u/Constant-Simple7240

June, 5th, 2026 

I’m writing this in the early hours of the morning. 
The sun has barely risen and I feel sick to my stomach. 
  I couldn’t sleep, I was gone for maybe an hour or two and I don’t think I have the ability to settle down. 
I peaked out the window to see what the ruckus was and I saw a group of people wearing robes marching down the street.
They all had masks in their hands but they weren’t wearing them. 
  I decided I wanted to know what the hell was going on in this town so I snuck out the house. 
I felt like a teenager again even though in all honesty, I’m a grown adult and I can leave the house whenever I want. 
  I made sure I was far enough behind the people marching in the street. They all wore black robes except for one person who wore a red one and was in front of the group. They marched down to the beach where there was a small cage and a pit full of logs. I found a bush I was able to hide in as I watched them. 
 They all got around in a circle and they all put on animal masks. 
The red robe man wore a deer mask and I couldn’t really make out what the others were wearing.
  Then the deer mask man started a fire in the pit and he reached into the cage. As he did that, one of the people next to him pulled out a wine glass and the person pulled out a knife. 
The man in the deer mask pulled out a chicken from the cage.
He raised the chicken in the air and the other people bowed before it. The deer mask man took the knife from the person on his right and then he faced the person on his left who held the wine glass. 
In one swoop of the blade he cut the chicken's head clean off. 
 The chicken head fell to the floor and its body was quickly flipped over above the wine glass. Blood filled the wine glass and then the body of the chicken was tossed into the fire. 
  The man in the deer mask picked the head up off the floor and kissed it before putting it in the wine glass.
Then one by one they passed the glass around and drank from it. As each one took the glass, they would raise it in the air and say: “Unto you he who comes from the deep!” And everyone would reply: “May he come once more!” 
  I felt sick to my stomach. I shouldn’t be here. I quietly backed away from the bush, I tried to be as quiet as possible. 
As I backed up slowly, I didn’t see the empty cans that were tossed in the bush. Everyone stopped what they were doing and they looked over at my direction. I didn’t move, I didn’t blink, I didn’t breathe. 
  I thought I had them fooled. Until one of them began to walk towards me. Fight or flight instantly kicked into my system. 
I realized there was no way I could win this fight so I ran. I sprinted in the opposite direction, I ran down the beach and I could hear them right behind me. 
 I sprinted and sprinted as fast as my legs could go. My heart felt like it was going to explode. My lungs felt like they had burning coals in them. 
 I saw the little stores that were on Water Street, the  stores I had been at no less than a week ago. 
I ran up to them in hopes that one might be open. Yet my hopes were soon shattered. 
 All the store fronts were black inside and closed signs were all along the strip. 
I kept running until I saw the place where Sarah and I went for lunch. 
I didn’t hear them behind me but I knew they were still chasing me. 
  I saw the trash can out front and opened the lid. It was one of those old school metal trash cans. 
No trash bag was inside so I climbed in and put the lid over me.
I was in the fetal position in the trash can.
I was trying to breathe as softly as possible. I heard the shuffling of feet running past me and I held my breath until it had passed. 
A few minutes passed and I peaked out the trash can. Nobody was around so I got out and then found a new problem.
I had no idea where I was.
I knew technically where I was, but I had no idea how to get back home. 
  I began to wander the streets, I snuck in the shadows. 
I had my eyes open for anything that looked familiar but the night time made everything so distorted. 
I’m not even sure how I got back. I just kept wandering.
The faint glow of the street lamps were the only thing that kept me company in the dark. 
 I walked up hills and down hills. I pulled my phone and saw that I had no signal but I had a text from Rob. 
 “I hope you’re doing okay.” Was all that it said. 
I ignored it, I didn’t need another thing on my mind. 
As I wandered the streets I ended up seeing the bar that was right by Sarah and Todd’s place.
It looked like it was still open and I figured after everything that just happened, I deserved a drink. 
  I walked into the bar and the only other person was the bartender. 
“Are you guys still open?” I asked. 
He gave me a thumbs up and I went and sat at the bar.
  I flashed my ID and ordered a gin and tonic. 
I handed over a five dollar bill and told him to keep the change. 
“You aren’t from around these parts, are you?” He asked. 
I put down my drink and raised an eyebrow. 
  “What gave it away?” I asked. 
He scoffed at me. 
  “I’ve been working at this bar since before you were born. I’ve seen everyone in this town,” he said. 
  “Well you got me there,” I said hoping he would let me finish my drink in peace. 
  “You know, you picked a weird time of year to come,” he said. 
I took a sip from my glass. 
  “And why’s that?” I asked. 
“The feast is right around the corner,” he said. 
I shook my head in confusion. 
“Some folks call it the festival, I don’t really think it’s a festival,” he added. 
  I was pointing directly at him like I was a compass. 
“Okay, so what’s the deal with this place? What’s the feast or festive or whatever it’s called,” I asked desperately. 
 He just smiled as he shined a glass. 
  “I can’t say, you’re an out of towner,” he said. 
I downed my drink in one gulp. I was prepared to start lashing out at him but he raised his hand in the air. It was like he knew where this conversation went.
 “It’s tradition, I’m sorry about that. However, I will give you one little piece of advice,” he said. 
He looked around the empty bar for dramatic effect and leaned in towards me.
  “When the bells start to ring, and the smoke reaches the sky, when the moon is full and the waters are at high tide. Don’t leave the house and for the love of God, don’t go to the beach,” he said. 
I left the bar and arrived home. Now I’m writing in my journal, I’m scared shitless. 
Maybe Richmond would have been better? 

