Soul Mates

by Thomas Melo

  But opening a fighting arena where the contest may result in death? That was impossible, especially in the contemporary atmosphere of political correctness and hypersensitivity; but not for the Chutma. They had a knack for explaining things in just the right way to people who were at just the correct level of reception. If their charm did not overwhelm the target into complete submission, then their enigmatic eyes would accomplish that feat. Such was the case regarding permits to construct The Super Chasm and the rules of the “sport” thereof.

  * * *

  The Super Chasm had a board of directors, all of whom contributed towards the cost of the demolition and construction, and all of whom would share in the monstrously generous profit the venture vowed to bring. There were eight members on the board who all owned 12.5 percent of the Chasm. Tyler and Lilith, who counted as one board member, as they ran it together and were the initial proprietors, were the only members of the board that did not have a corporation to split their 12.5 percent ownership with. The rest of the board, all of which were black-blooded Chutma, were heads of corporations or powerful law firms, and even politicians who had to carefully disperse some of their ownership in exchange for cooperation from theirhigh ranked minions. However, please do not feel sorry for the ones who must divvy up their 12.5 percent, because 12.5 percent of 916 million dollars–to date–(give or take a couple million) is still an extremely substantial amount of money to distribute.

  This was not a slow climb to the top either; this was an instant hit, not only in the United States, but a globalpandemic–and words were chosen very carefully in calling it as such. I’m certain that one could guess that the idea of the Chasm was not met with open arms in every state. Some states held out as long as they could, upholding a statewide ban for years. Politicians did not want to step up and be the first to repeal the ban on such an event, fearing that this would brand a scarlet letter to any political campaign in which they chose to run in the future. Eventually, the revenue that these nay-saying state’s politicians noticed they were missing out on was just too boundless to ignore, and the states that chose not to make The Super Chasm part of their American culture succumbed and fell in line behind the rest.

  Of course, states that elected anonymous members of the Chutma, well, let us just say that they succumbed to that tempting revenue prospect quicker than did other states.

  No, much to our distress, this was not a hard sell at all to the masses; hardly. Sure, you had your sects of religious and activist groups who found televising and compering mortal combat to be ethically detestable. In case you are wondering, I, as well as my other “constituents” agree. But it became sadly evident that most of the world did not agree. After all, this type of entertainment is inherently interesting to humans. It is acutely inoculated on a strand (or maybe strands) of DNA in a safe place that even science can’t touch: that primal awakening we spoke of earlier.

  What do you expect in a world that proudly and prominently broadcasts programs that make guests out of the trashiest examples of human beings? Human beings who have marital indiscretions and go on TV to tell the entire country about them? But don’t tune out, because they’re bringing out the home-wrecker for a confrontation live on the air! Or how about the talk shows that have guests on who have three different children from three different fathers and are now pregnant with a fourth? Where the sole purpose of the show is to have the male guest take a paternity test–which is necessary due to the mother’s promiscuity–to prove that he is or isn’t the father of the unborn child, who, by the way, does not stand a chance at succeeding in life. We shouldn’t be surprised though, should we? This is the same world that cultivated the audience that ate up a compilation video of homeless men and women who were paid to fight each other on camera, and countless websites that show videos of people being beaten or killed...the list goes on quite extensively, I am ashamed to say.

  Humans have that inherent instinct in them that makes it futile for them to ignore a car accident as they drive on by, hoping to catch a glimpse of some carnage on their way to work. So when I tell you people took to The Super Chasm, you had better believe it.

  You had better believe it.

  Chapter 12

  “Hey! When I say sit still, don’t move and listen intently, I mean you sit MOTIONLESS, and when I say listen intently, I mean I want you to be able to hear my fucking stomach rumble under my talking from all the way back there, folks! The story is just starting to get interesting! For those of you pretending that you have a choice about whether or not you’re going to allow me to indulge you with my story, you are terribly mistaken. You are not here voluntarily anymore. Look around you, folks. But hey, hey, listen: the cruel and, let’s face it, unusual punishment you just witnessed being administered by my brutish minion does not have to be the norm here. Quite the contrary! You pansies in the back, nevermind the leftover gore there! You’ve seen worse, I know you have. As a matter of fact, I know that you’ve caused worse! That’s one of the reasons you’re all here! Haha! Well, that, and the fact that you all had performed incrementally shitty deeds to afford you the honor of spending a little time with me. Now, how about a little singing interlude to lighten the mood a bit before my faithful colleague here starts playing with his sharp toys again? Sing along if you know it! ‘Ruuuuuunnnn to theeeee hiiiiiiills, ruuuuuun foooor youuur liiiiiives!’ Hahahahaha! I fucking love this one!”

  Chapter 13

  On a beautiful clear day, Danny Bransley noticed Jim Colabza sitting in an Adirondack chair in his backyard sipping a drink and overlooking the pond as his mail truck halted to a stop at the edge of Jim’s driveway.

