John's Lawn

The slush sloshed under my feet with each step, giving the dead streets some much-needed sound. As I made my way to the house, a sense of regret took hold.  Along with a desire, a desire to have the last bit of my memories come back. Despite everything, the only set of memories I still lacked was where Scott had taken me on the day that started everything.

“Damn Terry, why couldn’t you have just been home?” I grimaced, rubbing my arm at the statement. A quick flash of the USPM Commander knocking me out shook my head. “Why couldn’t I have just…” I sighed, “No…”

I gazed up, snow clouds still looming overhead. I took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, hearing nothing but the crunching of snow under my feet, reminding me of snapping bones. The thought made my mouth water, “When I finally get out of here, I needa see Rachel.” 

———————————

“God, this asshole better be home.” I knocked to no response. Twisting the knob, I pushed the door open. Taking a deep breath, I tried to ease my nerves. Focusing on my ears, it didn’t take long for me to hear my heartbeat, then my nervous system, and just before I stepped in, there was a third thing, a writhing inside me.

I pushed the door open, keeping my eyes shut, I listened for any subtle change as I shut the door behind me. I could feel the vibration of the air in my ear canals bringing them to a ring. I took a breath, stepping further in. I side-stepped into the kitchen, flinging my eyelids open. A man stood, holding an extendable baton that made a clicking sound when he pressed a button. Next to him on the counter, a knife block.

Opening a drawer behind me, I pulled out the first thing I touched right as he lunged at me. I blocked the rubber-gripped metal spatula I’d pulled out, “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I backed into the living room as the man pulled out a second baton.

Then I heard something behind me, I rolled over the couch, getting both men in my line of sight. The throbbing in my side returned, not painful this time, it was invigorating, “Come at me!” The second man pulled out a short sword and I couldn’t help but notice they didn’t have guns.

They charged me from both sides, I held up my left arm to the guy with the short sword, hitting the second guy’s batons to the side and kicking him back. The short sword guy was reeling back for another swing. I lunged back over the couch running to the kitchen, dropping the spatula and ripping a bread and chef’s knife from the knife block. The short sword plunged into my back and I whipped around, slicing the guy with my chef’s knife, slicing open his cheek.

Then, a tasing in my left arm, and I swung, but he knocked the bread knife away with a baton. He reeled back for another shot at me when I swung the chef’s knife as hard as I could down at his left baton. It made a crackling sound and he dropped it, hitting me in the neck with the good one. I fell to a knee, reaching and pulling the sword out of my back. The unarmed man tried to punch me in the face, but I swung the sword wildly and he fell back, waiting for an opening.

The baton guy staggered back just long enough for me to stand back up. I dropped the Chef knife, the pain in my forearm growing too strong as it went through the healing process. I swung at the man with the baton, he jumped back, blocking the blade with his shock stick, which bent before frying just like the last one. He took a couple steps back before turning and running out the door. I turned back, the other man was trying to book it too. I chased him out of the kitchen and tackled him to the floor.

“Look buddy, I’ve had to deal with assholes like you since I got here, so I hope it’s not too much trouble for you to give me just a tad bit of information.” He seized in response, flopping under me like a goldfish. Flipping him over, he was frothing from the mouth, pupils dilated, “God damnit.”

The man convulsed as I pulled his wallet and cell phone from his pockets. Turning the phone on revealed I needed a four-digit pin code, “I hope you were an idiot when you were alive.” I flipped open his wallet, sure enough, his social security card was in there. I checked for the last four digits and dialed them into the phone, unlocking it. “Wow man, wow.” I dropped his wallet on him and staggered to my feet, feeling the hunger take hold again. But looking down at the dead man on the floor, I didn’t wanna take any chances, so I left him be, promising myself I’d get some food soon.

I scrolled through notes, then texts, eventually finding myself at emails. One had stood out to me while scrolling, an exchange with a guy he called, ‘The Jack’ from a couple weeks before. They were talking about the revolution, and that, “the men need to be ready in three weeks.”

There was an address that felt vaguely familiar, as well as a bunch of other details about everyone in the rebellion. Basically, a bunch of stuff to make sure there wouldn’t be the issue of a revolution anymore. The wordplay and deceptive speech patterns were just way too familiar, “Make that five, asshole.” I headed out the door, and as I walked, I couldn’t help but notice the car that pulled around a corner a few blocks behind me.

I never looked back, but my ears were too in tune to not notice the consistent crunching of snow and pistons firing. They were quiet for sure, but my paranoia was quieter. I heard them inching ever closer. With each foot gained, I could sense where they were that slight bit better. Every second pumped me with more adrenaline, and when I could see the bumper out of the corner of my eye, I readied myself, that’s when the window rolled down.

“Ahhhh, Joseph, care to take a ride?” The question flung me through a wall.

