World Revolver

by Gina Ranalli

  There’s a lot to be said for trial and error though. And Swiss army knives. I bought mine just to have a good bottle opener on me at all times but the thing has been invaluable to me since the shit hit the fan. I’ve used it for everything from cutting small branches to cleaning fish to opening clam and oyster shells. If I’m out here long enough, I’ll probably find other uses for it too. It also is somewhat comforting to know I have a weapon, no matter how small. I figure if I have to, I could always plunge the blade into a throat or maybe an eye. That would entail me having to be too damn close to an enemy so I hope nothing arises that would put me in a situation like that, but just in case.

  I guess maybe I haven’t been using the time wisely after all. Just figuring out how to not die of exposure has been a challenge and occupied all of my time. A good lesson maybe if I am to become a mountain man but I doubt that’s in the cards for me.

  Taking out the knife, I clean the fish I caught today on a flat rock, doing the best I can, shivering a little in the cold rain. I don’t even know what kind of fish it is. That’s what I get for being a city kid my whole life. We see the fish after they’re cooked, if we see them at all. It’s never been my favorite dish though. I’ve always been more of a beef and chicken kind of guy. But, I’m making due, I suppose.

  Above me, lightning flashes and I pause, waiting for the thunder, counting off seconds in my head. I get to number eight but I’m not sure what it means. Is the storm eight miles out? Why did I never bother to learn shit like this in school?

  Soon it will be too dark to see an inch in front of my face, so I hurry with my trusty silver blade, pulling out red, steaming guts from the fish’s slit belly and tossing them away into a stand of brush and then wiping my gore-streaked hands on my already disgusting pants.

  The rain begins to fall harder and I realize I was stupid to think I’d be able to build a fire today. So, do I eat the fish raw? I know people do it in some parts of the world, even in this part, but I don’t know if I have the stomach for it. Maybe I’m not hungry enough yet. But I don’t want it to go to waste either. It took me a long time to catch it and there have been a couple days when I haven’t caught anything. What if tomorrow is another day like that?

  I steel myself, rip a chunk of fish meat out and shove it into my mouth quickly, trying to get it down my throat while making as little contact with my tongue as possible.

  Gagging, I hack it up and fight not to vomit on top of it.

  Fuck.

  Now I’m getting pissed. Both at myself and this whole fucking mess I’m in. It’s not fair. I’m not a bad guy. I just made a really stupid mistake and now my whole life is fucked because of it.

  I grab what’s left of the fish and whip it into the same area I’ve been tossing the guts. I’m soaked down to my skin and I need to get under the pitiful thing I’ve been calling a shelter.

  Huddling on the ground with my knees drawn up and my arms wrapped around them, I keep cursing under my breath and then realize I don’t even need to be. I could scream at the top of my lungs and no one would hear me. There aren’t even any animals here that I’ve seen with the exception of birds. And fish of course. Always with the fucking fish.

  And, just like that, a flash of lightning coincides with a flash of genius.

  I could just kill myself.

  I mean, why not? The life that lies ahead of me will be nothing but misery anyway. Endless torture. Probably in the way of rape, if the stories are true.

  Pulling my little Swiss army knife out of my pocket once more, I open it and study the blade. It’s about three inches. Is that enough? I want to slice, not saw.

  Thunder booms and I jump and shiver harder. Coming out here was the stupidest idea ever—the capper to a lifetime of immensely stupid ideas.

  The rain is pounding now and even beneath the lean-to, I’m getting drenched. Water drips off the tip of my nose and down my cheeks, mingling with the tears I hadn’t known were streaming until this precise moment.

  Am I really contemplating suicide? Isn’t that the ultimate cowardice? Or maybe it’s the ultimate bravery.

  The sea roils on the beach, slamming into the shore like Thor’s hammer. I can see a portion of the beach from my camp and the water is steadily drawing closer to the tree-line. If it continues towards me, I’ll have to search for higher ground. Or should I do that right now? Be proactive for the first time in my pathetic little life?

