THE SHIT MUM, FUCK DAD! CHRONICLES.

STORY ONE:

YEAR of the SERPENT.

VOLUME TWO:

Fuck the Police

 

 

‘Fuck Dad?’ She snapped.

The restaurant lay in disarray. Two cops, one male, the other female, looked from face to face, taking in the fear around them. Feeding on the terror.

Jan squinted distastefully at her sister. ‘What exactly do you mean by that Billie?’

They had their backs to the wall. Their lunch stretched across the checkered tile floor like a low-grade gastronomic chess game. Onion ring takes fry. Cheese gem takes onion ring.

Jan looked from Billie’s face to a chicken nugget pinched under the heal of a black, standard issue police boot, and felt what food she’d swallowed shift in her stomach.

‘All I’m saying is that we’ve got a chance to get out of here…you and me. We could fuck up that chance if we go looking for dad.’

Her mouth took on a manipulative twist, and her watery eyes tried, unsuccessfully to convince Jan that her intentions were coming from a magnanimous reservation.

‘You haven’t had enough training Billie. WE, combined aren’t prepared. You saw how many cops there were, and that’s just in this section of the building.’ Jan replied.

‘Besides, we need dad’s help, and… damn God Billie, he’s our old man!’ Jan’s eyes were getting wet now and she turned her face away and sniffed back a swell of thin mucus.

‘Ok Boss Jan’, Billie growled, prodding her jaw forward and curving her brow. ‘How many bullets have you got?’

‘Four, I think’ Jan mused and felt in the large space in her anorak pocket and kneaded the cold, weighty shells between her fingers.

‘I’ve got two’, Billie stated matter-of-factly, pressing her palms on the floor. ‘Ready to go’ she added, rising to her feet.

‘Billie! Sit the fuck down’ Jan hissed.

‘Straight into this fucker’s head’ she concluded and was on her feet now, shaking a revolver from her jacket pocket.

Jan gripped a flap of her jacket and yanked her down.

‘Stay on the floor!’ barked the male cop. He walked over and pressed the muzzle of his gun under Billie’s chin then kicked her in the stomach.

‘If you touch my sister again you gutless cunt, I’ll break your fuckin head open’ Jan spat between clenched teeth.

He turned toward Jan, keeping his boot on Billie’s chest and began to laugh. His laughter was cut short by a shrill nasal voice from somewhere in the background.

‘Question!… Um, excuse me…Question!’. The cop looked over his shoulder toward the voice and took his foot off Billie.

The accent was artificially spiced with a New York twang and the young woman from whom it came, was short with a round, olive face, eczema tinted eyelids and chin, a curved nose and long, coiled black hair.

The cop gave her a look like Dirty Harry taking the shit he’d been saving for a week.

The young woman piped up again, her naïve, sticky voice circled the quiet restaurant in a vexatious verse, stiffening the necks of the entrapped customers and police personal, and hung in the stifled air momentarily like a witless heckle.

The cop stared at her a moment longer, then produced a small, black Personal Digital Assistant from within his fatigues and slid a stylus from its capsule.

What’s your name sweetheart?’ He asked with a spurious grin and tapped the PDA screen with the thin plastic stick.

‘Lana S______’, she replied confidently.

‘Ok Miss S______’ The cop crooned sarcastically. ‘What was that question you just had to ask?’ The grin on the cop’s face dipped into a broad smile and he looked past the young woman and tapped the brim of his cap.

‘Oh, Ok, wellll I was just wondering…and, I mean it’s no big deal buuu-t’, as she spoke the cop nodded to the policewoman standing somewhere near the bun racks in the back of the restaurant.

‘We’ll I paid fourteen dollarrz for that mango shake that’s now a mess down there’, she pointed to a large polystyrene cup resting on a shallow puddle of thick orange liquid on the floor.

The cop paid no attention to the spilt milk and continued tapping the PDA, so she continued.

‘Ok, um… am I gonna get a refund or something? Maybe a voucher? She stared at the cop waiting for a response, her palms upturned in a moronic Egyptian stance.

‘I mean, I’d only taken like three sips’ she paused, and then continued. ‘Maybe even only teew?’

