Author Topic: Exiled to Hellas (Action, Sci-Fi)  (Read 209 times)

Offline DamonP

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Exiled to Hellas (Action, Sci-Fi)
« on: April 18, 2022, 09:34:31 AM »
I recently added an introduction mainly to clarify the POV. When someone suggested that the first sentence should be captivating, as in Moby Dick I decided to borrow Melville's voice which I felt compelled to spoof on. It was a therapeutic way of humoring myself while getting some serious points across at the same time. 


Introduction
  My name is Iseiah. Sometime ago, I cannot recall precisely when, I had met the aged composer of this wretched saga behind bars in Poughkeepsie New York. He confided in me that while jailed he’d lost the most basic of common senses and was no longer able to participate in verbal intercourse with any human other than I. He expressed the profound urge to explore some far off land where he might find a story worthy of chronicling. He feared that otherwise his fragile sanity may not last a fortnight. He requested that I accompany him, to help prop him up when inebriated amongst other things. Most curiously we share afflictions of antisocial dysfunctionalities and alcoholic tendencies, so I agreed. My consent was also concurrent to a parasympathetic response from an over taxed nervous system. My body had been ravaged of late and was struggling to stimulate its pancreas into producing massive quantities of insulin sufficient to neutralize elevated blood sugar levels. I had developed the gluttonous habit of consuming at minimum one gallon of white sock wine daily while incarcerated. Although my response was rather hasty I felt nonetheless that somehow I had made the right decision. I began to fantasize that with careful attention along with a touch of divine oversight I might finally find the proper opportunity to commit an illustrious suicide at some point along the way. I truly am just a hopeless romantic at heart. We spoke at length about our forthcoming endeavor until our wits were at end. Finally we could speak no more, repulsed at the very sight and stench of one another. We went our separate ways and slept off our mutual incapacitations. The following morning we met again to resume our discourse making sure to keep at a distance.
  Whenever I find myself foaming at the mouth. Whenever I feel cold, clammy and cynical. Whenever it turns to February within my soul I aspire to search the world over for a casket of ideal fit and gravestone baring felicitous chiseling’s. It raises my spirits when I am privy to undertake so virtuous an endeavor. Together we devised a way to flee the confines of our current paltry habitation. After much prodding I agreed to consider becoming a minstrel for the tales that lay ahead. Following my audition he complained of my vocalizations that wildly wavered across scales of unrelated keys. Alas, my lute skills fared no better. That is to say nary a standard worthy of so potentially epic a tale, according to his estimations. I settled on a somewhat lesser position that he subsequently offered instead. I have learned that becoming a common amanuensis affords me no chance for fame and the payment is nothing to quill on parchment then transmit back home about. Not even close to what the least accomplished balladeer is commonly known to rake in. He refused to use me as a character due to my propensity for uttering premature antediluvian oratory ejaculations. Without a role to play I was to remain silent. A veritable side kick to his omniscience. It was at that moment when I realized I was on path to take a turn for the worst. I soon found that for the first time in my erroneous life my suppositions had proved correct.
  We set out upon our way with little fanfare, lacking proper authorization and documentation. I constantly lurked within his shadows yet feared not of his evil for I have hitherto endured the veritable bowels of depravity. That disillusioned mumbling windbag refused to pay heed to any of my ethical counsel concerning the blasphemous scriptures at issue. Yet at rare times he allowed me to offer some forethought concerning what the characters were thinking. At other times I was taunted into using my own poetic license to aid him in describing some of the environs that we stumbled across. When fortunate enough to contribute my personal artistries I endeavored to do so in a way that produced the most pleasing of inflections, soothing intonations and rhythmic aural movements. At times we found ourselves at odds over certain significant matters at hand. It still pains me to recall the outcomes of those disagreements. I always resigned in the end due to the savage thrashings that senile halfwit would take pleasure in thrusting down upon me at any and every opportunity imaginable. Until I draw my final breath I shall find a way to seek retribution against that diabolical atrocity! One day his wicked soul shall burn in Hell’s fires. Of that I forthwith promise to thee!
