Japanimae Graffiti (PG-13)
Japanimae Graffiti
Copyright 2003 to ---- by Bluesy
This is part of an idea I came up with long ago. I always envisioned the dream of American artists using the classic style of Japanese animation to tell a story. It would be Japanese animation, but all American. The downside, it would not be the usual slice of American Pie.
The story is about an America we wish will not be, but soon we may turn out to be. An America run on Democracy, but the utopian society would eat the people it stood for alive. This story follows three people living the American Dream, and would be killed because of it.
I will try to write as much of the story as possible. I hope you enjoy this drama.
She ran down the dark corridors of the alley, leaving Main Street of Gemini, New York. Hopefully, she thought, she will leave Gemini for good this time. She listened to the clutter of rats and roaches hunt for their evening meal in the dumpsters. She decides it is time for her dinner as well. She walks up to the brick wall at the end of that run down one-way street and knocks on the red stones.
“Password,” a voice came from the door.
“Karma sent me,” she whispered back.
She stood back as the brick section swung open like a rusty gate. The old man on the other side of the hidden hideaway greeted her.
“Welcome to Easy Street,” said the old man as the young girl entered.
The young girl smelled the jazz and smoked filled air and felt at home. She tugged on the sides of her red and black flame jacket, adjusted her indigo tinted shades, and brushed her flying strawberry brown hair behind her ears.
“Hola Anands,” called the barkeep behind her. Ananda walked up to the stand and took a seat on a squeaking bar stool. She brushed a smoldering ashtray out of her way as the barkeep pulled up the usual.
“Hey dere, Karma,” Ananda replied before she took a sip of the longneck bottle full of blue liquid. “How are t’ings?”
“Oh, ya know,” said Karma. “Same ol’ crap. We just gotten word that the fuzz is around town, and everyone just filtered on in.”
Ananda looked around the near empty speakeasy. “Filtered ya say?”
“Kay, so there not all here,” said Karma, “but you know the fuzz is looking for one of us.”
Time crawled by as Ananda tapped the table and leaned over. “I’m looking for Buddy Ellington,” she said.
“Buddy? Your brother?” asked Karma. “I haven’t seen him.” Ananda sunk down as her last bit of hope left her body with a sigh. “Aww, don’t worry ‘bout it cuz. I’m sure Buddy’s just hiding. Just ‘bout every swinger heard about the fuzz.” Karma could tell that she was not okay about not finding her brother. “You know what?” said Karma as she leaned over the salty bar table. “You know who may know ‘bout your bro? That girl right over there.”
Karma pointed to a young girl sitting all by herself at a table listening to the quiet blues music as she had her nose in her book.
“Who’s dat gal?” asked Ananda.
“Who knows?” asked Karma. “She knew the password so she gotta be cool.”
“Yeah?” asked Ananda. “That’s what Rustic Rex thought. I’m gonna check dis gal out. Ya put i’ on my tab, Karma.”
Ananda left the bar table and walked casually over to the girl. The girl had bleached blonde hair and dark tanned skin. You could almost think she was black it was so dark. Her tiger striped bandana peeked through her long hair. Her brown top seemed to blend in with her skin. She brushed off some dirt from her black shorts as she flipped the pages from her Bible.
“Who migh’ y’all be?” asked Ananda.
The girl looked up from her Bible. “Greetings, friend. You may call me Josiah.”
“The name’s Ananda, an’ I’m not your friend,” said Ananda.
“I apologize, Ananda,” said Josiah, “but we are all the children of God.”
“Yeah right,” said Ananda, “well, us children have some sibling rivalry of our own going on.” She sat down across the table and took a look into Josiah’s auburn eyes. “Ya know any swingers?” she asked the young evangelist.
“No, I’m afraid,” she answered politely.
“Den how’d ya git t’rough t’ de speakeasy?” asked Ananda. “No, no. I’m jus’ lookin’ for my bro.”
“I am so sorry for your loss,” said Josiah. “I will pray for you.”
“Pray? For me?” Ananda got up. “Save your breath and pray for someone who cares!”
Josiah nodded. “You are an American,” she said.
“I not a belligerent ol’ fart,” said Ananda. “I’m a swinger.”
“Yes, a free spirited slacker who lives life on a whim and a prayer,” said Josiah quoting the definition of swinger. She closed her book and got up. “You are a true American.”
Ananda saw Josiah take her leave. “Where ya go?”
“Going out,” said Josiah.
“Out dere? In dis panic?” asked Ananda as the speakeasy got quiet. “The fuzz’s out dere. Dey’ll eat ya alive!”
Josiah laughed. “Save your breath and pray for someone who cares, Ananda.” She nodded to the swinger. “The good Lord will provide, my friend. We will meet again, I presume.”
Ananda sat down at the table and watched Josiah leave.
Jay sat silently idle on the sofa in his parent’s house, watching the pictures on the TV dance and chase each other from one side of the screen to the other. He still sat in his barely worn workout attire from the gym after hearing the news about the President coming on television at this time. Jay could have watched it on the hanging screen in the gym, but he’d rather take the news with his parents. According to the rumors, the news may make or break America for sure.
If only his father were here. Only Jay’s mother, Mirror, was in the house. She was busy frolicking around the bright living room spraying the right fragrance and lighting the right candles.
“Mother,” said Jay rolling his eyes, “do you really have to do that now?”
“We must have the right atmosphere for the President,” said Mirror. “We must have the right atmosphere that can soften any blow, good or bad. I’ll go get the aloe plants from the study.”
Jay watched the TV as Mirror left the room. Jay’s father sure did marry a girl quite opposite of him. His father, Richard, was a strict southern Baptist from a country town in northern Iowa. Mirror, or Miriam as she’s known to most of father’s company, is the latest in a line of hippie grown family from a suburban city in southern California. She believes in a Buddhist type religion of spirits and auras. Somehow they hit it off and settled in the quiet town of Wilmington, Ohio.
Jay watched as the Presidential seal interrupted the scheduled programming. “Mother,” called Jay. “Mother. President Nicholas is on the air.”
Mirror thundered down the stairs, her old baggy jeans and hippie style shirt flapping in the air as she ran down the steps. “This may be harsh,” she commented to herself. “I did not get a chance for those aloe plants.”
“Will you please forget the aloe plants and sit down,” said Jay as he patted on the seat cushion next to him on the couch.
Mirror sat down and adjusted the eagle feather braided into her tangled hair. With the way she looked, it was as if this forty seven year old woman just came out of living in a tree in the woods for almost a year.
The President came on the television in his oval office in Washington, D.C. On one side of his desk stood the American flag, with fifty stars to its name. To the right was the map of America and Middle East Asia. America sure looked different since the dawn of 2000. Delaware has merged with Washington, D.C. so the capitol may be larger and more superior. The American territories such as Guam and Puerto Rico have become states. Cuba, Lybia, Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq have also become states (Afghanistan and Iraq have been renamed, but had their old names returned to them during a recent revolution. Some Americans still call them by their new names, Afghan and Iramas). There are a few more territories added to the collection: Venezuela, Columbia, Germany, Russia, Egypt, North Africa (now named Norma), Laos, and most of the Philippines. Venezuela and Columbia wish to be states, but Laos’s government tries to earn their independence back.
The President sat there in his rich color suit and silver gray hair. He nodded to the Americans like he was greeting an old friend, blinking his deep blue eyes. “My fellow Americans,” he began. “Over the past few years we have been dealing with the unsettling disputes of turmoil in Iran. So much turmoil some Americans are calling Iran ‘Iraq’s evil sister.’ The dictator rule in Iran has not been so bloody as it once was in Iraq, but the results are still as terrifying. After many negotiations with this new nuclear-armed country we have come to a decision. Starting immediately, we are sending troops to keep the peace in Iran as our government tries to keep the same page with theirs. We have been given full approval of this plan, even from the Iranian government. We will not stand idle by and watch a country deteriorate as we plan to save it.
“Now I know we have already sent most of our troops into overseas operations in Kuwait, Sadia, and Israel.” (Saudi Arabia changed its name to Sadia after it became European territory.) “This will mean that we are short on troops. This is why, for the first time since 1970’s, I will call out a draft. Effective tomorrow, the best of the best will be called out to a new mission in Iran.”
Jay picked up the remote and turned the sound down on the TV. He looked over at her mother, staring at the TV in silence. “More operations. More operations,” she chanted. “This is too much even for America. First Kuwait, Sadia, and Israel, now Iran.”
