it gave me a sense of productivity.

My thoughts kept drifting back to my confrontation with Raynard. I was going to write him up for punching me, but then I thought better of it. His bruise raised a huge alarm in my gut. Doc had said that Danny had gotten in a few good licks before he was taken out, and if Raynard was the one we’re looking for I wanted to give him free reign so I could track his movements. Putting him on report would put him on guard and take him out of his routine and I didn’t want that. Besides, we still weren’t sure if there was one killer or several.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything I could do about it until morning since, knowing Doc, he probably had someone watching my room to make sure I’d stay put; and I didn’t want to put any more of my officers at risk if I didn’t have to. They already had enough to deal with. I just had to wait it out and hope that Raynard wouldn’t do it again.

I realized that I had already been thinking of Raynard as guilty. Maybe I wanted him to be. I knew that I shouldn’t be thinking that way, but at the same time it felt right and I’d learned a long time ago to trust my gut when it came to that sort of thing. I decided to try and lay back down again and get some more sleep. I stared out my viewport to the stars streaking by and let my thoughts drift out among them. I didn’t even hear my vidphone ring at first.

Administrator Starkins was a temperamental man on good days, and we haven’t had one of those in a long time. There was a vein that ran along his forehead and up to end where his hairline would have been had he had any, which always pulsed whenever he was upset. It was practically dancing now as he glared down at me. “Well Stevens, I hope you’re enjoying your little vacation.” His face was hard and not remotely pleasant. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what I knew was about to happen.

“Good evening Administrator. Trust me, this is the last thing I’d choose to be doing right now. Unfortunately neither you nor I have much to say about it.”

“Indeed.” His face seemed to soften, if only a tiny bit and the dark skin over the vein began to flatten. “I heard the latest victim was one of your men. I’m…sorry. I can only imagine how hard this must be on you and your people. I realize how hard you’ve all been working, and I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it.”

I faked a cough to cover the look of pure shock that must have been plastered across my face. “Uh, thank you sir. We’re trying our best.”

He nodded sharply. “I’m sure that you are. I don’t have to tell you how bad the timing is for this kind of thing right now. I trust you’ll try to get this matter cleared up soon. Get your rest Captain, because at his rate I’m sure it’s the last you’ll be getting for quite a while.”

He didn’t wait for a reply before signing off. That was the Administrator I’ve come to know and loathe. I chuckled as I returned to my bed. Maybe it was just to spite the Administrator, but this time sleep came easily.

I woke up to the migraine that had been haunting me for what seemed like a lifetime. Doc called to see how I was doing, but didn’t seem very convinced when I told him that I felt much better. He finally came to get me at around noon. He smiled warmly as he looked me over. “Well, it’s not a vast improvement, but I guess it’s better than nothing.”

I nodded. “I really do feel better. Does this mean I get a reprieve?”

He laughed and slapped me on the back. “It means you get lunch. Come on, I’m buying.”

We ran into one of the security patrols on our way to the entertainment level. They laughed and kidded with me about having to be sent into “time out”. A thinly valed threat of “Administrator Guard Duty” cut that out pretty quick.

“The Terran’s Delight” was a small bar and grill that was tucked into a corner on the far side of the entertainment level. The food wasn’t great but it was hardly ever busy, which is why Doc and I liked it so much. The lighting was dim; the place was decorated in late 20th century Earth decor and old Earth rock played quietly over the intercom to match the setting. A perky young blonde who said that her name was Candy a bit too enthusiastically took our order in a high pitched squeal that seemed to resonate perfectly with my migraine. After bringing us our drinks she left us mercifully alone as she went to pester some guy that was sitting at the bar.

Doc laughed. “She’s new.”

I winced as I took a sip of my iced tea. “Yeah, lucky us.”

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Still having migraines?”

“Either that or a band of percussion playing circus midgets have moved into my skull.”

He frowned. “That’s really starting to concern me.”

I nodded sincerely. “Me too. I mean, how the hell did a band of circus midgets even get in there in the first place?”

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m not.”

He smiled and flipped a blue mouthpiece onto the tabletop. “Well, now that that’s been sorted out, take one of these and don’t bother calling me in the morning.”

“Heartbreaker.” I palmed the mouthpiece and stuck it in my mouth. As I bit down I heard the hiss and felt its contents shoot down my throat and took a sip of tea to help ease it along. The throbbing in my head ebbed slightly, but not enough to really do much good.

“Better?”

I shrugged. “The midgets are playing at a slower tempo.”

He took a sip of his drink. “Well, that’s something at least. I wish there was something more I could do, but that’s the strongest meds we have that won’t cause you to go into ‘happy trance’.”

“Is that the medical term for it?”

He eyeballed me over the rim of his glass. “You know, if you’d just get a few more days rest-”

I shook my head. “You know I can’t do that.”

He sighed and nodded. “I know, but you can’t blame me for trying.”

“True.”

The waitress returned with our order and I did my best to keep a smile on my face as she squeaked, “Can I get anything else for ya?”

“A gun to put me out of my misery?”

Her smile slipped and Doc managed between chuckles; “He’s kidding.”

“I’m kidding?”

“You’re kidding.”

I glanced back up at the waitress and nodded. “I’m kidding.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and wandered off.

The laughter was torture but I couldn’t help myself. By the time we were finished we both had tears streaking down our cheeks. Doc wiped his eyes with a napkin. “You’re horrible.”

“And then some.”

“That poor girl.” He shook his head in mock sympathy as he picked up his knife and fork and began to prod his food.

I shrugged. “We’ll leave a nice tip.”

“By ‘we’ you mean me.”

I spread my hands. “Exactly.”

His face went sour as he stuck the first bite into his mouth. “You’re a prince.”

“I know. Don’t rub it in.”

