35 and Nine

My last songs. This is what it is all about for me. I chose the Union Underground and how nice that my speakers can make my ears bleed the way they do.
Shrieking guitars and those eerie lyrics. What if I was your god? Yeah. South Texas death ride. Sounds almost right. South New England death ride?
I light my cigarette as I get onto the highway from the side streets. I almost went through Providence to cruise around and see if my AK riding shotgun gets me arrested. But it isn’t like that. I just want to be there. I want to take life.
And what monster am I? I will give my life to take theirs. Am I not a dishonest fiend? I would give fifty lives to take fifty, but I have only got one. And who cares about that anyway. Always, so human; always bestowing upon life some value. There is no value. There never has been and there never will be. The Spanish inquisition.
Let this be what it is. Huh? I have loved in my life. I have done good- with my life. I have done bad things too. I like to think only strange people have not. So now what?
The hate. An epic tsunami of hate. Like the terrorists got. But less. Obviously.
This is fucking bad. This is so bad. I am really here. Here and now. And my body is a mechanism. Deep panic breaths off of my cigarette. Ok. This is the reason I keep whiskey under the passenger seat.
“What if I was your god?” the man in the band asks.
What if, huh? What if I was your god?
My ride to be god. My appointment with power. My first, only, and final moment of power.
Why is this my destiny? Coming up on the exit now. Jesus Christ. My cigarette’s done. Light another over violent heartbeats. The shaking in my hands subsiding to nothing. Try to tune it into the music. I adjust the treble and bass for any more noise. The speakers are maxed out and I do not care if they explode.
“All I see… Is apathy… In this world, I won’t be. I will be the better man. I won’t
be a bitter man.” I sang along.
En route to Main St., Pawtucket. I’ll park at the pawn shop. Go right and hit the bohemian coffee shop. Then the insurance agency. The clothing Boutique.
“Listen while I load my gun… said to me. Something bout a chosen one is coming back. Look what you’ve done! Watch this while I taste the sun.”
Start that song over again. Revolution Man.
“One more time and you’ll be dead. At least I think that’s what he said. Revolution. Revolution man. Imagine all the people”
There’s not a lot of sunlight down here on Main St. The rain is falling hard. Good. Muffle screams. Your god wants me to do this.
I can see them hustling up the road; parked here on the right. With an umbrella, or an arm raising a jacket; they cover their heads. The down pour around them is blinding. They will not see my rifle sitting here. They won’t see me here with their heads facing down. They will only see the whites of my eyes piercing the rain and looking out from behind my cigarette.
Maybe for just a moment they will notice my stereo. That Hispanic girl has got a pink shopping back. The pretend fur of her jacket is keeping some rain from her face. In my mind’s eye the fur is binding together like the hair on a furry wet dog.
Another shot of whiskey and one last cigarette.
“So what if I was your god? South Texas death ride.”
After dialing the numbers I turn down the radio.
“Hello?”
“Baby.”
“Oh, hi. What’s up?
“I love you very much. You’ve got to go and have a happy life from now on. Alright?”
“Jeff. I don’t understand.”
“You have got to forget about me. I love you.”
“Jeff. Wai-…”
One more shot of whiskey. I’ll drink to that phone call. Turn up the stereo- turn off the phone.
“I get a kick out of this. Watch you run like a bitch. I wanna break you… I can’t even fake it… I’ll say it again. You’re on a downward slide my friend”
That’s right you Texan son of bitch. Whatever you’re talking about. That’s right.
Looking away from the bottle and out the window, I see two Hispanics tearing through the rain away from me. They won’t be there. That drop in my stomach again. Those butterflies. The nausea. I threw up my shots on the passenger floor.
What if I was your god?
Light another cigarette. Vomit lingers in and out of my facial cavities. I get out of my car, leaving the rifle, and stand next to it in the street. A delivery truck is coming and I make my way, slowly, to the sidewalk. Rain blows relentlessly across my face, pours down my cheeks. The gusts collide with my chest and arms.
