Posts Tagged ‘Kevin’

The one and only church left in Jerusalem was burning. Towering flames lit the sky and illuminated crowds of people in the street. Most were celebrating the inferno. I walked into a nearby museum and into its massive marble floored lobby. Dozens of cameras mounted on the walls snapped photos of me from every angle, checking to see if I was a terrorist. Luckily, I was not.

I passed through the museum and out the back to a large, mostly vacant airfield. My favorite professor was giving a lecture on warfare and today the class was being held inside a Learjet parked out on the airstrip. Kevin, Lucas, and Melissa were attending the class with me. We filed into the jet and I made my way through the small group of other students to take a seat in the back, buckling myself into the leather chair. I could see a small river flowing by the airfield outside my window.

We watched with growing concern as the banks overflowed and water started flooding into the airfield and under our plane.

The professor stood at the front of the jet but hadn’t started his lecture yet. Not many of the students seemed interested anyway, as they were all talking about the dam upstream on the  river. A large flow of water was scheduled to be released down the river and was predicted to flood a local baseball field. We all though that was a terrible idea, as it would probably ruin the game scheduled to be played that night. As if on cue, the river began to rise and was soon flooding much more severely than we had predicted. We watched with growing concern as the banks overflowed and water started flooding into the airfield and under our plane.

It became apparent that the water wasn’t going to carry us away, so we kept calm. That calm was soon sundered as one of the students pointed out the window. “Oh no, the dam!” The river’s water level surged and headed straight for the airfield.  The current swept under the jet and began to carry it away. I reacted quickly, rushing to the front of the jet and shutting the door just as it was about to be inundated. The jet bobbed up and down in the water as we headed down what was now a massive river. A light sprinkle of rain started, quickly turning into a constant downpour. Waves began to grow larger with each passing moment.

Lucas decided this was a perfect time to start messing around and jump up and down on the plane, seeing if he could get it to flip over. “Stop being stupid and fucking around,” I yelled at him. “You’re going to make us tip over and drown!”

The jet bobbed up and down in the water as we headed down what was now a massive river.

The flood current turned and we started heading straight for a giant air hanger on the edge of the field. Tower walls of water rose before the jet, dwarfing our makeshift boat. I grabbed the controls and somehow managed to force the jet around to hit the waves head on. It was our only chance to prevent capsizing. A tall chain link fence stuck out of the water in front of us and I called out to the rest of those on board.

“Brace yourselves!”

“Brace yourselves!” The plane plowed through the fence without even a jostle.

“Did you just say brace yourselves?” Melissa asked incredulously. She thought it was a truly ridiculous thing to say.

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. I decided to embrace it and took it to the next level, shouting out like a pirate. “All right me ‘arties! This be it! This storm be rougher’n your mother’s arse!”

Everyone laughed.

Note: Hey, only 4 months between posts this time. Progress. I’ve got tons of dreams recorded in a backlog, it’s just a measure of typing them up.

 

 

 

Kevin and I were returning to our motel room, walking along the sidewalk with rolling luggage in tow.  I was dressed in a fine suit of imported silk.  We turned onto the concrete path leading to our motel room door, one in a long line facing the residential street.  I glanced at the window of the room next to ours and saw someone looking back out.  They were frantically banging on the glass, silently screaming with urgency.

“Something’s not right, Kevin.  Wait,” I said. “Something is wrong. Don’t open the door. Let’s get out of here. The mob must have found us.”  Kevin lowered the room key and turned with me to leave.  The ear splitting screech of tires grabbed our attention.  A minivan came roaring down the street and skidded in a U-turn to a stop in front of us.  The side door flew open and Matt yelled for us to jump in quick.  His mom sat behind the wheel.

We threw in our luggage and quickly followed it ourselves.  I clicked my seat belt and the door slammed shut.  I looked out the back window of the van.  A green 1969 Dodge Charger leapt out of its parking space on the street in a cloud of tire smoke.  Its occupants were tough looking characters in suits and fedoras. The Charger sped across the street and rammed into the back of the van.  Metal crumpled and shattered glass filled the air.