***

On my way back to the station, daydreaming about the mountains of paperwork I’d have waiting for me, my phone beeped. I stepped out of the flow of traffic to a little corner section in between two stores and flipped the phone open. “Stevens here.”

A woman’s voice answered, though thankfully not perky. “Captain Stevens, this is Control. We just got a call from a maintenance worker on level ten that said he heard something that sounded like a struggle coming from the room next to where he was working. Locator shows that you’re closest to that location.”

A map of level ten popped up on the phone’s screen with a little red blinking light showing me the exact location. I nodded, not that she could see it. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

“Backup is in rout. Have fun.”

Right.”

I shut the phone and replaced it back in its holster, then headed at a jog to the nearest lift tube. A balding man with glasses walking like he had a stick stuck up his ass was making his way for the same tube. He saw me coming and increased his speed to try and beat me to it. Me calling out “Wait, Security! I need that lift!” only made him move faster. I managed to catch him just before he entered and shove him out of the way. “Security business, jerkoff.”

What sounded like the first in a string of highly creative cursing was cut off as the lift door swooshed shut. I chuckled as I held the destination button and said, “Level ten.”

The lights in level ten had been twitching out for the past few days, so the only light in the hallway was the dim blue emergency lights that lined the hallway floors. The maintenance worker was waiting for me when I got there, leveling a finger at a door. “I heard a scream come from in there just a minute ago. I tried to get in but the door’s sealed.”

I nodded as I pulled my gun from its holster. “Alright, I need you to wait by the lift tubes for the other officers to get here.”

He nodded enthusiastically and took off down the hall. I pulled out a small circular device from my pocket and attached it to the door’s keypad. It stuck with a thunk as the magnetic field kicked in, and I pressed my thumb against the ID plate with my left hand and brought my gun up at the ready with my right. I took a deep breath then let it out slowly, trying to force myself to ignore the pounding in my head that was matching the racing rhythm of my heart. “Captain James Stevens. Override.”

There was a beep from the door just before it swooshed open…into a scene from my worst nightmares. A child no more than ten years old lay sprawled out on the floor, a river of blood cradling his lifeless body. A woman, who I assumed was his mother, lay a few feet away, naked, opened from groin to neck. And behind her, sitting in a bloodstained chair and rocking back and forth muttering to himself was their killer.

He was stripped to his underwear, which was soaked through with blood. His body glistened crimson as it reflected the light from the single lamp lit above. His hair was wild, as though he had just stuck his finger in a light socket. He had a knife, still dripping from its vile work in his left hand and an old-style revolver in his right.

He glanced up at me as I stepped through the door and leveled my gun at him. His eyes were wide and distant, as though he were seeing through me rather than looking straight at me. I had to fight back the urge to pull the trigger. “Security! Drop your weapons!”

He continued to rock back and forth, still looking through me and muttering to himself. I took another step closer. “Drop your weapons or I’ll open fire!”

His eyes focused on mine, as though just seeing me for the first time. His voice shook as he spoke, and the words seemed forced, as though he had to work to make them come out. “I had to release the demons.”

Before I could even register what he had said, he put the revolver to his head and pulled the trigger.

***

“Heh, looks like a painting I saw once.”

I glared daggers at the officer who was examining the splatter art the gore from the man’s head had made on the wall like it was a museum piece. “Hey, you wanna show a little fucking professionalism here?”

“Sorry, Captain.” Chastised, he went back to bagging up the evidence.

Just then Doc came through the door and instantly covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh dear God.”

I snorted as I brushed past. “I don’t think God’s here anymore, Doc.” I slapped him hard on the back. “Welcome to Hell.”

He caught back up with me a little ways down the hall and grabbed me by the shoulder, forcing me to stop. “Hey, you okay?”

I rubbed at my temples and sighed. “Well, considering I just witnessed the most fucked up thing I’ve ever even thought about seeing, yeah, I’m just peachy.”

I leaned back against the wall and allowed myself to slide down until I was sitting. Doc did the same. We sat there for a minute, not saying anything. The events of a few minutes before kept playing over in my mind and I wanted to puke. I looked over at him. “What am I supposed to do, Doc? How can I fight something that I can’t see?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “This is the worst case of rampant space sickness I’ve ever heard of, Jim. Not even the first deep space missions had this many people twitch out. I think it’s time for us to go to the Administrator and get him to turn us around and take us back to Earth.”

I chuckled. “You’re kidding, right? The only thing Starkins sees is dollar signs. We’ve already made enough discoveries since we’ve been out here to keep him in the limelight for years to come. Things are going to have to get a lot worse before we’ll convince him to give this up and return home early.”

Doc looked at me incredulously. “How much worse does it have to get? We’ve already lost twenty-three people-“

“Out of, what, ten thousand? You don’t get it. All he sees is numbers, and right now he’s going to say that’s not enough to get him to blow a multi-billion dollar mission for.”

He sighed as he cradled his head in his hands. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right.”

He looked up and slapped me on the back. “Well, in that case my friend, it is my professional opinion that we’re screwed.”

“Glad to hear it.”

***

My migraine wasn’t getting any better, so I opted to try and get some rest. Miraculously I was able to sleep as soon as I put head to pillow. Again, my dreams were a strange mix of half-heard voices and half-seen images, but they seemed vaguely familiar. Annoyingly so, like ideas or thoughts on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t quite grasp to say out loud.

When I woke up my migraine was just as bad as before, if not a bit worse. I took one of the painkillers Doc had left with me and had intended to go out looking for Raynard when Doc called and wanted me to meet with him. Ten minutes later we were back at our usual table at the Terran’s Delight. Lucky for me, we got the sugar-hyped Candy as our waitress again.

“Just coffee for me, thanks.”

Doc nodded. “The same.”

