Sick verses Well

CHAPTER 01. (Exit Stage West)

"You wanna’ do something fun?" I tried to roll a blanket apology into a distraction, but it was too late

"Really, that's what you have to say to me right now?"She spat the rebuke and stood stock still ... waiting.

That was the moment I decided to leave. It only took glancing at her face to decide now was the moment. It wasn't until years later that I thought how dramatic that was. I picked up my keys and purse, kissed the dog and walked away from a twelve year relationship. That was five years ago in a very different world.

What I would give to listen to Jina bitch at me now. What I would give to know she's still bitching.

I have fully convinced myself that I intended to return and it was the war that kept me away. In certain company I lie to myself that everything I do is to get back to her. It is easy; no one's around to judge the truth. Reality is what each of us decides it is; all common reality has either been burned, bombed or infected, yet everything feels expected if not oddly normal. The dystopia we once gobbled up as entertainment was manifesting across the globe in spits and spurts.

I don't know how I convinced myself that everything was okay back in Wixom when nothing was okay here in Anaheim.

For a brief moment the world cracked into, discernible halves with political pundits falling in line behind their leader. It was money that couldn't pick a side. But with break through infections, despite rounds upon rounds of expensive boosters and enhanced boosters, each instance indiscriminately poisoned personal resolve, until the virus decided the world would be about sickness and health.

We are only now accepting that we know very little about COVID and every day our ignorance unmasks another lie.

Bars, restaurants, live shows all of it was rare and reckless; nonetheless always well attended. Live performers were the angels of death, yet venues still competed for the tour dates. The bars, restaurants and hotels would all accommodate and then brace for the inevitable wave. But when the son of a prominent wealthy family died the world knew that the "Emperor was just a pervert," and the very fabric of society separated into threads. It took less time than any one could imagine for money to become all but useless. Each self defined community devised their own currency and travelers were at the mercy of what they had to trade.

Power struggles made each local system kangaroo. Law enforcement was self proclaimed; though no one will say it out loud, there really isn't a defined system of law anymore. There is no relationship at all between local government and state government; just vague recognition between the states and the federal government. Regional alliance far outweighed federal requests; but, there was nothing neither uniting nor regulating city or township governance. The Populist Era is what history will call this, if anyone or anything survives.

CHAPTER 02. (How the other Half Lives) 

My last three gigs paid better than most. The region has no end of work, every job more interesting and lucrative than the one before. But three is the limit per year per city or region. I should have left after finding the kidnapped runaway of the self- appointed mayor of Orange County, it was job number five. It is just so comfortable here. Food is plentiful and there is plenty to barter for. Armed trucks come from Missouri and Kansas trading grain for fruit, everyone grows vegetables and aquaponic fish are plentiful too. Those trucks bring beef and bison on occasion and the best synthetic, mind twisters and pain killers on the continent. Human capital is currency; wealthy is the person who knows everyone's worth and price. Mayor Finckel is that person in the OC.

The mayor had nothing on me, didn't know me, still doesn't.

All I asked for was room, board, supplies for the road, safe passage and a hand off if possible. Finckel agreed and provided exquisite room and board. They even lent me their prized vintage DVD player and a set of disks with fancy talkies made with real actors on sets. The plot lines were arrangements of people, touching and kissing; crowded city streets and stress-less laughter; boys loving girls, girls loving boys; and, children who had no responsibility accept growing up.

One featured a girl who grew up in the wild and then moved to the world of idle hands. There, she suffered delusions and mental illness that resulted in her attempting to murder the girl who stole her peace of mind. But the “mean girl“ didn't die and while she was healing the village realized she was a siren who had bewitched them all. The spell was broken and the survivors shared a plastic communion which broke the curse. Love fell into the hearts of the young people and all was forgiven. It all took place in a segregated corporate village but I never got a sense of what corporation. There were no marks and no disease. Everyone was white yet they were all free within the confines of the village it seemed. It was delightful, so fanciful, Jina would have loved it, she would love OC.

Maybe if I had recognized how good things were or understood how bad things could get, I would have taken a deeper breath before walking away. In the privileged light of the past it all felt so realistic, I felt entitled to walk away. We weren't married. I was bored with her complicated, pedestrian life. We stopped having sex, hadn't made love in years, we fought a lot, every waking moment was heavy and tense. I wanted to go so I did.