June, 5th, 2026 (Later)

Am I cheating my journal if I do the same day twice? I don’t know. I don’t need Rob getting pissed off at another thing I’m doing. 
I woke up feeling like shit this morning. I got maybe three hours of sleep at the very most. 
Sarah and Todd were up and moving when the sun rose. 
“Well good morning sleepy head,” Sarah said in a chipper tune. 
I looked like the living dead, and I felt like it as well. 
I poured a cup of coffee and slouched at the table. 
Eggs and bacon were on the menu for breakfast. 
The morning was a blur,I just knew that eventually I was in a car and we were going to a lighthouse. 
  It was only a twenty minute drive and when I got to it, it was definitely a lighthouse.
 It was tall and on the shore. 
It was cool to be given a tour of it but I was just way too out of it to really engage with it. 
There was this one time in the fifth grade that my class went to Colonial Williamsburg, it might have been Yorktown or Jamestown? Anyways, I got sick as we got there and spent the entire trip throwing up. My parents couldn’t pick me up and the teachers didn’t want me to just stay on the bus. So I ended up hiking around with my classmates as I threw up every couple of minutes.
  I remember nothing and honestly the tour of the lighthouse was the exact same.
  This day has been a blur and I don’t really remember shit.
I just can’t stop thinking about last night. What the fuck was that about? I don’t know what to do. 
I’m going to sleep now. If there’s some animal people outside, I’ll just let them do their weird shit. I don’t care right now.

June 3rd 2026

It’s been weird not having access to my phone. I mean I have it on me but it’s basically a paperweight. 
I keep trying to open Instagram or Discord and I’ll immediately remember that I’m not connected to the internet. 
  I guess the boomers must be right about us? 
I kind of wonder what Kate and Rob are up to. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hate my guts. It’s kind of funny, the two people who helped me the most when it came to family are the ones I ended up leaving behind. 

Today was pretty quiet, Todd had to take care of things around the house and Sarah had a doctor's appointment. I mostly just stuck around the house and read through some of the books that Todd and Sarah have. 

I will say, I did something I’m not really sure I should have done. 
I sleep in the attic and there’s piles of boxes. When I got here I told myself I wouldn’t go through them. They aren’t mine and I need to respect Todd and Sarah. 
However, Todd had to run out to the hardware store and Sarah was at the doctors. 
There was a box with the red letters that said: Alphie.
It was a big box and a thick layer of dust was on it.
There was no tape and my fingers traced over the box. I flipped it open and a layer of bubble wrap was over the contents. 
I removed the wrap and I looked at it. 
Nearly folded baby clothes and little shoes. Baby books and a blue blanket. 
I felt a punch in my stomach. 
I pulled out of the books and I looked at the cover. 
 Three bears stood together with a giant heart around them. 
In big yellow letters read: “I Love You No Matter What.”
The book sat in my hand for a moment. 
They read this to him and there was a time they read it to him for the last time. 
  I held it to my chest and took a deep breath. 
I didn’t know what happened to him and I don’t want to ask Sarah or Todd about it. 
I packed everything back in and walked away. 