She replied in her normal uber-perky voice and turned to go get our drinks, but not before throwing me an annoyed side-glance. Apparently she was still a bit touchy from before. Doc didn’t seem to notice. In fact, Doc seemed downright agitated.

“What’s with you today?”

“There’s just something I need to talk with you about.” He gave me a weak smile as Candy set down our drinks and quickly rushed off. He took a deep breath as he began to stir his cream into his coffee. “You remember the other day, when Danny died, how I told you about my concern over some of your officers?”

I masked my concern by taking a sip of my coffee. I didn’t like where this was heading. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, I wasn’t just talking about your officers.” He put down the spoon and looked me in the eye. “To be frank, I’m worried about you Jim.”

I laughed. “Me? What are you worried about me for? Besides the obvious, of course.”

He didn’t look amused. “I’m serious. All this stress lately, the lack of sleep, the migraines, and your attitude.”

I put down my cup and folded my arms. “What’s wrong with my attitude?”

He shook his head and leaned back in his booth. “You’ve just been acting…differently. That’s all. You’re a lot more agitated, which is understandable given the circumstances, but you’ve also grown more hostile- towards your people, and especially towards civilians.” He leaned forward, concern evident in his face. “Did you know that some tech filed a complaint about you yesterday. He said you assaulted him at one of the lift tubes.”

I rolled my eyes. “The guy was an asshole! I shouted that I was security and needed the lift, but the guy ignored me and tried to beat me to it, so I shoved him out of the way.”

Doc’s expression didn’t change, which made me start to get angry. “It was a fucking emergency! What do you want from me?”

“I want you to let someone else take over handling all the shit that’s been going on lately, especially the homicides. I want you to take it easy for a while.”

I slammed my hands down on the table, spilling coffee and making a couple at the booth across from us jump. “I can’t do that! This is my job. It’s my responsibility! I can’t just hand it off-“

Doc’s voice remained calm and his eyes never left mine. “I could make it a medical order, but I don’t want it to have to come to that.”

Exasperated, I sat back and shook my head. “I don’t fucking believe this. Mutiny, and from my best friend too.”

He nodded and leaned closer. “I am your friend, which is why I’m talking to you now. You need to take it easy for a while, Jim, for your own good.”

I sighed and held up my hands. “Okay, fine, you win. There’s no need to make this a big deal. I’ll tell you what; I’ll put Larsen in charge of all the fieldwork for the next few weeks. He’s good, and I’m sure he can handle things while I ride a desk for a while. Will that suffice?”

Doc nodded and smiled at me. “Larsen is good. Look, Jim, I’m only doing this because I care and-“

I waved it away. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re right, I need a break. I’ll get everything together as soon as we’re done here, okay?”

After we finished our coffee I told Doc that I had some paperwork that I needed to do to get things in motion for Larsen to take over, so we said our good-byes and he went off to the infirmary. I gave him a ten count to make sure he wasn’t watching anymore, then headed off to my room to pick up my gun before going out to try and find Raynard. I knew Doc meant well, but I just couldn’t hand off my responsibilities on someone else, especially not with what I suspected about Raynard. Imagine my surprise when I found him waiting for me in my room.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

He leaned against the wall next to the vidphone and made a show of examining his fingernails. He didn’t bother to look up at me. “You lookin for me?”

I did my best to try and look calm and relaxed so I mimicked his stance and leaned against the door jam. “Why would I be looking for you?”

He looked up at me now, his face a mask of stone. “You know why.”

I swallowed the lump that was rising in my throat and shrugged. “Because the last time you decked me in the jaw? Assaulting a superior officer is a serious offense, but I decided to let it go. I tacked it down to grief over Danny’s death.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “That ain’t the reason.”

The frosty clench on my gut returned and my eyes glanced down to the couch where my gun rested in its holster. Apparently he noticed, and his smile got even bigger. “You won’t be needin that. Not that it would do you much good anyway.”

I suddenly realized I was shaking. All attempts of appearing in control were forgotten once my eyes met his. “What do you want?”

He stood up straight and stalked his way towards me. I tried to speak, but words refused to form themselves. I couldn’t move. My migraine thundered in my ears and seemed to get worse the closer Raynard got. For a second the air around him seemed to shimmer, like a mirage out in the desert, and his face seemed to contort but then went back to normal. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

The mirage effect happened again only this time it was more severe. In the place of the man I had been talking to was a hideous monster. His face was deformed and twisted, as though made of putty that some child had played with. His eyes became black mirrors, soulless and reflecting back look of pure horror on my face. He was only inches away now, his breath warm and moist against my skin. His lips peeled back into a razor-toothed grin and I felt my blood run cold. “I want control.”

Then my whole world became a black abyss.

***

I lay floating in the nothingness. Then, a sound, a faint echo, as if coming from far away. The sound gets closer, louder, more insistent.  Then I see the light. It begins as a pinpoint of white, a single star in the vast nothingness. Then the star grows brighter, closer, the sound louder, a thunderclap. Then I wake.

I groaned as I struggled to move. My eyelids felt like they had weights attached, not wanting to open. The world was a blur as I struggled to shake away the fog that seemed to shroud my mind. My vidphone was ringing, my head was pounding, and I wanted to puke. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m still alive.”

I managed to stagger drunkenly over to the vidphone and hit the receive button. Doc’s face immediately popped up on the monitor. “Jim, thank God! I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour! You better get down to the Terran’s Delight right away. There’s been another murder.”

Two painkiller tabs, a stiff drink, and ten minutes later I was back at the restaurant. The place was packed with more people than I’ve ever seen there, all of them security. I managed to stagger under the crime scene tape and make it over to where Doc was crouched over a body. It was Candy, our waitress from before.

I felt my legs turn to jelly and two sets of strong hands moved quickly to catch me and keep me upright. It was two officers I hadn’t even realized were standing there. They lowered me slowly into a chair.

