Run Iscariot: Chapter One

 “Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.”

-Alexis Carrel

I

A man died today.

I don’t mean in some hospital bed, far away and lemon scented. Nah, this time, the body is in the streets. Don’t know him, didn’t care to. One minute he’s walking, next second he’s on the concrete, spasming and drooling. Never got a good look at him before they scooped him up, but he died right there, just outside of my little urban hideout. Just the standard around here, I guess.

The nest of vipers. That’s what some folks, myself included, call this place. Swindlers, criminals, thieves, murderers, gangsters, and Nigeria scams all rooted here, sucking the ground dry. Survival of the fittest always rules. You keep your mouth shut, step on heads, or get unlucky. The best of the misfortunates wind up miserable or, if they have any common sense, far away from this city. The worst of those unlucky souls get sick. A chain of three coughs, and you’re done; Trinity virus claims another victim, leaving nothing but cold meat and a black triangle sign left on your door. Good luck finding a doctor. Most of the good ones left town while the getting was good. You want neon lights and high life? Tough, you get locusts. Welcome to New Sinai, also known as the “Mad City”. I call it home.

Well, I don’t mean the entire city. Actually, my home is just this little old alley. On account of it being dark, dry, and gloomy, most folks don’t go near it. Suits me just fine. I rigged up some boxes, a thermos, and a cozy spot behind the dumpster. Hell, I even have a Maglite to keep me lit and warm at night. Keeps the rats away too. Not tonight, fuzzy.

No spot is perfect. I saw some fancy gentlemen carrying toolboxes intruding on my squat the other day. I gave them a wide berth, but when they finally buggered off I had a new roomie. Some jerk installed a security camera over the entrance. One guy dies here, and suddenly everyone cares about the alleys. Was I asked? Course not. Nobody listens to the little people anymore. I vote. Well, when they let me near the polls.

Anyway, me and roomie got along fair for a while. He swiveled, I snored. That about summed up our cohabitation. After a while, he stopped whirling around and stared. He’d do this for hours. I always tried to ask him to stop as it was making my skin crawl, but roomie was never nice enough to hear anyone out. Mister Knows-And-Sees-It-All. I went to college too, you know. Just because there isn’t a patent on me, Mister Lives-In-A-Nice-Alley, doesn’t mean you can boss me around. Quit staring, roomie boy. The man upstairs is always watching. That’s why I wear sunglasses. Identity is in the eyes. You won’t get mine that easily.

Sure, I know who you are. You can’t fool me. Just because I frequent soup kitchens isn’t an indication of stupidity. I have rights, and I have a brain. I use both. If you turn right on me, I’ll brain you. Joe Six-Pack might think these cameras are for his security, but I know better. Big brother is watching, and the Big Dog is sniffing out trouble. Allegedly. Try the vegetable beef; the chicken noodle’s too light.

The eye in the sky is staring again. I didn’t see it. At first. Then, here you are again, eyeballing me like a piece of meat. Are you hungry, Big Dog? I paw around for a bottle, and chuck it. The camera goes blind, glass shards and sparks littering a lonely corner of the alleyway. No mirrors on me. Find your dinner elsewhere.

Clawing the blanket shakes loose cigarette ashes and breadcrumbs. Amazing how charitable people are when they sleep. Rude though; didn’t even offer me a chair as I slipped in the window the previous night. I’ll tell that story to myself later. Damn, it’s cold out tonight. Could be worse; no black triangle on my doorstep.

Plot twist. Someone’s coming down my alley. Looks nice, too. Looks like a kid. Backpack, glasses, and…paper? Great, petitions. I hate those things. Well, I propose the following; hold still, he’ll go away. Execute it. Close your eyes. Sleep. Let the curtain fall. Cover my escape, sunglasses. You’re too big for me anyway.

Plot twist again. This kid’s persistent, clearing his throat nearby, rather politely trying to get my attention. Well, I have a response for that.

            “Speak up or spit it out. I want to get this conversation or robbery over with.”

            Kid takes the first choice. Got a voice like a lost lamb. “Why would I rob you?”

            I draw the blanket tighter, wrapping it close. Warm, freshly laundered, all that good stuff. I hear cigarette ash is the new lemon.

            “It’s cold out, and I have something you don’t.”

            “What, the blanket?”

            Kid’s oblivious. Not even worth opening an eye over.

“Yeah, the blanket. It was a charitable donation from the kind sorts at the clinic. Gave it right up.”

“Kind of them. I didn’t know the doctors around here were so open to the homeless.”

“They weren’t. Left a window open. That’s the first thing.”