Jan watched with a serious look on her face as the policewoman moved up behind the American until she was within 6 feet. As she approached she drew a long barreled revolver from a holster across her ribs.

The cop looked up from his tiny screen to the girl.

‘That’s S______ with two S’s in the middle?’

‘Uh huh’ she replied and as she nodded two heavy clicks sounded behind her head. A sharp and deafening crack walloped through the restaurant and the young America’s face opened like a burst melon and spewed the contents of her head through the air and against the walls, ceiling and faces of the terrified patrons.

‘Jesus Donna’ huffed the male cop as he blew blood dust away from his face. ‘How the hell do you get away with carrying that thumper?’

The female cop pinched out the spent shell and drop a replacement into the cylinder. ‘I put in a special request with the chief’ she replied with a wink, and rolled the cylinder back into place, flicked the hollow shell on the headless body at her feet and holstered her weapon.

The male cop mouthed the word slut and grinned.

‘Fuck you Jeff’ she laughed. ‘At least I get somethin’ for takin’ it up the arse’.

Jeff’s radio crackled.

 

Gunfire. Tch. Reported. Tchh. Over tchhhh.

Repeat. Tch. Gunfire reported. In sector. G…Comeback tch.

Over tchhhhhhh.

The female cop clicked her tongue and breathed out a frustrated sigh, looking under her brow towards her partner.

He thumbed the PTT switch and spoke into the radio.

‘Gunfire confirmed. Situation contained over’ he said into the radio.

Tchhh t chhhh…Repeat last message. Over tchh.

The cop’s pupils looped to the ceiling and then to the female cop.

‘Situation is under control repeat. Situation is un-der con-trol’.

 

Tchhhh confirmed. Tch.

The radio bleeped the static into submission and the cop clipped the receiver back onto a shoulder strap. He looked again at the female cop and spat on the floor near the dead girl’s body.

‘Fuuu-uck this shit Donna…fuck-it!’ he said with an exaggerated look of exhaustion.

‘Just think of the benefits mate’ she said. ‘Could always be worse’ she added and curled the corners of her mouth downward. ‘You could be one of these’ she concluded, motioning towards the twitching group of customers wearing a light spray of red mist.

Blood, surging from the spacious hole above the dead girls jaw line had slowed to a gravy pour and as Jan watched the liquid clot, she had a sharp and intense moment of insight.

She moved her gaze across the restaurant and took in the blur surrounding the dead body on the floor in front of her: The patrons clamped together in a transcendent embrace like an elongated vision of Dante’s tortured souls. Legs, arms and torsos wrapped in, and over darkened faces with eyes clenched in shadow; eyes that would never be trusted to see reality again by the mind that moved them.

Jan knew what was coming. She, like her father, her sister and a small number of others had been trained to recognize the early stages of genocide.

They had also been trained to fight against, and kill, those that would enforce it.

Jan cupped the shells in her hand and motioned to her sister-

‘Take these’.

Billie took the bullets and slid her hand inside the pocket of her anorak.

‘We need to get him close’ Jan whispered.

‘She clipped her holster’ Billie added, nodding toward the female cop. ‘That’ll give me more time.’

The restaurant was quiet, save from a suffocated murmur of fear coming from the restaurant patrons and the muffled clink of the shells Billie was dropping into her revolver.

Jan looked from at one cop, then the other, then at Billie and nodded.

‘Does it make you feel empowered?’ Billie asserted in the direction of the female cop.

The Male cop, who had been inspecting the inside of the dead girl’s head, turned to Billie.

‘During times like this, it’s customary to show some respect for the dead’ he spat through pursed lips. The female cop shifted forward slowly and thumbed to cap off her pepper spray.

‘Are you brain damaged or something mate?’ Billie added.

Jan’s eyes flicked from cop to cop and her hand gripped the handle of a pig knife sheathed across her lower back.

‘I mean, I’ve seen plenty of fucked-up cops, I’ve had personal dealings with PLENTY of mentally unbalanced people who claim to serve and protect the rights of citizens…but you lot’ she mocked, tipping her head toward the female cop, ‘you’re a whole new and underwhelming breed of filth.’

The male cop was approaching Jan and Billie now, pulling a baton from a loop in his belt and grinning.

