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Episode 081 |
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“I’ve killed women and children. I’ve killed everything that walks or crawls at one time or another. And I’m here to kill you.” Bill Munny, Unforgiven I’ve seen some pretty rotten car accidents. I once saw a dump truck blow into a Hummer. Now they’ve got all this stuff on TV about how tough the Hummer is and how strong it is and how it can take on anything. This was one of the new Hummers. And it looked great, all shiny and polished. And it absolutely crumpled against that dump truck. I mean, it was just crushed like it wasn’t even there. That’s about what it’s like to see Toren get punched by that giant. Toren doesn’t crumple like that Hummer did. No, Toren goes flying. He doesn’t lift up off into the air like they do in the movies because this isn’t a harness. He just starts to move back from the punch. He drags his feet and everything. But he just moves back in a straight line right up to the wall. And then he hits the wall and the wall groans. Toren’s body flattens against the wall and the brick thing cracks. And I’m left standing in front of him. In the light of the building, with all the incandescence, I can see him clearly. He’s not inhumanly large. But he’s larger than any human I’ve ever seen. He’s muscled, but not like a body builder. Just like a guy who’s worked hard all his life, digging ditches and chopping trees and stuff like that. He’s got dark, deep tanned skin and black hair underneath his hat. But what stands out the most are his dark eyes. And I mean dark. They look like they’ve seen evil. But the thing is, he doesn’t look evil. Time seems to stop as he stands in front of me. He’s every bit as frightening as I remember. And then some. He’s like every horror story you’ve ever heard, every scary place you’ve ever been, every spooky thing you’ve ever experienced, all rolled up into one. He’s the thing under the bed, in the closet, behind the shed, in the basement, and just outside the door, all rolled up into one. And then he speaks. “Get,” His voice sounds like slitting your wrists with a dull razor. “Sam.” And just like that, time rushes to catch up. The soldiers, I guess they figured out their guns weren’t working, brave everything against their better judgment and rush the guy. Now, I don’t know who in their right mind would jump after a guy that big, that scary, who just appeared out of nowhere, after the lights went off and then came back on. But they do. And boy, do they pay for it. The giant punches the first right in the chest. But since he’s so tall, he has to punch down and the soldier just collapsed into the ground. I mean it’s like his whole body just loses the will to live and crumples. The next guy gets an elbow to the face that nearly takes his head off, while the third guy catches an entire forearm across the face that flattens every feature. The strange thing is, the big guy doesn’t move like he’s strong. He doesn’t move like he’s big. He doesn’t move like he’s fast. He moves like he’s the biggest wimp in the world. He moves like he’s got to use every advantage of leverage and position he can. He fights exactly the same way a ninety pound weakling would against a group of linebackers. The fact that he’s faster than they are, stronger than they are, bigger than they are, really just seems to be icing on the cake. As more of the soldiers run to their doom, I finally snap out of my stupor and rush at Sam. He’s still twitching on the bed, strapped down. The only scientist near him tries to stop me; like that pencil neck’s going to do anything. I just grab his balls and squeeze until he falls over. I grab Sam’s wrist restraints and pull them open. I yank the tubes and this and that out of him and then pull free the rest of his restraints. I glance over at the machines as they all go haywire, I’m guessing from the lack of input from him. That or I’ve just killed him. I look down at him. His eyes flutter open. Good. He’s not dead. I lean in over him. “We’ve got to get out of here. Come on!” I shout. “No!” He yells back. “No?” I say, staring down at him. “This isn’t real,” he says, clamping his eyes shut. I smack him across the face. “That feel real?” I ask him. “Slate?” he says, looking up me. “No, Sherlock,” I retort back. God, why do guys have to ask such stupid questions? “Get up. We’ve got to go.” “What’s going on?” He asks as I help him sit up. “Your boyfriend’s here,” I say, pulling him up to his feet. “My boyfriend?” he asks. He thinks for a second before his eyes go wide. “He’s here?” “Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound too sardonic. I know he’s had a rough time, but come on. I just told him. “Where?” he asks. Is he really this blind? “Does he need our help?” he immediately follows up with. Before I can think up anything insulting enough to respond with, a body goes flying by and crashes through the computers by the bed. I don’t mean sails by and slams into them. I mean keeps flying, the computers drug along behind his body. I look up at Sam. “Right,” he says, coughing a bit. I grab his arm and throw it over my shoulder. “Where’re we going?” he asks. “Through that door,” I say as we start to hobble for the exit. “I realize that,” he says back. “I mean, after that?” “Away.” “And then?” he keeps on. “Haven’t
gotten that far yet,” I answer as we approach the steps, the sounds of
continuing chaos resounding behind us. |
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