I Am Jax

I Am Jax

 

                I awoke, face down in the dirt. The soft, fine, off-white sand was comfortable. My inner-self begged to remain aloft, floating on the cloud of desert sand. My body had other ideas, needs that required attention. I rolled onto my back. The sun was low in the sky, bathing me in a warm, soft light, like a thick blanket. God, it was comforting. The morning reeked of hope, optimism and new adventure. I puffed the sand off my face, did the best I could to clean it off, shed my armor that protected me from the cold, harsh night. I rose to my feet and stretched, filling my lungs with the dusty air in a tremendous yawn. The only thing on the agenda, today, was to empty the bladder. The urine splat hard against the dust, darkening the off-white to a stormy gray. I had to admit that I DO enjoy my aroma. It was strong, fighting through the many wafting scents fighting their way into my senses.  I needed water. My “To Do” list just got bigger. My midsection grumbled. That eagle has been screaming for many days. I do not remember the last time I was satiated. The list got bigger, still.

                I picked up the smell before I heard the roar of the monster. I was downwind from him. The monster was pungent with the acrid reek of the ancients. Blood of enemies laid low and scattered across the sands of time. Intermingled within the tarry stench was smells of fire, sweat, fear and anger. Not a firey, hot rage, but a low and constant brooding. The kind of anger that has been on the fire too long and should have been eaten long ago. I spotted the plume of dust being kicked up by the ravenous beast. It bounded across the wastes at great speed, roaring furiously. I watched in awe as the creature traversed the horizon and crested over the next hill. I decided to follow on the account of not having any other direction to travel.

                I disemboweled a plant and devoured its lifeblood, quenching my thirst. It tasted horrific, but by the Gods, it was magnificent. The list shrank. As I traveled along, sun mercilessly pummeling my spirit and stamina, I picked up a scent. This time, the scent of timid desperation, nagging fear and haste. I spied the small, long eared creature. He was thin, missing fur in patches. Most of the wildlife has been permanently tainted by the ancients. Everything that I have ever experienced in my 13 winters on the Earth has had that sickening smell, wait, more than a smell, an aura about it. The ground I stand on, the scorched, petrified trees, the air I breathe, the animals and plants I eat all are stained with that toxic smell. I do not remember being unable to stand it, but I DO remember never being able to fully get used to it. The sickly creature did not have a chance. I had the element of surprise. He squeaked in confusion, protest and helplessness. We locked eyes as my teeth sank into his neck. AS his life and body went their separate ways, I could see the fear in his eyes turn to acceptance. It was though he had thanked the Gods that his life was finally over as his pupils dialated and rolled into the back of his head. I devoured his flesh raw. I learned the hard way not to eat all of the insides. Some of them were… not good.

                I sat in the road, betwixt the tracks of the beast, cleaning the gore off my face as best as I could. The sun was directly overhead. I sat beneath the scant shade of, I wouldn’t even call it a tree, more of a piece of wood sticking out of the ground. I sat back and pondered the road ahead. I spied some gore on my dogtag and licked it with my tongue. “Can’t let it go to waste.”  I’m not sure if I said it aloud or not. Only the Gods know. I could hear Mom’s voice. I never knew what she said, but she always spoke with love. There I was, sitting on the floor of the cabin, cleaning myself after a meal. I was young. She walked up to me, bent down, said a few words and gently picked up my dogtag. The material gleamed in the white light of the hearth. Dad was out doing Dad things. Big sister was helping Mom cook. Oh Gods, the smell of freshly killed cow cooked over the fire was heavenly. Little brother was playing with toy beasts on the floor, mimicking the hunt and the kill that he has never witnessed with his own eyes. The little one was in his bed. He smelled of freshness, wonder, and joy. Such a stark contrast to the world that he lived in. The fire danced for us, driving back the dark and the cold. As Mom held my tag, she inspected it, licked her finger and wiped off a piece of food that was stuck to it. She looked at it and looked into my eyes. I will never know what she said. I knew I was special, but whatever she said, I took it as, “I love you, Jax.”

                I’m not sure how long I was sitting underneath the tree. It was long enough to get the little needles and teeth in my legs. I got up and drove the sensation out of my legs. The sun was no longer at its Apex. It was starting to make its descent to its liar where it sulked during the night.  The beast was miles ahead. I didn’t know why I was following it, but I figured that it would have to rest and drink again. Those beasts ALWAYS have to stop and drink periodically. I proceeded, taking in the sights and sounds of the wastes.

                It was nearly dark when I finally caught up with the beast. My list had shrunk, once more. The aroma of singed sweat and heat was present but was overpowered by the sweet smell of a fresh kill. The beast was injured, maybe mortally. It sat by a small fire. This surprised me as I have NEVER witnessed a beast of this nature start a fire on the ground. I have seen them spontaneously catch fire and perish or seen them set ablaze in battle, but never thought that one could build a fire for warmth. Then I picked up another smell. It was the distinct smell of a man, but something was very peculiar with this man. I could smell numerous, almost incalculable years, souls, spirits and time. A dusty, worn away spirit, ravaged by the eons. A tortured soul who wished not to live but still remains in spite of himself. MY list had grown, once again.

