Under Construction

Wow, a better response than I thought for this one. Alright, critters, I'll keep this train a rollin.' After all, this is my 'artistic masturbation' piece; the fall-back story when I get writer's block, get bored, frustrated, stumped, whatever. Anyways, thanks for showing interest. Enjoy!

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“Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen

Pour myself a cup of ambition and

Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and

If I never make it home today, God bless...”

Aesop Rock - ‘9-5ers Anthem’

Chapter 1

Labor Dayz

The alarm rang out, signaling the arrival of 5:00 a.m. Hip, hip hooray. I brought a heavy fist down on the digital clock, stopping the buzzer. Whether or not I hit the snooze or broke it outright, I didn’t know, nor did I care. I rolled over, intent on falling right back to sleep. I probably would have, too, if not for the 2 other alarms I placed around my apartment, both set to go off at the same time. With a few carefully chosen four-letter words, I managed to reluctantly roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom.

A quick brush of the teeth and splash of cold water on the face did wonders for my coherence, bringing me almost totally back to the land of the living. I left the bathroom and was greeted by a fat little jet-black tabby, rubbing up against my leg. A mumbled answer of ‘Morning, Merl,’ and a scratch on the head was all the affection the little feline needed. Already knowing that Merlin was on his way to my bed with the intent on falling asleep under my covers, I continued to the kitchen. Once there, a hot and bitter cup of coffee guarantee I wouldn’t fall back to sleep. Shuffling out of the kitchen to the TV room, I flipped on the flat screen and went about getting dressed, putting on the clothes I laid out the night before. Neon lime-green short sleeve shirt, heavy carpenter jeans and a cheap, dollar store ball-cap with no markings whatsoever. Standard issue for all city of Boston Department of Public Works employees. I had to go back to my bedroom however, forgetting once again to lay out my steel-toe boots and socks. I opened the closet to grab them, and was once again met by the familiar sight of a space three-quarters empty, my own clothes almost comically pushed into one corner of the huge closet. I tried not to let the memories of the person who’s clothes filled the rest of the closet bother me as I closed the door and finished getting ready for work.

I walked to the other end of my apartment, opening the large freight elevator and stepping inside, taking note of the stolen ‘Under Construction’ sign I placed against the back wall. The sign had been stolen as a prank by my supervisor against a local contractor crew, and in turn was stolen by me for my own amusement. I put it in the elevator as a warning against any other residences of the apartment building from ever trying to come up and visit me. Also, it was a good way to explain the machine and building noises that could regularly be heard coming from my floor. Thinking about it now, I guess it was fitting, not only for my choice of habitation, but also my life in general. To the other residents of the building, it was a warning not to disturb the creepy loner upstairs. But to me, it was a reminder of how much more I had to go to get my life to where I wanted it to be.

I live at the top of a six story tall apartment building in what was formally a bustling industrial/commercial neighborhood, now mostly home to scattered families and aging hold-outs that refused to abandon the ol’ homestead for retirement tombs. The building itself was a former multi-leveled car dealership that was converted to apartments in the late 70s, with the exception of the top floor. MY floor. The only way left to get up to my place was to take the large, rickety freight elevator, still big enough to park three cars in, side-by-side. When I moved in at 18, the place was a real disaster-piece theater. It took all my time and energy to get it back up to livable condition, earning me a HUGE 100' x 80' apartment. Throw in a few do-it-yourself sheet rock walls, some creative plumbing(and a promise of being the live-in handyman to the building’s owner) and I’m sitting pretty.

The elevator hit the bottom floor with the usual crash, causing me to cringe. Somehow, however, Cashmere, the building’s owner, didn’t hear it from his apartment. I managed to sneak out the front doors without him having to remind me about still owing him some rent from last month. Or the month before. OR before that. OR, the month bef- well, you get the idea. I quickly hopped in my truck and took off, heading straight to work.

The commute to the garage was quiet, as usual, the streets scattered with other public servants and newspaper delivery guys, making their last stops. I managed to get a good parking place for once and went inside to see what aggravations the day held for me. It was the usual bullshit jobs lined up; several holes needed to be drilled for some new street signs, followed by the removal of some handicapped signs from in front of some residences. So... power drill with a 14' concrete bore bit, 3 gallon sprayer full of water, hammer, chisel, generator and 50 ft. extension cord. That covers the new signs. The removal of the old handicapped signs only requires a pick axe and a brick for leverage. Sorry, work speak. If you don’t understand it, consider yourselves lucky.