“You okay, Cap?”

Doc shooed them away as he knelt down beside me and began to look me over. “Damn, Jim, you look horrible.”

“Raynard.” I had to force the word from my mouth and it came out a mumble.

Doc leaned closer. “What?”

This time the words came out in a flood and without thinking I was back on my feet. “It was Raynard! He’s the killer! He’s some sort of…alien or something. He attacked me in my room and-“

Doc gripped me by the shoulders and shook me hard. “Jim, get hold of yourself! You aren’t making any sense.”

“Raynard!” I looked at the two officers who had helped me to the chair. “Sergeant Raynard! Don’t look at me like that, you know who I’m talking about!” I returned my attention to Doc and gripped his shoulders. “Doc, it was him! The guy who decked me the other day! He was waiting for me in my room. He turned into some sort of thing and attacked me again! He’s the killer!”

Doc spoke in calm, yet firm words, like you would to a child that was complaining that the Boogieman was under the bed. “Jim, listen to me. There is no Sergeant Raynard. You’re having a delusion.”

I pushed him away and pointed to the bruise on my face. “Then how did I get this? Huh? The son of a bitch decked me after the meeting the other day!”

Doc took a cautious step towards me, hands held up defensively. “Jim, you had that bruise the morning of Danny’s murder. I meant to ask you about it but I didn’t get the chance.”

I shook my head, slowly at first, then more insistent. “No, no, no. That’s not possible.”

Doc kept making his way towards me. He gestured behind him towards the two officers, whom I noticed had their guns out of the holsters and held at their sides. “If you don’t believe me, ask them.”

One of them nodded while the other responded. “It’s true, Captain. You had it at the meeting.”

My head was throbbing and it felt like it was going to crack from the pressure. I could barely make out the words over the sound of its pulse. I felt a sudden surge of fear grip my chest as Doc nodded once more and took another step, and suddenly my gun was in my hand and leveled at his chest. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no! It was Raynard!”

Doc stopped, his hands held up. The other two officers had their guns leveled at me now, but Doc glanced back and shook his head then returned his attention to me. “Jim, I want you to listen to me. I need you to hear what I’m saying. The only Raynard on this station is you. You are Captain James Raynard Stevens. You are the head of security for the UEN Space Exploration Station Discovery. And, you are my friend. I don’t know what happened to you today. I don’t know what’s going on and I want to find out, but first I need you to put down that gun.”

As Doc’s words drifted through the haze of pain, realization dawned on me, like a light in the darkness. The pain increased in intensity, threatening to take me with it back into the abyss, but it was too late. Now I knew the truth, and suddenly it all made sense: the “space sickness”, the murders, Raynard. The man from the day before had told me, but I didn’t want to listen. The answer to it all was so simple…

I had to let the demons out.

Where does the violet tint end and the orange tint begins? Distinctly we see the difference of the colors, but where exactly does the one first blending enter into the other. So with sanity and insanity.

-Herman Melville (1819 – 1891)

Copyright © 2009 J.R. Broadwater

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Welcome to the new site!

Welcome to our new site! I know it’s not much but it’s the best I could do with my budget of $0. I’ve already got the first chapter of Down With the Thickness posted and the first 4 sample chapters of our novel The Chosen: Rebirthing for you to try out.  If you don’t feel like scrolling down you can use the handy “Categories” drop down menu to the right to get places faster.

My goal is to have a new chapter of Thickness posted once a week. I’ll also be posting a few short stories and random stuff periodically, along with my own blogtastic rants about whatever happens to come to me at the time. I’m going to do my best to update here regularly, so make sure to check back often. Feel free to comment and we hope you enjoy!

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The Chosen: Rebirthing- Chapter 1

chosenebook

Chapter 1: When It Rains…

– Jude –

My palms were pressed together, cold and clammy from the mist that enshrouded me. Moisture clung to my bare scalp, beading into droplets that trickled down the back of my neck. The chill of the morning reached up through the earth and clawed at knees too old to do much else but ache. I wanted to shut it all out. I wanted to find an inner peace and make the connection. I wanted to clear away all the emotion, so that this time He would hear me. It was the reason I came here.

But I felt like an imposter. Trying not to be angry, or bitter, or even resentful at this point was like trying to stop the earth from spinning. Pretending I wasn’t every one of these hateful things only intensified all the negative impulses churning inside me. I wanted to yell at Him, rebuke Him for putting me through this. He knew it too – it’s what He does.

Does this make you happy?

I was shaking – slighted, cast-off, and then quite abruptly… not alone.

I sensed his presence before I saw Him, which is how it usually worked. That single moment of perfect stillness before the rain comes.

It had rained a lot this year.

I didn’t bother to turn around. “Let’s just get this over with. I got shit to do today.” I sighed and shook my head as I climbed from where I was kneeling at the headstone.

He chuckled, the deep baritone rolling through the empty churchyard like distant thunder. “Such hubris from one who is about to die!  May it be your epitaph: ‘Here Lies Jude – he had shit to do today.’ Most of the humans I’ve slain had enough sense to save their final words for a more fitting plea.”

“Yeah, well, we both know I’m not most humans.” I turned to face my would-be assassin and, despite my earlier bravado, I must admit I was slightly taken aback.

When most folks picture a demon, they tend to think of some hideous thing that makes you want to lose control of your bodily fluids, or perhaps a shadowy form that stalks and torments you in the night. Sometimes they do appear as such; but more often than not, evil is more deceptive than we care to admit. The really scary demons are every bit as beautiful as people imagine angels to be – they are angels, fallen angels, cast out by their Master centuries ago, but angels nonetheless.