Jay hugged his mother tight. “Do not worry,” he said. “I’m sure they’re just peace keeping missions like in Israel. You know how good we are at keeping the invading Kuwait army at bay from them.”
“Kuwait has no army after Israel,” said Mirror in her tears.
“But they are still trying to invade are they?” asked Jay, trying to be optimistic. “Listen, Operation Saida Freedom and Operation Israeli Peace have been successful without a hitch. I’m sure this Operation… whatever will be just as successful,”
“I heard on TV its Operation Iranian Independence,” said Mirror. “And an Operation is only successful if and when it is over.”
Just then Richard stormed into the door and threw down his briefcase. “I have had just about enough of President Gerald Nicholas’s dumb ass operations!” he shouted. “We have had so much he has liquidated both the army and the marines! You can’t sprinkle a name on a problem and make it go away!”
Jay kissed Mirror on the cheek. “I better get back to my apartment.”
“Be careful, Jay Bird,” said Mirror. “It is pretty dark out there, and your home is a mile away.
Jay smiled. He has never heard Mirror call him by her special nickname in a long time. “I will, mother.”
Jay took his leave out the back door. He drove off listening to the shouting of his father get drowned out by his silver sports car.
Ananda woke up from her pillow of napkins in the middle of the night. She could barely smell the cigarette smoke that still fumigated the room. She wish it would filter out soon, the butts were beginning to smell rank.
The clock flickered 4:37am on the clock above the bar. “Ah shi’,” she said. “I late fer meh gig at The Chick’n Place.”
Karma was awake cleaning up from the quiet ruckus that just ended at 1am. “You are crazy, kid,” she said. “Going out at this late of night while the fuzz is out looking for us. And you know the hunters are probably out as well. And for a graveyard shift at an’ ol’ KFC?”
“I ain’s gonna let no fool keep meh from hidin’ from meh chunk change,” said Ananda as she too kthe last sip of her flat drink. “Now where’m meh pack?”
“At The Chicken Place,” said Karma. “You told me to remind you, remember?”
“Shit!” said Ananda. “I’s still need’s ta change too!”
A drunk man on the table near her rolled over and shushed her as she ran out the door.
“You’re a dumbass kid,” said Karma to Aananda. “Damn, I’m gonna miss that kid.”
It was the wee hours after dawn as Ananda began to sweep up from the overnight rush in the lobby. There were crumbs everywhere from the overnight truckers hoping to get their last meal in before they slept or left. She looked around at the white lobby with its still hanging pictures of KFC history, when everyone knows over thirty years ago Kentucky Fried Chicken merged with Popeye’s Chicken to become the more popular rest stop of the two, The Chicken Place.
She listened to the sizzling of the grill as the two maintenance workers cleaned out the vats and tested the temperature for the opening shift at 10am. She also heard someone over the front counter call whisper her name. She turned and saw the young boy smiling at her.
“’ey, Tony,” she said smiling.
“Ananda,” Tony said back. “You want to meet in the stock room b’fore the managers get in?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said as she dusted off the last of the crumbs and threw them in the trashcan. She wiped some crumbs off of her black and blue uniform before she ran back pass the grill area into the stock room.
Tony met her there with a half empty Styrofoam canister. “I saved ya some of the waste count from closing shift,” he said, handing it to Ananda.
“Hide i’ ‘n meh pack like usual,” said Ananda.
As Tony ran off to the break room Ananda heard the muttered knock on the back door. She knocked back and waited for the knock to be repeated. When the knock was returned, she opened it up. It was one of the swingers from the speakeasy she visited that night, and he was all out of breath as if he was running for his life.
“Dude, wha’s goin’ ons?” asked Ananda.
“I… I just heard off the streets up north. Someone knows… why the fuzz is after us,” he whimpered out.
“What’s with him?” asked Tony.
“Prob’bly chased ‘way by the hunters,” said Ananda. She remembered that morning she had to duck through a few alleyways and take the long way to shake off a gun shot or two. She could still feel the cold steel nearly nick her hand that morning.
“Someone passed the buck,” said the young swinger. “The fuzz is after one of us?”
“Who?” they both asked.
“I dunno,” he explained. “All I know is that a bank robbery took place in Manhattan and the blame has been pinned on a swinger. Rumors circulate that the guy who passed the buck was the guy who robbed the bank.”
“Coul’ deys tells on da cam’ras an’ what nots at de bank who I’ was ‘r not?” asked Ananda.
“Nope, I guess,” said the young boy as he heard some sirens come buzzing passed the restaurant. “I better head back. I don’t want the blame to be pinned on me. And Ananda, you better watch your back in case the buck was passed to you.”
“Wait,” Ananda stopped the boy as he tried to make his exit. “How’d d’ya know my name?”
“Buddy sent me,” he said as he left the restaurant.
Ananda wanted to soak all this in, but Tony tugged on her sleeve. “We better head back up to counter,” he said. “The opening shift’ll be in momentarily.”
Josiah walked the highway throughout that night, for what must feel like days. She did not stop until she saw the flicker of dancing fire underneath the I-370 Bridge just outside of town. No, when she saw that she ran towards the light.
She ran to her new home under the I-370 Bridge where a few of Gemini’s homeless were welcome, or not known about. She saw one of her mentor’s, Malachi, eating a meal of toast and jam with one of the homeless. With how well kempt he was you think he was scheming us just to be homeless. Malachi read the Bible aloud to herself, but it was meant to anyone that would lend an ear, and repeated the sections that were important to her or at that time. Malachi could understand that she was quoting from Deuteronomy, but she did not know where in that book.
Josiah kept silent until Malachi would break for her. Malachi knew she was there and stopped just at the page turn to chapter 25. “I see you have returned,” said Malachi. She adjusted her red border denim skirt and wiped some crumbs off her red sleeveless shirt.
“I am,” said Josiah. “I was held back in Gemini because the police were after the innocent.”
Malachi laughed. “I see the Martyrs still live in Gemini,” she said half-seriously. “We will stay here for another night, at least until Jude returns from Manhattan. Then, we may leave to our next location.”
“Why are we staying here?” asked Malachi. “I thought we were on a deadline of sorts?”
“You may say that,” said Malachi. She raised her welcomed hand to the homeless man. “Daniel and his guests have been so kind of our welcome, why must we spoil with our departure?”
Malachi looked around and saw two more of the flock members bathing or changing for the next day. The other member of the flock must be with Jude, she thought. She looked over the hill that gave way to the sight of two cities. Watching the cities begin their days was a young boy by no more than twelve years.
“Who might that be?” asked Josiah.
“That is a runaway we saved last night,” said Malachi. “We found him under such a seizure. So with one prayer, his demon was freed. He decided to stay with us.”
“What is his name?” asked Josiah.
“A most peculiar name,” said Malachi, “for such a saved person. His says his name is Legion. Have you ever any recollection why this name may be so peculiar, young Josiah?”
Josiah looked at the boy as she quoted from her memory. “I remember well a chapter in Mark. Jesus came into a town where there was a man in a seizure. Jesus took the demon out, a demon called Legion, because there were so many of it. Legion called to Jesus and told Him to send the hoard of them into the pigs. As Jesus did so, the demons sent the pigs into a river where they drowned.”
Malachi nodded. “You remember well your New Testament, especially the four books of Jesus.”
“Malachi,” Josiah asked her mentor, “do you think this story of Legion will foreshadow this Legion?”
Malachi looked at her. “It is undetermined at this time, but we must never think of such things to our fellow man. Besides, the demon is out. When we know this man is against us, we will know in time.”
Josiah got up and walked over to the hill. The steep hill gave way to the polluted fog cradling the twin metropolises of New York, Manhattan and Gemini. Manhattan became its own city as soon as New York changed its name to Gemini many years ago. The change was made so New York may have twin cities to be proud of during the dawn of the first major American war of the 22nd century. The only characteristics that made these cities twins are the fumigated clouds blocking their glory and the two tall towers jettisoning out of each one. Manhattan had two towers that looked like the ones that fell on the tragic 2001 day. Gemini had twin towers that looked out of this world, as if man today could never build them.
Josiah said aloud. “Look at the pollution that shroud these lovely cities. All the technology we have made to save the environment, and we treat them like novelty items. We would rather drive the sporty tree chopping and ozone-depleting vehicle than our ancient electric cars or our private solar jet planes.”
Legion turned around and looked at Josiah with her black eyes. “I grew up in both cities. I was born in Gemini, than lived in Manhattan. They may not be charming, but they are my home.”