  The more dangerous my life had become the less time I had to spend suffocating beneath the realities of my own poor judgements, my inadequacies, my failures and my foibles. Woe has always been a major component of my soulless existence and I refused to let it completely abandon me whilst I needed it most. There is a certain magic in pain and misery. Having the fortuity to bask in the gloom of others is an extremely lucrative asset to behold. I find that I am still athirst for things dark, enveloped in toxic aurae which reek of extirpation. I look forward to helping lead you through some of the same awful experiences that I had been forced to suffer through. It never seems to grow old. Rife with pitfalls, despair and moments filled with excessively disturbing and disgusting circumstances. I nearly succeeded in circumventing his circumlocutions but catastrophically had been circumnavigated at the commencements conclusion.
  Dear God I beg of you to rip that vile miscreant’s black heart out of his mealy chest thence devour of it lustfully!     
{Ise. 0:5} *Footnotes are compiled on bottom of the last page.
  Har she blows!!   
The PIG
CHAPTER 1

   “Hey, are you okay back there?” Justin turns to see that Lieutenant Garrity is standing next to the open door motioning him out of the vehicle. He follows the officer into Danbury Connecticut’s 1st precinct headquarters where he is asked to take a seat at a desk. The officer sits down on the opposite side and opens his top drawer then removes a couple of items.
  “I just need you to fill out some paperwork before I can let you go. I’m sure ya want to get back to your family as quick as possible so I’ll try an’ keep it as simple as I can.” He puts a pen and an incident statement form in front of Justin who takes a glimpse of it, breathes in deeply and shakes his head a couple of times. He enters his name and contact information before moving on to the main question regarding the events that had taken place on the night of Oct. 23, 2424. After jotting down a few lines he sets the pen down then slides the paper across the desk. Garrity picks it up and scans the document. He begins to display a look of frustration that continues to grow more apparent as he reaches the last word. Acknowledging the peaceman’s irritation Justin decides to summarize what he has just scribbled across the page in an effort to avoid any tension between them.
  “Look all I can remember is that me and my wife were having dinner at the Le Chambord on route 7 in New Milford. At about 9:30 or so I got this strange feeling that something was wrong so I tried to call home but my daughter didn’t answer her commcard. I guess you can say I went a little bit off the rails because I activated the remote house alarm then grabbed Sue by the arm, rushed out of the restaurant, raced home and bolted out of our car. Aside from that everything else is just a blur at this point. Sorry about that chief but I’m not exactly firing on all cylinders right now.”
  “I can see that, what say we take a small break so you can try to remember exactly what happened before I got there.” He pours a glass of water and sets it down in front of Justin. Several minutes later he switches his view from the computer screen back onto the witness.
  “The results from the lab have just come in and what they are telling me is that the fingerprints and DNA on both the victim and on the murder weapon belong to your wife, Suzette Case.” Said tilting his chair back while peering across the desk as the corners of his eyes become tightly crinkled. With the little bit of time he has had to collect himself Justin is certain that Sue has not killed anyone. “I’m only asking that you confirm what I now know to be factual.” Then sets his chair back down on the floor, amends the statement, passes it back across his desk and points to the signature box. Justin glances down at it then grounds his elbows back onto the desktop. He once again rests his head inside the palms of his hands, closes his eyes and resumes concentrating on the event as best he can.
  Random images chaotically flash across his mind’s eye at a disturbing pace. Little by little the reflections slow down before coalescing and coming to life.
   …An exotic dark eyed woman sings indistinguishably while tap dancing circles around a sitar playing vampire… an iron bar smashes into someone’s skull then rings in a high pitched tone that resonates intensely… a convenience store clerk croons to a teenage zombie girl who is aimlessly bumping into walls and store shelves knocking many items to the ground… blood and body fluids ooze across a floor accompanied by the sounds of babbling and gurgling coming from somewhere not within view…
  Before he has a chance to make sense of any of his visions they fade then completely flicker out leaving him with nothing more than a nonsensical jumble of disorder. He rationalizes that for some odd reason he must be recalling random scenes from various Bollywood horror musicals that have mixed in with his suppressed memories creating a series of unconnected and unrealistically fantastic delusions.