                He wore all black, from head to toe. A large, flat-brimmed hat covered most of his face. The light of the fire splashed various shades of grey upon his figure, revealing the long coat and strange, brutal weapons of long ago. He was in the process of devouring some animal. I admired his kill for it was about the size of a large cat and anything of that size besides coyotes are scarce, if not extinct in the wastes. Gods, I could not take my eyes off that food. I started salivating. I was hidden within the brush, but I felt as though I was inches from that cooked meat. My midsection rumbled. The man stopped chewing for a second, hand already upon his side weapon. His jaw started working again. I realized that I hadn’t been breathing in all this time and let out a breath of relief. How did he conquer the big beast? I have seen men who have tamed the beasts and used them for beasts of burden, but I have not seen a single man lay low such beast. Questions. I’m still salivating. Each moment he sinks his teeth into that tender flesh is like a needle in my stomach! He reached over and grabbed a clear vessel. He unscrewed the cap and that’s when it hit me. The clear, crisp water collided with his lips. My mouth went dry. I MUST have it! I prepare for attack. My urges told me to leap and kill him, yet my thoughts kept me at bay. The large beast was dead. There were no signs of life left in it. I caught a glimpse of its lifeblood soaking into the sands. How can I attack a man who has felled a beast as this? Also, he has weapons of man and I only have my fists, nails, feet and teeth. I have killed many a man, but he is different. Gods! He took another bite! Do something fool! I must act. I prepared for the attack. I played it through in my mind, like that game that Dad used to play with our neighbor. They would sit across from each other at the table, motionless for what seemed like hours. I assumed it was a game, since they would laugh and shake hands when it’s over, a game of gentlemen. The only time that they would move is when one would grab a seemingly random piece from the checkerboard, either black or white, and move it to another square. Occasionally, they would knock another piece off the board or say a word or two. It was incredibly boring, but I loved watch… WAIT! He took another bite! I can’t think! I must act!

                I leapt out of the shadows, taking a stand across from the fire. “Give me your food or your life, fool!” I snarled, expecting him to draw his weapon. His hand was in motion already and had bypassed his weapon. A piece of the meat landed at my feet. I was dumbfounded. My hunger overcame the confusion and I had devoured the piece of meat, sand and all. “You… you.. just give up, like that?” My mind raced. It must be some kind of trick. He is trying to make me let my guard down. I will not have it. “You..” I started to speak, but he shushed me. Another piece landed at my feet. I consumed it without haste. The grit of the sand, still fresh on my tongue. I sat down, staring at him through the fire. He produced the vessel once more, unscrewed the lid, but instead of partaking in the sweet, delicious water, he emptied some of it into a cup and got to his feet. I  prepared for battle. He won’t get the better of me! The man simply left the cup at my feet, hands nowhere near his weapons. I pondered upon the cup. Does he think so little of me that I’m not a threat? I have killed men TWICE his size. The intense thirst interrupted my thought process. I downed the liquid in one gulp. All of the stank saliva from the morning, the stickiness of the lame rabbit, the sand and sweat from the meat, all washed away and was replaced with a cool, clean feeling. How refreshing!

                There was one piece of the animal left. He ripped it asunder from the bone, once again rose to his feet and approached me. I, still in the seated position, was too tired and content with the food in my belly to put up a fight. He crouched beside me, extended his hand with the meat, said a few words and waited. I cautiously took the meat and quickly devoured it. He took hold of my dogtag, I recoiled, but allowed him to read it. “Jax.” He said. One thing I knew from my family’s language was my name. Mom had said it over and over to me, hoping that I would understand other words. I could not. The man saw the understanding in my eyes. “Yes, that’s me! I am Jax.” I replied. He shushed me again. Releasing the metal tag hanging around my neck, he produced a small piece of leather. He unfolded the leather and revealed a thin rectangle of unknown material. He presented it to me. I studied the shard and noticed his picture was on it. My eyesight hasn’t been the best since the incident, but I could tell that it was the same man, shorter hair, clean, trimmed beard, and a happier, more optimistic look about his face. What a stark contrast to the ragged, unkempt, wreck of a man who knelt before me. “What happened to you man?” He didn’t respond. He pointed to the ancient runes upon the shard and simply said “Jack.”

                No, It’s “Jax.” I corrected. He grabbed my tag again and said “Jax”, pointing his finger to my chest. “Yes! You know my name!” I’m not sure why I was so happy for this fact. He then leveled the shard, pointed the same finger at himself and said “Jack.” I pondered this for a while. He smiled as the realization came to me. “You! That’s what YOU are. You are Jack. I am Jax! This is great!” He ruffled my hair on the top of my head and returned to his place. I didn’t know how to feel about that. It was all I could think about.

                The night wore on. Jack was talking to me, but we both knew that it was in vain. He talked in a low voice. I could tell by the way he spoke, that he had been on this earth for quite some time. Occasionally, he would trail off and stare out at the distance for a moment and snap to. He was holding one of the beast’s internal organs. He poked it with various instruments with great concentration. As he spoke, he would sometimes pause and look at me as if he was waiting for me to respond. I just let the fool speak. Only fools speak to such an extent. I was tired. Exhausted from the tracking of the beast, fighting off haunting memories, the kill of the day and most of all, tired of his droning voice. Although, his voice seemed to keep away the screams, the fire, the blood, the men of the Black Circle. Gods, help me! I can still hear them screaming!!!