This particular specimen standing before me was no exception. His physique was that of a Greek god, resplendent in white robes. All around him the air crackled and his skin shone with a brilliant yellow hue that made me want to shield my eyes from the glare. Here was an idealized warrior-angel, appearing as though he’d just emerged from a sixteenth-century fresco and brought with him a hateful malice millennia older than that. Rancor radiated from him in waves, pulsating through the graveyard in my direction, battering me with invisible blows. Staring into the crimson crescents of his eyes, I suddenly found a long-dormant part of myself wishing it had been one of those hideous, shadowy demons. A small nugget of fear gripped my gut as I beheld one of the Enemy’s top assassins.

This was The Executioner.

I snorted. “Alastor. Your boss must be gettin’ nervous if he sent someone like you after me.”

His feral grin was anything but warm as he drew his sword, its white blade singing as it parted from the scabbard at his side. I noted with a degree of satisfaction that he set his feet securely before casually waving his weapon towards the nearby chapel. He was expecting a fight.

“No one sent me. Only lost little sheep like you need a shepherd.” His grin became a smirk. “I guess Father never told you – you stray from the flock and you’ll welcome the wolves. Or maybe you’re just a poor instrument he’s cut from the fold.”

He was getting a fight.

I pasted on a smug smile and concentrated for a brief moment, begrudgingly allowing that familiar warmth of presence to flow over me. Like a hot drink on a cold day, I could feel it ooze down through my being. It spread down through my fingertips and, as it did, I felt my own fiery sword spring to life in my right hand. “If it ain’t the wolf callin’ the sheep black…”

He snarled and lunged. His body was a blur as he moved at what I could only call the ‘speed of thought’. If I were a normal man, his sword would have pinned my carcass to the turf before my eyes could even register the movement. Instead I snapped my blade up in time to knock aside his strike, our swords exploding in a shower of light as they collided. I went with the momentum of the swing, spinning around and backhanding him across the cheek. The impact echoed like a thunderclap and Alastor tumbled end over end, landing in a heap ten meters away.

He slowly got to his feet and massaged his jaw. “Very good. I was afraid that this would be ea–” His monologue halted with an unexpected click as my heel collided squarely with his jaw and sent him crashing through a granite rendering of an angel.

My sword flared and I beckoned him on. “For someone they call ‘The Executioner’, I’m not impressed.”

Ashamed of my initial fear, I chided him for not being able to kill me today. Even if life was the bitter pill I’d grown tired of swallowing, I knew on some level that taking the easy way out wasn’t the solution I was waiting for. Alastor can’t kill me, so I can’t die yet.

Bad for me…worse for him.

Circling cautiously, his blade always between us, I could feel him mentally revising his strategy, testing the possibilities of different cuts and thrusts. He had underestimated me before and likely thought to make sure he would not again.

But caution wouldn’t save him. He came in with a strike at my left, but instead of blocking it, I jumped and the sword swept underneath me. Kicking out, I caught him once again in the jaw, knocking him on his back and jarring the ivory weapon from his grip. As his hand desperately searched for the hilt I claimed it at the wrist; the charred scent of cauterized flesh filled my nostrils. His mouth was moving now – spitting invective or begging for mercy, I really couldn’t tell which with my boot planted firmly on his throat. He squirmed for a few futile moments as the flames from my sword licked at his flesh. I rolled my wrist, dropped to one knee as my sword plunged into his chest.

In an instant the fire from my blade engulfed his entire body. He convulsed in agony as a black chasm opened to suck him into the Void, the great emptiness where fallen spirits are sent until the day of final judgment. His screams faded as the portal closed, and I simply stared at the space where the vacuum had been. I sighed, realizing that I was once again alone in the churchyard as though the entire thing had never taken place.

No, not alone.

When it rains, it pours.

“Was that really necessary? Your speed and efficiency in dispatching one of the Enemy’s better assassins speaks well of your skill, certainly, but wrath is a deadly sin, boy.”

“Not for me, apparently.” I was already scowling as I glanced out of the corner of my eye to acknowledge the man emerging from the morning mist. He wore robes of white with golden sandals, but not the glowing kind like those of angels. This was no angel – this was another breed of hideous demon.

I stood and my sword disappeared in a puff of smoke, as though someone had thrown a bucket of water on it and quenched the flame – which wasn’t too far from the truth. “Spare me the sermon, Enoch. He came after me, not the other way around. If Father didn’t approve He wouldn’t have supplied the juice.” He opened his mouth to object, but I cut him off by stabbing at the center of his chest with my right index finger. “And don’t try and twist self-defense into some sort of altruistic rebirth for me. It wasn’t my choice to fight this one… or the dozen before that.”

The man nodded as he ran his right hand over his white bearded jaw, but his brow remained furrowed dubiously. There was always something condescending about him that made me feel childish and small. I guess, compared to him, I was. “Yes, I am sure. You’ve made your desires perfectly clear, which is why I’m here.”

“Oh really?” I didn’t try to hide the surprise on my face as I sank down onto the old stone bench next to me, a little more drained than I’d expected. “I didn’t think He was listenin’ to me anymore.”

“You know better than that.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I did, once. So, you here to take me home, then? I’m not much good to Him here anymore.” I nodded towards where Alastor had fallen moments before. “It’s been two hundred years of putting up with crap like that. I think I’ve earned my pension.”

Enoch shook his head. He must’ve read the annoyance in my expression because the muscles at the corners of his jaw bunched beneath his beard. “I am not here to take you home. At least, not yet.” He held up a hand and my protest died on my lips. I exhaled heavily through my nose, but remained silent. “He is well aware of your… present state, Jude, and whether you believe it or not, He does sympathize with you. He wants you to come home, as He does all of His children, but there are concerns greater than your own that must be attended. You will be granted your retreat, but first, you must prepare your replacement.”

“What?”

Enoch nodded gravely. “His name is Paul. He is ready. He has grown strong and has already begun to question things, which is good. Given your current feelings on the subject, you will be able to relate to him the best.”

