Thursday, 30 May 2013

The Flood pt. 5: Jersey

     Once the whisky had been drained and the sun had begun to climb back above the horizon, the Gunner stood up stretching his finger tips to the sky, as he moved all the muscles in his back contracted and as she watched him fascinated, she could not help but compare him to a great feline preparing itself to pounce upon some form of unsuspecting prey. He turned to look at them both,
“The road runner still about?” he asked, his question directed toward The king whose head snapped up quickly,
“Thinking of getting the old gang back together?” he asked
“Just answer the question” he spat
“Yeah he’s still around, own an old junk yard, so’s Mary Lou and I’m sure we could convince the Queen to cool her jets and join us” he said a smile playing on the corners of his mouth,
“What about Crazy Jane and Killer Joe?” he asked his eyelids heavy from their lack of sleep and his words lazy from the liquor,
“Yep all still around this shit hole somewhere” the King of sorrow answered,
“Then let’s go find um” the gunner said turning and beginning to walk away, “where’s the junk yard, I’m assuming Road runner will have some wheels and he’ll know where to find the others a little better than you will” he said offering his insults for the kind through they seemed not to bother him as he had drifted in a world of his own sadness, “hay” the gunner snapped
“What!” the king yelled breaking free of whatever sorrowful memory he had fallen into
“Where they hell are we going” the Gunner said slowly yet harshly
“That way” the king answered in disgust at being disturbed and pointed down the road, he stood and rubbed his eyes, “come on pretty lady” he muttered through his sleep fuelled haze and held out a hand for her,
“Might catch something King” The gunner hissed over his shoulder though they paid him no heed and simply followed silently behind him as he strode down the street as bold as shined brass.
     As they walked and the day grew brighter the king of Sorrow called out directions for the Gunner to follow and before long in the distance they could see the crocked outline of a building and with-in seconds of the outline came the hand painted, worn sign, ‘Road Runner Junk Yard’ though some of the letters had worn away the mind corrected their absence. All around the yard were piles of junk metal, old cars and parts, oil drums and sheets of corrugated tin; all of these factors added to the crocked outline of the building as they had seen it from a few miles away, now as they drew closer the only actual building was a small brick house with a side building used as an office and it was less of a crocked shape and more two squares one smaller than the other, rubbing shoulders with one another.
“Who’s the road runner?” she asked when they were finally stood at the high, chained gates of the yard,
“Back in the day, that is their day” the king began to explain as he pointed toward the Gunner “Road Runner Richie used to be the best racer on the streets, they would ride out of town and snare some un-suspecting guys. Then they would race back through town, winner got the other guys car. Thing was these poor guys didn’t know who the road runner was, he never lost a race unfortunately one night they challenged the wrong group of guys and the runner lost an eye for his trouble since then he hasn’t raced an inch” all through the story The gunner had stood with his hands lain upon the chain link fence,
“Idiot never did listen” he said more to himself than to anyone else and then he began to shake the fence, “Richie wake up its time to go racin’” he yelled through the links, “roooaaaddd Ruuunnneeerrr!” he yelled almost tauntingly
“WHAT! God dam it!” a man yelled back as he shuffled from the main square building, he was tall and lean dressed in only a dirty white vest and dark jeans which he fastened as he shuffled out into the early morning, his hair was red and curled tight to his head and freckled spattered his pale cheeks,
“Richie, you ugly son of a...” the Gunner yelled and she could tell just how much they had meant to each other back in ‘their’ day
“Gunner, what the..” he muttered as when he finally realised who was calling to him, as he looked up she could finally see the eye that he had been blinded in, it was clouded and cast an ugly purple colour and the lid drooped slightly more than his good eye. At first she thought that he might be angry at the Gunner for past wrong doings but then he broke into a huge smile and fumbled in his pocket producing a shiny silver key, once he had it in hand he move quickly over to the gate and then she noticed the second thing about him, he walked with a pronounced limp,
“He got that from his last race too” the king said leaning over to whisper in her ear                               
“I told you king you keep getting so close to her you’re gonna catch something” The gunner said over his shoulder, “Richie!” he pulled his friend into a hug when he finally he the gates open and for a moment time stood still,
“Ignore him” the king whispered in regards to his constant insults
“I’m getting use to it” she replied
“I can guess why you’re here” Richie said as he looked at the Gunner “dam you’re looking haggard” he added, “come in you can tell me all about it and the girl inside with tea” he said pulling his friend forward.
     When they were all finally sat with a hot cup in their hand though the gunner had wanted something stronger, some questions that had been left outstanding were finally asked
“So why are you here Gunner?” Richie asked
“Thought you knew” The gunner replied as he stared down into the liquid in his cut as though trying to pull out a reading of some sort,
“Humour me” Riche replied, it was clear that he had know the gunner for a long time
“she found me, somehow, and asked me to come save your sorry asses from some American Brother thinks he’s the shit and can do whatever he wants and so i though I’d best come down here” he said nonchalantly
“And who is she?” He asked, the gunner looked her a puzzled look upon his face
“Um, well, god knows, she’s from the thunder rooms, didn’t think it was important” he replied with a shrug. This made her feel sad something she had not yet felt in his presence; the fact that her job defined her to him was not something she wanted,
“Well since she managed to get your sorry arse back down here and back to us then I think balls to what she does for a living what’s your name sweetheart?” Richie asked with a soft smiled, for a moment she was thrown, she had nearly forgotten that she was there with them

No comments:

Post a Comment