Okay so, as I was writing that last paragraph some weird shit just happened. 
It’s like ten at night and I heard this guy hollering outside. It’s summer so I don’t really think anything of it, but I look outside and it’s a dude in a robes wearing a crow mask. It wasn’t like a plague doctor mask, it was like a mask that the kids made. 
“The festival is near! The festival is near! Bring out your meat and drink your beer!” The man yelled. 
He skipped along the road and rang a bell. He kept repeating that line over and over again.
I went downstairs to Todd and Sarah’s room and I told them about it. 
They looked at each other and then looked at me. 
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Todd said. 
Of all possible reasons, that felt like the worst. 
  “Is this like, a normal thing?” I asked. 
They exchanged glances with one another. 
  “We’re right by a bar, he probably just had too many drinks,” Sarah said. 
I shook my head again.
 “He’s dressed in a robe and mask,” I said.
 My uncle shrugged. 
“It is a free country kid,” he replied. Sarah chuckled at the comment and playfully punched him in the arm. 
“I guess you have a point there,” I said before going back to my room. 
I’m gonna try and see if I stand in a certain spot up here if I can get any signal for my phone. I’m missing Kate and Rob, I feel like they would also think this is weird. 

June, 4th, 2026

So I can’t get any signal in my room but Sarah and Todd had to go run a few errands today. I tagged along and got to see a little bit more of the town. 
It’s weird how idyllic this place looks. It all looks like the set from a Hallmark movie. Houses that are older than most states are painted white and are all in rows. Every shop feels like the most humanly possible amount of effort has been put to use. 
As we were in town, my phone finally got some signal and a barrage of missed calls and messages flooded my screen. 
  Kate had sent me a steady stream of memes. Honestly she seemed like the only person not pissed with me. 
My brother Lyle had given me vague updates on what’s been happening at the house. 
“They’re just pretending you didn’t leave.”
 There was a message from my brother Frank right below him. 
“Remember the Prodigal Son.” Was all it said. 
I felt my hands gripping my phone with a hot anger. 
I put my phone up and Uncle Todd parked the truck in front of a grocery store.

It wasn’t a big box branded store. It was a very small locally sourced grocery store. You could easily fit five of these in a Walmart.
I walked with Todd and Sarah as they grabbed their selections. Ever so often they offered me to pick something out. I always went with the cheapest, I wasn’t going to burden them. 
  I kept noticing I was being watched. It wasn’t just one or two people looking at the new guy in town. It was the entire store gazing at me constantly.
  I went to grab a bag of frozen peas and when I closed the door for a moment I saw at least six people watching me. I turned around and everyone was walking around like normal. 

I didn’t leave Sarah and Todd’s side for the rest of the day. I wasn’t taking any chances. 
It’s around ten right now as I write this. I hear a large group of people laughing and talking outside. I’m honestly thinking about trying to investigate it.

June, 1st, 2026 

I just arrived at Aunt Sarah and Uncle Todd's place a few hours ago. I left Richmond before the sun rose, I arrived in New Elizabeth as the sun was setting.
I’m tired as shit and I don’t really know why exactly. I slept on the train for about five hours and then scrolled on instagram for about another six, then slept for another three, and then read a book for maybe two more hours. Then I got off the train and rode in a truck for another two hours. 
I didn’t walk my way to Maine, I didn’t even drive up here. I shouldn’t be this tired. 
I mean ever since the blowout, I’ve been off. I’ve been tired, I’ve been anxious, I’ve been angry. Scott said that this would clear up with time and I’m going to trust him on this. 
Granted, I think he thought sticking around with my parents would clear things up with time. For all I know, they’re probably setting up a garage sale for all of the shit I didn’t bring with me. Shit, they might have had a bonfire with all of my stuff tonight.
I didn’t tell them in advance I was leaving, I left a note on the fridge and then went to the train station. 
  They didn’t react well when I told them something serious face to face. They should be grateful I even left a note. 