I laughed openly – and then twice as hard when I saw his confused expression. “That’s funny. I figured that given my ‘current feelings’ I would be the worst person for the job. I’m just as liable to scare him off.”

Enoch smiled – that self-righteous, knowing smile that always made me want to deck him. “It is the Lord’s will that you be the one to train him.” He shrugged. “Despite your current state, I’m sure that He has His reasons.”

“Heh, no doubt.” I waved absently. “Well, ‘the Lord’s will be done’ and all that.” I rose from the cold stone and glanced around the dank churchyard. “Anything, if it’ll get me out of this hellhole once and for all.”

Enoch’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “I’m glad to see that you have such a positive attitude. However, there is more you should know.” His tone hardened again. “There is evidence that the demon who came here for you this morning was actually part of a contingent whose mission was to find your successor before you did.”

I felt my insides freeze and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Hunts for Potentials were not unheard of, but hardly standard operating procedure for the demon hordes. I may have thought Alastor was a chump, but against a Potential he would’ve been overkill. If he was only one of a group, though…

Enoch nodded as though he’d read my expression. “Luckily, the fool you banished to the Void this morning was lured by the bigger target. His compatriots have been linked by the Faithful to a cult operating outside of the city. Find them… before they find Paul.” His eyes went wide for a moment and he seemed to look at something in the distance that I couldn’t see, then looked back at me. He was always doing that, which annoyed me even more than his damn smile. “You’d best be going. It looks as though your new pupil may need your help very soon.”

– Paul –

“I’m going to kill him.”

I was trying unsuccessfully to get my tie even, but the smaller part kept ending up longer and sticking out from the back.

Mary laughed and turned me toward her. “Here, let me.” She undid the tie and started over fresh, glancing up to meet my eyes as she did so. “And you know you shouldn’t be talking that way, Paul. He is the Pastor, and you did agree to serve under him when you came here. Besides, you were miserable before he swooped in and gave you this opportunity.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know. But that’s just it. It’s not like I had much of a choice. I felt like God was telling me something, pushing me to come here and serve under him, so I did. What was I going to say? ‘But God, this idiot is paddling in circles while I – a genius, mind you – am wasting my skills’? I know I’m capable of so much more, but He tells me not to rely on my past accomplishments with the Pastor…” I sighed and realized I was starting to rant, so I shrugged my shoulders. “So this is where He wants me to be? I’m stuck as this under-qualified jerk’s lackey, and I don’t know why.”

“I know why.” She made a show of rubbing her stomach and I felt some of the fight bleed out of me.

“I think that God felt it was time you started acting like a big boy. You are going to be a daddy soon and I don’t think I have the energy to baby-sit two kids.” I made a face and Mary gave me one of those knowing smiles that always bugged me. She tightened the tie a notch below excruciating before patting me on the chest. “But seriously, honey, maybe God just guided you here to humble you.”

“Gee, thanks.” I turned away, went to the sink, and started battling with my unruly black hair. The brush kept getting tangled and the frustration from that found a perfect mate in the sarcasm of my voice. “I appreciate the support, darling.”

Mary followed and wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. “Honey, all I’m saying is you’re such a talented person and, because things have come so easy for you, especially in your ministry work, maybe you’ve been coasting on your own steam. You got your first degree at what – like, ten, for crying out loud?”

“Actually, it was sixteen.”

“Well, soor-rryy Doogie. My point is that you’ve accomplished so much already that maybe the only way God can teach you some of the things He needs you to learn is to put you in a place where He can break you. Maybe God wants more of you than you want for yourself.”

I put down the brush and turned, taking Mary up in my arms. I smiled down at her and kissed her fully on the lips. As I ran my hands through her blonde hair, I relished the smooth sensation between my fingers and I felt all the tension in my soul subside. I kept my forehead pressed against hers and whispered, “Maybe you’re right.”

She bit her lower lip, then returned my smile with a dazzling grin that sent a jolt through me from head to toe. I could only pray that God blessed our child with her looks and good sense. “That’s what I’m here for, honey. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but you’ve got to have faith. I have a feeling that something big is about to happen, and God is going to do something great for all our lives.”

The Chosen: Rebirthing Part One- Available in paperback and for Amazon Kindle

© 2009-2012 J.R. Broadwater & Mark Ruelius

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Down With the Thickness Chapter 1

Chapter 1: No Friend to the Fat Man

Threat Assessment

I’m fat. Sumo fat. Kool-Aid Guy fat.

Oh yeah!

I’ve always been a big guy. Even as a little kid I was “thick” and that’s just been a constant (and at times more of an expansion) as I’ve gotten older. We’ll talk about diets and all that fun stuff a bit later but let’s just say I’ve tried just about everything under the sun and I still look like a serial buffet molester. I’m reasonably lucky in that I’ve also always been tall- 6’4- and that my weight has been reasonably well distributed across my body. I’ve known people who hadn’t been dealt as good a hand and it’s caused them endless physical, not to mention psychological, problems as a result. That’s not to say I’ve gotten off scot-free in that regard, but I’m well aware of how much worse I could have had it.

Being a big person you automatically have a fairly unique perspective on things. For instance, I think that the military should start recruiting fat people to be strategic advisors. Why? Fat people are freaking experts with a lifetime of experience at evaluating situations and coming up with rapid solutions to problems. We do this every time we walk into a crowded room or a new environment with untested furniture. Immediately your fat-sense starts to tingle and you’re taking in the room at a glance to decide on the best path to take to meet the least amount of resistance, or evaluating which chair might be safe for you to sit in without reducing it to toothpicks and firewood.

I’ve had more chairs break on me than a professional wrestler.