Josiah sat down next to him. “Arizona is my birth place,” said Josiah, “but it is not my home. Just because you can eat, sleep, and rest there does not call it home. This bridge we live under is not a home to the homeless or us. Our home is there.” Josiah pointed to the last stars in the morning sun. “Our home is in Heaven, with our reward.”
Legion looked at Josiah with his black eyes. “Who are you anyway?”
Josiah looked back at him with her auburn eyes. “Just another soul trying to figure things out. You may call me Josiah.”
The computer keys went clicking away with every fall of the finger as the words unraveled onto the empty white screen on Jay Parker’s desk. He tried to keep working in his beige cubicle, but the others around him keep talking about the President’s announcement from last night. Jay came in hours early, and there were people who came in hours earlier just to talk about it.
One of Jay’s co-workers and friends came walking into the cubicle with his morning cup of coffee. He placed the cup on Jay’s expensive leather briefcase as he announced himself. “Good morning, Jay,” he said cheerfully, “or what we have left to savor of it.”
Jay sighed and turned away from his work on his swiveling gray desk chair. “Good morning, Brian.”
“Did you catch the conference last night on TV?” asked Brian as he stirred his coffee. “Not the game, but President Windbag. Woo! He went drowning on and on for one half hour. I bet my candidate could have cut that speech down to six words.”
“For the last time we’re truly sorry Truman Madison did not win the election,” said Jay, “But that was three years ago.”
“Yeah, good thing Nicholas’s term’s almost up.” Brian lifted his glass. “Here’s to four years, here’s hoping for not another four friggin’ more.”
A secretary came walking by all in tears followed by another co-worker. “Wow, did you see Janet?” he asked them.
“What’s wrong with Janet?” asked Jay.
“She got a letter in the mail this morning about the draft,” he explained. “Her son got drafted.”
“What a bunch of bullshit,” said Brian as he continued to stir his coffee. “There’s no way the mail can come in the morning, it comes in the afternoon.”
“Well she got one and it was real,” said the co-worker. “She came in so broken up the boss gave her a personal day.”
“Wow!” said Brian. “Now I wish I was drafted and a blubbering crybaby.”
Jay shook his head trying to hold in his laughter.
“This is no laughing matter,” the co-worker went on. “We’re hearing news on Radio Talk 700 AM that people are even being drafted at work. The notices are showing up in inboxes across the country. That reminds me, I better check mine too.” The co-worker left them with the news.
“I don’t believe this,” said Jay.
“Don’t,” said Brian. “Radio Talk may be updated but you know half of their stuff is bullshit.”
Someone across the maze of cubicles cried out. “Ah damn! I get to go overseas and shoot up some justice out of those Iranian bastards!”
The sound of stunned silence and worried stammering filled the air. Brian fixed the red tie on his cheap blue suit. “Man, look at the time. I better get to work, and ignore my inbox.”
Jay turned around to his work as Brian took his leave. Jay couldn’t focus as his fingers that were whirling by moments before were cautiously combing his full brown hair and fixing the creases out of his Italian gray suit. He eyed the inbox that lied in the corner of his eye and just sat there. A few seconds later, he sped across his cubicle on his desk chair and fluffed through the papers in his inbox.
Deadlines… deadlines… deadlines… no letter… no notice.
Jay took a deep sigh of relief, but his relief was only interrupted by the sound of a voice in the cubicle nearby. “Good news, Carl!” shouted the voice. “I’m coming overseas with you!”
It was nearing noon and the lunch rush at The Chicken Place has not come yet. Everyone stood on pins and needles as they waited for more customers to come in ten by ten. The burning aroma of fried and barbecued chicken was slowly dying out.
In the back stock room sat Ananda playing with one of the kids’ toys out of a Chicken Little Play Meal. She was off the clock, but she’d rather stay before the problems in her world die down. Tony, who was supposed to work his double shift in the sink area, was keeping Ananda company in the caged area full of boxes, bags, and wet wipes.
“Do you think the fuzz is after you?” asked Tony.
Ananda dropped the handheld game in its lap top box and picked up a drinking bird from last month’s toy set.
“Well?” asked Tony.
“Let ‘em come,” said Ananda. “Like I care? I be ready fer ‘em.”
A knock was heard on the back door, the same knock from this morning. The two young adults glance at each other uneasily as the knock was heard again.
Ananda collected herself. “Meh. If i’ were de fuzz, deys walk in from de front.”
“But what if it’s not the fuzz?” asked Tony as Ananda approached the door. “What if it’s the hunters?”
Ananda stopped as she reached for the doorknob. After a pause, she slowly opened the door. The door flew open and a middle-aged woman dressed in a pink top and acid dyed jeans slammed it shut behind her.
“Karma?” asked Ananda.
Karma saw Ananda was out of her uniform and into her all black and firey red and black jacket attire. “Oh, good, you’re off the clock. You gotta hide me,” pleaded Karma. “They’re after me. They found the speakeasy and they’re after me.”
“Calm down,” said Ananda. “De fuzz ‘s after you?”
“No, the hunters,” said Karma. “They set me up from the robbery and they’re gonna turn me in.”
Ananda stood there speechless. She knew the gangs of the New York cities, or Swinger Hunters as their kind called them. There were lots of swingers who live underground to hide from those gangs who don’t understand them. And like in American history, anything that can’t be understood must be destroyed. The lifestyle of a swinger was unheard of in America now than it was in the 2000’s, so they must be destroyed. She knew the gangsters would hunt them down, but never trick the cops into taking the innocent.
“You gotta hide me,” said Karma. “You gotta hide me.”
“I wish we could,” said Tony, “but it’s near rush. Where can you hide?”
Ananda got an idea. “Tony, keep an eye on da sinks. I’s gonna goes ‘round to de front t’ de ladies room.”
“A good time to take a shit, Ananda,” said Tony.
“No, t’ hide Karma,” said Ananda. “She c’n hide in da restroom an’ I’ll escort her somewheres safe when we’re dead ag’in.”
Ananda took Karma by the hand and sneaked out of the restaurant.
“Nice thinking ‘bout death at a time like this,” said Tony sarcastically.
Ananda and Karma sat at the table near the Ladies room. Ananda took the last bit of chicken off an old tray and split it with Karma.
“So wha’s life like livin’ on da lam?” asked Ananda.
“It’s nice,” she said. “Learn a thing or two Davy Crockett would know, sleep in a dumpster like a rat. How’s the Middle American Dream?”
“Not bad,” said Ananda. “Getting’ ‘nough money t’ buy food, stills needs more t’ buy a dec’nt ‘partment.”
“The run down shack on 23rd street ain’t working huh?” asked Karma. “Look, I do know where Buddy is.”
“Ya do?” asked Ananda happily.
“Calm down, kid, ‘fore you kill yourself. I heard Buddy ran to Manhattan to hide from the fuzz, but I heard the fuzz is there too. If I were you I go to Albany or York. Try York, I know a guy who runs the local speakeasy there. Goes by the name of Swamp Fox, on the corner of Lancaster.”
“Got i’,” said Ananda as she finished off the bit of her wings and put her backpack on. “Well, yas better’ goes t’ hidin’ now.”
Karma sighed and picked up the half eaten chicken breast. “Yup.”
Karma slowly worked his way to the Ladies room door. She turned around and faced Ananda.
“Hey, Ananda,” she said proudly, “Eyes With Pride.”
Ananda pointed her middle and index fingers to her eyes, pulled that right hand back to the side of her in a fist, and extended all but her middle finger, which stayed tucked into her palm. This motion signaled what Karma said, Eyes With Pride.
Karma opened the door to the ladies room.
BANG!
The fiery side of a barreled shotgun greeted Karma. In a shower of blood, Karma fell to the floor. Ananda wanted to comfort her, but she knew she had to run before the gunslinger saw her. She ran out the side entrance so no one could see her. As she ran through the parking lot like the winds of Chicago, she could hear another fire echo as Tony screamed, “The Hunters got Karma! The Hunters got Karma!”
As Ananda ran away from The Chicken Place, an orange rusted truck turned out of the parking lot of the hotel across the street. The truck must have been waiting for her because it was chasing her like a mad dog after an alley cat. Ananda ran through every open alley and street corner, at every turn she barely missed the bullet of another shot. She couldn’t run to Easy Street, and she probably couldn’t head to the other speakeasies in Gemini. After careful deliberation in her mind, she remembered Karma telling her to head to York. She knew her hiding place, but she needed to get there alive.