After about six months we talked a bit, but it was the early days of the Primary Pandemic, the one that gave us the perpetual disease state the world is locked into, and I left her alone. It wasn't intentional, but neither is it forgivable. I don't know why I pretend everything's okay back there. Why do I pretend that the times haven't changed her at least as much as they have changed me?

Mayor Finckel knows hospitality; they look old enough to have been an adult at the time of the Primary Pandemic. They know luxury and they conjure a nostalgic nod to the old decadence that was common as recently as a half decade ago. Daily warm showers in potable water, fresh fruit on the bed every day, room service and house keeping in a four-bedroom apartment with a generator powered tonal gym and a lap pool. The world was young. Not clear how old it will ever get again. Fifty is ancient; to my knowledge there is no one over eighty-two in North America, hard to say about the rest of the world. 

It is disgusting the amount of resources I've exhausted in my ten months here, it's been time to go for months. But the luxury is hard to walk away from, but tomorrow morning I will.

CHAPTER 03 (Comfort is a Trap)

I knew the price of the luxury was surveillance, but even that intrusion was a comfort in a region rife with murder rates that gave a St. Louis native pause. Nonetheless I was surprised to see Mayor Finckel and four body guards in my foyer when I came out of the shower.

Mayor Finckel had come to make it clear that it was time to pay for over-staying my welcome. My plan was to take some of my good fortune and healthy rest back home to Texas, find local, long- term work, and maybe stop; foolishly, I had told Finckel about my plan, even asked for a hand off to the Imperial Wizard of Texas, but instead I was rewarded with a threat and a favor.

“Wizard Kruze and I have a very useful relationship and I told him of your plans to return home. I also encouraged him to hire one of your nieces until you are able to return and properly care for your family.” Their slippery code was barely veiled. I knew comfort was a trap but I never assumed it would trap Telinda and her family, I never assumed it would trap my mother. Are they afraid or are they blindly elated? I didn’t dare ask, it’s obvious that compliance is the only option. “He very much understands my goal and how do you say, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’? Who is your friend Zerah?”

“Well, I sincerely hope you are my friend.” Was the most civil statement I could get out. I felt duped and selfish. I became nauseated by the memory of the morning’s chef prepared breakfast and the daily cups of hot, sweet Turkish espresso.

“Yes, of course we are friends; I only treat my dearest friends so kindly and keep them from harm. There are lesser officials who thought your usefulness ended months ago, but I assured them that your much needed rest and recuperation would serve our advantage in due time. Now, I believe is that time, since you seem anxious to move on.”

“Of course, I would never have left with out saying farewell and asking if I could be of any further service; so it’s serendipitous that you are here now.” I pulled my towel a bit tighter as the accompanying guards leered, willing it to drop and leave me further exposed, “What can I possibly do to repay the much appreciated respite?”

“I am so grateful you asked. It really is a small thing and according to this morning’s caravan leader it should be win-win.

Mitchell said he recognized you. Evidently you had many acquaintances in the patriotic city of St. Louis. It seems you have always been on the right side of history too. ” The mayor half halfheartedly gave the salute of the Forever Right, the anti vaccination, anti mask, anti -fascist group that opened the skies to China and the ports to Russia in an attempt to stop mandatory vaccinations and push herd immunity along faster. 

Despite the devastating effect of un-treatable virus variants and the Red Dawn like reaction of the population, the Ever Right had forgiven themselves and justified their recklessness as “the only way to hold on to what was left of their civil liberties.” None of that mattered any more, it was a nation of sick verses well and people lie as much about how they get sick as they do about how they stay well. The truth was lost when the people who created the virus were found and executed. The rage and grief from decades of suffering, clouded the logic of getting a cure before killing the creators. It was unlikely they could cure it anyway. Scores of scientists have tried and even larger numbers have died for their theories.

“Mitchell Saurenson?” I asked

“I assume. I wouldn’t know his sir name, who even uses those anymore. Mitchell was the caravan leader of yesterday’s shipment and he will be heading back tonight. He has offered to let you travel with him.”

“Why?” Mitchell and I were less than friends but not quite enemies. He would never have volunteered to give me transport and if he is the same Mitchell from all the bar crawls and bong parties on Washington Street, I will need a chastity suite just to sleep along the route.

“So you don’t have to try to survive the journey before you kill the leader of the resistance.” Finkel tossed out my assignment casually.