  Danny liked Jim very much, and Jim was very fond of his mailman as well. This had not only to do with the fact that Jim found him attractive, as Danny was in great shape from walking the mountain roads to deliver fine people their mail, or the fact that Danny was approximately fifteen years Jim’s junior. These factors didn’t hurt, but it was also because he was pleasant, courteous, and did things that typical civil service workers he had dealt with in the past had not, even though these kindnesses were still congruent with his job description. A prime example was how he would walk Jim’s mail up to his porch and leave the mail in between the screen door and front door so that Jim would not have to get wet if the weather was bad. Anyone who has been drenched in the rain while they were simply trying to retrieve the morning paper could vouch for what a godsend someone who eliminated that inconvenience would be. And he did it because of the content of his character rather than for the reason of securing that extra envelope, addressed to him for a change, around Christmas time.

  Jim was enjoying his property and the fact that the only obligation he had for the day was to go to the gas station in town and pick up a new bundle of wood for his fire pit. This was one of the paramount joys of retirement: knowing that everything is now on your terms. Besides the natural beauty of the landscape, which his backyard had in spades, Jim also found that it was the picture-perfect place to get lost in his guilty pleasure: the Harry Potter books.

  Some people prefer sitting by a warm fire with a glass of wine while reading, but Jim preferred his backyard right near the pond’s edge. He thought that his backyard (the whole town and upstate region, really) had the scenic mystique that was painted in his mind’s eye as he tore through the pages of J.K.Rowling’s magnum opus.

  Jim was entranced in his book. He was in the middle of the second Harry Potter novel, which Jim thought–

  Jamessssssss…

  Jim looked up from his book briefly, scanned the still surface of the pond and went back to his book.

  Jamessssss…(a little louder)

  Jim looked up from his book again and shifted uneasily a bit in his chair, licking his lips and setting his drink down in the grass. Jim scanned his surroundings again and chuckled when he confirmed once again that he was in fact, alone. He chuckled not only at the “willies” he was getting in the middle of the day in bright sunlight, but at how much
he was entranced in his book that he thought he heard someone whispering his name in parseltongue.

  “Hey, Jim!” Danny called to Jim, as he walked past the side of the house and into the backyard.

  “Hey, Danny! How are you?” sounding relieved that he had perhaps found the source of the sound, which he thought had been someone whispering his name.

  Jim figured it was just Danny’s boots whishing through the grass, which was overdue for a good cut.

  “Can’t complain, you know. Got some mail for you here.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take it. Can I interest you in a drink?”

  “Oh, no thanks. I just saw that you were outside and I figured I’d say ‘hello’ is all,” Danny said.

  “I’m glad you did. Sure I can’t interest you in some iced tea? I make a mean glass of it, if I do say so myself.”

  “No thanks, Jim; I have to bang out the rest of my route, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good one.”

  “Bye, Danny.”

  Hating for Danny to go but loving watching him leave, Jim gave a final perfunctory wave and then returned to his chair and sifted through his mail, which was not much. He could see the Coopersmither peeking out over the top of the rest of the mail in his hand. He tossed the rest aside for the time being and began to look over his erstwhile local paper.

  His eyes scanned the headlines, not knowing exactly what he was looking for, but knowing beyond an inkling of a doubt that he would know what he was looking for when he came upon it…and that he would come upon it.

  Where did these feelings come from?

  His eyes scanned restlessly from side to side like the paper carriage of an old Royal until he finally saw it.

  FORMER ST. ANASTASIO DENIZEN RECEIVES FIVE FOR FIGHTING IN THE DESERT the classically banal headline read.

  While everyone in the world, save for the residents of the state of Nevada, know that “five” is a reference to the top five politicians in the state from whom one needs the approval in order to embark any sort of business venture, many only see the semi-clever hockey penalty reference, but assume it means something different. Either way, they are intrigued and the story will be read, for everyone loves a glimpse into the life of a former resident, or better yet, a former neighbor.

  Jim Colabza was no exception. In point of fact, this article was exactly what he was looking for. Jim quickly delved in to the article and read about the Super Chasm, a new fighting arena which was currently under construction, but slated to be finished within a year. The article carefully tip-toed around the libelous rumor–lest they be vulnerable to a fat lawsuit–that the stakes in this combat arena were much higher, and not only speaking in terms of reward.

  Jim closed the paper and placed it in his lap while he sat and looked at the pond. He was digesting the story he had just read. Today was not the first time he had heard about Tyler’s storied career as a Nevada State Police top-cop. No sir, or ma’am. The Coopersmither had a knack for finding out about every little bust that Tyler had made, and put it on prominent display in the next day’s edition. Jim supposed that they were proud of their citizens, both current and former, but Jim also got the feeling that it was a way for the town to pat themselves on the back as well, as if they had anything directly to do with a former citizen’s success. He was unpleasantly surprised, however, to learn of Tyler’s legal trouble for the first time in this article. He was quite certain that he did not overlook the news in an earlier edition, as one of the reasons he kept receiving the Coopersmither, consciously or subconsciously, was so he could keep a watchful, but caring, eye on his former student, for whom he legitimately cared. His liking of Tyler came from the type of person Ty was and the potential he held within, and Jim’s trepidation and dread came from with whom Tyler chose to share his life.