The truck sped up and she could hear some of them shout out over the vamped engine. “Dammit! All the guns are out! And so’s the ammo!” “Use the truck! Run her over like the rat she is!”
Ananda ran by the Red Gate Bridge, Gemini’s answer to the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge was a three pronged star bridge that connected Manhattan, Gemini, and the outside world over the New York River.
That is where Ananda got her escape plan.
She ran across the bridge and through the intersection, with the truck following until they hit the light at the middle intersection. The pickup truckers cursed at every living creature as Ananda got away, but Ananda knew she wasn’t safe yet.
She took the hanging street that led to Manhattan. She was halfway across the road when the truck sped across the bridge, weaving through the noon rush of traffic. Ananda was almost across when she turned and saw the truck towering over her. She quickly jumped onto the ledge of the bridge, then off, into the murky chilling waters of the mighty New York River.
The truck stopped before it could teeter on the edge of the bridge. The two hunters got out and saw the empty splash site. “Ooh, I so wanted to kill the rat bitch.” “She killed herself, like they all should. Let’s head back.”
The truck sped away back to Gemini. Moments later, Ananda crawled onto the shores of Manhattan, under the Red Gate Bridge. She saw a few more bodies washed onto shore, she knew some of them well. The newest one was the young boy that visited her that morning at The Chicken Place.
Ananda laid some driftwood over him as his gravesite and tombstone and then walked the polluted shores to the road that led away from the twin cities.
There was more people in the room, people had to wait in line to use every machine and bench press. Some people were even reduced to aerobics and treadmills and these too had lines. You could not hide your nose from the rank of sweat for the smell crowded out the remaining air. The Gold Gym has really gotten busy.
Jay finally reached the check in desk and met the shift leader, Barbara. The most unusual thing about Barbara, she looked like a woman straight from the 1950’s. She even had the tall bright red beehive hairstyle and gap in the teeth.
“Good evening, Mr. Parker,” Barbara chimed as she took Jay’s pass.
“Good evening, Barbara,” he said. “It sure has gotten busy here. It never was this busy.”
“Yeah, it seems as if you were our only customer, Mr. Parker,” Barbara said with a giggle. “It seems this draft has gotten everyone into tip top shape.”
“The draft?” asked Jay.
“Yes, Mr. Parker,” said Barbara. “Most everyone here is a new member, and most everyone here was drafted. Maybe this draft won’t be so bad after all,” she added, giggling.
Jay looked around at all the perfectly fit and poorly fit men in the lobby. “Well, good thing I didn’t change before I got here.”
“Oh, it’s not. The locker rooms are booked solid,” explained Barbara. “We even thought of putting some of the men in the Ladies room,” Barbara chuckled again.
Jay took his pass and walked out of the gym. He knew he wouldn’t be able to work out today. It was just as well; he deserved a break from some of the hustle and bustle of his life.
Jay sat at the bench of the corner bus stop and took the cell phone out of his briefcase. The cell was so loaded down with messages he didn’t want to bear reading them. He put the phone back and picked eighty cents out of his pocket. He walked to the pay phone and slipped the change into the slot. He dialed his parents’ house down in Wilmington Ohio. Her mother picked up. He could tell by the faint swishing noise on the line that she was dancing and frolicking in the house again.
“Parker residence. Miriam speaking,” Mirror answered.
“Mother,” he said. “It’s me, Jay.”
“Jay Bird!” shrieked Mirror with delight. “Why are you on the pay phone?”
“My cell went dead,” Jay lied.
Mirror laughed like a child. “Stupid overrated technology. How are things, my little Jay Bird?”
“It’s been hectic up here in Toledo, mom, and I don’t mean the traffic,” he said. “Everyone has been verily busy since the draft.”
Jay could tell that Mirror stopped dancing on the other line. “My goodness. In all my meditation and fung-shuey of the house, I forgot about the draft. Jay, did you?”
“I did not get a letter yet, mother,” said Jay.
Mirror gave a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how happy I am of that, Jay. Everyone drafted in Wilmington has picked up and left, even the old men. Remember Mr. Jenkins from down the street?”
“Jenkins is nearing fifty mom,” said Jay.
“And enfeebled,” added Mirror.
“Mother, Jenkins just has acute arthritis in his left ankle.”
“And have you seen him walk lately?” Mirror sighed. “I just don’t get it.”
“Never you worry, mother. They picked the best of the best…”
“No,” Mirror said. “Why must we bring war to a peaceful nation? Why must we show peace by force? Why in order to bring peace we must prepare for war?”
Jay dropped the phone. Never in his life has he heard such things. He has heard of war, but never anyone saying things like that about it. Jay never questioned anything in his life, and for the first time…
Jay picked up the phone. “Mother… I better head back to the apartment.”
“Be a dear and check your mailbox.” Jay could tell Mirror was in tears.
Malachi looked east towards the road leading away from the twin cities. She called out to the traveler following the pavement. “Jude, my brother!”
Jude came running up to Malachi. The others under the bridge watched them greet each other. Both Malachi and Jude face each other. With their right hand they both slowly make a cross over their bodies from head, to chest, to left shoulder, to right shoulder.
“It is good to see you, my brother,” said Malachi.
Jude called out to the others. “I have negotiated with Burger Shack earlier this morning and got them to give up their breakfast waste to me. The food is cold, but there is enough for all of us.”
Jude gave the garbage bag full of breakfast pieces to one of the homeless. Malachi placed her hands in the air.
“Where are our manners? Where are our thanks?” she asked them all. “We must pray before we break for our meal. Jude, please help our brothers collect the tables for our meal.”
Jude helped the homeless and the members of the flock set up the tables and start the trash can fire. Malachi stopped Josiah.
“Legion is such an interesting person,” said Malachi to Josiah. “He is saved, but in the usual way. His saving was spur of the moment, a bond that can easily be broken, and possibly has. He does not act like a Christian, he seems out of place.”
“What shall I do?” asked Josiah.
“I am not certain,” said Malachi. “I am to inform you that I will meditate on this. Until then you must stay close to Jude. Let him be your mentor for a while. And make sure Legion stays close to you.”
“Yes, Malachi,” said Josiah.
Malachi and Josiah took their places at the tables. Malachi raised her hands and slowly lowered them, informing everyone to sit. They did so.
“Let us pray,” said Malachi.
Malachi stood there with her head down and her eyes shut. As she mutters another tongue, the others around her pray silently or quietly. Josiah sat there, with nothing in her mind to pray about. She looked over to Legion, sitting there, watching the bunch. Josiah sat silently and prayed for Malachi and Legion.
Jay came home to his condominium overlooking Toledo in his silver sports car. He walked into the door and threw his keys on the veranda. There were more messages blinking on his home phone and on his email computer screen. The pager he accidentally left behind seizures uncontrollably on the hardwood kitchen floor. He did not want to bother with such things right now. He watched through the skylight as the gray storm clouds begin to roll in. All the time since the phone call, Mirror’s questions buzzed through his head. He could feel more of his own brewing, but he did not know what they were about and what they were for.
He also remembered what Mirror said. Be sure to check your mailbox when you get home.
Jay closed the wooden front door onto the glass screen door. Under the mail slot of the door sat a white manila envelope with a letter folded neatly inside. He fingered the letter in his hand until the letter flipped over. He could not make out the handwriting, but he saw the formal Presidential symbol on the corner of the envelope.
That is all he needed to see.
He slouched down on his leatherback recliner gazing at the envelope. He did not need to open it, he could tell the three simple words that the letter will speak. You’ve been drafted.
The answering machine picked up. Throughout the empty glamorous condo echoed the voice of Mirror. “Jay. Jay Bird. It’s your mother. Are you home yet? Are you hearing me? Did you get the letter? Did you get drafted? Please answer me as soon as you can, my little Jay Bird. … where could he be?”
Her feet sank in the mud on the outskirts of the cities. She stood at the bank of the exit prong of the Red Gate Bridge, watching the dazzling lights of Manhattan and Gemini flicker their little skyline lights on one at a time, but the only thing that stood glorified from the illumination was the poisonous fog shroud of both metropolises.
Ananda thought at a time like this it would be appropriate to think of a great speech or quote a modern man of her generation would say. Anything crowd pleasing or uplifting to kick her up.
There was none.
She turned her back to the cities, and her life that was held prisoner in the fog. She walked and then picked up running. Running against the wind, running away from her troubles. Hoping, praying, that the troubles do not follow her to York, New York.