The rest of the crew was sent to their respective jobs and I was sent out with my usual partner. “Sup, fucker?” The eloquent greeting came from the only other member of the road crew that was younger then me. Mike was 19, only a year younger than me and one year lower than me on the seniority. However, he was just as smart-assed and arrogant as any of the veteran members of the crew. “Ready to block traffic and piss off some happy citizens, today?” I laughed, knowing that statement wasn’t too far from true. I was just about to open my mouth to offer my own snarky remark when Mike cut me off. “So, what do ya think about this whole ‘Teleportation’ shit?’” I gave him a confused look, making sure I heard him right.

“Did you just say ‘teleportation?’ What the hell are you talking about?” he shook his head, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a section of newspaper, folded over a half dozen times.

“Yeah, check this shit out, bra.” he said, unfolding the section and handing it to me.

“Massive Experiment to Take Place TODAY!”

Damn, he was right. I heard of the Large Hadron Collider a while ago, when they did some experiment in Switzerland. Lots of people,(not just nut jobs, either) thought it would create a black hole and suck the world inside itself. Obviously, that didn’t happen. But apparently, they DID discovered a strange energy they never encountered before. Some eggheads decided it was some type of power given off by what they call a ‘white hole.’ In a nutshell, the theory was that if two or more of these colliders were activated at the same time, then items, or even people could be sent around the world instantly. And if you’re gonna jeopardize the lives of everyone on the planet, you might as well go big. The United Nations commissioned the building of several more in key locations, including New York, Detroit, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Beijing, Moscow, London and Paris. This evening at 9:00, they were scheduled to fire up all the Colliders at once to find out what happens.

“They’re gonna blow up the world, Corbin. This is it, the apocalypse. Game over. So, that means we don’t gotta work all that hard today.” Mike always did believe in these stupid conspiracy theories. Hollow earth, moon bases, Atlantis; the whole nine. I shook my head, placing a palm on my face.

“Dude, how many apocalypses did we live through, just in our lifetimes?” He looked at me like I had two heads, telling me I had to explain myself better. “Dude, remember Y2K? When we were little kids? THAT was supposed to kill us all. Then, the constant fighting the U.S. did with every country that looked at us funny after 9/11? And that whole ‘Mayan Calender, 2012 bullshit? Remember?” He thought a moment, then looked away slightly, realizing I was right but not wanting to admit it.

“Well... it still could happen. You’ll see tomorrow, when the world gets sucked in on itself.” I started the truck, folding up the article and putting it in my shirt pocket.

“Mikey, we’re more likely to see it rain chocolate milk than see any weird shit from this test. Mark my words; the sun will come out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” he said, smirking. “Bet my bottom dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be sun?” I gave him a sideways look, noticing he was on the very verge of cracking up. I facepalmed and shook my head, letting out a sigh.

“You’re so retarded, Mikey...”

***

Work was... work. All in all, it was a pretty average day. The bore holes we drilled for the signs weren’t as deep as I thought, the drill breaking through only after a few inches. Lunch went just as quickly as the morning did, the two of us getting fast food and sitting in our truck with out feet hanging out the open windows. I think we made more than a few commuters turn their head from our parking spot, sitting right in the center of a triangle in the middle of traffic. After lunch, the few signs we had to pull came easy, breaking free with the minimal of effort. After that, we wasted the last hour and a half sitting in a vacant lot until it was time to punch out.

As I drove home, it seemed the conspiracy paranoia was steadily spreading. Three of the four main radio stations I like had their talking heads discussing the test run of the colliders later this evening. The one even had a few nuts calling in and warning the other listeners to hit the stores and get their canned goods for when the world implodes. Usually, they were cut off pretty quickly, being hung up as soon as they started ranting. However, the one pair of DJs were happy to let the tin-foil hat crowd have their say. Lunatics, after all, make good radio.

I purposely parked on the far end of the tenant lot behind a derelict van, trying to keep my old truck from being seen. Sneaking across the lot, I slipped into the building through the side entrance, hoping to make it to my elevator and sneak up without running into a certain landlord. When I tried to slide open the gate, however, I was met by a loud !CHUNG! Of metal hitting metal, the gate only moving a foot or so due to the chain and lock attached to it. Son.Of.A.Bitch!!!

“Dis America, what a COUNTRY! I do no-ting, and you pay me! Iz truly ‘American Dream.’” Cashmere, the landlord... I owed him some back-rent from last month. And the month- well, I won’t go into that again. He locked the service elevator, effectively guaranteeing a meeting this afternoon. “Jeremy! My good friend!” he said, slapping a heavy palm on my shoulder as he moved to the lock and chain. “Allows me to de-lock dis for you.” He slid open the gate and stepped inside, pushing the top floor button and ushering me inside with a wagging finger. “Come, let us talk, boychik.” I winced at his polish nick-name for me, inwardly groaning as I stepped in and took my place beside him, the gate sliding closed as the box moved up.