“Huh?” I looked over, metaphor man held a gun at me.

“It’s been a little while, I thought since you were in the neighborhood, you wouldn’t mind riding around with me for a bit. You know, since you so graciously took me where I needed to go last time.”

I swallowed, “Those aren’t normal bullets.”

He smiled, “Would you like to get in the car?”

I opened the door, sitting patiently, biding my time, until a wide barrel pressed against my neck, angled up. “It’s been a bit, how are you?”

“I’m doing quite well, how’s my spark plug doing?”

“Seen better days.” The suppressor shoved into my neck, “Look, I was kidnapped by Scott.”

“Yes, I’m well aware, but that mess you made, that was far too close of a call, and you didn’t even call us. While you staying alive is important, you aren’t necessary. What about our mystery man?”

“How am I gonna–” The barrel stabbed me, “Sorry, I just, wanted to know who I was. I haven’t figured out who that guy is yet. I thought maybe my memories could give me some insight.” I almost blew a raspberry out of surprise, I couldn’t believe how quickly I came up with it.

“I see, well?”

“Sorry, nothing yet, but I’m sure–”

“How was Scott? Anything you feel you should tell us?”

“It sounds like he’s in with a bunch of other groups in town. Also, any time he’s around, I’m calm, not intentionally or anything though, I just can’t get pissed at him.”

“We’re aware of a couple of other organizations he’s a part of, how many can you be certain of?”

“He told me four when I was locked up, but there’s also this phone.” I pulled it out, typing in the password and pulling up the email, “Sounds like–”

“Hand it back, he’ll look over it.” Doing as he said, we sat in silence for a few minutes.

Then the voice behind me sounded, “Yeah, big raid on the rebellion.” He handed the phone back to me.

“That would be nice for us, if only so many of them weren’t such big parts of this town.” Metaphor man paused, then said, “You were headed there when we picked you up.”

“What of it?”

“I have a proposition. You find a way to end this farce, and you will gain access to the file on your friend, Terry.”

“That’s one hell of a trust violation. How about I just follow through on what I already planned on doing?”

“Call it a hunch. It sounds like you want to get out of this town, whether it be stubbornness or knowing you’ll die the moment you leave, you’ve decided to stay in town despite regaining your memories. How about we leave it at that, you get the revolution you want, as well as some information you need.” He pulled over.

“I can just not read it.”

“I never said you had to, it’s a gift is all.”

“Okay fuckfa–” The barrel hit me so hard my vision faded for a moment.

“Please, we’re all friends here now. Let Joseph go.”

I opened the door, stepping onto the slushy sidewalk.

“Oh, right, before you’re off, be careful with Scott.” I turned to face him as I grabbed the door, “He can pacify people if their emotions aren’t strong enough, so get pissed at him or something along those lines before going down there.” He drove off, leaving the door to slam shut with the speed.

I watched as they turned a corner, nearly skidding out on the slurpie-covered road. Then I looked around, trying to figure out where they’d dropped me off. Soon enough, I noticed the wall, and the vaguely familiar building beside me, everything cleared, and I stomped into the building, keeping everything Scott had done to me at the forefront.

——————————-

“WHERE’S SCOTT!?” Everyone stopped what they were doing, turning to me.

“Who’s asking?” The man behind the bar counter asked, with a vague sense of familiarity.

“JOSEPH, I was in here the other day! You guys have a snake down here, and I need to have a talk with it!”

“I don’t know a Joseph, but you oughtta be out of here if you’re gonna claim something like that!”

Some of the people nearby stood, approaching me, “I have evidence! Each one of you can look it over while I beat the shit out of Scott if you need!”

“Quiet down.” It pierced through every other sound, like a dog whistle, bypassing everyone’s voices, and silencing them. From the back of the room, I saw the older woman from before coming out from the back room. “Come with me, we should discuss this in private.” Her voice was so crisp, I almost followed her on instinct. Taking a breath, I made my way to her.

The back room wreaked of vodka and body odor. Heading through another door, I found the source of it. Scott sat chained to a table, and they’d apparently given him a bottle of cheap liquor to go to town on, which lay empty beside him.

“What the hell?”

“We can’t get anything out of him, we thought some alcohol would loosen him up, make him more willing to talk. But not even a 5th was enough.”

“So you already know about the raid?”

“Excuse me?”

I looked at Scott, “He goes by ‘The Jack.” I saw Scott’s giggly face falter ever so slightly as he rolled his head around the table. “Said their team needed to be ready in three weeks, that was two weeks ago. Any idea on that?”

“No… We’re all set to leave in two…” She stared hard at Scott, “You will die for this.” Turning back to me, she asked, “How can you be sure it was Scott if they never used his name?”

“Here, just read some of these messages, sounds like a certain fuckhead if you ask me.”