Despite my bitter ramblings, I am truly thankful that Sarah and Todd are letting me stay for the summer. It was about as short notice as possible and I feel awful about that. Yet they always offered to let my brothers and I stay up here for the summer. They always told my Mom and Dad that New England is the best place to spend a summer. I always wanted to take them up on the offer but my parents never accepted it. Mom especially was against it, always told me and Hank that she spent eighteen years trying to leave that town and she had no plans on going back. 
I’m happy to be here, I just wish it was under better circumstances.
They have a nice furnished attic that I’m staying in. It’s a bit dusty and they’ve been using it for storage but it has a bed and furniture so I really don’t mind. 
I only called them three days ago and they gave me a place to stay. Hell, I’d be okay if I was just sleeping on a couch. 
I get a nice view of the ocean from here and I actually have space to store my stuff. Even though it’s only a backpack and suitcases worth of my belongings. 
I think it’s going to be a great time, even though I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. I’m not sure I’ll ever leave. 

June, 2nd, 2026

Hello diary, today was weird as fuck. 
I woke up this morning and Aunt Sarah had made a great big breakfast. Waffles, eggs, bacon, and hash browns. I had real maple syrup on pancakes. “Yeah just so you know, if you ask for the fake stuff up here, people will beat the shit out of you,” Todd said. 
I laughed but I quickly learned he was not joking. 
  We sat around the breakfast table and enjoyed the morning feast. Sarah began to list off all of the things she was going to do with me. She sounded like a teenage girl listing off all of the things she was going to make her friends do at a sleepover. It was cute and honestly I was excited, I needed to do something that wasn’t just lamenting.
  I helped clean up breakfast and quickly got ready for the day. 
Uncle Todd said he would love to join us but he had a shift that day. He said we could meet him at a bar when he got off work. 

Aunt Sarah drove a Jeep, I’m not sure which one or what year but the top came off and we drove with the music blasting at full volume. A carefully tailored mix of the best 80s cheese followed us as we drove down to Water Street. There was a general store, a few random boutiques, and an ice cream parlor. It was a nice little place and every single place we went into, I got introduced to at least two people. 
 Nobody really smiled at me, they didn’t seem malicious, they just seemed confused that I was here. I wasn’t that obvious was I? 

Around noon I was treated with a lobster roll. A genuine Maine lobster roll. It was delicious but the drink I was given with it was a crime to God. Some cola with a guy on the front, I think it was called Moxie? 
However, that’s not too terribly important right now. The shack we bought our lunch from was right across the street from a playground. I was eating my food as Aunt Sarah was talking to one of her friends. I thought back on the days of my youth, when I’d be out playing on a similar playground with other kids and doing a ton of stupid shit. 
  I ended up seeing a group of kids at the playground, I watched them for a little bit. For a moment I envied the carefree world that they lived in. However, I saw these kids huddled around on the ground. I raised an eyebrow.
As I ate my lobster roll and faintly heard Aunt Sarah and her friend talking, one of the kids held something up. 
  It looked like it was made of paper mache. It took time for me to process what exactly I was looking at and then it hit me, it’s pigs face. The kid put it over his face and then put it back down. 
The kids didn’t look like they were having fun, they had the determination of a person trying to finish a project right before the due date. 
 I looked over at Aunt Sarah and pointed at the kids. 
“Do kids in Maine make masks for fun?” I asked. 
Sarah and her friend grew grim. 
 Her friend said goodbye and left. 
  I raised an eyebrow as Sarah patted me on my arm. 
She looked around real quick to see if anyone was near and she leaned into my ear. 
  “I can’t say it here, I’ll tell you later,” she said in the quietest whisper I ever heard.
 We finished lunch and left. 
We went around Water Street for a few more hours. As I was looking at jackets in a boutique, I noticed people were watching me. 
They were pretending to be looking through racks of clothes but everyone was keeping an eye on me. 
I told Sarah I needed some fresh air and I stepped outside for a moment and hit my vape. 
  We went home after that, the jeep's roof was open and the music was playing loud enough that I couldn’t ask any questions.
We unloaded all the stuff from our shopping trip and I kept thinking about how to ask Sarah about the masks again. Like those didn’t seem like they were for a school project or something, the pigs face looked like it was screaming. What school would assign a project like that? Also it’s June, why would they have school work? 