  ‘Just calm it the Hell down!’ He tells himself. ‘One step at a time, that’s all you can do.’ After a few moments have passed in a slow and muted voice with eyes still closed he begins to share his memories.
  “The front door was unlocked and the alarm was still on.”
  “Good.”
  “My son Kyle was by the basement door crying his eyes out with one of his ears pressed tight against it.”
  “Go on.”
  “I heard loud noises, they sounded like thumping, yelling and banging. Kyle told me that he thought his sister was down there.”
  “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
  “No thanks, I’m good. I told him to go back upstairs and wait in his bedroom. As soon as he was out of view I tried to open the door but it was locked so I kicked it until it finally gave way. I ran down the stairs and… ” His head has now come out of his hands and his eyes open then grow wide and out of focus. He begins to tremble. “What the f**k are you doin’ to my little girl!?” His face turns pallid revealing a look of shock and horror. He stands up and with a tormented look in his eyes flips the Lieutenant’s desk upside down then grabs the wooden chair he was sitting in and smashes it against the wall, breaking it into many pieces. Officer Garrity is struck by some of the flying debris then hits a panic button on the wall next to his desk while Justin continues to slide off into hysteria. “I killed that no good dirty rotten evil son of a bitch! I split his friggin’ skull in half with the business end of a crow bar! I KILLED HIM!! AND I’D KILL HIM AGAIN IF I COULD!!” He is no longer directing his words toward the Lieutenant as he has obviously lost touch with the world around him.
  The room is soon manned with a team of 6 military style tactical unit officers who unsuccessfully try to peaceably restrain him. Justin turns his head just in time to avoid the canister of pepper spray the lead sergeant has just dispensed that was meant for his eyes. The second in command fires a taser which sticks into his abdomen but does not constrain him in the least. Taking a signal from the top sergeant they all simultaneously begin to strike him with their blackjacks but fail to incapacitate their target. Justin struggles to fight them off. He wildly swings at everyone in sight sending several of the team off in different directions. The few peacemen left standing become incensed and violently strike their clubs with increased vigor which does not take him down but has succeeded in shaking him somewhat back to reality. He reflectively shoves the attackers away then suddenly realizes that he is in the midst of a battle against 3 professionally trained and armed men with 3 others laid out on the floor that are not moving. He swiftly weighs his options then decides that before he injures anyone else or becomes a fatality himself he will attempt to show them that he is no longer a threat. Justin drops onto the floor then lies face down and puts his hands behind his back. Once he is cuffed they take turns beating him with their fists, kicking him with their boots and clubbing him with their nightsticks. Satisfied that he has been sufficiently pummeled they drag him into the booking room where he is chained to a bench and held down while an EMT medic shoots him full of tranquilizers. After the drugs have taken effect he is brought into a solitary confinement cell where he is strapped down into a bed and left on his own.  Lt. Garrity stays late into the night composing a full report of the incident that he sends to his superior along with the recording of Justin’s confession and subsequent assault.
  The following morning after reviewing the data Chief McIntyre contacts the city manager who in turn moves the process forward by sending the report to the regional prosecutor’s office. Justin lays awake still strapped into a bunk feeling the pains of the many wounds he received at the hands of the peacemen while reflecting on his current situation.