I walk past the clothing boutique. I walk past the insurance agency. I flick my cigarette onto the street.
A little weak in the knees and light in the head, I walk into the coffee shop and lock the deadbolt behind me. One Hispanic youth notices me in the dim lights and then looks away. Nobody noticed me lock the door. He appears to be on edge. A coffee addict? A girl, curly blonde haired young one, stares at the menu over the counter. Is the boy on edge over her? And the girl with the choppy black hair and the tattoos growing up her arms is taking the order of a frumpy man in a suit.
I flip the counter over at the right and walk into the back. My hand is clutching the pistol under my unzipped coat.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The girl was angry. My taser is charged in my left hand and I plunge the 100,000 watts into her cheek. Her feet fly from the floor and she lands flat on her back on that counter. *Clat!* I put the bullet into the underside of her chin and the rear of her head explodes out over the dark tiled floor. The bullet cracks the floor on impact.
“Oh my god!” The little blonde screamed as she ran into the wall.
The Hispanic ran into a table.
“Jesus Christ!” The pudgy man dropped to the floor.
I am backed into the corner in the employee area. I shoot the Hispanic in the chest and he falls over the furniture and crashes to the floor. More screams from the girl.
Clat! I shoot her in the side of her panicked and crying head and she falls dead.
The man remains on the floor making some kind of guttural grunt to himself. I move to the back room and find a chubby girl, college aged, cowered in the corner holding a frying pan. Clat! I shot her once in the chest before rushing back out. The pudgy man is struggling with the door and he throws the lock as I put the two bullets into him. He falls out into the street. I hurry over to him and give a strong pull on his ankle and he comes back into the establishment.
I hear a scream from the street before I notice the black girl running away. Throwing myself through the door I steady the pistol and aim. The rain blowing in my face makes it difficult. But I don’t miss things very often. Clat! Clat! Clat! Click. The silenced shots betray no position; the rain trapping and stifling what noise there may have been. The second shot crossed the street and pierced the window of some other main street shop. The down from her puffy jacket hung in the air for only a second before the rain pushed it to the ground.
I reload and holster my weapon and retreat back to the coffee shop taking my kerosene in hand. The Hispanic boy is crawling to the door and gasping deeply. He is leaving a slug trail of blood. I reach in for my gun raising it high to clear the silencer through the holster. I shoot a bullet into his head. Clat!
And I squeeze some kerosene onto all these victims except the girl in the back. My pistol is secured and I reach into my right front pocket for my lighter. I light the bodies one by one. I squirt kerosene onto the wallpaper and light that.
Under the energy of the rising inferno a voice catches my ear; “Help!” the girl in the back chokes out through the blood. I leap between the flaming bodies into the back and find her coughing up dark coagulate, sitting up and spilling her tears into the portion that has accumulated in her lap, and into pools all around her. I aim one shot into her head, Clat!, and she goes silent and limp.
“What if I was your god!?” I yell at her carcass. And then with a wrench in my gut I make my way through the flames, back out into the rain and rushing wind.
Hustling; I burst through the stained wooden doors of the insurance company while raising my pistol and I fire the bullet into the tall man wearing a tie and a shirt that was green like tropical seawater. Clat! Blood covers the old stone brick wall and I make my way into a centralized area of cubicles.
I am taken aback by how many heads are in here. They are shocked to see me this surprised. I see the fear; the blood clearly emanates its own presence from my throat. I open fire into a modestly dressed woman. She falls into her cubicle wall and the screams catch my attention from all around. I am disoriented as I kill the next two. Only really firing into their blurry blue or orange figures. Clat! Clat! Clat!
I planted my feet and caught my bearings; to look around. A younger man is cowering against a wall with tears in his eyes. The others are running. Out the back.
I aim for their spines. Clat! Click.
Then I look to the boy as I reload. I get his attention, “Hey! Listen while I load my gun. I hope you’ll remember the chosen one.” Quotations.
The kid has not moved. Only whispering, “Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me”, at the floor between his legs.