“I just need to freshen up real quick and then we can go to the bar,” Sarah said as she walked up the stairs.
I sat on the couch in the living room and I actually paid attention to my surroundings for a moment.
This living room looked old. It had a boxy T.V and book shelves that looked like they hadn’t been dusted in months. 
There was a lamp that had the base of a lighthouse which I honestly did think was cool.
 I pulled my phone and it dawned on me that it was the first time I was checking my phone since I got to town.
  I expected my phone to be full of messages and missed calls. 
However, there were only two messages. 
Both of them were Instagram DMs from my friends. 

KateLikesCake: “That’s good, I hope things are better up there.”

And 

Ifafishmadeawish: “Dude…”

I opened up Kate’s message and began to write a response. I hit send but the message wouldn’t send. 
I went to Rob's message and began to write a long response and apology but it also didn’t send.
I looked at the top of my screen and I had no bars of connection.

Sarah came downstairs and I stood up from the couch. 
“Hey, I don’t mean to bother you or anything, but can I get the wifi password?” I asked. 
She looked like a deer in the headlights of a lifted pick up truck. 
  “Oh, about that,” she said quietly. 
“We had to send our modem in because it’s not working right. They said it’ll be a week or two before we get anything,” she explained. 
 I raised an eyebrow and wanted to say something snarky but I remembered I didn’t have a leg to stand on. 
“Ah okay, I was just wanting to check real quick,” I said before putting my phone in my pocket. 
  We left swiftly and to my surprise the bar was within walking distance. 
  The bar could best be described as a wooden box. There wasn’t anything too grand about it. 
We sat at a booth and waited for Todd to come. 
We waited and people slowly poured in. People came by and spoke to Sarah and introduced themselves to me. 
Todd came in and immediately got a shot of vodka and beer. He told me about how work was particularly rough that day but he was able to cash in a few favors to get the next couple of days off. 
  It was nice to be sitting with the two of them. I only ever saw Todd and Sarah at family reunions and those were tragically becoming less and less. 
Yet as the night continued, I noticed that people kept watching me. I’d see them staring at me from across the bar out of the corner of my eye. 
  It’s a small town and I have a feeling rumors spread quickly. 
Maine was a blue state so I figured it would be better for me here. 
Yet maybe they just aren't used to strangers? 
I’m a new face in a town where everyone knows everything about everyone. 
I’m an oddity. 

Todd had about five more beers and three more shots. 
Sarah had two dark and stormies. 
I was the boring one and just had a run and Coke.
 
We ended up leaving around eleven and got home in about five minutes. Sarah went to bed and Todd pulled out a bottle of rye. 
  “You know, I think you're a good kid,” he said.
“Thanks,” I replied. 
  He poured a glass and threw it back in one gulp. Then he poured another one. 
 “Your folks just need space,” he said as he stumbled from the kitchen to the living room. 
“Yeah, Rob was telling me they just need time,” I said.
 He raised an eyebrow.
“Whose Rob?” He asked.
I shook my head and raised my hand. 
“Oh he’s just a friend of mine,” I said. 
He smiled and took a sip. 
“Just a friend?” He asked.
I nodded my head. 
We were silent for a moment and a somberness grew on his face. 
 “I hate your fucking parents,” he said. 
I jerked my head back in surprise. 
 “They have three sons,” he said. 
He downed his drink and poured another glass. I could smell it on his breath as he spoke. 
“I had a son,” he said. 
He pointed at the ceiling. 
“We had a son,” he said.
  “I don’t think I heard anything about that,” I said.
 He shook his head. 
“He was taken at an early age,” he said. 
He said nothing as he looked into his glass of rye.
“You don’t know how much you truly love someone until you can’t hold them anymore,” he said in a drunken whisper. 
 “His name was Alphie,” tears began to well in his eyes and he immediately whipped them away. 
“I’m drunk, I should go to bed,” he said before standing up and leaving the room. 
He left the bottle on the floor and the glass on the coffee table. 
I sat in the living room and let the lamp light wash over me. 
I finished his glass of rye and put everything in its place. 
I’m writing this now in my room. 
I didn’t know Sarah and Todd had a child. Mom and Dad never mentioned it and it sounds like he must have been young.
I don’t really think I should bring it up. I don’t want to open scars that are best left mostly healed.  