“We’re boned,” I said.  “Just stop, maybe they won’t kill us.”  Matt’s mom floored the accelerator, and the minivan instantly took off.  The Charger followed in close pursuit.  I had never seen such driving.  Matt’s mom handled the van like it was a race car, careening around corners, jumping curbs to cut corners and purposefully sideswiping the low stone walls in front of neighborhood houses to avoid slowing down too much around turns.  We achieved speeds over 70 mph as the houses on either side diminished to a blur. The mob car slowly began losing ground until it tried to take one corner too tightly and spun out, coming to rest after it slammed into the side of one house’s nearby woodpile.

We finally reached the safety of the convention center.  It was far too crowded here for the mob to make their move.  Matt and his mom dropped us off and we took our luggage inside.

I stopped and smacked my forehead. “Oh man!  I forgot my sunglasses in the motel room!  Those things cost me $175!”  I was lying, they really only cost $150.  Monica showed up to tell me where I could buy some good replacements.

Emily emerged from the crowd and was overjoyed to see her brothers alive.  She gave us hugs.

I lead a caravan through the parched desert.  A steam of people carrying their belongings followed me across the dunes.  Men, women, children, all huddled together in a line, fearing another attack by one of the local tribes.  They had already attacked us several times.  They were fierce, muscled warriors with pale, albino skin that braved the wastes in nothing but loincloths.  We soon spotted a group of them heading towards us on the rise of a nearby dune.

I raised my hands to bring my mini-gun to bear.  That would slow them down.  I fired, but the tribe kept coming towards us at a slow, steady pace.  I looked down to realize I wasn’t firing a gun at them.  I was just pointing my finger.  In fact, I didn’t even have a gun.  “I’ll stop them,” I said.  “I have Fists of Steel.”

To my surprise, the tribe did not attack us, but veered off to the side to pass.  They eyed us warily but kept their spears and swords lowered.  One particularly large warrior walked passed me and I bumped him in the shoulder.  He growled and raised his sword, but did not attack.  I looked back to see their group passing our caravan.  I realized they must be circling around the back to attack us from the rear!

I turned and charged back towards the retreating warrior, tackling him around the waist and bringing him to the ground with a thud.  He did not fight back.  I turned him over and straddled his chest, pinning him down.  “Why aren’t you attacking?!”  His grim face simply stared back at me with contempt.  “Tell me!” I screamed.  I gripped his throat in my hands and began to squeeze.  He only sneered.  Tighter and tighter I squeezed, until I could feel his tendons straining to keep my hands from crushing the life out of him.  Finally, with a slight grimace, he managed to whisper, “The Blood Snow.”

I immediately released him and got up.  Of course, the Blood Snow!  They were seeking shelter from it.  Anybody caught exposed in the freezing storm would surely perish.  We had to find some place to take cover.  I stopped the caravan at the top of the next dune.  Down the other side the dune ended along the shores of a small lake bordered by tall palm trees.  A direlect houseboat lay crashed at an odd angle on the shore.

I decided our best bet to stay warm would be to dig a cave in the side of a dune.  We could line the roof with brush, cover the brush with a nearby blue tarp, and then cover that with sand.  That would provide plenty of insulation against the Blood Snow.  As I sat beneath a wind beaten tree on top of the dune, working out the details, Kevin returned from a visit to the old houseboat.

“We can use this guy’s body heat to help us,” he said.  Trailing behind him was a monkey the size of a man.  He had a broad black-furred face fringed with white and golden hair and leaned on a staff as he walked.  He wore two mismatched black boots, with the boot on the right foot rotated around backwards.  He extended his hand toward me.

“Theodore Winchester.  Pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”

I shook his hand.  “Earl.”

His eyes lit up.  “Ah, Earl, as in the the English title and 16th King of the Britons?”

“Yeah, sure I guess,” I replied.

“You know you were murdered back then, don’t you?”

My shoulders slumped a little.  “Well that wasn’t in the brochure.”