Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Johnny Rumble:
Johnny's Folly part 5

“What? What are you talking about?” I was panicking in between hard breaths. I hadn’t run that hard in a while.

“Oh now,” the pricks accent was dripping with sneer, “another fucking misfit into the ranks of the Phoenix. Your not local, and you sound like your from that fucking city…umm…”

One of the guys that was holding me against the wall spoke up, “Tulsa?”

“Yeah, yeah, Tulsa. You from that wanker filled town?” Mr. Privileged sneered again. I just chuckled. His stupidity is really amazing. Unfortunately, he took this opportunity to place his fist in my gut. I was already gasping, and that forced what ever oxygen I had in my lungs out. “I asked you a fucking question. You gonna answer it, or am I gonna have to hit you again?”

When I stopped coughing I looked up at him and said, “You asked two, which one was…” His fist came crashing into my jaw. Split-lip, great. “Asshole.”

“What did you say to me?” His accent was really thick now. Must have pissed him off.

“You heard me. I called you an asshole, asshole. And I’ll add weenie to that too.”

From out of know where he pulled out a switchblade and started waving it around. “I should cut you up for that motherfucker. Like a fucking clam.”

“A clam?” My eyes never left his switch. “Your mom’s clam was good last night hombre. Little salty, but…” One of the guys that were holding me sucker punched me other side of my jaw. I stopped talking after that.

“You think your funny? Fucking funny?” He thrust the knife at me, but stopped short of piercing skin. “How’s that for funny? Face all scrunched up ready for pain. You look fucking retar…”

“Yippie Ki Ya, mother fuckers!” A tanned missile came hurtling out from the direction the distinctly Australian accent. Out of no where, James, or I think it was James, bowled the knife wielding ego maniac over with a brick. For some reason, the guy holding my left arm let go. Perfect. I took a shot at the guy on my right and nailed him in the eye.

I saw Paul, Jack, Sam, Danny and the rest come running into the fray and clean house quickly. Paul pulled me out of it and kept me covered. When I next looked, all the guys that attacked me were on the ground moan and groaning, or were plain knocked out. Sam took the opportunity and smashed a bottle over some guys head and little bits of glass exploded about. Mark and Keith were double timing somebody, and Danny seemed to have broken the knife wielding maniac in two. It was over in less than a minute.

“Jesus, where the hell did you guys come from?” was all I could say.

Mark grinned, “From the magical land of Oz. We thought about bringing flying monkeys but…”

Paul interrupted, “What’s it matter? You’re safe now. Here, lemme have a look at ya.” He grabbed my face rather roughly, and took a look at the cut on my lip. “Ah, that’s nothing. You’ll be alright. Come on.” Paul and Danny slapped me on the shoulder and we started walking out of the alley with everybody else following.

We never made it.

Thirty guys blocked our way out and they looked angry. “Alpha, alpha, alpha,” they chanted, over and over again. It was Keith who broke the silence of our measly group of ten.

“So what? You wankers want a go? Then come on you lard asses!” Keith gave them a single finger and told them where to stick it. They responded with several bottles and bricks through the air. I immediately started backing up and looking down the other direction.

“There’s no way out. Right there is only way.”

I turned, “What?”

Paul pointed, “That’s the only exit.” I looked on in horror at the odds we faced and the severity that our wounds will be. I was more amazed when Paul started egging the group as well.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled at him.

Jack pulled me away, “You want out? That’s your only way. You fight your way out. Survival of the fittest. You gonna survive?” He slapped me on the back on the head, “Of course you are. You’re with us.” He smiled broadly amongst the chorus of shouting and jeering. It was like a war zone minus the explosions and gunfire.

“Come on boys!” I heard Danny shout, “Let’s go!”

Jack grabbed my hoodie and practically dragged me as he ran. Our two groups were going full on with a head of steam, and nothing was going to stop us. I did finally catch my feet and was able to get going, but by then it was too late. Rick had committed to a running dropkick, and connected against some poor blokes chest, Danny had smashed his fist into another guys face, Juan and Mark weren’t so lucky and both got knocked down quickly. Jack actually used me as a bowling ball of sorts and hurled me into few guys.

I felt a punch to the side of my head, but no pain. I fired right back and kept going. The feeling of collapsing flesh and broken cartilage under ones fist only inspires him to commit to more, and I did just that. My elbow connected with a neck, my boot with a knee, and my head with a nose. I would have kept going had it not been for somebody knocking knee out from under me. I went down and it gave somebody the perfect shot against my cheek bone. I felt my head whip around and several pops in my neck. Hitting the ground, I saw that Danny had somebody in a head lock and was punching them, James wasn’t in such good shape, as he looked knocked out and bleeding, and Juan was pinned much as I had been and getting abused.

So this is it. This is life on the brink.

Fuck it.

I kicked. I kicked hard. I felt it connect it with something. The victim was howling in pain, and went flying down the ground. I didn’t care. I leapt to my feet and went after the next guy I could find. A kick to the back of knee, a reverse headlock, and an elbow to the chest and I was moving. A broken bone, a sickening snap, screams of pain and misery. A victim of my boots and their face in the wrong place. Blood covered the ground and people lay where they fell clutching what ever hurt the worst.