  I regard the blade in my hand again. I’ll still have it tomorrow.

  A gust of wind pummels me with water and the lean-to goes flying. Branches sail into the air and whirl away, high into the darkened sky and out of sight.

  The rain makes it hard to breathe—I’m practically choking on it as it explodes in my face, driven by the gale.

  Struggling to my feet, I look northward, towards a small hill, the only higher ground I’ve explored so far. I was lazy. Thought I’d have plenty of time to check everything out later.

  And now that I think about it, that would be a great metaphor for my entire life.

  Fuck, I’ve been such an idiot.

  I start off towards the hill, the wind whipping pieces of tree and brush at my body. The rain feels like spinning razors against my face and hands. I keep hold of the knife as I travel, the sea roaring at my back, a hungry lion gaining on its prey.

  This night will be a long one and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive it but I know for sure that I’m too weak to end my life on my own. Not yet. But maybe someday.

  Maybe soon.

  CHAPTER NINE—The Junkie (5)

  The third degree again.

  I went back to the bar and didn’t tell them about Luna. By then I was pretty jittery and just wanted to escape, as stupid as that sounds, even to myself.

  The shit Luna told me is insane and I didn’t much want to think about it. Still don’t. So I went and took my ‘medicine’ and let myself fly away.

  I come back from my mini vacation sweating like a pig and completely terrified. The worst I’ve been so far.

  Halleck leans forward, sitting in the chair across from me, his eyes glinting with excitement.

  -Tell me what you saw.

  I do, as much as I can, but it comes out too quickly for his liking. I just want to get it out and forget about it but Halleck wants to know every detail.

  -Why were you hiding on the island?

  -I don’t know.

  -What was your crime?

  -I don’t know.

  -How can that be? You were there. In his head. Which is your head.

  -No it isn’t. That definitely was not my fucking head.

  -Of course it was. A version of you anyway. You should have been able to know everything about him as sure as you know everything about yourself. You must have known what he did—what you did—to be hiding like that.

  -I have no fucking idea. Can I have a beer now?

  -Did he sense your presence?

  -I…I don’t think so.

  -Curious. All the others did, correct?

  -I’m not sure. I guess. Maybe.

  -Then he must have.

  -Okay, fine. He must have. Are we done now?

  Halleck is clearly losing his patience with me. Color starts to rise up from his neck, tinting his cheeks pink.

  -Do you think we’re fucking around here? That we’re doing this for the sole purpose of getting you—a lowlife junkie—high for free? You think we’re doing this because we pity you? Or even like you? We had a deal, Eon, and I intend to hold you to it even if I have to strap you down and keep you from ever seeing daylight again. Am I making myself clear? You are expendable.

  I don’t know what to say for a while. Normally if someone threatened me like that, I’d probably explode. Threats have always been the thing that piss me off the worst. I’d rather have someone lie to me than threaten me. But I bite my tongue now, not because I’m a perfectly calm Buddhist monk, but because I want to keep taking the shit. I want to get back to being the rock s
tar. I know I can. It’s just like a game of Russian roulette. You only have to pull the trigger so many times before you hit pay dirt.

  As soon as the thought is complete, I realize what an awful analogy it is. Maybe I should compare it instead to playing the lottery, back when there was a lottery to play. But the odds were so stacked against everyone, it’s not a particularly cheery analogy either.

  -When do I get back to being the rock star?

  Halleck gives me a look that says he thinks I’m the absolute biggest idiot he has ever had the misfortune of encountering. But then, bafflingly, he smiles.

  -It could be the next time. You never know.

  I’m skeptical and I guess my face shows it.

  -But probably not, right?

  He holds up his hands in a who knows gesture.

  -The universe is a vast and immense thing. It could very well be infinite, as the scientists of old have always speculated. Or it could be finite. You could just have to cycle through half a dozen alternate realities before you start back at the beginning again. Or, you might not ever see that particular lifetime again, even if you take the drug every day for a hundred years.