Cash was in his early 70s, having come to America some 40 years ago from an old, Soviet bloc country. He and I came to an understanding when I came to him after highschool, making my living here in the most coveted apartment possible. I would be the building’s on-call, go-to maintenance man, and he would give me a discounted rate. This made me,(hooray, hooray) his favorite tenant. He even mentioned in passing the prospect of willing the building to me when he eventually ‘bucked the kicket.’ Most of the time, his boisterous attitude was comical. Other times, it made me feel like going ‘Boondock Saints’ on his ass. Today, however, I knew he’d be dead serious, despite the goofy accent.

“Jeremy, my friend. You owe me much, much money. Iz hard to let slip, lately.” he said. It’s true, unfortunately. I’ve been giving him half-rent for half a year, now. I suppose I felt he’d give me the benefit of the doubt. Maybe feel a sense of loyalty to all my hard work, ratcheting pipes and installing hard-wood floors all over his building. That, however, was NOT the case.

“Let ‘slide,’ Cash.” I corrected, catching an annoyed look. Oh, fuck. He’s more than a little annoyed. I’m boned. Oh, so completely boned.

“Jeremy, I give you to end of next month to pay me in full. Then, if you no pay me, it pains me to say, you must leave.” I looked at him when he said this, the blank expression on his face remaining. “I’s sorry, Jeremy, but I am losing moneys! You have helped me very much times, but I can no longer take half-payments on rent! You must make amends of last five months of rent, or you go!” The elevator hit my floor with another ‘chung,’ Cashmere sliding open the gate. I stormed off out of the box and turned to him, feeling like I wanted to hold him half-way out the elevator as it went back down.

“How the hell do you expect me to get more than five thousand dollars in less than two months?!” I shouted, doing all I could to restrain myself.

“Iz not my problem, boychik! Get second job, find a roommate, sell ass on corner; I DON’T CARE! Pay, or GO! Only options.” He closed the gate and pushed the button, starting to descend. As he lowered out of sight, he reminded me once more. “Don’t forget; Pay or go.”

“God DAMN YOU, Erica!” I hollered, kicking the gate, the rattle reverberating through my apartment. She left more almost a year ago, and she was STILL fucking me over. I turned my back to the elevator, looking over my apartment. The washer and dryer in the corner, the utility sink next to it. Kitchen area, living room, the three bedrooms I put up myself. Not to mention all the crap I acquired during my time here; refurbished pinball machines, old motorcycles. I basically had a full, ranch-style house here, complete with storage, all to myself. And now, I was losing it. That vicious, lying little cunt...

I went back to my bedroom, taking off my work clothes and tossing them in the hamper. I fished through my closet and found my old favorite pair of jeans and t-shirt, putting them on. Going to the kitchen, I ignored Merlin as he strolled by, rubbing against my leg. Not today, buddy. Daddy’s a little pissed. I took a bottle of bourbon from the fridge and headed to the door hidden behind a hinged piece of plywood against the wall, on my way to what I assume even Cashmere had forgotten about; the top floor stairway to the roof.

This was my sanctuary. My world. My little slice of heaven. An old fridge near the door kept my supply of beers and sodas cool, only a stone’s throw from my couch and hammock, kept dry with a 10' x 10' tent I set up over them. A greenhouse I set up on the other side of the roof kept me self-dependent on veggies and some seasonal fruit, at least. That cut into the grocery bill during the warmer months more than you would think. I walked around, lighting the few tiki torches around the area and plopped down on the couch, ready to throw myself an epic pity-party.

How DARE he think he could throw me out of this place! After all the blood, sweat and tears I spent here? After all the hard work and my own personal cash I threw into making this apartment building LIVABLE?!” I ranted to nobody in particular, looking out across the city. I used to do this all the time. Well, me and... Erica.” God damn you, Erica... it’s your fault I’m in this mess, you raging bitch.” My thoughts ran back to Erica, still fresh in my mind like I’d have just seen her yesterday. The more than a year’s time we spent together. The day she moved into my apartment. The day she left. And why... I opened the bourbon and took a long, deep slug of the stuff, pondering if I should toss it off the roof. No. No I wouldn’t waste good booze on that little tramp. But I couldn’t get totally shitfaced, either. Making my way through only about half the bottle, I replaced the lid, I laid down on the couch, facing the city before me. The last thing I remembered was thinking...

“... maybe I’ll do like Cash said...” No, not sell ass, you pervy bastards! “... maybe... I should look for a roommate...”