Taking the phone, she scrolled a bit, backing out a few more times to scroll some more. I could see the moment she got to THE email, something behind her eyes cracked, along with the phone. She dropped the now broken phone on the table. “We need to speed up our plans. While we appreciate your help, Joseph, we can take it from here.”

“No.”

She looked at me, indignant, “Oh?”

“I didn’t come to sit on the sidelines, I want out of this shit town too.”

“I’m afraid you can’t help us. Everyone you met the other day has already forgotten who you are, as per you not joining us.”

“Hold the fuck up! What!?”

“I advise you be on your way.” My muscles twitched at the suggestion, “Now!” My body turned to leave.

“You killing him? He’s my brother you know.”

“You want us to let him go?”

“No, I’d rather be sure he’s gone. Not to be a dick, but I don’t think I can take you at your word.”

“We have other intentions, his abilities are too useful to kill him outright.”

“Do you mind giving me a moment then?”

“I’m staying here, but if you want to say goodbye go ahead.”

I walked over to my brother, looking him up and down, “God you’re pathetic. But maybe the next time around, you’ll have a better go of it. Must’ve been hard being raised here by yourself.” I reached into his shirt, ripping the crystal off his neck and pocketing it. “That doesn’t mean you’re not still the worst kind of person.” I turned to leave, “Do whatever you want with him, make sure he regrets his existence for me if you can.

As I stepped out the door, she stopped me, “Hold on. What was that?”

“Family heirloom.”

“Let me see it.”

I took a step back in, holding the glowing crystal out, “Nothing special.”

“Alright, get going then.”

I put the necklace back in my pocket, “When can I expect the revolution? I wanna slip out in the chaos.”

“Four days, if you see any of us fighting anyone, just ignore it, leave town, I don’t want any debts.”

I walked out, muttering to myself, “Could just get the memory of the debt erased.”

————————————-

I pushed open the door, wiped. Locking it, I made my way through every room, locking every window. Pulling my pillow and blanket into the bathroom and dropping them in the tub, I locked the bathroom door and quickly passed out. The only dreams I had were reforming memories, things like the giant dildo attack, the fight against Takeo, the name that pissed Terry off so much. What happened back then? Why was it such a sore spot?

I shot up, already in fight or flight, looking around, I was still in my bathroom. I let out a sigh, allowing myself to relax. Getting out of the tub, I rubbed my aching side, throwing the pillow and blanket to the side. After some time, I’d thrown them into the wash from all the dried blood I’d rubbed into them, then took a shower, and went to the store for a meal.

Once I’d had some food, the daze I didn’t know I was in passed. I was about halfway home when my brain seemed to boot back up. “How long was I out?” The question made me reach for my phone, only to remember I didn’t have one anymore. “Great, can’t even message metaphor man and tell him I took care of it.” I walked in silence for a few moments, “Why would I want to?”

Turning the corner, my house came into view, and I noticed something weird. My car was parked in front of the house. I sped up, splashing the slushy concrete under me, soaking my shoes. When I got to it, I pulled out my keys, pressed the unlock button on my fob, and sure enough, the lights flashed. I opened it, a phone sat atop an envelope. I picked them up, looking around me, but no one was in sight. I checked behind the Camry, but while there were light tracks, snow from the night before had faintly covered them.

Looking around one more time, I hurried into the house, locking my car with the key fob. My socks and shoes flopped to the floor as I made my way to the couch.

I emptied the contents onto my coffee table. A flash drive, a few hundred bucks, and a note, “We appreciate you going through with your decision to aid us, and in such a timely manner. As thanks, we have left you with your friend ‘Terry’s’ file. As well as a few other items, including your car, we hope for a long-lasting relationship. Don’t forget what you owe us. -The Mechanics”

I threw the money in my wallet, staring at the note, occasionally glancing down at the drive. “Yeah, what I owe you… assholes.” I crumpled the note, tossing it in the trash as I entered the kitchen. I twirled the flash drive in my fingers, leaning against the counter, nothing occupying my mind. I stared at the opposing wall as if it held some deep secret to the universe.

———————————–

Some time passed with me sitting on the couch, watching tv. At some point, I’d reached into my pocket, feeling the smooth plastic on my fingers. I spun it around in my pocket for an episode or two before standing and heading to my office.

Slipping the drive into the back of my computer, I turned it on and opened the storage device.

There were two folders. One marked Terry, and one named Tresca. I hesitated and clicked on Terry’s folder. There were hundreds of pages, on the main document. I didn’t read all of them, but there were parts I did go through in depth. His history with Maerod, the contract association, the people he’d left behind, the names he’d dropped before starting new lives. Most notably, his past with a woman named “Tresca.”

It didn’t say what she was; but made it very clear she had an extremely fragile soul, even weaker than a human. He took her in one day, and eventually, grew a fondness for her. Some time passed and he decided to give up contract killing for her. But when he confronted Maerod to tell her he was giving it up, she warped his memories, twisting his love into hatred of Tresca. She’d used an ability not unlike Smudge’s to do it.

