In the Wolf

   Gailyn went deaf before he went dead. Of course, he wasn't always...I swear.
   Once in a blue moon you see these people kneeling on a street corner praying to their themselves. It really can be a lovely incident. I bet Gailyn committed himself to such a performance once or twice before he stopped talking. He stopped talking because of the deafness, you know. Allow me to speak for him. I'd like to think he did things like that. Praying in the crowded, filthy street. I don't even give a f**k who he thinks he was praying to. I'm just hoping he was the type of guy to believe in something enough to display it. I'd like to think he was a good man.
   You're wondering why I prefaced all this with me telling you how Gailyn's deaf. Or dead for that matter. I can explain. I will, unfortunately, ramble on a bit. Let me.
   I never really knew Gailyn, but I should've. I met him. Spent countless hours playing chess with him. I've been steady to pick up more info along the way. They tell me he worked his own frame shop; started in the early twenties. He did all kinds of framing: pictures, beds, doors. Pretty literal when it came to all kinds of frames, but I guess it's cause he was master of his craft...eh, jack of all trades. You know, cat was definitely over-qualified in the field of wood framing. Anyway, he was local so the business was kept to himself. People understood a level of flexibility they should maintain with Gailyn's availability and overall word. If Gailyn told someone he couldn't do their job until a few months down the road and they'd have to wait, they shook his hand and agreed to those terms with a delightful sincerity. Gailyn was also paid whatever he asked. Keeping in mind that he was no crook; never pulled a fast one on a soul...unless they deserved it. He charged what he, honest-to-God, considered fair. But the man demanded respect on all sides. One of these guys who walks into a room and everyone there with 'em feels their presence. Like their being there keeps you at attention.
   So Gailyn, who I wish I'd known better, was humbly successful with a family, business, nice home, and even some dog or cat or some f****n' thing like that, that lived for like twenty years. Life was grand for the Walter family...yeah...Walter. G.W. 
   The War breaks and the world flips up.
   S**t, whenever I talk about this stuff I think about that imported beer we used to drink. Those days when I was still young. Most definitely better than this piss-water we're into now. Damn I wish I could find that s**t again.
   Anyway man, by that point Gailyn planned to retire the following year. The wife gardened on the roof of the shop and knitted and also took care of a little czech boy the family adopted from the streets. Good-natured, Christian family taking children in like that. Now his natural girl was in Central High, about to finish, and the boy was an airman station in the Harbor. The Pearl. You know what bad s**t happens next...boy doesn't make it. So Gailyn and the fam go out there a while later for the ceremonies and such. On the flight back s**t goes haywire. Little tin-box f****n' plane crashes into the ocean. Long and the short of it, they crashed only miles from the shore and were evacuated within the hour. Most survived...a few didn't. Gailyn Walter survived, the rest of the Walter family didn't. Gailyn's in shock. They get him to the mainland hospital and try and fix 'em up. But the guy's just gone silent and motionless. Eyes wide open though. Nurses and doctors of all shapes come in and out for days running tests, taking their time trying to figure out just what the f**k had made this man spill his brains. Seems pretty simple to me. The man's spirit broke. Whether a man is in control of his own reaction to the death of his world or not...doesn't really matter much if he doesn't care. They found the family pet all tore up later too. Been left with a relative. Relative didn't take such good care. At least Mr. Walter was spared that news.