***

I woke up with a burning in my throat, coughing to the taste of alcohol. It had grown dark by the time I came to, the fuel in three of the four torches spent, leaving them dead and flameless. The remaining torch flickered in the night wind, giving me more than a few chills down my back. I sat up, holding my head in my hands, feeling the wind pick up a little more. No matter, I wasn’t gonna spend the night up here or anything. This was just my little ‘moment of zen’ area, not a camp site. I groaned at the though of taking down the tent to keep it from being damaged by the winds, still seeming to pick up more and more. I stretched as I got up, immediately going into the motions of taking down the large canopy, the wind now picking up enough to blow over my liquor bottle. Alright, this wasn’t a normal wind. Thar be a shit storm a brewin’! Another heavy gust of wind licked the roof, causing me to lose my balance and fall back on the couch, a flash of lightening temporally blinding me as the following crack of thunder boomed in my ears. Alright, fuck this! I rolled off the couch, intent on letting the storm do it’s worst. Crawling now towards the door, I squinted my eyes to keep the dust and debris out. This was crazy! I never seen a storm this bad! Shouldn’t there be rain or hailstones or something?!

I was just about to flip over my couch and take cover under it when... it all stopped. The winds, the thunder, the lightening... gone, leaving behind some random car alarms blaring throughout the streets below. I stood up, looking around, rubbing my eyes as if waking up from a dream. There weren’t even any clouds, now! Just pinprick points of light against the dark blue sky. I looked out over the city. All in all, it was no worse for wear. Just as I turned back to head for the door, I noticed the first lights go out. It started with a few apartments and houses below. I looked over the edge of the roof, watching house after house in the neighborhood go dark. Then, the entire next neighborhood. Then... sections of the city? “Great... What’s next, the ‘Cloverfield’ monster?” I said to myself. Suddenly, a thought popped into my mind. A thought so strange, so foreign to me, it demanded attention. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the article Mikey showed me earlier. Between the darkness of the roof and absence of a moon that night, I had to pull my cell phone out, using the light from the screen to illuminate the paper...

“Massive Experiment to Take Place TODAY!”

My eyes ran down the article, falling at one of the last lines near the end: ‘The scheduled test will be run later this evening at 9:00 p.m., EST.’ I quickly turned my phone over, looking at the time: 9:00 p.m. ... “Oh, no fuckin’ way...” No sooner did I whisper out my shock, than my phone died as well, completely unresponsive to my quick attempts to turn it back on. From over the horizon, wave after wave of light and color rolled like thunder heads across the sky. I dropped my phone and the article, the paper drifting off the roof to the street below as I watched the aurora wash over the world. But the light brought something else with it. As I looked up at the sky, I thought I could make out... shapes? Outlines of objects zig-zagged through the aura, and if I were a more superstitious or religious man, I’d swear they were... angels, beings with long flowing hair trailing behind them, wings outstretched and flapping hard as they passed, just high enough that I could make out their general shape against the light, but not close enough to make out any detail. This continued for a minute or two, the sounds of shouting pedestrians filling the streets below, sometimes accompanied by gunfire. The winged creatures seemed to grow closer and closer to the ground, becoming more detailed. Just as the creatures came within a stones throw of the roof, the sky flickered again. Slowly fading waves of light rippled across the sky, the creatures blinking out, one by one like the flames on distant candles. I held my breath, waiting for the next stage of this strange event to unfold. Finally, the aura vanished, taking the creatures with it. Then... nothing.

My cell phone turned back on by itself, followed by the lights in the houses on the street, then the next neighborhood, and then the city. Headlights came back on in stalled cars on the street, and the clear, dark blue sky went back to normal. Every trace of the event was gone now, save for the messy scene on my roof. I stood there for a long while, just listening to the noise from the street below. Cars rolled along as citizens left their houses and checked on each other. Me? I walked right over to the bourbon and proceeded to pour it off the roof.

I went back down to my apartment, immediately flipping on the TV to one of the news channels. Surprisingly, nothing was on yet. Just some pre-recorded report about some Wall street scandal. I flipped through to the other news channels, finding them off the air, along with several other random channels on the way. I opened my cell phone and tried to call Mikey. No signal? Turning on the desktop, I tried to get online, finding the net down as well. Oh, really? Really, guy? What the fuck ever...

I didn’t know what to make of what just happened. Was that really the effects of that test? What the hell was with that weather, and the aurora, and those... creatures? All that, compiled with the news Cashmere dropped on me left me mentally and emotionally exhausted. Left with no real way to find out anything substantial about what the hell just happened, and lacking the energy to try any harder, I was left with little choice but to call it a night and try again tomorrow. No matter, anyways. I’m sure whatever happened won’t wind up effect me in the least...

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Like I said, I'll be hitting this story up and building onto it every time I get little bits and pieces of time to myself. I'll make these chapters shorter than my main fic so they should come a little sooner, too. Have fun until then, colts and fillys. T.T.F.N., Ta-Ta for now!

p.s. - remember to comment, like, or favorite. I likes me some feedbacks.