‘Don’t stop on my account’ he said and came to a standstill a few feet from the girls.

‘…Share your disillusions, I’m curious to hear the inner-workings of a low-grade shit-stain’.

As he spoke the cop leaned his face towards Billie, his grin twisted into a smirk and he lifted the baton under her chin and pressed it onto her throat.

Billie looked him in the eye and smiled as he drew the baton over his shoulder. She kept smiling as he brought it down towards her face.

Jan’s blade was 8 inches deep into his groin before the baton could make contact.

The female cop lurched forward. She tossed the mace and reaching for her revolver, yanking at the snagged weapon.

The first shot from Billie’s .38 took the corner of the cop’s right ear off. The second entered just below her right eye. The cop dropped back against the service counter, knocking down a tray of saltshakers. Her face wore a sharp, twisted expression like that of an acid-washed portrait.

The male cop squirmed savagely, doubling over Jan’s blade, and moaned like a sick animal.

Billie took the baton from his hand and stood up. His eyes stayed on Jan’s, and his mouth puffed like a grounded fish.

Behind him, the female cop had a hand raised to her mouth. She coughed, and a thick clag of blood coated her rigid fingers.

Billie took a vinyl cushion from a dining booth and walked towards her. A fleshy clod from the American’s head lost its grip on the ceiling and met the tiled floor with a wet slap. The cop’s eyes followed the sound and Billie pressed the cushion over the barrel of the .38, leaned down and fired the gun into the cop’s face one last time.

Jan read the name on a thin silver badge above the breast pocket on the male cop’s jacket.

‘Pearson…P-e-a-r son’ she repeated the name and yanked the knife out of Constable Pearson’s scrotum and watched him drop to his knees. His teeth started chattering uncontrollably and he pointed his mouth to the floor and vomited, wailed at the ceiling, and vomited again.

Jan turned to Billie and clicked her fingers. Billie tossed her the baton and turned to the cluster of terrified people on the floor.

‘You might want to look away kids’.

The restaurant was silent. Wind rattled the windows and a dozen tortured eyes lay, unblinking on two twisted figures, the blood around their eyes dull, like cracked red icing. The sound of hurried footsteps and radio transmissions broke the silence as police approached. All eyes did not move from the dead cops on the floor. The dead woman was wearing a mask of bloody feathers and someone had taken the man’s face away.

Jan motioned to Billie to be still and peered through the grill of the heating duct as a small group of police trotted past.

‘How many?’ Billie asked as she unscrewed a makeshift suppressor from her pistol and tipped out the spent shells, keeping her finger across the live cartridges.

‘Six…two with automatics’ Jan replied and set the grill back into place.

‘They’re getting’ sloppy’ Billie mused, testing the weight of the cop’s revolver. ‘I’ve never seen a cop carrying an unprocessed weapon before.’

‘They’re a hastily selected, poorly trained army of ignorant fuckin’ morons’ Jan shot back through a clenched jaw. ‘Any military institution founded and sustained by power-hungry suits is bound to fuck up.’

‘These ones are coded’ Billie said, tossing two pistols and their hollow clips into her backpack.

‘Keep the ammo handy’ Jan whispered, watching the police nearing the end of a corridor and disappearing around a corner. “And make sure that radio’s off’, she added.

Thin strips of light passed over the figures of the two girls as they shifted back and up through the square tin catacomb and toward the ceiling ducts. They stopped just before they leveled with the ceiling. A shallow and sharp clatter of automatic weapon fire reached them, relaying the grim message with a savage report.

Billie felt for Jan in the dark and whispered softly to her, ‘we couldn’t have saved them Janny’.

Jan hitched her backpack higher on her shoulders. ‘Let’s find Dad and get the fuck out of here’ she hissed and moved forward, through the dead-black passage. Her sister followed.

Somewhere below them, speakers buzzed to life and a cold, electrified voice sank through the air and progressed through the empty corridors of the mall:

Attention citizens of Fillmore Xiling Province

 

 

 

 

 

CHECK YOUR FRIENDLY LOCAL GRAVY STAIN PAGE FOR VOLUME THREE…ARRIVING SOON.

 

 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “THE SHIT MUM, FUCK DAD! CHRONICLES.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s