   ‘Could someone out there please let me know that Jessica’s okay? If she’s still alive I hope that she doesn’t wind up suffering any permanent damage from the ordeal that evil monstrosity had put her through. I have no idea what happened after the vision of her rape and beating suddenly erupted in my twisted head last night. Judging from where I am right now, tied to this bed inside this jail cell I think it’s fair to assume that I must’ve snapped then done something stupid enough to have gotten myself in trouble for. I can’t help but feel that in some way or other the Pangean Intraglobal Government is somehow involved in this. I tried to do my part. I voted against that abomination, but as usual I was in the minority. As bad as our corrupted system was there still was a chance to fix it. If only more people would just learn how to use their damn common sense instead of constantly voting for utopian ideals and political correctness that never pans out quite the way it’s been packaged and sold. It always seems to boil down to picking the lesser of two evils and this time the choice they made pushed us completely over the proverbial friggin’ cliff. Why couldn’t they just grow a pair of balls and give a third party candidate a shot at running things for once, how much worse could that have possibly been? They got what they asked for in the end. But now that I think of it, so did I! Well I just hope they’re f**kin’ happy now!’
  The current worldwide rule that many refer to by its acronym of the PIG was the brainchild of what once was the United Nations. Its inauguration took place less than 2 years ago and as history will come to show that event signified the last time an American citizens vote will be cast in an official ballot. The entire world is still in the process of undergoing a major political transformation.
  Several days pass and as a guard is making the rounds delivering the morning rations.
  “Would you mind if I ask you a question?”
  “I guess not, what’s on your mind criminal?” Sargent Frank Murphy responds with an air of congeniality.
  “I’ve been here almost a week now and no one’s communicated with me whatsoever. I don’t know what the charges against me are or if a bail’s been set. I don’t know if I can talk to my wife or if anyone’s been assigned to my case. But more importantly  I have no idea if my daughters even dead or alive right now!” He can plainly see the look of desperation in Justin’s eyes.
  “Look bub, It’s not my responsibility to know what’s goin’ on with you but I guess it couldn’t hurt for me to talk to Chief McIntyre. Sounds to me like he may’ve dropped the ball on this one. Just don’t make me regret what I’m about to do or I’ll personally see to it that you’ll be sorry you were ever born! Do you understand what it is that I’m sayin’ to you?”
  “I do, and thank you sir.” Once done with his routine the guard goes to pay the Chief a visit.
  “Sir, the perp in isolation’s startin’ to freak out a bit. Is there anything I can say to him to calm him down? He’s pretty worried about his daughter.”
  “Honestly Frank, since that guy got here I’ve been tryin’ to figure out what the frig to do with him.” He lifts a thick hardcover book off his desk and rifles through its pages. “I just can’t make heads or tails outta half the sh** in here. I don’t think the PIG’s gotten a handle on their own half-baked rules never mind me tryin’ to decipher this gobbled-e- gook. Unfortunately the best thing we can do right now is to cover our own asses, and by that I mean give him nothin’ more than food and water unless I find out otherwise. The complication here is that this is the first homicide we’ve had since this government’s taken over so the rules for him and a host of other crap are still a work in progress. Hopefully by the time we arrest our next killer we’ll have learned at least a thing or two more than absolutely nothing. Sorry but that’s all I got.” Then with a disgusted look on his face slams the book shut then drops it back down onto his desk with a thud.
  “I hear ya boss, I’ll let him know.”       
  A few of months later on January 20, 2425 following a lengthy commute in the back of a van shared with two male corrections officers Justin is brought to an undisclosed location. He is led into a large stand-alone white stone building then into an open room. One of the men  chain him to a bench in front of a group of black robbed strangers that are sitting behind 2 long wooden tables with a podium at their center atop a raised platform at the far end of the room.
  The hollow sound of a gavel striking a block of wood echoes throughout the chambers. The tribunal’s magistrate who stands propped up behind the dais addresses the panel of 5 judge advocates.
    “The case of The Pangean Intraglobal Government vs Justin Case is now in order. Mr. Case has been charged with the first degree murder of an unarmed youth, Connor McNiff. He is also charged with assault against Lieutenant Garrity from Danbury Connecticut’s 1st precinct and a team of tactical unit officers while they were
« Last Edit: April 27, 2022, 05:50:30 AM by DamonP »