                I awoke. Face down in the dirt again. I darted to my feet. Daylight! Fuck! Where did he go? The fire! I turned about, searching. I could not believe my eyes. Jack was waist-deep inside the beast’s mouth. The upper jaw was propped open with a piece of wood. His knees were resting on the bottom jaw. I could not see his face… or his head for that matter. I was disgusted. He was covered in the beast’s gore and lifeblood, turned black and slimy. Occasionally, he’d pull out one of the organs of the beast, or a handful of what I could only guess was tendons and toss them asunder. He had a gray box of instruments also resting on the lower jaw. He would yelp in annoyance occasionally and would grumble as he spoke other words. I would give ANYTHING to understand what he was saying. I looked around and took stock of my situation. His jacket and some of his belongings were in a pile near where he was sitting the night before. I walked past and tried to take a closer look, without raising any suspicions. I found a suitable spot to empty my bladder and dust off my face. The man was still knee-deep in the dead, so I decided to take a look at his stuff. The vessel was nearly empty. The kill was merely a skeleton. The fire was a pile of ash. Under the jacket were a myriad of useless trinkets and leather straps. I attempted to take the vessel when I spoke. Startled, I jumped back. He was standing next to the beast, gore-soaked instrument in his right hand. I could not understand him. He motioned towards the vessel. I understood. For fucks sake, though, I couldn’t open the vessel. He sighed in exasperation and opened the vessel and poured the rest of the contents into the small metal cup. He shoved the cup at me, obviously annoyed that I interrupted his work. I drank it all without hesitation. Only afterwards, I realized that there was none left for him.  I retreated to my spot across from the now extinguished fire and pondered on that for a while. What kind of man is willing to give the last of his water to a complete stranger who threatened to kill him just the night before? He is, by no means, weak. I can tell that clear as day. What is his game? Does he need me for something? Is he merely waiting for the right time to strike? No, that’s foolish. He could’ve killed me anytime last night.

                The man called Jack had sat in the dirt, back leaning upon the beast. He cast the instrument away in frustration. He raised his face to the sky and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and righted his head again. He produced a piece of cloth from his back pocket and gazed upon it for a time. I recognized that cloth. A gray band which brandished a white oval containing a Black Circle. Instantaneously, I was back in the cabin. The door came crashing in. Three men, dressed in black stormed in with weapons. I remember the fire. My family was screaming. I was severely wounded. I tried to save them but the fire consumed them. The men left, bearing the mark of the Black Circle. The fire consumed my family’s flesh, but not their cries.

                “Why do you have that?! Are you one of them?! ANSWER ME!” He did not respond to me. He gripped the band tightly in his fist. I could tell by the anquish in his face that he was not one of them. I could smell the despair. They had taken something from him, too. Like me, he was looking for redemption. Like me, he seeked… revenge.

                I managed to kill a small rodent later that day. I had swallowed it whole. I felt a little guilty because I had caught the critter far enough away from the beast carcass that the man didn’t notice. Next time, I will share with him. When I returned, he had his coat, hat and boots on. He was packing up his things into a bag. He returned the instruments to the gray box after cleaning them and placed them inside the mouth of the beast. What lunacy! I was about to ask him why he placed them all inside the beast when he started walking down the road. “Where are you going?” He stopped, turned to me and motioned for me to come with. I looked around. There was nothing for me here. The beast was inedible. There was no food or water. I had no use for his silly instruments. I followed.

                We camped later that night. Jack had found a plant with a meager amount of water in it that we shared. He was proved his resourcefulness and I valued having him at my side. I managed to successfully hunt a rabbit. This one was in better shape than the first one, but slightly mutated. It still tasted damned good. The fire was small, but produced a brilliant light show. I sat in amazement of the way fire dances and moves. The man had thrown the carcass of the rabbit away and when he went to go sit back down, he ruffled my hair. I felt Dad ruffle my hair as I sat on the porch. I watched the little brother running through the fields at home. Mom and big sis were hanging up clothes. The little one cooed next to me on the porch. Dad walked down the steps and out to Mom. He hugged her from behind and kissed her. She smiled. Then Jack said something.

                I snapped to. I still didn’t understand what he said. I was instantly transported back to the star-filled , night sky, across from the fire of the dozing man. He was talking in his sleep. Sometimes yelling at phantoms in his head. I felt myself drifting off to sleep, as well. I was back on the porch of the house. Dad and Mom noticed a plume of dust approaching from far away. Dad ran in and grabbed his looking glasses. He surveyed the horizon. He barked at Mom and Sis. I panicked. I didn’t know what was going on. Everybody ran back into the house. I followed. Mom forced Big Sister to go into the basement. Something approached. I ran to the window and saw a beast approach, three men riding upon it. The mark of the Black Circle emblazoned on its side. The family was acting as though nothing was wrong, but I knew something was wrong. The three men dismounted the beast. They stood tall, dressed in clean, wrinkle-free clothes. I could smell the blood of a thousand souls upon them. The middle one was obviously the Alpha of the bunch. His clothes had more shiny things on them and he wasn’t holding a large weapon. The two Betas had black helmets and carried long weapons. I have heard these weapons speak before and their words caused massive  damage.