  I must look distressed at this answer, because he goes on, smiling wider.

  -I myself believe the chances are good that you’ll return—sooner than later—to the life you seem to be so smitten with, though I have no idea why you are so captivated by it. Did that person seem exceptionally happy to you?

  I take a second to think about the question. It’s a good one.

  -Well, he seemed exceptionally rich. And admired.

  Halleck sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers.

  -And that’s all you care about? Wealth? Admiration?

  -Well…I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.

  He nodded.

  -True. True. But have you thought about what it might mean if together you and I somehow figure out how to make this drug more precise? If we can understand how to get you exactly where you want to be? Every time? Have you considered that at all, Eon?

  I hadn’t. Was that the goal here? Had it always been the goal? Because it would have been nice if I’d been told that.

  -You.

  Halleck points at me with one of his long, spider-leg fingers.

  -You are the key, Eon. Which is what I’m trying to tell you. Why I need you to recall every moment of your journeys. Every detail and emotion. Every facet of your thoughts, feelings, memories. With every tidbit you share, the closer we get to cracking the mystery. Don’t you see?

  He sounds like he’s talking gibberish but I nod just the same. In truth, I’m thinking about Luna. She told me how dangerous this drug was. Not for my body necessarily but for other people. For the minds I inhabit, is how she put it. I don’t really understand most of what she said, any more than I understand what Halleck is saying. I’ve never been a science guy. Hell, I’m barely an English guy. And not only that, but I’m just not sure how I can possibly be affecting anyone when I’m on one of my trips. It’s just a fucking trip. When you take acid and hallucinate the moon blowing up, once you come down, you see the moon is still perfectly intact. No harm, no foul.

  I get this isn’t exactly the same, but I think it’s close enough. Yeah, the guy with the telescope and the family seemed freaked out but was it even real? Does he remember it? Is he real? I’m starting to think maybe this whole thing, including both Halleck and Luna, is a load of horseshit. Yeah, they obviously believe this supernatural shit is going down, but is it really?

  -Eon! Are you even in town?

  -What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Spaced out for a minute.

  The basement door opens and a second later Hoop is pounding down the stairs in his heavy steel-toed boots. When he reaches the bottom, he gives Halleck a meaningful look I can’t decipher. Halleck looks back at me.

  -Excuse us, Eon. I’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, please think back on what you learned during your most recent journey. Anything you can glean could be helpful.

  -Right.

  The two of them plod up the stairs and I hear the door close.

  This is really beginning to suck. They clearly don’t trust me, but I suppose that’s okay because I sure as shit don’t trust them.

  I get up from my seat and start pacing around the cement floor of the basement. A few areas are covered with cheap knock-off oriental rugs, which seems somewhat strange to me but whatever. I have to be careful not to trip on the lips of the rugs though.

  A tapping makes me look up and to the right. Luna is peering into one of the basement windows, blonde hair falling over one eye.

  What the fuck is she doing here?

  I walk over to the window and look up at it, holding out my hands to say, what the fuck are you doing here?

  She points to her wrist, on which there is no watch, then holds up her hand, all five fingers splayed.

  Five minutes.

  She wants me to meet her in five minutes?

  I crinkle my brow and shake my head, jerking a thumb over my shoulder at the stairs, hoping she’ll get what I’m trying to convey.

  In reply, she shakes her head back at me, flashing her outward facing palm again.

  I don’t know what to do. I’d like to go talk to her-I mean, you never know when you might get lucky, right? And she’s pretty hot, always in her leather, whether she’s crazy as a shithouse rat or not. But I doubt Halleck is finished with me. Of course, he did just get pulled away too. Maybe for something more important than interrogating me until I bleed from my eyeballs from boredom?

  Hanging out with Luna has to be better than that, doesn’t it?