   Gailyn slowly came back to life and could do more and more every day. It was months of struggling to make fists, chew without choking, talk. The talking came later. He seemed so weak and you know, beat. When he started to make words again, he struck up conversation. Yeah, this is where I play in. At the moment I, the Supreme Custodial Expert in the rest home, was enjoying a little down time...waiting. I'd been taking out his garbage and gathering his sheets for weeks and now he starts talking. He asked me all about the history of the ward and how long I'd worked there, and then he went into this whole thing about ghosts and demons and what he called "Antimatter." Sounded like some crazy, crazy s**t to everyone else, I tell you. Anyway, I came in every shift and we talked more and more each time. Would start out with small talk and couple more weeks in I was pulling up chairs, with coffee and a game on broadcast. I'd stay for an hour or so, then finish my rounds. Chess games were quick. We were both pretty good. We left it at a kind of aged shootin' the s**t. No personal s**t. I knew nothing of any of his previous life before the ward. The few times I pried, well, let's just say it was clear I pried. The more time I spent, the more accustomed I got with the idea of him as my next prospect.
   There were buckets of times when I came in without Gailyn expecting me. I saw him crying so hard his whole body was shaking like something inside him wanted out real bad. I'd try and help; thought maybe they were seizures. Couldn't do much 'til later. But old Gailyn'd just scream at me to get my "white a*s out of his f****n' room." Screams of anguish nothing compares to. After a while the crying got more frequent and my visits less. He would tell me to go away. I'd ask him what was wrong and he'd say his ears hurt. He said the drilling in his head wouldn't stop. Said the nurses and doctors were experimenting on him, pumping his head full of "the voices of wolves." Even yelled once -- while finally put in restraints on account of him scaring everybody -- saying the doctors and nurses were in there rapin' him! His most common grievance was the meds they were giving him. You see, that's where the "whispers, screams and growling" came from according to him. Gailyn did not want those pills, but pills he got cause he went from patient to prisoner when his crazy kicked in. I felt horrible. I liked the guy and all, but what the hell could I do? I was well aware this had to happen a certain way.
   S**t changed one night when I was having one of my celebratory nights off. I don't condone, or claim to understand what happened next, but I will say I think the poor man's balls were held by a beast. I think Gailyn Walter was perhaps a good man, only his time was up. I felt bad s**t coming on fast so I decided I better get to him before the other wolves did and I'd help him with his problems. I paid him a visit.
   Late night; the night staff make their rounds of med deliveries. A little red-headed peach called Francine walks into a metal bed pan filled with two day old piss, and a leather strap notched tight around her neck with a fury bad enough to pour blood out her eyes. A pen from her pocket is shoved through her neck and various other places. She bleeds out. The same pen is driven into Gailyn's left ear slow enough to hear the crunch, then his right ear, all by his own hand. Same sound. A relieving sound. The last sound heard by Gailyn. He smiled.
   I show up, obviously, a wee bit late to the party. The damage done; I make the swap.
   The next morning a swarm of badges, I'm sure. photos, newspaper reports. No Gailyn. Just a dead nurse and two other dead men. One down the block from the hospital. This man was later identified as Daniel Fague, I taxi driver. The taxi was long gone. It's presumed, by all reports, that Gailyn Walter -- now a wanted, dangerous fugitive -- killed the driver after calling the cab company and took off. Sight unsound. The second body, well now that was the lifeless but otherwise unscratched, local Custodial Expert.
   No doubt Gailyn's gone for good. Rest in piece my man, thanks for your sacrifice. Poor guy was hearing alright before the ballpoint, he just wasn't listening to the right wolf. He could've made it easier on himself. Gailyn Walter was certainly a fighter. Maybe to a fault.
   I ran mechanics on a few misfirings in G.W.'s brain, took some old delta blue's and jazz vinyls from the janitor's house -- the only things of his I liked besides his cheap-a*s bourbon -- now I'm high rollin' through county and state lines making my f*****g rounds. Making 'em like everybody else. Spread that word, man, you need to be on your way and find yourself a damn good taxi service, you holler at me. I'll take you further than you ever wanted to go. I'll take you far enough away from the other wolves.
  
  
  




      

Reviews

[Brittany]

This is one big bucket of crazy, my friend. The whole time I was reading it I could hear the voice of Tyler Durden narrating. Just that neurotic feel to it. Interesting concept...with the testing on human subjects and what not. We should talk about this.

[DavidRyanM]

We need to talk about this. I like it and don't understand it at the same time.