When he came home later that day, he put a tentacle through Tresca’s head and threw her body outside where it got ravaged by wolves later that night. Over time, and with him choosing to live secluded from the world, keeping to himself in the cabin he’d made in the woods, the memories would return to him. He’d remember all the happiness he’d held with Tresca, and eventually moved into civilization, using some of the contacts he’d made previously to move into an apartment and eventually make enough money to buy the entire complex.

A few years later, he picked up a new name and decided to settle down. But when he didn’t have anything to do, his mind would return to the person he shouldn’t have killed. He used every possible thing to distract himself, from drinking to hobbies, when he wasn’t capturing atypicals for FetchQuest, he was doing what he could to forget. Eventually, he picked up drawing, taking to the art style of his favorite medium of entertainment. This eventually led to painting, but for a reason unspecified, he gave up art as a whole not long after.

That’s around where I came into the picture, so that’s where I stopped. I sat there afterward, processing the details I’d gleamed. I shook my head in disgust with myself. But there was still that tinge of curiosity perched in the center of my mind. “What about Tresca’s side?”

After grabbing a glass of water, I sat back down, closed Terry’s document, and hit back on the folder. I stared at the second name. Double-clicking the folder revealed several documents. I leaned back, sipping from my glass, mind empty. I swirled the water around, staring at the blank ceiling.

“What haven’t I done yet?” A dry chuckle pushed out of me. Leaning forward, I downed the glass of water, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and opened the document.

I avoided all the pages that didn’t involve Terry, it felt the least disrespectful between that and reading everything. But in all honesty, it’s because I didn’t really care about her, I wanted to know why the file was on the drive.

She’d come across his cabin one day, apparently running from something that I didn’t have the context for. She hid there, and when the people showed up, Terry, or Kenet at the time, came home shortly thereafter. They were disposed of when they attacked him, and soon enough Terry found the woman hiding out. They talked about what she’d been through and he offered to let her stay with him until everyone thought she was dead. Terry never really minded people, but he had to eat human children to survive, so he was despised by any people that knew about him.

The strange thing was, she never minded that aspect of him, and she never went insane. He wasn’t sure why, but eventually, it passed him by. As time went on, they forgot about their deal and she stayed with him on a permanent basis, learning to hunt and survive on her own when he went on his trips, a word he used so she wouldn’t know he was killing people. She found out one day while cleaning the cabin when she found his pile of contracts stashed away. But it didn’t change anything, and she never told him.

She read books in her spare time, going into the city to buy new ones every so often when she ran out of stuff to do. Eventually, Terry started reading some of them. They’d discuss the stories day in and day out, and Terry progressively took fewer and fewer contracts, thinking up countless ways to spend more time with her. They ended up getting into board games and even manage to jimmy rig a tv using a generator and a VCR. They’d spend days with each other, and when the time came, Kenet gave up his old name and told Maerod he was giving up contract killing. Which is where her story ended.

By the time I’d finished reading, the bottle of whiskey was empty beside me. I rubbed my temples. My brain holding loose connections it didn’t know what to do with. I wanted to see Terry again, but something made me nervous. It wasn’t the murders, not even killing Tresca, but I couldn’t tell what. Something about her felt… familiar to an extent.

I stood from my seat, crossed my arms, and looked around, “Guess I should start packing?” I shut my computer off, pulled the drive out of my computer, and took it to the kitchen where I smashed it to fragments with a meat tenderizer.

——————————-

The day of the revolution had come, and I was squeezing the last of my stuff into the trunk. Heading back into the house for the last time, I looked back at my car, cringing when I saw my pc in the back seat. 

I looked around, seeing if I’d missed anything I wanted to keep around, my eyes eventually falling on the business card on the ground. Walking over to it, I picked it up, “The Remnants of the Crystal Age.” I flipped it in my hand a few times, sliding it into my overflowing wallet.

“Maybe later.”

I walked about, just kinda looking at everything. My eyes passed over the painting I’d seen one night. Despite all the memories that had returned, I could only remember seeing the three figures in that office one other time, the night I was kidnapped, which started this whole crazy shitshow. I smirked to myself, a tear forming. “This really is it huh? I don’t even know how things are gonna go down when I see him again. Will he even be home?” I rubbed the wall, “Maybe I’ll have to take another road.” I turned my head around, staring at the door.

Leaving the house behind, I pulled the key from my chain, looking down at it, then into the sky as I tossed it off to my side.

Snow had already started falling, “Damn.”

Sitting in my car, I checked my phone, “8:13 pm.” An explosion triggered the first siren. Taking a deep breath, I turned to look out the rear window. One breath later, I was out of the driveway.