  Halleck can wait, I decide. Anything I can tell him now, I can tell him just as good later.

  I give Luna the thumbs up sign, hoping she’ll smile, but she doesn’t. Just nods grimly and disappears from sight.

  The cellar door opens again and here come the gruesome twosome, hurrying down the stairs. Halleck starts talking before he even reaches the bottom.

  -We’re going to dose you again, Eon.

  -What? Now? But—

  -Yes, now.

  -I was hoping for a little r and r, you know? Just a little time off. Maybe get something to eat.

  -You can eat after. Sit down.

  Hoop is already prepping the syringe in his hands as Halleck marches over to me.

  -Sit down.

  My stomach does a little cartwheel thing. I’m suddenly very nervous.

  -What’s going on?

  Halleck roars at me.

  -Sit down or so help me god, I will leave you in a gutter like a fucking rat!

  Again with the threats.

  -Fuck you.

  I start to push by him and he steps back just far enough to land a punch to my jaw that knocks me off balance and sends me crashing to the floor.

  While I’m still stunned and reeling, Hoop approaches and together they get the job done.

  CHAPTER TEN—The Rider

  The car is falling fast but I keep the gun aimed at her as she sits beside me, gripping the safety bar in both hands. Down one slope we go, my stomach clenched. I’ve never cared for heights and have never been brave enough to ride a rollercoaster before, but I’m sure as hell riding one now.

  She and I are the only ones riding it in fact, racing through the night sky, first up, then down and back up again. Spinning around hairpin curves so fast and hard that I’m positive I will not survive this. I will go flying out of this rickety little car on the rickety old tracks and whirl end over end, landing on the concrete almost two hundred feet below with a wet smack I will thankfully not hear. Probably won’t even feel.

  Below us, red and blue lights flash, coming into focus…going out of focus. I’m brave enough to look down once and see the crowd of officers gathered down there, their faces tiny pink and brown blurred specks, and I never look down again. It makes me too queasy.

  The guy who runs the rollercoaster was more than cooperative. I showed him my gun, told him to get everyone
else off the coaster and let us on. Keep it going no matter what. If not, the pretty lady was going to end up without a head.

  The guy, sporting faded tattoos and a grayed handlebar mustache, didn’t seem all that alarmed at the sight of the gun. Maybe he’s seen a lot of them in his day. He told me in his gravelly voice to keep cool and did as he was told. People filed off the coaster, none the wiser, but complaining their ride had been too short.

  The other people who’d been waiting with us—of course we waited our turn like everyone else—grumbled loudest of all and I was tempted to show them the gun too, but I didn’t. I told Mr. Mustache to not call the cops and everything would be fine and he agreed, but obviously he’s not a man of his word because about five minutes later, a slew of cruisers showed up, sirens screeching, bubbles whirling.

  I can’t think about any of that now though. I have to concentrate on the task at hand, assuming I can manage not to puke or shit my damn pants.

  -Are you sure this is the only way?

  She nods frantically, her hair blowing back, whipping wildly.

  -This is the only thing I could think of.

  She’s shouting to be heard, gasping. I know the feeling. It’s hard to get the words out when you’re getting punched in the face by a hundred mile an hour winds.

  The motion, she’d said, would save her life somehow but we had to get there soon and we can’t stop. The motion—the coaster—has to keep going until she figures out what to do next. Making her my ‘hostage’ was her idea. She thought it would be the only way to get her on and make them not stop the coaster. But now we’re here, I’m kind of wishing she’d just brought the gun herself and threatened suicide.

  Just the thought makes me feel guilty though. How selfish can I be? We’re in this together. And besides, the suicide threat probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. The cops would have just showed up with a shrink to talk to her and stopped the coaster immediately.

  We plummet down another drop and I squeeze my eyes closed. There’s a very good chance I’m not going to survive this night and, unless she figures out a way to keep her own life from ending before we stop, she’ll not live to see tomorrow either.