                The Alpha pounded on the door. Dad got up to open it. One of the Betas kicked down the door, wood splintering. The Little One started to cry in fright. Little Brother grabbed Mom’s skirt in fear. Words were exchanged between Dad and the Alpha. I think they were looking for Big Sister. The Alpha was not satisfied with Dad’s response. He shook his head in disappointment. The Alpha produced a small weapon and it sang its deadly song. I jumped at the speed of it. Dad’s eyes grew wide as he staggered back, clutching his stomach. Mom and Little Brother screamed as I leapt through the air. One of the Betas jabbed me in the midsection with his weapon and knocked the wind out of me. I gasped, trying to get back on my feet. He kept kicking me in the side. I felt my ribs snap. I came to and saw the Alpha crouching over Dad, speaking softly into his ear. He waited for a response and was found wanting. The Alpha grabbed Mom and produced a blade, placing it against her neck. I tried to get up. Little brother screamed and tried to pull Mom back. Beta #2 hit him with the blunt side of the weapon, right in the nose. He went down in a heap, holding his face.

                The Alpha, swept all of the dishes and things off the table with one swift movement, sending them crashing to the floor. He bent Mom over the table and started to pull up her skirt. He yelled again, obviously demanding something. Dad, attempting to hold in his lifeblood, motioned to the trapdoor to the basement. Alpha ordered the Betas into the basement. I heard Big Sister scream and fight. Then I heard the crack of the weapon hitting skull. Then the Betas rose from the trap door, Big Sis unconscious over #1s shoulder. The Alpha said a few more words and Beta 1 brought Big Sister out to the waiting beast. The Alpha, then gave orders to Beta 2. He left towards the beast. After that, he proceeded to violate Mom. The screams were unbearable. I crawled over to try to stop him. He stopped only to kick me across the floor again. I woke up again. The Alpha was gone. Mom was weeping on the floor. The Betas were pouring juice all over the cabin. It smelled of the ancients, tart, pungent. Little Brother was curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth, whimpering. He yelped as Beta 2 poured juice on him. The little one cried harder when he had the juice poured on him. Dad growled something at Beta 1 as he was anointed with the foul-smelling liquid. They didn’t even bother with me. Maybe they thought I was dead. I felt as though I was. The Alpha returned. He said some words to Dad. Then he produced a smack stick. I have seen Dad use them to start up the hearth. “NO!” He swiped the stick on the wall, as I tried to get to my feet. The gray flame blazed wildly, turning white. I watched as it hit the floor. My vision was flooded with white! The screams were deafening! I crawled into the flames. It burned intensely. I felt as though my very soul was being consumed by the pain. I powered through the flames. I will rescue them. There is still hope… I have failed.

                I woke up in the yard. I could feel only pain. I could not see out of my right eye. I could barely move. I looked over and witnessed the smoldering remains of the home topple over and settle. I wept. When I removed my head from my hands, I was back underneath the Wasteland stars. The fire that Jack had built was smoldering and dying. He was asleep. I still shed a tear. He stirred and talked in his sleep. I could tell he had his demons, too. We were very much alike. He woke with a start, and screamed briefly. I jumped back. He looked around, unaware of his surroundings. Only after a moment, did the realization pour into his eyes and he laid back down, put his hat over his eyes and was motionless, again.

                The next morning was the commencement of the last leg of our journey, or at least I HOPED it was. Food and water was scarce and I was physically exhausted. Eventually, a small town came into view. At first, it was a mere blip on the horizon, like a fly on a shelf across the room. Eventually, we found ourselves standing at a rickety sign that I could not read. It was sunset. The town was merely a collection of wooden structures with a few ancient buildings that were hollow and bare, casting shadows across the ground. We walked down the street, which had transformed from a dirt road into broken pieces of pavement and gravel. Such strange objects protruded from the sidewalks, rusted and misshapen. At the end of the road stood a large, two story building. I have been in only one other building that had an upstairs when Dad and I went to town. It was a place where men would come to drink foul spirits and mate with the local females. Dad would go there and partake of the spirits, but being a man of good-standing, not the females. He would play the black and white boardgame with his friend for what seemed like an eternity whilst I sat in a chair, surveying the behaviors of the men and women.

                Jack stopped in the road. I picked up the familiar smell of foul spirits, burning smoking leaves, the strange smelling perfumes of the women and sweat. I could faintly hear jovial music, laughter, yells of far-fetched tales and moans of passion. “I get it, man. Go on, go get yourself a female. You earned it.” I looked up at him and the cheer drained from my face. Maybe countless years ago, that was on his mind, but not today. He produced a piece of yellowed parchment. I could not see what was on it as the sun was retreating once again, as though it had predicted terrible things to happen this night. He gazed at the sign that hung above the threshold. There seemed to be large, crudely drawn drops of gray water. I was thirsty. “Well, let’s at least get a drink, huh?” I motioned to him. “Come on.” Even though I was trying to coax him to come, he had already made his mind up long before I had spoke. He lead the way and I followed.