Japanimae Graffiti
Copyright 2003 to ---- by Bluesy
This is part of an idea I came up with long ago. I always envisioned the dream of American artists using the classic style of Japanese animation to tell a story. It would be Japanese animation, but all American. The downside, it would not be the usual slice of American Pie.
The story is about an America we wish will not be, but soon we may turn out to be. An America run on Democracy, but the utopian society would eat the people it stood for alive. This story follows three people living the American Dream, and would be killed because of it.
I will try to write as much of the story as possible. I hope you enjoy this drama.
She ran down the dark corridors of the alley, leaving Main Street of Gemini, New York. Hopefully, she thought, she will leave Gemini for good this time. She listened to the clutter of rats and roaches hunt for their evening meal in the dumpsters. She decides it is time for her dinner as well. She walks up to the brick wall at the end of that run down one-way street and knocks on the red stones.
“Password,” a voice came from the door.
“Karma sent me,” she whispered back.
She stood back as the brick section swung open like a rusty gate. The old man on the other side of the hidden hideaway greeted her.
“Welcome to Easy Street,” said the old man as the young girl entered.
The young girl smelled the jazz and smoked filled air and felt at home. She tugged on the sides of her red and black flame jacket, adjusted her indigo tinted shades, and brushed her flying strawberry brown hair behind her ears.
“Hola Anands,” called the barkeep behind her. Ananda walked up to the stand and took a seat on a squeaking bar stool. She brushed a smoldering ashtray out of her way as the barkeep pulled up the usual.
“Hey dere, Karma,” Ananda replied before she took a sip of the longneck bottle full of blue liquid. “How are t’ings?”
“Oh, ya know,” said Karma. “Same ol’ crap. We just gotten word that the fuzz is around town, and everyone just filtered on in.”
Ananda looked around the near empty speakeasy. “Filtered ya say?”
“Kay, so there not all here,” said Karma, “but you know the fuzz is looking for one of us.”
Time crawled by as Ananda tapped the table and leaned over. “I’m looking for Buddy Ellington,” she said.
“Buddy? Your brother?” asked Karma. “I haven’t seen him.” Ananda sunk down as her last bit of hope left her body with a sigh. “Aww, don’t worry ‘bout it cuz. I’m sure Buddy’s just hiding. Just ‘bout every swinger heard about the fuzz.” Karma could tell that she was not okay about not finding her brother. “You know what?” said Karma as she leaned over the salty bar table. “You know who may know ‘bout your bro? That girl right over there.”
Karma pointed to a young girl sitting all by herself at a table listening to the quiet blues music as she had her nose in her book.
“Who’s dat gal?” asked Ananda.
“Who knows?” asked Karma. “She knew the password so she gotta be cool.”
“Yeah?” asked Ananda. “That’s what Rustic Rex thought. I’m gonna check dis gal out. Ya put i’ on my tab, Karma.”
Ananda left the bar table and walked casually over to the girl. The girl had bleached blonde hair and dark tanned skin. You could almost think she was black it was so dark. Her tiger striped bandana peeked through her long hair. Her brown top seemed to blend in with her skin. She brushed off some dirt from her black shorts as she flipped the pages from her Bible.
“Who migh’ y’all be?” asked Ananda.
The girl looked up from her Bible. “Greetings, friend. You may call me Josiah.”
“The name’s Ananda, an’ I’m not your friend,” said Ananda.
“I apologize, Ananda,” said Josiah, “but we are all the children of God.”
“Yeah right,” said Ananda, “well, us children have some sibling rivalry of our own going on.” She sat down across the table and took a look into Josiah’s auburn eyes. “Ya know any swingers?” she asked the young evangelist.
“No, I’m afraid,” she answered politely.
“Den how’d ya git t’rough t’ de speakeasy?” asked Ananda. “No, no. I’m jus’ lookin’ for my bro.”
“I am so sorry for your loss,” said Josiah. “I will pray for you.”
“Pray? For me?” Ananda got up. “Save your breath and pray for someone who cares!”
Josiah nodded. “You are an American,” she said.
“I not a belligerent ol’ fart,” said Ananda. “I’m a swinger.”
“Yes, a free spirited slacker who lives life on a whim and a prayer,” said Josiah quoting the definition of swinger. She closed her book and got up. “You are a true American.”
Ananda saw Josiah take her leave. “Where ya go?”
“Going out,” said Josiah.
“Out dere? In dis panic?” asked Ananda as the speakeasy got quiet. “The fuzz’s out dere. Dey’ll eat ya alive!”
Josiah laughed. “Save your breath and pray for someone who cares, Ananda.” She nodded to the swinger. “The good Lord will provide, my friend. We will meet again, I presume.”
Ananda sat down at the table and watched Josiah leave.
Jay sat silently idle on the sofa in his parent’s house, watching the pictures on the TV dance and chase each other from one side of the screen to the other. He still sat in his barely worn workout attire from the gym after hearing the news about the President coming on television at this time. Jay could have watched it on the hanging screen in the gym, but he’d rather take the news with his parents. According to the rumors, the news may make or break America for sure.
If only his father were here. Only Jay’s mother, Mirror, was in the house. She was busy frolicking around the bright living room spraying the right fragrance and lighting the right candles.
“Mother,” said Jay rolling his eyes, “do you really have to do that now?”
“We must have the right atmosphere for the President,” said Mirror. “We must have the right atmosphere that can soften any blow, good or bad. I’ll go get the aloe plants from the study.”
Jay watched the TV as Mirror left the room. Jay’s father sure did marry a girl quite opposite of him. His father, Richard, was a strict southern Baptist from a country town in northern Iowa. Mirror, or Miriam as she’s known to most of father’s company, is the latest in a line of hippie grown family from a suburban city in southern California. She believes in a Buddhist type religion of spirits and auras. Somehow they hit it off and settled in the quiet town of Wilmington, Ohio.
Jay watched as the Presidential seal interrupted the scheduled programming. “Mother,” called Jay. “Mother. President Nicholas is on the air.”
Mirror thundered down the stairs, her old baggy jeans and hippie style shirt flapping in the air as she ran down the steps. “This may be harsh,” she commented to herself. “I did not get a chance for those aloe plants.”
“Will you please forget the aloe plants and sit down,” said Jay as he patted on the seat cushion next to him on the couch.
Mirror sat down and adjusted the eagle feather braided into her tangled hair. With the way she looked, it was as if this forty seven year old woman just came out of living in a tree in the woods for almost a year.
The President came on the television in his oval office in Washington, D.C. On one side of his desk stood the American flag, with fifty stars to its name. To the right was the map of America and Middle East Asia. America sure looked different since the dawn of 2000. Delaware has merged with Washington, D.C. so the capitol may be larger and more superior. The American territories such as Guam and Puerto Rico have become states. Cuba, Lybia, Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq have also become states (Afghanistan and Iraq have been renamed, but had their old names returned to them during a recent revolution. Some Americans still call them by their new names, Afghan and Iramas). There are a few more territories added to the collection: Venezuela, Columbia, Germany, Russia, Egypt, North Africa (now named Norma), Laos, and most of the Philippines. Venezuela and Columbia wish to be states, but Laos’s government tries to earn their independence back.
The President sat there in his rich color suit and silver gray hair. He nodded to the Americans like he was greeting an old friend, blinking his deep blue eyes. “My fellow Americans,” he began. “Over the past few years we have been dealing with the unsettling disputes of turmoil in Iran. So much turmoil some Americans are calling Iran ‘Iraq’s evil sister.’ The dictator rule in Iran has not been so bloody as it once was in Iraq, but the results are still as terrifying. After many negotiations with this new nuclear-armed country we have come to a decision. Starting immediately, we are sending troops to keep the peace in Iran as our government tries to keep the same page with theirs. We have been given full approval of this plan, even from the Iranian government. We will not stand idle by and watch a country deteriorate as we plan to save it.
“Now I know we have already sent most of our troops into overseas operations in Kuwait, Sadia, and Israel.” (Saudi Arabia changed its name to Sadia after it became European territory.) “This will mean that we are short on troops. This is why, for the first time since 1970’s, I will call out a draft. Effective tomorrow, the best of the best will be called out to a new mission in Iran.”
Jay picked up the remote and turned the sound down on the TV. He looked over at her mother, staring at the TV in silence. “More operations. More operations,” she chanted. “This is too much even for America. First Kuwait, Sadia, and Israel, now Iran.”