“The resistance? Kill?” they couldn’t mean end someone’s life.

“The resistance is what we call the criminals who keep damaging the land bridges across the Mississippi and try to escape tolls and surveillance by using ferries and other homemade contraptions. As you can see, your old stomping ground needs you. They need you to free them from the terrorists so the much needed goods can get across the river. We, the Wizard and I… and the council and every leader from here to the Mississippi River… feel that if the traitor Jina Adell is silenced the resistance will crumble and we can get back to normalcy that much faster.”

I couldn’t tell if they knew who Jina was to me, so matter of fact and face nondescript. I barely knew Mitchell, but how much did he know about me? If he knew they knew, he would not suffer one secret for me; his rejected ego wouldn’t allow it. It didn’t really matter what Mayor Finckel knew, their goal is clear and the life of everyone I had bothered to love is at risk. For now, compliance is the only option, nonetheless I tried.

“I don’t kill for hire, I can stop the resistance or better yet get your caravan across the river and back, but taking life still has its consequences.” I tried to lower the asking price, but with services already received and my loved ones trapped in Texas the attempt was paltry at best.

“Does it? I haven’t found that to be true.” They stared expressionless at me before checking their watch. “Okay, I think we are clear, and I wish you and your family the best. Mitchell is leaving as soon as you get to his rig, my car will take you safely there, and when your work is complete Wizard Kruze will reunite you with your family; work hard and you can see them before wildfire season.”

There's nothing to say, their goons picked up my belongings and positioned themselves one in front of me and one behind. 

CHAPTER 4 (And Away We Go)

I climbed into the armored cab of the huge tractor trailer truck. It smells of frustrated manhood and synthetic food products and there are cameras positioned to cover every centimeter of the vehicle inside and out. The dash board is nothing but a panel of screens and keyboards. The manual controls have been stowed and replaced by remote controlled devices. After the guards had fastened a monitor to my leg and demonstrated the power it had to communicate with my body the door opened again to let Mitchell in, he too has a contraption on his leg and a look of coerced obedience on his face. “You folks have a good journey, you hear?’ the shiny, clean buff guard sneered as the hydraulic doors camped down and the rig roared to life.

“I wish I had never seen you on the platform yesterday. Just knowing you has always been a burden”

“Nice to see you too again Mitch, when did you start this gig?”

“Gig?” the puzzlement on his face looked like it hurt, “this is no gig, this is … what it is.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You have always been a pretty, dumb bitch, just shut up, sit back and hope we don’t get hijacked between here and home.”

“Awe you still think I‘m pretty, that’s sweet Mitch.”

“Fuck you. There’s nothing pretty about you, and no one back home will be happy to see you, least of all Jina. You left her so dirty, at the worst time in human history. Why the fuck are you coming back anyway?”

“Does it look like I have a choice,” I showed him the monitor on my leg and he recoiled with confusion and a little fear.

“What the fuck? “

“What do you mean what the fuck, you have one too!”

“Yeah, but I am serving time. Why do you have one? I was told you were a VIP transport and to skip all the usual stops. We are trying to get to St. Louis in 24 hours. Inevitably we will hit 2 or more people going that fast so, I am going to take a tranq and sleep through it all. I suggest you do the same.”

“Negative Mich, the whole trip will be controlled manually; with you as the secondary, so you need to stay awake. The rest of the caravan is going to travel separately; Noah Ashton is working lead.” a surround sound voice so crisp it took seeing Mitch look up to realize the sound wasn’t in my head. They were watching and listening to every moment, and usually programmed whole caravans, and now they were going to remote drive a 50 hour trip in 24 hours? How was that possible when all the US satellites had been hacked and disintegrated five years ago? How has anything that had happened in the last year been possible?

The voice resumed, “I can tell by the look on your face that there is a great deal you don’t know; that is best, not only for your mission but for your overall longevity.

Mitch give her an Ambi-tranzQ5.

Don’t resist it’s better that you sleep and wake up ready to fulfill your mission. I would hate to see Sierra miss another semester of that safe, fancy school your family works so hard to keep her and Lincoln in. Imagine the suffering of identical twins being apart. The sooner you pay your debt the sooner she can go back to school. Meanwhile she serves in the house of the Wizard.”

Mitch did as he was told and shoved a capsule in my mouth and held my nose until I swallowed.

“Mitch you bastard!” was the last thing I said.

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