                The small batwing doors swung open and we were assaulted by the din of the crowd. A drastic contrast to the eerily quiet desert that I was accustomed to. In the center of the place, stood a tall, long plateau of dark wood. A pretty, young female stood behind the plateau, eyeing us with curiosity. Light, fluffy hair fell down from her head to just above her ample bosoms. She worn a white, collared shirt with an apron over it. I was taken aback by the amount of vessels that stood upon the shelves behind her. Scores of them, each with various levels, colors and labels on them. On the right side of the woman, sitting at the plateau, back to us was a man wearing mostly black leathers and a hat. Faded pieces of metal were draped upon his shoulders, crossing at the back and traveling under his arms. I recognized these things. They were what you inserted into the weapons in order to fall a man and take his life. He raised a massive vessel and downed the entire thing in seemingly one gulp. He signaled for another. The woman acknowledged, not taking her eyes off of us, reached behind and grabbed a bottle of gray liquid. I crashed into the clear vessel, churning a tempest of light colored foam. Then, I noticed the mirror behind the bottles. I could see the man’s face, eyes still covered by dark goggles. He removed his smoking leaves from his mouth and downed half of the vessel, before bringing the leaves back to his lips. The white paper burned as he inhaled. He enjoyed the smoke for a moment and released it through his nostrils, sending it billowing into the air in a  gray cloud.

                To the left, a skinny, tall, gaunt-looking man sat at a large wooden box with white rectangle stones on it. He pounded his fingers upon those stones with fury, sending out a jaunty, melodious tune from the bowels of the box. It has been ages since I heard such music. It was different than when Big Sister would strum the string box after supper on the porch. She sung with such a soft melancholy, so full of enduring despair. The box-player’s music was a joyride in comparison. The tune bounded happily and joyfully, like a child chasing a butterfly. He turned away from the ancient instrument and smiled at us and gave us a wink. The roaring hearth to his left made his face glow like the devil. He picked up the tune a little as though he was introducing us two ragged, dust-covered strangers to the place. Two more, older gentleman played cards at the table to the left of the plateau. Large, smoking sticks sticking out from their gray beards. One laid a card down on the table in a “A-HA!” moment. The other cursed and threw his cards on the table. The first, greedily reached out and dragged the shiny silver pieces to him, laughing boastfully. My eyes traveled up the stairs to the second floor balcony. A couple of females were leaning on the rail, also gazing at us, rather Jack. They were sizing him up, and without saying a word, trying to establish domination over the other to claim him if he were to partake in carnal pleasures. Jack gazed to the right and spotted an empty table in the corner, tucked out of sight where even the light seemed uneasy to travel there. He motioned to me to claim that table. In my world, you have to claim things. If you wait, somebody else will establish ownership and you are left wanting. I hopped on a chair and put my arms on the dusty table. Only an extinguished candle sat upon the table. I watched as he approached the female behind the plateau. She batted her eyes, obviously taken in by Jack’s looks, or maybe his strong and confident odor. Gods know why, but he he was resistant to her charms. I could tell by his expressions that he wished to be with her, but he had some other pressing matters to attend to. He produced the parchment. She seemed to recognize what was on it. He was satisfied in her answer. Then, he replaced the parchment and produced an internal organ from the slain Beast. “Ugh! No, man! Don’t do that!” I protested, he only briefly glanced at my protest and continued talking to her. Come on, friend. That’s no way to win over a lady. I thought. I realized that he wasn’t trying to win her over, merely asking directions to something related to the fould organ. It looked like a cylindrical rock with small fins protruding from it. What a strange thing to do. She was still enamored by Jack, but he ordered a couple of drinks and she complied. For the price of two silver pieces, Jack had retrieved a vessel of water for me and a vessel of some kind of foul spirit for him. He sat, facing the door, placing his bag of stuff upon the wooden floor. He raised his vessel and looked at me and paused. I didn’t know what he was expecting from me. He shoved forth the vessel of spirits and clanked it against mine. He said some words and drank heartily. I cracked a feebly smile and did the same. Such a strange thing to do. Gods, it felt good to drink. I wonder if the spirits are as refreshing as water. They don’t smell like it. The smell like the juice that the beasts drink, the juice of the ancients. I bet they taste like fire. I wonder why so many men like it. 

                Time passed. Jack did nothing except stare at the door and occasionally glance at the other patrons. I was taken back to the times of sitting in a place, much like this, watching Dad and his friend battle the shiny black and white pieces. Gods, I was bored. Jack had gotten up once before to refresh our drinks and to bring us some food. I had a small piece of meat, tasted like cow, but I’m sure was not. It was actually seasoned and was slightly pink in the center, just like Mom made. It was scrumptious. I thought I was in heaven. I washed it down occasionally with my water. The water wasn’t the best quality, like the well from our house, but it was still good.