Jay hugged his mother tight. “Do not worry,” he said. “I’m sure they’re just peace keeping missions like in Israel. You know how good we are at keeping the invading Kuwait army at bay from them.”
“Kuwait has no army after Israel,” said Mirror in her tears.
“But they are still trying to invade are they?” asked Jay, trying to be optimistic. “Listen, Operation Saida Freedom and Operation Israeli Peace have been successful without a hitch. I’m sure this Operation… whatever will be just as successful,”
“I heard on TV its Operation Iranian Independence,” said Mirror. “And an Operation is only successful if and when it is over.”
Just then Richard stormed into the door and threw down his briefcase. “I have had just about enough of President Gerald Nicholas’s dumb ass operations!” he shouted. “We have had so much he has liquidated both the army and the marines! You can’t sprinkle a name on a problem and make it go away!”
Jay kissed Mirror on the cheek. “I better get back to my apartment.”
“Be careful, Jay Bird,” said Mirror. “It is pretty dark out there, and your home is a mile away.
Jay smiled. He has never heard Mirror call him by her special nickname in a long time. “I will, mother.”
Jay took his leave out the back door. He drove off listening to the shouting of his father get drowned out by his silver sports car.
Ananda woke up from her pillow of napkins in the middle of the night. She could barely smell the cigarette smoke that still fumigated the room. She wish it would filter out soon, the butts were beginning to smell rank.
The clock flickered 4:37am on the clock above the bar. “Ah shi’,” she said. “I late fer meh gig at The Chick’n Place.”
Karma was awake cleaning up from the quiet ruckus that just ended at 1am. “You are crazy, kid,” she said. “Going out at this late of night while the fuzz is out looking for us. And you know the hunters are probably out as well. And for a graveyard shift at an’ ol’ KFC?”
“I ain’s gonna let no fool keep meh from hidin’ from meh chunk change,” said Ananda as she too kthe last sip of her flat drink. “Now where’m meh pack?”
“At The Chicken Place,” said Karma. “You told me to remind you, remember?”
“Shit!” said Ananda. “I’s still need’s ta change too!”
A drunk man on the table near her rolled over and shushed her as she ran out the door.
“You’re a dumbass kid,” said Karma to Aananda. “Damn, I’m gonna miss that kid.”
It was the wee hours after dawn as Ananda began to sweep up from the overnight rush in the lobby. There were crumbs everywhere from the overnight truckers hoping to get their last meal in before they slept or left. She looked around at the white lobby with its still hanging pictures of KFC history, when everyone knows over thirty years ago Kentucky Fried Chicken merged with Popeye’s Chicken to become the more popular rest stop of the two, The Chicken Place.
She listened to the sizzling of the grill as the two maintenance workers cleaned out the vats and tested the temperature for the opening shift at 10am. She also heard someone over the front counter call whisper her name. She turned and saw the young boy smiling at her.
“’ey, Tony,” she said smiling.
“Ananda,” Tony said back. “You want to meet in the stock room b’fore the managers get in?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said as she dusted off the last of the crumbs and threw them in the trashcan. She wiped some crumbs off of her black and blue uniform before she ran back pass the grill area into the stock room.
Tony met her there with a half empty Styrofoam canister. “I saved ya some of the waste count from closing shift,” he said, handing it to Ananda.
“Hide i’ ‘n meh pack like usual,” said Ananda.
As Tony ran off to the break room Ananda heard the muttered knock on the back door. She knocked back and waited for the knock to be repeated. When the knock was returned, she opened it up. It was one of the swingers from the speakeasy she visited that night, and he was all out of breath as if he was running for his life.
“Dude, wha’s goin’ ons?” asked Ananda.
“I… I just heard off the streets up north. Someone knows… why the fuzz is after us,” he whimpered out.
“What’s with him?” asked Tony.
“Prob’bly chased ‘way by the hunters,” said Ananda. She remembered that morning she had to duck through a few alleyways and take the long way to shake off a gun shot or two. She could still feel the cold steel nearly nick her hand that morning.
“Someone passed the buck,” said the young swinger. “The fuzz is after one of us?”
“Who?” they both asked.
“I dunno,” he explained. “All I know is that a bank robbery took place in Manhattan and the blame has been pinned on a swinger. Rumors circulate that the guy who passed the buck was the guy who robbed the bank.”
“Coul’ deys tells on da cam’ras an’ what nots at de bank who I’ was ‘r not?” asked Ananda.
“Nope, I guess,” said the young boy as he heard some sirens come buzzing passed the restaurant. “I better head back. I don’t want the blame to be pinned on me. And Ananda, you better watch your back in case the buck was passed to you.”
“Wait,” Ananda stopped the boy as he tried to make his exit. “How’d d’ya know my name?”
“Buddy sent me,” he said as he left the restaurant.
Ananda wanted to soak all this in, but Tony tugged on her sleeve. “We better head back up to counter,” he said. “The opening shift’ll be in momentarily.”
Josiah walked the highway throughout that night, for what must feel like days. She did not stop until she saw the flicker of dancing fire underneath the I-370 Bridge just outside of town. No, when she saw that she ran towards the light.
She ran to her new home under the I-370 Bridge where a few of Gemini’s homeless were welcome, or not known about. She saw one of her mentor’s, Malachi, eating a meal of toast and jam with one of the homeless. With how well kempt he was you think he was scheming us just to be homeless. Malachi read the Bible aloud to herself, but it was meant to anyone that would lend an ear, and repeated the sections that were important to her or at that time. Malachi could understand that she was quoting from Deuteronomy, but she did not know where in that book.
Josiah kept silent until Malachi would break for her. Malachi knew she was there and stopped just at the page turn to chapter 25. “I see you have returned,” said Malachi. She adjusted her red border denim skirt and wiped some crumbs off her red sleeveless shirt.
“I am,” said Josiah. “I was held back in Gemini because the police were after the innocent.”
Malachi laughed. “I see the Martyrs still live in Gemini,” she said half-seriously. “We will stay here for another night, at least until Jude returns from Manhattan. Then, we may leave to our next location.”
“Why are we staying here?” asked Malachi. “I thought we were on a deadline of sorts?”
“You may say that,” said Malachi. She raised her welcomed hand to the homeless man. “Daniel and his guests have been so kind of our welcome, why must we spoil with our departure?”
Malachi looked around and saw two more of the flock members bathing or changing for the next day. The other member of the flock must be with Jude, she thought. She looked over the hill that gave way to the sight of two cities. Watching the cities begin their days was a young boy by no more than twelve years.
“Who might that be?” asked Josiah.
“That is a runaway we saved last night,” said Malachi. “We found him under such a seizure. So with one prayer, his demon was freed. He decided to stay with us.”
“What is his name?” asked Josiah.
“A most peculiar name,” said Malachi, “for such a saved person. His says his name is Legion. Have you ever any recollection why this name may be so peculiar, young Josiah?”
Josiah looked at the boy as she quoted from her memory. “I remember well a chapter in Mark. Jesus came into a town where there was a man in a seizure. Jesus took the demon out, a demon called Legion, because there were so many of it. Legion called to Jesus and told Him to send the hoard of them into the pigs. As Jesus did so, the demons sent the pigs into a river where they drowned.”
Malachi nodded. “You remember well your New Testament, especially the four books of Jesus.”
“Malachi,” Josiah asked her mentor, “do you think this story of Legion will foreshadow this Legion?”
Malachi looked at her. “It is undetermined at this time, but we must never think of such things to our fellow man. Besides, the demon is out. When we know this man is against us, we will know in time.”
Josiah got up and walked over to the hill. The steep hill gave way to the polluted fog cradling the twin metropolises of New York, Manhattan and Gemini. Manhattan became its own city as soon as New York changed its name to Gemini many years ago. The change was made so New York may have twin cities to be proud of during the dawn of the first major American war of the 22nd century. The only characteristics that made these cities twins are the fumigated clouds blocking their glory and the two tall towers jettisoning out of each one. Manhattan had two towers that looked like the ones that fell on the tragic 2001 day. Gemini had twin towers that looked out of this world, as if man today could never build them.
Josiah said aloud. “Look at the pollution that shroud these lovely cities. All the technology we have made to save the environment, and we treat them like novelty items. We would rather drive the sporty tree chopping and ozone-depleting vehicle than our ancient electric cars or our private solar jet planes.”
Legion turned around and looked at Josiah with her black eyes. “I grew up in both cities. I was born in Gemini, than lived in Manhattan. They may not be charming, but they are my home.”
