Chapter 1
A man in his mid twenties walked away from his car, an old beat-up-piece-of-crap-hatchback he bought back when they were cheap. He looked like he was in the wrong era, with his worn out duster and heavy western boots. His jet black hair had been combed twice in his life, at his grandmother’s funeral and his best friend’s wedding, three days before the draft. The man looked into the sky and said in a low whisper, “God, why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?”
He was not an atheist; he believed in the good Lord. He just hated God’s guts. The man had a long, bad history with the church and, like the hair, only went there twice. He waited a long time to stop believing in God, but the bastard was persistent; he had to give him points for that.
It was a Saturday night in North Reading, a few miles north of Boston. Saturday night meant the man had to go to his parents’ house to spend the night so he could “keep in touch” as his father told him the night he moved out. As he knocked on the door, he waited to hear the sounds he heard every Saturday night; his mother swearing after burning herself on something she thought was cool, his father cheering on as some sports replay played on the television, and his twenty year old dog barking his arrival. He opened the door and looked around the room. The house had not changed one bit, just like last weekend and the weekend before.
The kitchen was split into two sections. One of the counters stuck out three feet as a divider. On the right half, counters made a half circle around the area with a stove and a dishwasher imbedded into the granite. The counters were covered in different cooking tools and items nobody bothered to move. Cabinets sat wide open above the counters and his mother was constantly moving around the area, trying to make it look neat. She was an elderly woman who took pride in the fact that she was a woman and only bothered to cook a large meal either on Christmas or on Saturday. Her gray hair was held back by and old pink Red Sox hat that had been hers for ages. She said in a parched voice, “Oh, you’re here. Call over your father so we can finally start eating.” Marcus turned to look at the other side of the kitchen.
In this area, a table meant for six was half-covered in clutter that nobody bothered to move. Four spaces were cleared; two for the parents and two for the siblings. On one side of the table, there was no room for a seat as the refrigerator was less than a foot away from the edge. Farther to the left, Marcus’s older-yet-little sister was typing away on the computer, and all he was able o get out of her was a hushed, “Hi, Marcus” before she continued to type. He walked passed her and moved into the living room, where his father was watching the 2004 playoffs between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox. He watched it every few months or so during the off-season. His hair was grey-going-on-white, and he still wore his old work shirts, even though he was retired. Marcus called him in and the old man had trouble standing up, but the stubborn ol’ coot wouldn’t accept help. He was nearing sixty, but he had the mind of someone half his age.
When everyone was seated, Marcus’s mother brought out a large honey-glazed ham with a plate of peas and another plate of mashed potatoes. Marcus’s mother said, “So, anything interesting happen in your lives?” Marcus responded, “Nothing worth noting.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Well, my office building blew up as soon as I left.”
His father and sister laughed at the statement and Marcus joined them, even though it was true.
“What about you, Lizzy?”
“Nope, but I saw another group of boys from our work going off to the war.”
In Europe, world war three was going on. The press called it the “New Age Punic Wars” because of the similarities. President Conera wanted the war to end as quickly as possible to lessen the chance of it going across the seas, so he was able to acquire the good graces of the media and Congress to start a draft.
“Has anyone been drafted from your office, Marcus?”
“Firstly, I work in an office building that helps fix broken toasters. Secondly, didn’t I already tell you? My office blew up as soon as I left.”
His father started to choke on a slice of ham from laughing too hard. His sister only giggled and his mother just gave him the shut-up-and-eat-your-food look.
“What about you two? Something always happens around here worth talking about.”
His father said, “I finished working on the Camaro. I guess that’s something.”
Marcus’s father bought an old broken down Camaro for fifty dollars from their neighbors and he spent two years trying to find the parts for it. Marcus had no love for cars, but this one was meant to be for fun.
“Well, I guess that’s some good news. We gotta get it out of that old garage of yours and get it to the track.”
Dinner did not last long after that. The clock read 8:00PM, so everyone sat in the living room and watched the half hour shows until ten o’clock. Marcus went to his old room, which was the size of his fake cubicle at his work. He laid his head down on the bed and would have fallen asleep, had Liz not walked into the room. Her short red hair reflected the hallway light and she glowed copper from it. She was wearing a green shirt and red nightgown. She sat in a chair next to his bed and asked him, “So, anything interesting happen in your life?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh, that’s strange. Because I saw something interesting happen to you that I didn’t notice before”
Marcus’s blood ran cold. Did she know who he really worked for? Would she tell anybody? Would he need to bribe her? These thoughts floated around in Marcus’s head as Liz picked up Marcus’s laptop off of the floor. It was running on his account and he did not have a password. She opened it up and said, “Well well well, what do we have here?” Marcus wanted to run, but he couldn’t. Liz turned the notebook towards him and pointed her finger at something entirely different from what he expected. Her finger pressed on the “Relationship Status” part of Facebook, where Marcus recently changed his status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship’. Then she changed the page to his homepage, where it was published that he recently made friends with a woman his age named Karen. Liz looked him in the eye and said, “So, when do I get to meet her and when can I expect a nephew?” Marcus turned around in his bed and Liz only said, “Fine, don’t tell me. Just remember, I already friended her. I’ll get all of the answers soon enough.” He waited for her to close the door and picked up his laptop. He wrote on Karen’s wall, “guess what, my sister thinks we’re in a relationship!” The response came instantly, “lol, go to sleep. Isaac wants us to push triple shifts tomorrow, and I don’t need you in a bad mood.” Marcus did as his superior told him and went to bed.