 During the meal, a stranger had walked through the doors. Jack’s hand was immediately on the handle of his weapon. It came to me, then. There were only a few reasons why a man would forgo carnal pleasures. Settling an old score was one of them. Luckily for this stranger, the settlement was not with him. The stranger was a tall, rather large man. Not fat, but not rippling with muscles, either. By the clothes he was wearing and the numerous scars on his hands, one could deduce that he was a laborer. He carried a small firestick as his side weapon, but nothing more. I figured that he was a local. He seemed to know the female at the plateau. Jack was not jealous. He was focused on that door. The laborer sat to the left of the female behind the plateau and ordered a drink from the spiritor. She dispensed a tiny amount of the spirits into an obscenely small vessel. He downed it in a flash and downed the refill as quick as they came. After the fourth time, he released the vessel, hiccupped and  stared into the distance. How bizarre.

The night dragged on. I had to get up and walk around because my ass was getting the small needles and teeth. Jack just sat there staring. I said nothing, for I was fed and hydrated and in good spirits. The box-player had stifled the music to a soothing, slower melody. Almost a lullaby. I pondered as to when and who had created such a melody. I doubt it was the box-player. Minstrels and troubadours  rarely ever come up with their own material. It was sweet. I have not felt such peace in a long time, although the foreboding mood was still in the air. Jack was still staring, hand at the ready. Somebody was going to walk through that door and the killing hour would commence.

I smelled the Beast long before I saw the glow of its eyes. It roared up to the front doors with such a racket, kicking up a broiling cloud of dust. I heard the sounds of boots hitting the dusty, broken pavement. Jack’s body tensed as he righted himself in his chair. The bootfalls grew louder and changed as the boots left the pavement and landed upon the aged, decrepit wood. The doors swung open and in walked three men.

I couldn’t speak, move or think. I only saw those armbands, the ones with the Black Circles. They entered the building and surveyed the place, much like we did. The center one, with his shiny baubles and trinkets upon his shoulders, the firestick weapons that his henchmen carried, the smell of the blood of my kin, I rose to my feet. There was no more Jack, no more buildings, no more rabbits, no more spirits… just me… and them. “We meet again, Alpha Male!” I beckoned from the shadows. The trio turned. I approached, ringing my hands, boiling with rage! I only saw the fire and the screams turned my brain into slush. The Alpha said some words to me. “We have a score to settle, you and I. Do you not remember me?” I came into view. They did not fear me. The Alpha calmly gave an order and the Betas raised their weapons. I charged. I heard a cacophony of weaponfire, such a deafening song. I felt a projectile slam into me. I jerked to the side, still focusing the tunnel of my vision upon the Alpha’s throat. Still in mid-leap, I saw Beta #1’s head evaporate in a splash of gore, coating the side of the Alpha’s face in a light gray. MY hands and teeth ached for vengeance! Beta #2 had managed to allow his weapon to sing one more time, but the music had not found me. He clutched his neck as a red circle appeared on one side and chunks of his throat escaped through the other. The Alpha was in mid-draw when I received him into my grasp, my hands at his ears. I saw the panic and surprise in his eyes as my teeth reached his neck. The force of  the collision sent him backwards. He emitted a pitiful yelp that was reduced to a guttural groan and finally trailed away to a series of gurgles as I clamped down with my jaw. My teeth sank into his skin. I laughed as they punctured his roots, sending streams of a soft gray into the air. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as we fell to the floor. I crushed his windpipe as we fell to the floor. I basked in the warm embrace of his lifeblood, ushering forth like a dust storm, delighted in the rapidly decreasing beats of his heart. I marveled at the life leaving his eyes. I stood victorious, elated to see the recognition in his gaze. “Yes, Alpha. Remember my burnt face. Remember my eyes. Remember not only my cries, but the cries of my kin. Remember all of this as I drain you of your black life.” The Alpha was dead. His lifeblood erupted from his neck no more.  My list… was empty.

I rolled off the dead man and stared up at the ceiling. I looked over at my companion. His firesticks were still smoking. He had suffered an injury to his left shoulder and his arm was limp at his side. I gazed back towards the ceiling. My body hurt everywhere. The pretty Spiritor had appeared in my field of vision. She was tending to my wounds. I smelled nothing but blood. It was everywhere. I felt nothing but pain. It, too, was everywhere. I closed my eyes. I can now die, satiated in my revenge. My only regret is that I could not travel longer with my companion, Jack. “Farewell, friend. We made a great team.”

I awoke, face down in the dust,  on the floor of a strange place. It was a gloomy and dusty place that was probably as old as my companion. It had that same smell of the juice of the ancients and the stench of beasts. I looked around. My side throbbed. I looked down and found it covered in white linens, stained with gray. I rubbed my face and only dust left it. Apparently, somebody had cleaned the blood off of me and tended to my wounds. I’m not dead, so at least I have THAT going for me. Jack was there, talking with the Laborer. They were discussing the organ of the dead beast. Yuck! What is his fascination with that stuff? I looked around and was startled. I was on my feet, despite the intense pain of moving so fast. I was surrounded by dead beasts. All of them had their jaws opened, except for a couple that had them completely removed and one that had no head. What is this sick place?