Josiah sat down next to him. “Arizona is my birth place,” said Josiah, “but it is not my home. Just because you can eat, sleep, and rest there does not call it home. This bridge we live under is not a home to the homeless or us. Our home is there.” Josiah pointed to the last stars in the morning sun. “Our home is in Heaven, with our reward.”
Legion looked at Josiah with his black eyes. “Who are you anyway?”
Josiah looked back at him with her auburn eyes. “Just another soul trying to figure things out. You may call me Josiah.”
The computer keys went clicking away with every fall of the finger as the words unraveled onto the empty white screen on Jay Parker’s desk. He tried to keep working in his beige cubicle, but the others around him keep talking about the President’s announcement from last night. Jay came in hours early, and there were people who came in hours earlier just to talk about it.
One of Jay’s co-workers and friends came walking into the cubicle with his morning cup of coffee. He placed the cup on Jay’s expensive leather briefcase as he announced himself. “Good morning, Jay,” he said cheerfully, “or what we have left to savor of it.”
Jay sighed and turned away from his work on his swiveling gray desk chair. “Good morning, Brian.”
“Did you catch the conference last night on TV?” asked Brian as he stirred his coffee. “Not the game, but President Windbag. Woo! He went drowning on and on for one half hour. I bet my candidate could have cut that speech down to six words.”
“For the last time we’re truly sorry Truman Madison did not win the election,” said Jay, “But that was three years ago.”
“Yeah, good thing Nicholas’s term’s almost up.” Brian lifted his glass. “Here’s to four years, here’s hoping for not another four friggin’ more.”
A secretary came walking by all in tears followed by another co-worker. “Wow, did you see Janet?” he asked them.
“What’s wrong with Janet?” asked Jay.
“She got a letter in the mail this morning about the draft,” he explained. “Her son got drafted.”
“What a bunch of bullshit,” said Brian as he continued to stir his coffee. “There’s no way the mail can come in the morning, it comes in the afternoon.”
“Well she got one and it was real,” said the co-worker. “She came in so broken up the boss gave her a personal day.”
“Wow!” said Brian. “Now I wish I was drafted and a blubbering crybaby.”
Jay shook his head trying to hold in his laughter.
“This is no laughing matter,” the co-worker went on. “We’re hearing news on Radio Talk 700 AM that people are even being drafted at work. The notices are showing up in inboxes across the country. That reminds me, I better check mine too.” The co-worker left them with the news.
“I don’t believe this,” said Jay.
“Don’t,” said Brian. “Radio Talk may be updated but you know half of their stuff is bullshit.”
Someone across the maze of cubicles cried out. “Ah damn! I get to go overseas and shoot up some justice out of those Iranian bastards!”
The sound of stunned silence and worried stammering filled the air. Brian fixed the red tie on his cheap blue suit. “Man, look at the time. I better get to work, and ignore my inbox.”
Jay turned around to his work as Brian took his leave. Jay couldn’t focus as his fingers that were whirling by moments before were cautiously combing his full brown hair and fixing the creases out of his Italian gray suit. He eyed the inbox that lied in the corner of his eye and just sat there. A few seconds later, he sped across his cubicle on his desk chair and fluffed through the papers in his inbox.
Deadlines… deadlines… deadlines… no letter… no notice.
Jay took a deep sigh of relief, but his relief was only interrupted by the sound of a voice in the cubicle nearby. “Good news, Carl!” shouted the voice. “I’m coming overseas with you!”
It was nearing noon and the lunch rush at The Chicken Place has not come yet. Everyone stood on pins and needles as they waited for more customers to come in ten by ten. The burning aroma of fried and barbecued chicken was slowly dying out.
In the back stock room sat Ananda playing with one of the kids’ toys out of a Chicken Little Play Meal. She was off the clock, but she’d rather stay before the problems in her world die down. Tony, who was supposed to work his double shift in the sink area, was keeping Ananda company in the caged area full of boxes, bags, and wet wipes.
“Do you think the fuzz is after you?” asked Tony.
Ananda dropped the handheld game in its lap top box and picked up a drinking bird from last month’s toy set.
“Well?” asked Tony.
“Let ‘em come,” said Ananda. “Like I care? I be ready fer ‘em.”
A knock was heard on the back door, the same knock from this morning. The two young adults glance at each other uneasily as the knock was heard again.
Ananda collected herself. “Meh. If i’ were de fuzz, deys walk in from de front.”
“But what if it’s not the fuzz?” asked Tony as Ananda approached the door. “What if it’s the hunters?”
Ananda stopped as she reached for the doorknob. After a pause, she slowly opened the door. The door flew open and a middle-aged woman dressed in a pink top and acid dyed jeans slammed it shut behind her.
“Karma?” asked Ananda.
Karma saw Ananda was out of her uniform and into her all black and firey red and black jacket attire. “Oh, good, you’re off the clock. You gotta hide me,” pleaded Karma. “They’re after me. They found the speakeasy and they’re after me.”
“Calm down,” said Ananda. “De fuzz ‘s after you?”
“No, the hunters,” said Karma. “They set me up from the robbery and they’re gonna turn me in.”
Ananda stood there speechless. She knew the gangs of the New York cities, or Swinger Hunters as their kind called them. There were lots of swingers who live underground to hide from those gangs who don’t understand them. And like in American history, anything that can’t be understood must be destroyed. The lifestyle of a swinger was unheard of in America now than it was in the 2000’s, so they must be destroyed. She knew the gangsters would hunt them down, but never trick the cops into taking the innocent.
“You gotta hide me,” said Karma. “You gotta hide me.”
“I wish we could,” said Tony, “but it’s near rush. Where can you hide?”
Ananda got an idea. “Tony, keep an eye on da sinks. I’s gonna goes ‘round to de front t’ de ladies room.”
“A good time to take a shit, Ananda,” said Tony.
“No, t’ hide Karma,” said Ananda. “She c’n hide in da restroom an’ I’ll escort her somewheres safe when we’re dead ag’in.”
Ananda took Karma by the hand and sneaked out of the restaurant.
“Nice thinking ‘bout death at a time like this,” said Tony sarcastically.
Ananda and Karma sat at the table near the Ladies room. Ananda took the last bit of chicken off an old tray and split it with Karma.
“So wha’s life like livin’ on da lam?” asked Ananda.
“It’s nice,” she said. “Learn a thing or two Davy Crockett would know, sleep in a dumpster like a rat. How’s the Middle American Dream?”
“Not bad,” said Ananda. “Getting’ ‘nough money t’ buy food, stills needs more t’ buy a dec’nt ‘partment.”
“The run down shack on 23rd street ain’t working huh?” asked Karma. “Look, I do know where Buddy is.”
“Ya do?” asked Ananda happily.
“Calm down, kid, ‘fore you kill yourself. I heard Buddy ran to Manhattan to hide from the fuzz, but I heard the fuzz is there too. If I were you I go to Albany or York. Try York, I know a guy who runs the local speakeasy there. Goes by the name of Swamp Fox, on the corner of Lancaster.”
“Got i’,” said Ananda as she finished off the bit of her wings and put her backpack on. “Well, yas better’ goes t’ hidin’ now.”
Karma sighed and picked up the half eaten chicken breast. “Yup.”
Karma slowly worked his way to the Ladies room door. She turned around and faced Ananda.
“Hey, Ananda,” she said proudly, “Eyes With Pride.”
Ananda pointed her middle and index fingers to her eyes, pulled that right hand back to the side of her in a fist, and extended all but her middle finger, which stayed tucked into her palm. This motion signaled what Karma said, Eyes With Pride.
Karma opened the door to the ladies room.
BANG!
The fiery side of a barreled shotgun greeted Karma. In a shower of blood, Karma fell to the floor. Ananda wanted to comfort her, but she knew she had to run before the gunslinger saw her. She ran out the side entrance so no one could see her. As she ran through the parking lot like the winds of Chicago, she could hear another fire echo as Tony screamed, “The Hunters got Karma! The Hunters got Karma!”
As Ananda ran away from The Chicken Place, an orange rusted truck turned out of the parking lot of the hotel across the street. The truck must have been waiting for her because it was chasing her like a mad dog after an alley cat. Ananda ran through every open alley and street corner, at every turn she barely missed the bullet of another shot. She couldn’t run to Easy Street, and she probably couldn’t head to the other speakeasies in Gemini. After careful deliberation in her mind, she remembered Karma telling her to head to York. She knew her hiding place, but she needed to get there alive.
