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Apathy, Chapter 22 Shots Fired

May 3, 2019

The tapping of Daisy’s foot, which couldn’t be heard from the outside, added to the younger Daisy’s anxiety. She could feel it in the air, something was wrong, and she was nervous. The more experienced and sick Daisy, sat stoically as the hours drifted away. The two didn’t know what to do and expressing themselves just seemed to acknowledge what they most feared. The young girl sat near a window, with a very comfortable cardigan on, and stared. She could see what used to exist of an old oak tree, but she couldn’t identify it herself. There were black marks all over it, and it existed, but was damaged. She felt very much that way. She felt the pain and relief of her actions. How she was able to save her father and herself in exchange for the experience of murder. Self-defense really, but her mind is very much like a human brain, which is never kind to itself- so, murder.

It’s been way too long, and her father and the two familiar strangers should have been back hours ago. The road sat bare, no cars coasting down and nothing torquing up. It just laid there, as it had twenty years prior. The air, as crisp as it was, shook the core for anyone who could be lucky enough to inhale its essence.

As the sun dribbled its way across the horizon and over the different avenues through the trees, it was apparent to the observer that life, no matter how important or indistinct, didn’t mean shit. The rays laid their warmth over the street and in a matter of hours would have something to show for it. Four houses, clustered amongst each other, a rec room, which sat ignored, and a spot next to a tree that seemed to expose distress from its very core of existence.

It would be several months before the storms start hitting the little mountainside and living would be up to the survivalists, so when they would finally find the time to exhume the bodies, it wouldn’t be worth it. Nothing would. Life has a hasty clock that we’re fighting and there’s no reason to think that we could win. The looming doom just fortifies the reasoning of this world’s demolition.

Albert sat barefoot in an empty holding cell, the room was a glossy blue/green, with nowhere to sit, so he found refuge in the corner- the chills ran up and down his spine as his exposed feet felt the inactive use of a heater. He supposed that it was a form of retribution, but the fact was that they had been shut off and had a hard time starting up again. He was angry and frustrated. There was nothing he could do about that, but cooperate, which he tried.

Ronnie and Jim followed the police cruiser and were at the police station arguing, but to no avail. They were getting nowhere fast when they were told to act orderly. The two quieted, and Ronnie motioned to leave. Jim wanted to stay and argue, but saw that it was going nowhere. They were trying Albert for murder, and though it wasn’t Albert’s first time being arrested, it was the first time that he saw his future being bleak.

As the day drew to a close, the Daisys were beyond antsy. Their demeanors were angry and scared because something had to have happened and they didn’t know what they could do. Calls weren’t going through because at that moment everybody else in the world felt the need to call their loved ones- so the cellular world stewed in on itself.

Then a call came in at about seven the next day on Daisy’s home line.

“Daisy?”

“Albert? What the fuck is going on?”

“Can I talk to my daughter?”

“Where’s Ronnie and Jim?”

“I am not sure, but I have to-”

“What the fuck!? What’s happened?!”

Daisy’s mind was racing.

“I need to talk to my daughter, OK?”

Daisy handed the phone to Daisy.

“Dad?”

“They arrested me for the murder of those guys that we killed under the bridge.”

I killed…

“The fuck? So, what’re-”

“Don’t come ’round. Stay there.”

“Dad, I just can’t-”

“No! There’s… stay. Please! For me. Stay there and in some time leave, but I can’t let you get arrested. They’re looking for a young girl with your description…”

“Dad. I-”

“I…”


A single shot, followed by several loud crescendos echoed across the party. The crowd didn’t have time to blink as bodies started to hit the floor. Casually automatic were the dips in the party-goers. A few here and a few there and one there but three elsewhere. Marco held a gun and chewed on a carrot that he had found. He found his calling.

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