There’s nothing as panic-inducing as being in a crowded room or in someone else’s home, sitting in a chair, feeling it start to creak, and realizing that you’ve made a tactical error in furniture selection. There’s also nothing as impactful on your self esteem. If it happens once it’s embarrassing and you can usually laugh it off. When it happens often enough that your friends have “special” chairs for you to use when you come over, it really starts to make an impact.

This kind of highly-honed threat assessment is developed at an early age as a survival mechanism in the vast jungles of adolescence. I can remember, as a kid, dreading the bus rides to school. Now, no kid likes to ride the cheese, but for big people it was a daily source of dread and humiliation. For me it was extra special, because not only was I taller than just about everyone else and big enough that I took up most of the bus seat as it was, but I was also a nerd. Not just any kind of nerd either- I was a band nerd.  Which meant that not only was I carrying a seventy-five pound backpack filled to capacity with school books, but also a trumpet case the size of a small trunk. I looked like a mutant hobo ready for life on the road.

Being as how I grew up in the south, every morning the bus ride to school was like a re-enactment of scenes from Forrest Gump, with me looking forlorn as I slowly hauled my crap down the bus aisle looking for a place to sit as little redneck kids would shake their heads and reply in a slow southern drawl “Seat’s taken.” As a result I made it my mission in life to be the first in line to get on the bus after school so I’d be able to snag the Mecca of school bus seats before anyone else- the half seat at the very back of the bus next to the emergency door. It was the perfect size for me and had enough room on the floor next to it so that I could stow my luggage and not have to sit with it constantly digging into my legs. Plus it meant I didn’t have to worry about sharing the seat with someone else while they complained that I took up all the room.

Survival of the Wittiest

The school bus was also the place where I could develop another useful tool in the arsenal of fat people- being a smartass. See, when you’re big you really only have a few options for self defense against the other kids. One, you can be the introverted fat kid that hardly ever talks and prays that the other kids just won’t notice you or care enough to mess with you. Two, you can become a bully and use your size to your advantage, coming from the school of thought that if they’re afraid of you they won’t mess with you. Third, you can become a smartass, because if you can make them laugh at something (or someone) else, then they’re not laughing at you.

I’ve tried the first option, and I have to admit that it really doesn’t work all that well. For one, when you’re as big as I am you never really “blend.”  When you walk into a room you’re going to draw attention regardless of what you say or do. Plus, when you act introverted and keep to yourself it’s like wearing a bullseye on your back for all the less intelligent social predators looking for easy prey.

The second option is very tempting to someone who’s been picked on all their life. The idea of not only fighting back, but of having people be afraid of you is great, in an ideological sort of way. I mean every guy fantasizes about being the Clint Eastwood of the schoolyard where everyone shows you “respect” and all the girls swoon. Unfortunately the reality doesn’t live up to the hype. When you’re a bully, no one really likes you. They may act like they respect you, but it’s really only fear, and your so-called friends won’t hesitate to turn on you as soon as the opportunity presents itself and they think they can get away with it. Any kind of relationship built on fear is only an empty illusion, and a life devoid of true friendship, loyalty, or respect can be worse than living with getting picked on all the time.

Plus, being a bully means you have to hurt people and the reality of seeing someone truly in pain and knowing that you caused it is far different than the romanticized version that we’ve grown so used to seeing in various types of media. The fact of the matter is when you’re a big person you have to be that much more aware of the kind of damage you can unwittingly cause. What is normal roughhousing for most kids becomes something that could be decidedly more dangerous when you add someone twice their size into the mix. This is a lesson I learned the hard way one summer when I was ten years old.

My cousin and I grew up together in Granite City, Illinois. Granite is a small steel mill city just across the bridge from St. Louis and both sides of my family are from there. I lived there until I was seven and my dad, who worked for the Kroger Bakery as a supervisor, was transferred to Houston, TX. While my cousin and I were always close, he grew up on the bad side of town, and tended to have a street mentality about things. By that I mean that if he gets mad, he lashes out. If he feels you’ve insulted him, he lashes out. Sometimes it means he just decides he’s going to be a jerk for no other reason than he felt like it at the time. I don’t mean to trivialize his issues, because he did have a lot of them. He didn’t have a great childhood or home life to begin with, and once my family and I moved he really didn’t have many positive outlets left to him.

That summer my parents had him sent down to stay with us for a while. Most of the time he and I got along fine. The rest of the time our “fights” consisted of little more than calling each other names and going off to our respective corners of the house to sulk for a bit. However one night things escalated into something physical.

The fight started over something pretty stupid, as most fights at that age do. My little sister, who was not yet six at the time, had fallen asleep on the couch while we were all watching T.V. and I wanted to carry her into her bedroom and put her to bed. My dad worked nights and mom was in another room at the time, so I asked my cousin to go in and pull back the covers so I could lay her down. For whatever reason, he decided he wanted to make an issue out of it and refused. We went back and forth a few times until I finally gave up and just put my sister in her bed on top of the blankets.

When I came back out he and I got into an argument about it. He pushed me. I pushed him back. He pushed me hard. Before I knew it we were in my bedroom doing our best to kill one another. Now because my bed was fairly small, my parents had taken the mattress off the bed and put it in the floor so we’d have more room and no one would fall and hurt themselves if they happened to roll off the bed. This also conveniently gave him a frame to use like the ropes on a wrestling ring and jump on my back and choke me. Without thinking I grabbed at his arm, which at this time was wrapped around my throat doing a boa constrictor impression, and threw him over my shoulder to land rather spectacularly onto the mattress on the floor. His body bounced a few times before finally coming to a rest, at which point my mom, having heard all the noise, stormed into the room and separated us.

