The Alarm Clock at the End of the World

Part 21

The Evening Of The First Night.

“I’m not fucking Eva again,” I say.

“Dude, you can be honest with me.” He flares his nostrils and exhales hard through them. “Daaamn. That girl’s almost thirty now, and she’s still got the finest ass I’ve ever seen on a woman!”

“She’s twenty-seven!”

“I’m sorry, did I offend her honor?” Nepotism laughs wildly. “Come on, Filthy, tell me the truth. Are you tapping that?”

“Must you be so crude?” We come to the edge of the bridge where a giant brass ring is suspended above a concrete park. Homeless people  sleep here on summer nights. The November freeze followed by the December thaw has driven all but the most tenacious into cover.

I watch Nepotism carefully to be sure he doesn’t notice Eva drive past. At the very least, he doesn’t make it obvious.  “I’ve heard from her,” I admit finally. “She sent me a letter two months ago, to tell me she was leaving Metro City.”

“You knew all along.”

“She never said she was coming here. I figured she’d go live with the anarchists in Spain. She still thinks there will be a Revolution.”

“And who told her that?”

“I wasn’t listening to what those kids were saying!” I say. “I don’t like poetry!” I clench my fists in my pockets. “You could have told me they were calling for war!”

“And when you saw the armies of cops bearing down on us in Metro sound-stage, the City, did you still want peace? Remember the fights at the Osiris Bridge? They were the bloodiest battles of the whole campaign, and you were at the lead.”

He stops walking at an intersection, stands there a few seconds, but stomps after me when I cross, narrowly avoiding being hit by a white sports car. “I’ve heard rumors that you’ll be shot on sight if anyone catches you in Metro City again.”

“That was different,” I snarl. “That was self defense. If I didn’t lead a counter-attack, the police would have stomped every last one of us that day. I did what I had to. I thought Persephone would back us up.”

He puts a stubby finger to his lips. “Shhh! Come on, Dr. Filth, give it a rest. Let’s think about sausages for right now.” He points the same index finger to the brightly-lit storefront surrounded by a sea of nappy heads. “We’re old men now. Rebellion is a young man’s sport.”

Go to Scene 22