The truck sped up and she could hear some of them shout out over the vamped engine. “Dammit! All the guns are out! And so’s the ammo!” “Use the truck! Run her over like the rat she is!”
Ananda ran by the Red Gate Bridge, Gemini’s answer to the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge was a three pronged star bridge that connected Manhattan, Gemini, and the outside world over the New York River.
That is where Ananda got her escape plan.
She ran across the bridge and through the intersection, with the truck following until they hit the light at the middle intersection. The pickup truckers cursed at every living creature as Ananda got away, but Ananda knew she wasn’t safe yet.
She took the hanging street that led to Manhattan. She was halfway across the road when the truck sped across the bridge, weaving through the noon rush of traffic. Ananda was almost across when she turned and saw the truck towering over her. She quickly jumped onto the ledge of the bridge, then off, into the murky chilling waters of the mighty New York River.
The truck stopped before it could teeter on the edge of the bridge. The two hunters got out and saw the empty splash site. “Ooh, I so wanted to kill the rat bitch.” “She killed herself, like they all should. Let’s head back.”
The truck sped away back to Gemini. Moments later, Ananda crawled onto the shores of Manhattan, under the Red Gate Bridge. She saw a few more bodies washed onto shore, she knew some of them well. The newest one was the young boy that visited her that morning at The Chicken Place.
Ananda laid some driftwood over him as his gravesite and tombstone and then walked the polluted shores to the road that led away from the twin cities.
There was more people in the room, people had to wait in line to use every machine and bench press. Some people were even reduced to aerobics and treadmills and these too had lines. You could not hide your nose from the rank of sweat for the smell crowded out the remaining air. The Gold Gym has really gotten busy.
Jay finally reached the check in desk and met the shift leader, Barbara. The most unusual thing about Barbara, she looked like a woman straight from the 1950’s. She even had the tall bright red beehive hairstyle and gap in the teeth.
“Good evening, Mr. Parker,” Barbara chimed as she took Jay’s pass.
“Good evening, Barbara,” he said. “It sure has gotten busy here. It never was this busy.”
“Yeah, it seems as if you were our only customer, Mr. Parker,” Barbara said with a giggle. “It seems this draft has gotten everyone into tip top shape.”
“The draft?” asked Jay.
“Yes, Mr. Parker,” said Barbara. “Most everyone here is a new member, and most everyone here was drafted. Maybe this draft won’t be so bad after all,” she added, giggling.
Jay looked around at all the perfectly fit and poorly fit men in the lobby. “Well, good thing I didn’t change before I got here.”
“Oh, it’s not. The locker rooms are booked solid,” explained Barbara. “We even thought of putting some of the men in the Ladies room,” Barbara chuckled again.
Jay took his pass and walked out of the gym. He knew he wouldn’t be able to work out today. It was just as well; he deserved a break from some of the hustle and bustle of his life.
Jay sat at the bench of the corner bus stop and took the cell phone out of his briefcase. The cell was so loaded down with messages he didn’t want to bear reading them. He put the phone back and picked eighty cents out of his pocket. He walked to the pay phone and slipped the change into the slot. He dialed his parents’ house down in Wilmington Ohio. Her mother picked up. He could tell by the faint swishing noise on the line that she was dancing and frolicking in the house again.
“Parker residence. Miriam speaking,” Mirror answered.
“Mother,” he said. “It’s me, Jay.”
“Jay Bird!” shrieked Mirror with delight. “Why are you on the pay phone?”
“My cell went dead,” Jay lied.
Mirror laughed like a child. “Stupid overrated technology. How are things, my little Jay Bird?”
“It’s been hectic up here in Toledo, mom, and I don’t mean the traffic,” he said. “Everyone has been verily busy since the draft.”
Jay could tell that Mirror stopped dancing on the other line. “My goodness. In all my meditation and fung-shuey of the house, I forgot about the draft. Jay, did you?”
“I did not get a letter yet, mother,” said Jay.
Mirror gave a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how happy I am of that, Jay. Everyone drafted in Wilmington has picked up and left, even the old men. Remember Mr. Jenkins from down the street?”
“Jenkins is nearing fifty mom,” said Jay.
“And enfeebled,” added Mirror.
“Mother, Jenkins just has acute arthritis in his left ankle.”
“And have you seen him walk lately?” Mirror sighed. “I just don’t get it.”
“Never you worry, mother. They picked the best of the best…”
“No,” Mirror said. “Why must we bring war to a peaceful nation? Why must we show peace by force? Why in order to bring peace we must prepare for war?”
Jay dropped the phone. Never in his life has he heard such things. He has heard of war, but never anyone saying things like that about it. Jay never questioned anything in his life, and for the first time…
Jay picked up the phone. “Mother… I better head back to the apartment.”
“Be a dear and check your mailbox.” Jay could tell Mirror was in tears.
Malachi looked east towards the road leading away from the twin cities. She called out to the traveler following the pavement. “Jude, my brother!”
Jude came running up to Malachi. The others under the bridge watched them greet each other. Both Malachi and Jude face each other. With their right hand they both slowly make a cross over their bodies from head, to chest, to left shoulder, to right shoulder.
“It is good to see you, my brother,” said Malachi.
Jude called out to the others. “I have negotiated with Burger Shack earlier this morning and got them to give up their breakfast waste to me. The food is cold, but there is enough for all of us.”
Jude gave the garbage bag full of breakfast pieces to one of the homeless. Malachi placed her hands in the air.
“Where are our manners? Where are our thanks?” she asked them all. “We must pray before we break for our meal. Jude, please help our brothers collect the tables for our meal.”
Jude helped the homeless and the members of the flock set up the tables and start the trash can fire. Malachi stopped Josiah.
“Legion is such an interesting person,” said Malachi to Josiah. “He is saved, but in the usual way. His saving was spur of the moment, a bond that can easily be broken, and possibly has. He does not act like a Christian, he seems out of place.”
“What shall I do?” asked Josiah.
“I am not certain,” said Malachi. “I am to inform you that I will meditate on this. Until then you must stay close to Jude. Let him be your mentor for a while. And make sure Legion stays close to you.”
“Yes, Malachi,” said Josiah.
Malachi and Josiah took their places at the tables. Malachi raised her hands and slowly lowered them, informing everyone to sit. They did so.
“Let us pray,” said Malachi.
Malachi stood there with her head down and her eyes shut. As she mutters another tongue, the others around her pray silently or quietly. Josiah sat there, with nothing in her mind to pray about. She looked over to Legion, sitting there, watching the bunch. Josiah sat silently and prayed for Malachi and Legion.
Jay came home to his condominium overlooking Toledo in his silver sports car. He walked into the door and threw his keys on the veranda. There were more messages blinking on his home phone and on his email computer screen. The pager he accidentally left behind seizures uncontrollably on the hardwood kitchen floor. He did not want to bother with such things right now. He watched through the skylight as the gray storm clouds begin to roll in. All the time since the phone call, Mirror’s questions buzzed through his head. He could feel more of his own brewing, but he did not know what they were about and what they were for.
He also remembered what Mirror said. Be sure to check your mailbox when you get home.
Jay closed the wooden front door onto the glass screen door. Under the mail slot of the door sat a white manila envelope with a letter folded neatly inside. He fingered the letter in his hand until the letter flipped over. He could not make out the handwriting, but he saw the formal Presidential symbol on the corner of the envelope.
That is all he needed to see.
He slouched down on his leatherback recliner gazing at the envelope. He did not need to open it, he could tell the three simple words that the letter will speak. You’ve been drafted.
The answering machine picked up. Throughout the empty glamorous condo echoed the voice of Mirror. “Jay. Jay Bird. It’s your mother. Are you home yet? Are you hearing me? Did you get the letter? Did you get drafted? Please answer me as soon as you can, my little Jay Bird. … where could he be?”
Her feet sank in the mud on the outskirts of the cities. She stood at the bank of the exit prong of the Red Gate Bridge, watching the dazzling lights of Manhattan and Gemini flicker their little skyline lights on one at a time, but the only thing that stood glorified from the illumination was the poisonous fog shroud of both metropolises.
Ananda thought at a time like this it would be appropriate to think of a great speech or quote a modern man of her generation would say. Anything crowd pleasing or uplifting to kick her up.
There was none.
She turned her back to the cities, and her life that was held prisoner in the fog. She walked and then picked up running. Running against the wind, running away from her troubles. Hoping, praying, that the troubles do not follow her to York, New York.