Now, this all sounds like a pretty silly fight like most boys that age have. The problem, as my father pointed out to me later, was that it could have ended up being something serious. My cousin was a year older than me, but I was still several inches taller and more than twice his size. Had that mattress not been there to break his fall, I could have very easily hurt him. In fact, looking back on it, considering how forcefully he hit I’m surprised that he didn’t end up hurting his neck or back anyway. My dad really made sure to hit that point home with me that night when he got back from work. He wasn’t mad that I defended myself, but he did want me to realize that someone my size had to be extra careful in everything physical that I did, especially with other people. That night I learned that with great weight comes great responsibility to not crush people, and I’ve never been in a fight since.

So, if being the quiet kid just got you picked on, and being a bully wasn’t an option, then that left being a smartass. Now, it took me years to really come out of my shell and fully embrace my destiny, but by the time I was a junior in high school I realized that when you can make people laugh and are generally a nice guy, they tend to like having you around. Liking having you around doesn’t really correlate to true friendship or wanting to date you, but we’ll address that a bit later. So as a result I’ve come to rely on my wit and sense of humor when it comes to dealing with people. I don’t do it just as a defense mechanism anymore, though it can certainly become one when I’m nervous or scared. Over the years I’ve genuinely enjoyed having the ability to make someone laugh, especially when you’re trying to help and need to get the other person to open up a bit.

I had a professor at Lee University, Dr. Bill Effler, that used to teach Personal Evangelism. It was basically a class that was meant to prepare wannabe ministers to be evangelists. During that class Dr. Effler said something that really had an impact on me. In fact, it was something that became a personal mantra of mine that I’ve since gone on to teach to my own students: in order to reach anyone, you have to first earn the right to be heard. It’s easy for people, especially ministers, to assume that just because you have something to say then the other person has some kind of responsibility to listen. That’s not true. Why should anyone listen to what you have to say? Why should they believe a word that comes out of your mouth? If respect is earned, then so is the right to be heard by other people. Using humor to relate to people, to make them laugh and feel good, is one way to earn the right to be heard. Besides, being a smartass can be a lot of fun.

Alternatives

Now while furniture and public transportation can be problems for big people, public restrooms are definitely no friend to the fat man. I’ve seen some restroom stalls so small that I was literally afraid that I’d get stuck if I tried to use them. One of the most horrific experiences of my life was moving in to the dorms at Lee University and finding out that we had community bathrooms and all the stalls were of the average “holy crap I hope I don’t die” variety. I was only in those particular dorms for a semester, and believe me one of the best things about moving out and into the apartment dorms was having a normal bathroom again.

Because stalls are such a pain in the rear (often literally) that means that I generally have to wait until the handicap stall is available. Ahh, the handicap stall- the fat man’s home away from home: large toilets, plenty of room to maneuver, and sometimes even a private sink. While the half-seat at the back of the bus was the Mecca of bus seats, the handicap stall is the Mecca of bathrooms. My bathroom at home isn’t as nice as some of the handicap stalls I’ve been blessed enough to frequent. In fact, on the trip between Memphis, where my parents and I currently live, and Chattanooga, where I went to college and worked for several years, I have specific places I always stop to fill up and use the restroom just because I know they have four star handicap stalls. Sounds ridiculous? Ask any fat person you know. If they’re brave enough to admit it, they’ll tell you they have their favorite bathroom alternatives as well.

Because that’s what you have to do to really get by as a big person. You have to think ahead, use strategy, assess and respond. If the zombie apocalypse ever happens, don’t save the cute chick with the big breasts. Save the fat people. They may not be as much fun to look at, but they’ll be able to use their tactical genius to keep you alive until the government comes with flamethrowers and shotguns. Just be sure to stock up on beef jerky. We don’t think as good on an empty stomach.

Clothes Make the Big Man

Another source of dread growing up was clothes shopping. I can remember saying a silent prayer every time I tried something on, hoping to God that it’d fit and I wouldn’t have to shamefully exit the dressing room and shake my head as my frustrated parents went off to search for something else. I never got to wear the fun clothes that the other kids did, with pictures of the Simpsons, Homey the Clown, or superheroes on the front. Instead every day I looked like a pre-teen dressing up as a middle aged accountant for Halloween due to the fact that most of my shirts and pants, at the time, were bought in the adult section where my father shopped.

As I got older, and bigger, clothes became even harder for me to find. Now they have big and tall shops where it makes it a bit easier for people like me to find decent clothes, but up until a few years ago it used to mean ordering special clothes using a catalog and paying easily twice as much for them as normal people do. For that reason, even now, my wardrobe is woefully limited and being able to wear the same pair of jeans that you wore a year ago is a point of pride- like athletes presenting their trophies. “See this pair of jeans? I’ve had these for three years! I haven’t ripped the butt out of them or anything!”

Shopping for underwear is even more fun. Tighty-whiteys really live up to the name when you’re my size. I wore them for years and can remember the excruciating pain that could occur when you shift the wrong way and the edges ride up as far on the crotch highway as is physically possible. That was especially fun when driving, leaving me desperately shifting and squirming to try and pick them out of the dark crevices of my lower half while doing my best not to crash my car. Often I’d just rip the things out of desperate frustration and be left with nothing but just dangling cloth covering what was left of my modesty like something God might have fashioned for Adam out of animal skins.

Eventually I gave up on conventional underwear all together and am currently employing pairs of shorts in the position usually occupied by boxers. They’re more durable, comfortable, and they have pockets. Why I’d need pockets for my underwear I’m not sure, but they’re there just the same so at least I’ve got options. I guess if I’m ever visiting a foreign country I could keep my wallet in those pockets as opposed to trying to fashion a sumo-sized fanny pack. Even the best pick pocket in the world wouldn’t be able to get his/her hands down my pants and take my wallet…at least not without dinner and a movie first. After all, I do have standards.

You can read more “Down With the Thickness” here.

© 2009-2012 J.R. Broadwater

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