I put a bullet into him before I give chase to the others. Clat! Through winding halls I chase their screams. A larger, whiter, more modern office and more screaming people. I should have had the AK.
“Get out! Run!”
These people had caught the hysteria like dry leaves in a wildfire.
I stop.
The ones I was chasing have made it out a glass door and into the rain. But there are others here. Clat! Clat! Clat! Two down close together. Over in the corner. Clat! A child? A boy of about ten. That’s new and unexpected. I have to go. In corners and crevices they are cowering.
“I’ll be back,” I say as I walk away.
I run back through the building to that initial scene. There is an old woman leaving her desk and running for the exit. Clat! Clat! Clat! The rounds penetrate her body as she falls.
I retrieve the kerosene and squirt out some onto the bodies. Missing a couple on the far side. I light them on fire. One by one. Along with the cubicle walls. And I drop the clip. Reload. And hurry the fuck out of there.
More rain. People milling around outside the smoking coffee shop. Turning their heads to the cries from the distance. From over the buildings. Screams completely audible.
The sheets of rain blow with me as I am walking. The wind is at my back and I climb up three little steps into the white walls and amongst the practical and stylish casual wear. There are two twenty something’s looking at the slimy blood on my face. They havn’t seen the gun at my side. There is shit in the way!
“You’ve got to help me. Please.” I said desperately. And I raised the gun and Clat!, shot one in the face. Her prettiness gone with a gory impact. The other dropped to the floor. And the girl working screamed and ran out the back. I moved around the clothes and shot the other girl on the floor twice while moving over her; Clat! Clat! Not paying much attention to the placement of the bullets. I shimmied over her.
Sirens. Close.
I stop my chase and move back into the clothing racks. I ignite kerosene on the clothes, push one rack into the curtains, and another into a wall. My heart is pounding. I ignite the two victims and rush out of the door; out into the running water streets.
I run for my car and get in quickly. The keys remained in the ignition, I started it quickly.
The cops are coming from the way of the coffee shop. I am not going that way. I am going to the mall. Up the way and around the corner.
I put the car in drive and push the accelerator into the floor. I fly through one intersection at 60 miles in hour. I keep that speed and the road dips down a hill and I drive past a bank with huge red signs and go up another hill and through another intersection and a red light.
“What if I was your god? South Texas death ride,” speakers drowning me in sound.
I approach the Apex shopping center on the right and throw my car into the 90 degree turn with a cautious heal toe. At the sight of the first department store entrance I see, I rip the emergency brake and lock the rear tires, spinning the car 360 plus degrees.
The cigarette burns quickly at my deep and frantic inhalations. I take the rifle strap and throw it over my shoulder, the barrel smacks the back of my head while I open the door and step out into the rain. About four shots in my pistol. One drum on the rifle, one clip on my calf. 75 on the drum. 30 in the clip. 75 for the civilians, 34 for the police. Is this the last time I’ll feel the rain? Not the last time something tells me.
The sliding glass doors oblige my entrance. I come into a far corner of the store. My mom used to take me here to get clothes. Here it is. I see all the pink everywhere immediately, right before I notice the older woman who works here occupied with a rack of soft pastel shirts.
“You!” and I point the gun in her face.
“Oh my god!” she yelps. Immediately crying.
“Go. There!” And I point with the barrel down to the entrance to the actual mall.
Another girl cowering by a wall of clothes for baby.
Turning the rifle in my hand I say, “Wait! Right here!” And I throw the butt into her nose when she turned to face me.
I approach the girl from behind. “Stand up! Go with her.” I point to the lady cowering in the main isle. This girl is tan and attractive. Early twenties. Dark hair. There’s another one a stones throw away.
She runs screaming when I catch her eyes watching me. I raise the rifle and aim at her. Three rounds explode from the chamber. The sound is absorbed quickly by the clothe surrounding us.
“You two!” I fire into them on the ground where they are holding one another. Five or six rounds. A head bursts across the tile and carpet. The young girl lies limp. God fucking damn it!
Screams in the distance. In the mall; rising all over. I catch the location of one That is unlucky for somebody.
