Friday, May 24, 2013

Hungry Jack and Montezuma

                Lee felt the familiar feeling come over him again: the raw, shaky panic that rumbled low in his chest and made his stomach roil. Outside the cell, the caravan was rolling up the gates. Hungry Jack’s armored trucks, salvaged from a forgotten Loomis motor pool and splashed with a crude red crown on their bulldog hoods, idled outside the steel rolling gates. Lee stood and watched out the reinforced chicken wire window as the black flagship armored truck started forward once the gates had opened, followed by the next three.
                Hungry Jack would eat now, Lee thought. Then he and his men would summon the women, spread the wealth they had torn from the dead fists of vagrants, gypsies, tribalists and the homesteaders that stubbornly attempted to carve a home from the thick jungle that boiled from the superrich soil. After that, well, Jack would sate his lusts with his favorite concubines and then call—
                There was the sound of a steel lock sliding back, and the door swung open. Two soldiers stood there, heads wrapped in the damp white headscarves that kept them cool in the unrelenting tropical heat. One carried a machete, the other one of the precious shotguns.
                “Up, you.” One of them roughly grabbed Lee by the arm and hauled him to his feet. The one with the shotgun stayed in the hall. Lee was frog marched out into the dilapidated passageway. Hot sunlight tore through holes in the plaster walls, throwing shards of light on the slick, mossy tiles of the ancient mental hospital. Through these holes creeping vines the thickness of a strong man’s bicep snaked, spreading their roots on the eternally damp surfaces. Through the holes in the walls Lee could see the climbing baobabs with dark fortresses of roots, colossal kapoks and abiu trees with swollen yellow fruits like warning buoys.
                The double doors to what had once been the chief administrator’s personal quarters were thrown open and Lee was shoved forward onto the moldering carpet. Hungry Jack sat on his makeshift dais, four of the largest desks in the building had been pushed together in the cathedral-ceilinged room. Four oriental rugs and a huge papasan chair had been sat atop this, and behind it all a brightly colored, hand-carved wall of wood was nailed to the desks, creating a sort of throne. Two of the concubines lounged at his feet, wearing only long beaded loincloths about their waists. They gazed at Lee with hooded eyes, slight smiles. 
                Hungry Jack claimed to be as old as the Cataclysm. Few believed him, as it would have made him a hundred and fifty years old, but others claimed the Cataclysm had changed more than the atmosphere and the soil. He had no memory of the time before the Cataclysm, Jack claimed. He had been sent to earth as a child of the sun, a god. He had no name and no occupation, but awoke in a factory of some sort. The story, as he told it, was of him standing and seeing a sign before him of his name and his purpose. He had torn down the sign and taken a vehicle, driving until it would not go any further. He wandered, clutching only his banner and a monkey wrench until he reached a small tribe wandering the grasslands that were swiftly turning to jungle. He had taken control, founded his empire in the mental hospital, and put up his banner, his mantra, in the throne room in which he now sat.
                The banner behind Jack said “Hungry Jack: Everybody’s happy when it’s Hungry Jack.”

                “So this is the assassin.” Jack’s eyes were devastatingly lifeless, the blue of a strangled man’s face or a vein under the surface of the skin. His face was dark from the sun, his hair was an unnatural white that stood up in every direction, a strange disconnect with his otherwise youthful appearance. His body rippled with muscle, wearing only military style cargo shorts in camouflage and swimming shoes. Across his chest was a tattooed jolly roger, and dozens of crosses decorated his arms. Each one of those stood for a man he had killed. He lounged in the throne, smiling. 

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