Jack and the Laborer talked for a bit. The Laborer inspected the organ, turning the cylinder over and brushing off the gore and filth. He raised a seeing glass to it and seemed to have an epiphany. He left into a backroom and returned with a rectangle with a picture of a beast upon it. He opened the carton and produced a cylindrical object, shiny and new. He brought it and the old organ side-by-side and they matched. Jack gave the Laborer a sack of, what I could only assume is silver pieces and shook his hand. Jack knelt down beside me and ruffled my hair on my head again. He spoke in a nice and happy tone. He helped me up and I limped out into the day. He brought me over to the Alpha’s beast. The creature had stayed in the same spot the whole night. I stopped. That beast bares the mark of the Black Circle. Surely, he doesn’t want us to ride that? Jack, seemingly read my mind and produced a long, shiny cylinder from his bag. It had a black cap on it. The can smelled of a strange chemical that I had never experienced before. The cap made an audible POP as he removed it. He shook the can numerous times until something shook loose inside. He then squeezed the can until it hissed. I watched in amazement as the evil logo was covered in black. He made a jesture like he was presenting me his work and pulled the arm back on from the beast’s side. The inside of the beast was actually a light gray. I had never even known that there WAS an inside to these beasts. I stood at the threshold. I was genuinely scared. Jack, seeing that I could not proceed on my own, picked me up and placed me on the flat portion of the interior. I assumed it was a seat since it was made of cloth and was rather comfortable. Gods, the smell of this thing was peculiar. The smell of the Alpha and his Betas was almost non-existent compared to the smell of the juice and the rubber from the beast’s feet. The cloth had a smell similar to blankets. I couldn’t compute all of the sensations. Jack grabbed a hold of a shiny piece of metal affixed to the inside of the beasts arm, actually it wasn’t an arm, but more of a door with a window to look out of. Such strange sorcery! I couldn’t see INTO the beast, but can see out of it. He turned the shiny piece of metal and I watched in amazement as the glass disappeared into the beast’s door-arm-thing. He smiled and slammed the door shut with a bang. I was frightened as he walked around the front of the beast, past it’s sneering teeth and swung the other door open. He threw his bag with the cylindrical organ into the back of the beast. I turned, wincing in pain and noticed that there was another huge seat and two more doors. I figured that this beast could hold about 6 men. Jack pulled the door shut and repeated the process with the window. It was hot inside the beast, but with the windows down, a cool breeze wafted through  the interior. It was refreshing. Jack said some words to me, one hand on a giant wheel, the other on a small, shiny protrustion attached to the stalk that the wheel sat on. He twisted his wrist and the beast roared to life. Jack laughed, but his laughter was drowned out by the roar of the heart of the beast. He grabbed a branch that protruded near to where he had awoken the beast and wrenched it in a downward motion. The beast retreated backwards into the street. He repeated the motion with the branch and the beast lunged forward with great force. I had never, in my life, experienced such thrust, such excitement.

The beast picked up speed. It always seemed to me, that riding such a beast would be a rough ride. It was not. The beast was low and wide, sure-footed as a rangegoat. It eagerly clamoured for more speed. I looked over at Jack and he was not worried that the beast was going faster and faster. I’m not sure if that he was merely comfortable with traveling at such speeds and allowing the beast to do what it wants, or if hes actually controlling the speed and direction of the beast. I figured that he must be controlling it through the wheel he is holding, somehow. I will never understand such sorcery. It was brilliant, though. I stuck my hand out of the window and was amazed at the force of the wind. A devilish grin emerged from my face. I stuck my entire head out of the window. What fun! I closed my eyes and marveled at the force of the wind, massaging my face, cleansing my soul! This was the highpoint of my life. I had never been so happy. 

It did not even take half a day to return to the original dead beast. It perplexed me as to how a three days walk can turn into a quarter of a days journey back. These beasts were magnificent creatures. I felt kind of bad for Jack’s deceased beast. I wonder if we came back just for his instruments. The beast roared to a halt. The heat from the journey wafted from its mouth.  The burnt smell of the juices it used filled the air until a breeze scattered it into the wind. Jack moved the branch up and moved the protrusion and the beast became silent. Jack looked at me and said something and then laughed heartily. I laughed with him, each laugh was like a blade in my side. I winced. He opened his door and exited the beast, slamming his door with a loud thud. That was one thing I despised about the beast, the noise of the doors closing. Such a racket. He opened the rear door to retrieve his bag with the new organ. He came around and opened my door. “No, I’m going to rest here where it’s shady.” He left my door open, like a dead body with its arm stretched out.

                I napped comfortably on the bench. I slept relatively peacefully despite Jack’s cursing and clanging of instruments. Every now and then, I would wake up and find a vessel of water and some kind of crunchy things on a plate. They tasted great so I assumed they were food. They left a strange dust on my hands and mouth, but they were fun. I only exited the beast to relieve myself. It was dusk. The dead beast was still dead, but it had all of its organs back in it. The fire roared. Jack had fallen asleep, back against the dead beast, just as before. I laid next to him. I rested my head upon his knee. I remember sitting on the porch with Dad, gazing up at the stars, head on his knee. I would wind up tucked away in my bed in the morning. Such good times. Jack had a different smell than Dad, but they were similar in their demeanor, kind, caring, brave and steadfast. I was glad to have him as a friend.