I liberated Juan from his captivity and delivered a Glaswegian Kiss, one forehead to nose and sent his assailant falling. Juan took care of the rest between wiping blood from his eyes. I picked up a loose brick and hurled it somebody’s shoulder and it connected. Follow through with kick of the chest and they’re toast.

I saw guys retreating, saw them running away.

“Come on! Where the fuck you going chicken shit?!” I yelled after them. I was able to clothesline another guy before he escaped and he fell hard, smashing the back of his head on the concrete below. “Come on! Come on!” I bellowed.

I looked for more guys to beat, and instead saw Danny was the only one of my friends’ still standing, if only just. Paul was slumped over in a corner, Sam was lying on the ground, breathing and conscious, but not moving. Rick managed to get to feet and started tending to James. Keith and Mark pulled Juan up and got him back to the real world.

Danny walked over and threw his arm around my neck, “You are fucking ballistic. What happened inside that head of yours?” he asked poking it gently.

“Nothing. Total space.”

Paul was up and moving by this time. As was everybody else.

It was over. And we were free.
­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­____________________

I dreamed about her again. She was angry. Very angry. Shouting words, but I could not hear them. She was crying and I didn’t know what about. Those vibrant colors were back, but no lights were on. Somewhere a door opened and I fell through, and it closed behind me.
­_____________________

My eyes fluttered open and were met with darkness. I heard someone’s feet padding over to the window, and when I looked, the flood gates burst forth. I squinted and saw Paul’s silhouette.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

I lay back down and pulled the covers over my head. “Like I got hit by a Mack fucking truck.” Paul pulled the covers back off me and handed me a bottle of water and bottle of aspirin.

“Take ‘em. Your head will feel smaller. Then get dressed. I’m hungry.”

“Oh yes, always on your damn clock,” I muttered under my breath. I sat up and popped two pills and washed them down. I tried to stand up, and immediately sat back down. Then I took two more pills and tried again. I made it this time and stumbled to the bathroom.

I stood in the tub and turned on shower full blast. Letting the extremely cold water wash over me, I thought, There’s something I’m forgetting here. I went to scratch myself and found cloth in the way. Oh yeah. I took off my boxers, wrung them out as best as I could and threw them over the shower rod. Finally free, I scratched as I pleased and started to rinse off the dirt and dried blood on my skin. I found many cuts and scrapes, and a few gashes, but nothing was still bleeding. My chest and arms were bruised and neck felt it had been snapped.

God damn it. What the fuck happened yesterday?, I thought as I toweled off. Damn it. Forgot my clothes. I wrapped my towel around my waist and walked out for my bag. I found Paul and Danny both sitting at the table reading the paper.

“Jesus Christ Danny, Israel invaded Lebanon. Look, look at this,” he said handing Danny the paper, “Hunting terrorists they say. I tell ya Danny, the worlds just getting more and more unsafe with every passing day. Johnny, you see this? Israel and Lebanon. Jesus.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard.” I grabbed my bag out of the linen footlocker and walked back to the bathroom. I closed the door, slipped some new boxers on, and looked in the mirror. Two day beard? Or three? I went fishing for my razor, but paused. Fuck it. And fuck the deodorant too. Regardless, I put some on. Stupid habits. I fished out a clean pair of jeans, shirt and socks. I felt cold so I pulled out a cleaner, less torn up sweatshirt that had the word “FUCK” emblazoned it and put it on. Just how I feel. Much better.

I walked back out and put my bag back in the footlocker and pulled on my socks and considered my boots. Too much effort. I yanked out my bag once more and grasped my Adidas. Thank god for slip on. I turned to Paul, “You said something about food.”

“Nice shirt,” he replied.
_________________

We ended up at a place called Murphy’s for breakfast. Their menu was simple, and I was grateful for it. Two eggs, wheat toast, and some grilled deli ham with a carafe of coffee to wash it down. Paul, Danny and I were pretty much silent on the way over and it was deafening. I had to break it…after I got another bite of toast. This plum jam fuckin’ rocks!

Between bites, I asked, “So how’s it going guys?”

Paul spoke, “We thought we’d ask you the same thing.”

Yeah huh. “Okay then. I’m fine. A little beat up and bruised and wondering why that is, but fine otherwise.”

“You got in tussle with several men Johnny.”

“Okay Danny, but why is that. Why did we…I get attacked? And who are the Phoenix?”

Paul spoke again, “You sure you want to know the answer to that?” I remained silent and ate my ham, never taking my eyes from his. He sighed. “We are the Phoenix. We are a firm. And you are part of it now too.”

4 comments:

  1. It's looking really really good! Can't wait for part 6!

    ReplyDelete
  2. So it kind of sucks that I read that because now I have to go read the rest of it and I have to go to work. Anyway, the fact that I'm actually interested in reading the rest is a big deal. It was really good. REALLY. Maybe because I'm really interested in firms. Maybe because you're a West Ham fan. I don't know. Hah. Write more.

    ReplyDelete
  3. WOW dude we got a reader...Wooh!!

    So yeah it's really good dude, can't wait for more.
    I've got a bit im writing on the way home(3 hour drive) So hopefully I'll get a page or two. Not sure what its about- A guy starts his day in a carpool and eating a donut.

    Cheers
    Trav

    ReplyDelete