I run. There is a woman cowering behind a jewelry case. I move around and fire into her. The violence of the shells piercing is insanity. It seems to punch the life out of them.
I find another woman and her daughter. Cute kid. All these people react the same.
“Don’t kill us. Don’t hurt my daughter.”
I blow the little child’s head from her jaw and shoulders. The mother screams. That’s grizzly. She runs toward me and I drop to the ground aiming for her heart and fire.
Trying to get out of this store is proving difficult. I see others but I ignore them. I have got to get to a shop. In the main foyer there are still people running panicked from all the different stores. I raise the gun to my eye and shoot a man. Three quick shots. Another one. A teenager in baggy clothes. The bullet pierced his throat and his eyes went wide as he spun to the ground. I move through the gun smoke. A man tries to leave a music store. He caught my eye and retreated. I chase him back inside. And he made it to the back before I shot him down.
Screams quickly silenced at the rear left. I hustle over there. Two girl employees, one chubby, one ugly, and that guy’s wife, clearly, and a kid of about 13. Dorky little fucker. In his glasses and dirty Lego blue sweatshirt.
“All of you stand up right now!”
They all kind of whimper out their little cries and hold tight to each other, feeling for what someone else might be doing. The behavior of prey. People acting like fish.
“Get on your fucking feet now!” I shoot a CD rack twice. The little plastic packages fly through the air.
They all stand.
“Face the fucking wall!”
They do, only a little reluctant.
I fire into the bodies. The employees necks. The second in line goes to pieces in place as the other girl falls next to her. I kill that girl the exact same way. And then shots to the back and head of the wife who had tried to throw herself in front of the boy. I shoot the boy in the head, once, as well.
Nice to have that out of the way. A weight has been lifted. My homage complete. I had wanted to do it in the department store.
I turn away from the corpses and make my way back to the main hall. It is a one story mall. They are running toward the far exit. I aim and it takes five shots to drop a twenty something guy in a pink dress shirt. Had to be a cell phone salesman. There is an exit directly to my left. No one runs for that one. Another goes screaming down the way. I aim and fire. Two shots. They ring out through the terrifying silence. Ricochets make amazing noises and drift into the top 40 hits annoying me from above.
I walk across into a clothing store for women. I look around and do not see a soul. I fire one shot into the ceiling.
“Oh!”
Every time. Just like the movies. Do they want to die? The dressing rooms. Too easy. There is a pretty little number hiding behind the desk with her hand over her mouth. She looks up at me through her beautiful teary eyes. Sorry. Not a parking ticket bitch.
“That won’t work this time.” I shot her in the face from point blank range. The moist cavity sparkles of course.
She tries to run to the employee door at the other side of the store. I bring her down with two shots. I walk over to the body. She looks like a gypsy, in that delicate red phosphorous skirt, and that obscure Egyptian looking silk blouse. Her straight greasy hair; swimming in the gathering blood pool. She writhes on the floor. I put the gun to her ear and pull the trigger before I go and investigate the dressing rooms.
There are beige curtains and ignoring the urge to look under them for legs. I tear them open one by one.
Hello. The pretty girl with freckles and braces. She’ll be a knockout in a few years. Her arms wrapped around her still budding body. She only has a bra on. And jeans.
“Hold on.” I tell her.
I find one other woman hiding away and shoot her twice through the areas of exposed vital organs as she lay curled in her fetal position. And again in her head.
This little one has given me an impulse. Returning to her, I drive the rifle into her temple. When she falls to the floor I tear the bra from her back and from her uncooperative bodice and disregard it. I retrieve the kerosene and squirt it over her perky little boobs. She writhes. I punch her in the nose; blood flows instantly. I light her breasts and stand up to watch them burn. I beat her in the head once again as she tries to regain consciousness. Letting the smell of burning flesh linger in the air; I take aim and shoot her right through her eye. The flames lick in and out of existence. And finally expire. Leaving only greasy and cratered flesh. The pink nipple gorgeously deformed. Moist.