  It did not surprise him in the least that the local paper of his former town of residence would fail to inform its readers of some controversy concerning one of their own. One would think that controversy is what would sell more papers than anything, but in the upper-middle class neighborhood of St. Anastasio, it was more important to show off your excellence than entertain…which certainly has its pros and cons, make no mistake.

  So, Jim read all about the incident at Fenway Park and how Lilith was attacked and how Tyler was put into the unfortunate position of having to not only defend his wife’s honor, but defend her from further bodily harm. Even a gay man such as Jim could understand thatobligation. Jim did not know what to make of his trepidations…not for sure. All he knew was that ever since this girl, now woman, entered Tyler’s life, bad things had started to happen around him and he was not the same person he had known from his classes. But that wasn’t true, was it? Jim did know what to make of this. He would never be able to convince anyone, not completely, but he was absolutely certain that he did not dream the ardelio incident; and he would recognize those eyes that were mere inches from his anywhere, day or night.

  Now, Tyler had quit a noble profession in order to dip his toes into the underworld of Las Vegas. Legal was legal, however, even certain legal activities attract certain undesirables. Jim got up from the Adirondack chair and stood at the shoreline of the pond and thought long and hard.

  The whispers heard prior to Danny’s visit were forgotten…for now.

  Chapter 14

  Three years came and went, beginning in 2029, with the speed of a child’s limited time in a toy store. The reason was because of how busy Tyler and Lilith stayed in completing their work on the Super Chasm. The day came when the intentions of the Super Chasm had to be clearly outlined for the public; that is to say, the eight board members of the Super Chasm, most of which were of Chutma blood, had to disclose to the public that the contenders would engage in potentially mortal combat.

  The reaction was what you would expect: many people were revolted by the prospect of such barbarism, and many were in favor of it, since the contestants would all know the consequences and participate of their own free will. What they shared in common was that they were all intrigued, and that was good…for the proprietors of the Super Chasm, that is.

  Permits were secured, palms were greased, promises were made, dirty deeds were done dirt cheap, as AC/DC says, and Las Vegas was about to change and become overwhelmed with this new venture. The corporation that was set up by Tyler and Lilith, (Empire Enterprises), already had a list of advertisers who wanted to be all things Super Chasm. Clothing lines, food chains, local sports teams, alcoholic beverages, condom brands, etc., were waiting in line to advertise and get on board with this new initiative.

  Tyler and Lilith realized quickly that the Super Chasm had bigger and farther reaching arms than they had previously thought, once the rumors that were circulated about the combat being mortal were confirmed in a press conference. This led to the couple’s reunion with an old friend from St. Anastasio.

  Jayson was a logistics prodigy, blowing through his education at Huddersfield University in the U.K. a semester early. Lilith reached out to him after brief email communications back and forth (for the purpose of keeping in touch after high school) revealed his professional plans after he had graduated.

  Not that Tyler had a choice in the matter, but he was glad to have the gang back together again. Jayson was in charge of setting up the online registration for potential combatants, and was up to his hair in work before his plane touched down at McCarran Airport in Las Vegas.

  By 2028, the construction of the Super Chasm was just about complete. What started out as a four-story abandoned Vegas parking garage was transformed into a ten story megalith of a fighting arena. It certainly was not the largest building on the block, not even close, but the implications of what would soon take place within its walls instilled in it a presence on the strip which demanded everyone’s attention. The United States…no, the world found another issue to become bipartisan about. Saying “the world” is not hyperbole or conjecture; if you were old enough to speak and had access to either a newspaper or the internet, you k
new about the Super Chasm and you had an opinion about it. Ok, perhaps there were some clans of aborigines and some tribes of sub-Saharan Africa who could not speak to the goings-on of the Chasm, but they were the only exceptions. Believe that.

  This also meant that three other people in Tyler’s life knew the complete truth about the extent of the Super Chasm’s entertainment. Tyler knew that it was only a matter of time before he would have to field the phone call. With anticipation as his main tormenter, he decided to face the problem head-on, rip the bandage off quickly, and make the call back to his parents St. Anastasio himself.

  Tyler headed home after overlooking the construction of the Chasm and thought about what he would say to his parents if they picked up the phone. Truth be told, and he would be ashamed to admit this: he was hoping to get the answering machine. That makes everything easier, does it not? An answering machine offers no rebuttals and asks no questions. Sure, email would have alleviated even more worry, but they were his parents! He couldn’t possibly be that impersonal with them.

  Tyler sought out the phone which gave him the most comfort for one reason or the other, and that was the handset in his and Lilith’s bedroom.

  The phone rang three times at the Swanson residence before the answering machine greeting interrupted the incessant ringing that had begun months earlier, and hadn’t stopped since, at the Swanson residence. It seemed that even in a semi-large town such as St. Anastasio, over 2,000 miles from Las Vegas, people had opinions about the Super Chasm, as well as about Ray and Cindy’s son, and felt like sharing. Surprisingly enough, the majority of the calls to the Swanson household were not threatening or deleterious in nature, but the volume of calls was enough to drive anyone out of their heads.