Kid pauses. “First thing?”

“Yep. Second thing follows. I ain’t homeless. I’m just a wanderer.” The beard and mud stained sweater say differently, but who’s counting?

“You seem to be pretty stationary for a ‘wanderer’. Why this dirty old alley?”

“You gonna ask what you came to ask or what? I could be sleeping right now, and the accoutrements of a ‘dirty old alley’ ain’t the kind of conversation worth staying up over.”

The increasingly annoying kid cuts me off before I go further. Smart kid. I was planning to berate him away.

“I want to know about Big Dog.”

Now, there was something worth opening eyes over. My inner laugh slipped right out. I leaned forward, mixing in a yawn with my giggle. Precocious little tyke, isn’t he? Brushing unwashed grey hair over my eyes, I leer the kid down. Shades and mop top keeps the riff raff out. Can’t say the same about dirt though.

“That so?”

 

Nod away, youngster. “Nobody else is willing to talk. Long story short, the trail led to you.”

“Oh? And what’s so scary about this trail?”

“You tell me. I’m all ears.”

Yawn, stretch, red eyes bugging me. Might as well make yourself useful if you’re gonna wake me up. “You got any eye drops, kid?”

“Eye drops?”

“Yeah. Visine or something.”

He rustles around his backpack, hesitating. “What do you want them for?”

“I’m thirsty. The hell you think I want them for?”

Kid surrenders, handing me a half full dropper of some off-brand anti-redness stuff. Well damn, lucky me. Doesn’t matter, refreshes all the same. My eyes have never been my friend. I turn from the kid, carefully aiming the dropper down my shades. Two drops per, and I’m ready for story time. I did hand the bottle back to the kid though. No reason to be impolite to guests.

Once, twice, three times a lady with my blinks, and off we go.

“So, you want to know about the big guy himself, huh? That, I can do. I have two conditions though.”

“And that is?”

“One. We tell this story over the course of a week. Two. Buy me lunch every day. I can’t always find good bread lying around.”

“Deal. Do you mind if I write this down? ”

“Do what you want. We oughta get introductions out of the way before I remain ungentlemanly. Just ‘cause I’m an unwashed wanderer doesn’t mean I’m an animal.”

“Fine. I’m John.”

“Call me Amos.”

Author's Note

Even grating criticism helps!

Reviews

[Max Volume]

Certainly sounds like a mad city (lol).

Pretty enjoyable read. Didn't see any mistakes and the premise is good. I see you went and used the first-person perspective to its full extent. Definitely gives you more freedom of language narrating that way, at least the way I see it. I'll be sure to keep posted, man. Wouldn't mind seeing what happens next.

[M. L. Zane]

Thank you, I shall definitely post more. :)

[DaughterNature]

A very nice beginning, to be sure. Your narrative voice seems well in hand, great diversity of sentence lengths and vocabulary. Your speaker sounds just crazy enough to be interesting and just sane enough to tell a story, well done. Two things jumped out at me as I read, though: 1) some things seem like they might need to be capitalized ("roomie," possibly, and sometimes Big Dog is proper and sometimes referred to with lower case); 2) I understand that in the following chapters your speaker will be talking to the kid, John, so there's no problem there, but to whom is he speaking at the beginning? Some of it sounds like internal monologue, which is great, but some of it sounds too much like volunteering information and setting the stage -- remember that you've created a character who is self-involved, secretive, suspicious. Will read on. Also, love the title choice.

[M. L. Zane]

This is actually an outdated draft. The revised version is "Song of Sinai", and is also available on my profile. Check it out!

[Lucia]

Seems very good so far. I really loved the opening sentence. It was short and it caught my eye. It really made me want to keep reading.

[Rose Diamond]

I quite liked this chapter. Intriguing, well-written, with great imagery and an interesting plot. The only thing I can point out is that sometimes the writing doesn't flow too nicely, and sounds sort of like you're jumping from one idea to another. Also, "You want neon lights and high life? Tough, you get locusts." the second sentence sound too short, like you need to add another downside of the city to locusts.

Other than that, I thoroughly enjoyed this chapter and will definitely continue this story! :)

[Arwen Thatcher]

This was intriguing. I have to say, the title really just caught my attention. Biggest traitor in history, right? Has the promise of an interesting read. And you certainly delivered on that. Your writing style is solid and your voice is really strong. Intriguing.
What you could do is add some 'stage directions' when the people are talking, if that makes sense. Not just the he said she said stuff, but details about their mannerisms and looks and stuff. But really, it's up to you and it's your piece. And it's quite brilliant already. I'd be interested to continue reading. Keep it up.