I start fire on certain clothing racks that can be shoved into walls that look flammable. And that was the last of my kerosene. I throw the bottle and waste two shots shooting at it.
No more screams now. There is a dead silence. How many escaped? Having a partner might have been nice. Double the fun, I guess. There is one of those super savings superstores at the other end. I’ll be neglecting an entire wing. But, this will just have to be their lucky day. Surely, I can find people hiding in there.
I make my way; firing a shot into the greeting card store. Nothing. Look around. Dead bodies here and there in the hall. I fire into the toy store. Nothing. I fire into the bookstore.
“Eee!”
Yeah. Behind the counter. I light a cigarette and go in and look over the counter. A gay guy. At least that’s what his glasses tell me. Those black rimmed ones that are hot on quirky girls, but make guys look like queer book pushers. I walk around to where the counter flips over itself.
“Why did you hide here? Why didn’t you run out the back door?”
“Please don’t kill me.” Tears on his squished up face. Choking his words out. Why is there no fucking variety here?
I shoot him in his foot. “Why didn’t you run?!”
“I don’t kn- It seemed safer!”
I shot him in his shoulder. Tearing him away from the clutch of his foot; exposing his stomach.
“What, are you retarded?”
“Why are you doing this?” He cried out. Spit flowing like a faucet. I shot him in his gut. He coughed blood and went limp as he fell back but his eyes kept looking. Past me; at the ceiling.
Yeah. This isn’t doing it for me. I threw the gun over my shoulder and went behind me to pick up hardcover books and throw them at this guy. One by one.
“Who… the fuck… reads hardcover books… anyway!” And I shot him through his heart. His eyes stopped seeing anything after that. I smoked my cigarette, shouldered the gun and left.
To the god damn super mart bullshit. I hate these fucking places. I go over to the main entrance foyer on this end and poke my head outside the second set of doors. Cops flooding into the parking lot.
Aiming the rifle I fire shot after shot at the oncoming squad cars. Not close enough to hit a driver. But they’ll feel these shots. The rain on my skin. On my face. One more round. Back inside to the super store.
Does Pawtucket have a swat team? How are they going to handle this?
It’s bright in here. Harsh. Shit. I wish I started here and ended back in the department store. Fire. What can I burn here? Clothes. I go that way. A men’s room. I enter the tile area. There are feet right there.
“Come out here. I won’t hurt you. Just come out.”
“No.” A solemn man. Good for him. I fired into the toilet and it shattered at his feet.
“Get the fuck out of there!”
He steps out timidly. Awkwardly. An old black man. Fucking Curtis Loew. I shoot him in his heart and turned away before he even fell.
“Old Curtis was a black man… with white curly hair… when he had a fifth of wine… he didn’t have a care. Play me a song Curtis Loew Curtis Loew.”
Setting clothing racks aflame when I see a man moving cautiously out the corner of my eye. He is against a rack of candy and completely exposed. Like lightening, I hoist the rifle and fired at him. A neck shot. He lays gurgling, choking, coughing, gasping, and dying.
I walk up to him. He is dressed like a teacher in a short sleeved dress shirt and a tie. I pull the rifle up by the barrel and grasping the butt by the trigger I throw it down into his skull and feel that crack. Blood splashed out in all directions. I stood up and started to walk away.
Sirens are screaming through the walls. Through the light rock hits boring me dimly from the speakers. Oh god. My fucking stomach hurts. My eyes spinning in my head. Things become blurry and almost fall away. I sit down against the candy rack. Deep deep breaths. In and out. Breathe in the bad. Breathe out the good. Light a cigarette. Breathe in the bad. Breathe out the worse.
Oh god. Is this happiness? There is no time to think about it. Is this that feeling I spent my whole life searching for? A finality. An end to that beginning I have always known. I stand up and meander away through the store.
The sheer volume of reality involved. Perhaps I destroyed the man who would cure cancer. All these people had families. How many will cry after I am gone? How many are crying now? The tears mounting in volume. Creating a great crushing weight on the hearts of so many. A weight so heavy it can only be bore by the strength of thousands.