A million strong army of dark-armored soldiers surround a single boy of thirteen. All of the soldiers look nervous, and the boy actually looks happy to be surrounded by enemies. An officer gives the order to charge, and the circle around the child collapses as the front lines close in on the child. The soldiers turned to fire as they approached him. A queen in a far off castle screamed as her children fall as ash.
He was not an atheist; he believed in the good Lord. He just hated God’s guts. The man had a long, bad history with the church and, like the hair, only went there twice. He waited a long time to stop believing in God, but the bastard was persistent; he had to give him points for that.
It was a Saturday night in North Reading, a few miles north of Boston. Saturday night meant the man had to go to his parents’ house to spend the night so he could “keep in touch” as his father told him the night he moved out. As he knocked on the door, he waited to hear the sounds he heard every Saturday night; his mother swearing after burning herself on something she thought was cool, his father cheering on as some sports replay played on the television, and his twenty year old dog barking his arrival. He opened the door and looked around the room. The house had not changed one bit, just like last weekend and the weekend before.
The kitchen was split into two sections. One of the counters stuck out three feet as a divider. On the right half, counters made a half circle around the area with a stove and a dishwasher imbedded into the granite. The counters were covered in different cooking tools and items nobody bothered to move. Cabinets sat wide open above the counters and his mother was constantly moving around the area, trying to make it look neat. She was an elderly woman who took pride in the fact that she was a woman and only bothered to cook a large meal either on Christmas or on Saturday. Her gray hair was held back by and old pink Red Sox hat that had been hers for ages. She said in a parched voice, “Oh, you’re here. Call over your father so we can finally start eating.” Marcus turned to look at the other side of the kitchen.
In this area, a table meant for six was half-covered in clutter that nobody bothered to move. Four spaces were cleared; two for the parents and two for the siblings. On one side of the table, there was no room for a seat as the refrigerator was less than a foot away from the edge. Farther to the left, Marcus’s older-yet-little sister was typing away on the computer, and all he was able o get out of her was a hushed, “Hi, Marcus” before she continued to type. He walked passed her and moved into the living room, where his father was watching the 2004 playoffs between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox. He watched it every few months or so during the off-season. His hair was grey-going-on-white, and he still wore his old work shirts, even though he was retired. Marcus called him in and the old man had trouble standing up, but the stubborn ol’ coot wouldn’t accept help. He was nearing sixty, but he had the mind of someone half his age.
When everyone was seated, Marcus’s mother brought out a large honey-glazed ham with a plate of peas and another plate of mashed potatoes. Marcus’s mother said, “So, anything interesting happen in your lives?” Marcus responded, “Nothing worth noting.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Well, my office building blew up as soon as I left.”
His father and sister laughed at the statement and Marcus joined them, even though it was true.
“What about you, Lizzy?”
“Nope, but I saw another group of boys from our work going off to the war.”
In Europe, world war three was going on. The press called it the “New Age Punic Wars” because of the similarities. President Conera wanted the war to end as quickly as possible to lessen the chance of it going across the seas, so he was able to acquire the good graces of the media and Congress to start a draft.
“Has anyone been drafted from your office, Marcus?”
“Firstly, I work in an office building that helps fix broken toasters. Secondly, didn’t I already tell you? My office blew up as soon as I left.”
His father started to choke on a slice of ham from laughing too hard. His sister only giggled and his mother just gave him the shut-up-and-eat-your-food look.
“What about you two? Something always happens around here worth talking about.”
His father said, “I finished working on the Camaro. I guess that’s something.”
Marcus’s father bought an old broken down Camaro for fifty dollars from their neighbors and he spent two years trying to find the parts for it. Marcus had no love for cars, but this one was meant to be for fun.
“Well, I guess that’s some good news. We gotta get it out of that old garage of yours and get it to the track.”
Dinner did not last long after that. The clock read 8:00PM, so everyone sat in the living room and watched the half hour shows until ten o’clock. Marcus went to his old room, which was the size of his fake cubicle at his work. He laid his head down on the bed and would have fallen asleep, had Liz not walked into the room. Her short red hair reflected the hallway light and she glowed copper from it. She was wearing a green shirt and red nightgown. She sat in a chair next to his bed and asked him, “So, anything interesting happen in your life?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh, that’s strange. Because I saw something interesting happen to you that I didn’t notice before”
Marcus’s blood ran cold. Did she know who he really worked for? Would she tell anybody? Would he need to bribe her? These thoughts floated around in Marcus’s head as Liz picked up Marcus’s laptop off of the floor. It was running on his account and he did not have a password. She opened it up and said, “Well well well, what do we have here?” Marcus wanted to run, but he couldn’t. Liz turned the notebook towards him and pointed her finger at something entirely different from what he expected. Her finger pressed on the “Relationship Status” part of Facebook, where Marcus recently changed his status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship’. Then she changed the page to his homepage, where it was published that he recently made friends with a woman his age named Karen. Liz looked him in the eye and said, “So, when do I get to meet her and when can I expect a nephew?” Marcus turned around in his bed and Liz only said, “Fine, don’t tell me. Just remember, I already friended her. I’ll get all of the answers soon enough.” He waited for her to close the door and picked up his laptop. He wrote on Karen’s wall, “guess what, my sister thinks we’re in a relationship!” The response came instantly, “lol, go to sleep. Isaac wants us to push triple shifts tomorrow, and I don’t need you in a bad mood.” Marcus did as his superior told him and went to bed.
A million strong army of dark-armored soldiers surround a single boy of thirteen. All of the soldiers look nervous, and the boy actually looks happy to be surrounded by enemies. An officer gives the order to charge, and the circle around the child collapses as the front lines close in on the child. The soldiers turned to fire as they approached him. A queen in a far off castle screamed as her children fall as ash.