I awoke to the sound of Jack cheering. I was sitting on the front bench of the new beast, head on Jack’s coat. I stumbled out of the beast and found jack, covered again in the dead beast’s gore, dancing in the brush. “What the hell’s wrong with you.” He was speaking very fast. He opened the mouth of the new beast. I was amazed at the compliance of the beast. Jack grabbed some long vines from the dead beast. He clamped them onto the tongue of the beast (I’m not sure if it was actually its tongue, but something inside its mouth.) and then the other ends to the dead beast’s mouth. He jumped inside the dead beast and it roared to life! Gods, it’s a living dead beast! I didn’t understand it. I never knew such a thing could happen. Jack forced the old beast to roar a couple of times. Just then, he got back out of the old beast and raised his looking glasses towards the direction of the town. Turned to look and spotted a plume of dust being kicked up from another beast. Yet, another?! Jack waved at the approaching beast and it changed its heading straight towards us. As the beast came into a clearer view, I smelled and spotted the Laborer, piloting a much larger beast than our two.

He heeled the beast and waved hello. Jack motioned towards the Black Circle beast. They shook hands and the big beast roared again. Then… well, I’m not sure how to describe it. The big beast got in front of the Black Circle beast. I thought it was some sort of mating ritual or something. That’s the last thing we need, is more of these beasts. Then the Laborer dismounted the big beast, retrieved large hooks attached to big clunky rope-type things and got underneath the small beast. After some time, he came into view again and pulled some branches growing out of the back of the big beast and miraculously, the big beast grabbed and raised the front of the little beast. The Laborer saluted Jack and I again and mounted the lead beast and roared away, back towards the town with the Black Circle beast in tow. Never in all my years have I seen such a thing. What a big world there is out there. Jack was sitting on the wheel side of his beast, rumbling steadily. He swung the other door open and beckoned to me, hand outstretched. I hesitated. Was I ready to go on untold adventures and great quests? I remembered my Dad, sitting atop our family horse, beckoning me to come with him on some journey, hand outstretched. “Jax.” Jack said. I climbed inside. The beast roared away towards an unknown future and an everlasting friendship.

                Many winters have passed. I am now old. Jack is still the same. He has not aged, physically. I have been with him through countless adventures. I accompanied him to many lands, met many friends, waited as he slept with many women. We killed many men in the name of good. We saved many souls. We fought countless battles. Overcame insurmountable odds and became heroes in or own rights. I feel now, as though I am only holding him back. I can barely walk and need help getting into the beast. I can’t fight anymore. That really hurts me inside, knowing that he must fight his battles alone. I understand that he has done that long before me and will continue long after I am gone, but I feel as though I have failed him. Yet, he still treats me with such kindness. Still we trek on. My list has been empty for many years. My demons are gone. I remember my family with only good memories. I would not be in this mental state had Jack not entered my life. I tried to, over the years, deliver the kindness to others that he has delivered to me.

                It is chilly today. I wake up, face down in the dirt. I cannot move. I am dying. Jack picks me up and dusts off my face. I soiled myself. Gods, I’m so ashamed. He only smiles and wraps me in a blanket. I see the tears in his eyes, but he does not allow himself to cry. “It’s ok, friend. You are allowed to grieve.” He places me in the tired beast. It grows tired and old, like me. I know it can be revived. I know I cannot. We drive for what seem like ages. He occasionally ruffles my air like he used to. Daddy was coming through the door. He had worked hard out in the field. He ruffled my hair as I sat on the floor.He beckoned me to come with him. We walked down the dirt road, I ran around him, playing and laughing. We came to a deep valley full of trees, a clearing and a pond. Dad sat down in the grass, by the pond. I sat down next to him, my head on his knee. We just stared at the water, so peaceful, so tranquil. I close my eyes. I drift away…

 

My name is Jack. I knew he was gone. I no longer felt his breathing as he rested his head on my knee. I had traveled with him for about 12 years now. I remember when I first saw him, the burns, the scars. He was one of those Queen of England dogs, the name escapes me. Corgis! He was a good boy. I wonder if he ever realized that. He was truly a god among dogs. He saved my life on more than one occasion. If it wasn’t for him, I never would’ve had a chance with the barmaid, ohhh… I forgot her name. Doesn’t matter. I just wish I could’ve told him how much of a hero he was. I let him lay there, on my knee, nestled in the lush green grass by the crystal clear pond. I had found this place a year or two before finding Jax. This is my sanctuary, a little slice of heaven entrenched in a hell of a world. I don’t remember how many years have passed since the war. Only now are radioactive zones shrinking. Maybe in another couple of hundred years, it will be safe to travel across the land.

My time with Jax was some of the best years of my life, but my “To Do” list is not yet complete. Jax silenced the demons in his head. My demon is still out there.  I must find Him. I must find the man who took everything from me. He is out there, waiting for me, taunting me.

I patted the dirt down over him. I used the shovel as a marker. I draped his collar over the handle. The setting sun gleamed off the partially rusted metal. I licked my finger and cleaned some crap off of it. There was always something stuck to it. “Goodbye, old friend. You were truly a great warrior.” I paid him a moment of silence, hopped into the old Cougar. She fired up with a tired roar. “Yeah, yeah. You and me both, pal.” I said as I tapped the wheel. I dropped the old car into drive and sped off west. I had a lead that he was setting up a fortress out west. The green valley disappeared from my rear view mirror as I merged onto the paved roads, leaving only a cloud of blue smoke in my wake.