My attention turned to this flack jacket. Who the fuck am I kidding? Fuck this. What does it matter? I should get on with my death. Do I even really want to shoot it out with the cops? I remove my coat and abandon it. I throw away the pistol. Then drop the heavy vest to the floor and it lands with a thud. Oh, it would.
My fun is over. I don’t want anything to do with this anymore. I throw the rifle over my shoulder and light another cigarette. And wander into the aisle full of cleaning products and pick up two cans of disinfectant aerosol; placing one in my back pocket, holding the other. And then walk through the field of indoor pyres. I create more flames on clothes racks. But my eye is on the exit.
It shouldn’t be long. They should be heading in here by now I would think. I am only burning clothes. Waiting, I haven’t seen anybody around. I haven’t searched for someone either. The heat is really pretty. The fires are hurting my face. I am having fun spraying flames from my aerosol can.
This will be the last time I have fun. I think. Oh shit. The rain.
I throw the can over my shoulder and light a cigarette. Making my way with a purpose over to the entrance.
From just beyond the row of cash registers. I take a general aim out of the entrance to the mall and fire off what rounds are left in the barrel. Bursts of tile all over. Windows shattering: some close, and some far off. About six windows leading to the exit. I move in a semi circle to the left so I can hit all of them at least once. Pumping my finger furiously to get the rounds out.
Click click click through the quiet. Crack the release and jar the drum loose so it clangs on the floor. I put down the gun, equip my flip knife and flick it open. Pulling up my pant leg; the mess of masking tape and full clip bound to my calf are exposed. I cut away the tape to free the magazine and tear it off like a band aid.
With the clip loaded I drag my cigarette and hear more sirens arriving. The police already out there have turned theirs off. But the blue and red still dances on the walls before me. Masking tape bounces in the air as I move with the gun raised to my eye. I peek around the corner. Two cop cars stationed. I see one face aiming a pistol out of his cruiser window. The other cruiser is empty. The rain is clearly falling just as heavy as it had been doing all day long.
Keeping to the floor, I move around the threshold of this super store and into the mall. My back against the wall, I am just a ferret in the corner. There are two cops in the distance scanning from left to right. Looking to, and away from, my recent positions; caught up with the sight of the corpses. I can only hit one from here; there are kiosks in the way of the other. I aim real fucking good and take my shot. He falls with the burst of sound. I notice the other cop dive into a store.
I drag my cigarette and throw it away. Standing up I run within 5 yards of the glass entryway. I take aim of the cop in his car and just before I fire the glass shatters in front of me. I pull the trigger rapidly struggling to maintain my initial aim. I move into the automatic sensor and the door is opening as from the right an officer enters the foyer taking aim at me with a shotgun. Four shots right into him. His weapon discharges once and the glass rains down all around me.
The cop in his car hangs over the door. Clearly dead. Shots over my shoulder. I return the fire but I cannot see where it came from. Glass exploding all in front of me. The door the cop had come in by opens and I run through it.
Through the rain just running. Ambulances and cop cars; there are red and blue lights everywhere I can see. I can hear the shots. The sidewalk and brick walls are bursting in points all around. There is a good distance between me and the officers shooting at me from one and two o clock. They are all gathered around my car really far away. And around the other entrance, a good distance away. The pistol strikes are not even close now. They can’t hit me from where they are any more.
No one can get me now without me getting them first. So I turn and aim to the cop shooting from besides flashing lights. I can see the flames burst from his gun. That’s a target. Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. He is still shooting at me. I can hear him missing. Aim. Fire. The brick chips over my shoulder. Aim. Fire. He fell. I saw it. I turn my attention the advancing squad cars; three of them.
I fire sparingly as they advance. It is all I can do to aim for the steering wheels. The wind and water are ripping past my face and I just pull the trigger slow. Methodically. One is pulling ahead of the others. He turns his sirens on and his headlights are closing in on me. For a moment I just stare into them. But he is going to drive into me.
I fling the rifle butt down and put the barrel to the underside of my chin and pull the trigger.