I sat on the bed in my van, a cold sweat washed over me. 
“What the fuck,” I repeatedly whispered to myself.
I had never experienced anything like that in my life. I was trying to rationalize what it could have been. 
It wasn’t a visionbomb attack because I had nothing they could hack. I had no neural adapter or enchantments of any type. Even if I did have an enhanced arm, they couldn’t make organic eyes see something,  organic ears hear something, or organic flesh feel something. Right? 
I then thought I must have been drugged with something but I didn’t recall drinking anything while I was at the Rage House. 
I took a few deep breaths and pulled out a few hundred dollar bills. 
I slammed the van door shut and locked it before I walked into the city. 
I made sure to keep one hand on my pistol and the other on my wallet. 
“Saint Matthew’s Hospital” read the holographic sign. 
The hospital towered over me, its bright lights were almost blinding. 
I didn’t go inside the hospital, I went to what was outside the hospital. 
A big white box with a Red Cross on it. 
“Saint Matthew’s Automated Medical Assistance Box” read text inside the Red Cross. 
There were rows of these boxes that lined up right outside the hospital. 
I found one that wasn’t being used and got into it.
It was a five by five room with a built-in chair and a screen. 
I closed the door and locked it, then the screen turned on.
I punched my information into it and slid two hundred dollars into the machine.
“Hello! I’m Andy! Your Ai health assistant, how can I help you today?” It said cheerfully. 
“Hey, so I blacked out and collapsed. I had these weird apocalyptic visions and I don’t really know what’s going on with me,” I explained. 
Andy loaded for a moment. 
“Does your family have a history of similar medical conditions?” It asked. 
“No,” I said. 
It loaded for a moment.
“I didn’t quite get that,” it said. 
“No!” I yelled. 
It went back to loading. 
The circle spun around and around as I waited. The things I saw lingered in the back of my mind, it felt like a sneeze that was about to happen. 
“Deposit one hundred dollars and we can check your blood,” it said. 
I pulled out a hundred and slid it into the machine. 
A hole opened up in the side of the wall and a dim green light glowed from it. 
I took my jacket off and slid my arm in. I felt the needle puncture my skin and the loud mechanical sucking of blood was all I could hear for a moment. 
I heard a ding and I took my arm out. 
I waited as I waited for my results to show up on the screen. 
One by one the possible issues came up negative. 
“Nothing came up, would you like to perform an MRI?” It asked. 
I put in a hundred dollars and the cycle repeated. 
I do a test and nothing shows up, it asks me for another test and I pay in cash. 
We did this seven times, I had just shown up negative on the stool sample test.
The screen was loading and loading. 
The white circle against the black backdrop spun around and around in a loop. 
Eventually an error message came up. No Ai assistant showed up, it was just white text on a black screen that read: 
“We can’t run any more tests with this facility, please go inside and talk to a medical professional.” 
I rolled my eyes and backhanded the screen. 
I unlocked the door and stepped out. 
“Waste of fucking time,” I said under my breath. 
The city skyline was lit up with a slew of holographic advertising. You used to see the stars in the sky, now you see the Pepsi logo and tasteful softcore porn. 
I walked back to my van, I still kept my hand firmly on my pistol. It was almost two in the morning and I just wanted to go to sleep. 
I walked past the abandoned brick buildings and overflowing trashcans. I knew I was getting close to the river when the streetlamps with working light bulbs became fewer and fewer. The only light I had was the faint light of a Zeta Inc logo in the night sky. The red logo casts a velvet glow over the shadows of streets. 
“You saw it didn’t you?” a voice said from behind me. 
I turned around with my pistol ready to be drawn. 
“You saw all of it didn’t you?” a man in the shadows said. 
“Look man, it’s late, I don’t want any trouble. I say we just go our separate ways,” I said while flipping the safety off of my pistol with my thumb. 
“Cities burning, blood flowing in the street like a river. You saw it,” the man said with his arms held up. 
“Get out of here!” I snarled. 
He took a few steps closer and I drew my pistol out. 
I held it like a cup and saucer and my iron sights aimed at his knees.
“Last fucking warning,” I said. 
He didn’t move an inch, his hands were up in the air. From the red glow of the Zeta Inc hologram, I saw his face. Even in the low light, I could see the dried sweat on his face and the long uncut beard. 
“I understand where you’re coming from, but those doctors won’t help you. I’m the only one that can,” he said. 
“Are you following me?” I asked with his chest now in my iron sights. 
He shook his head. 
“I’m just doing what I was told,” he said. 
“I saw you at the coffee shop and now you’re here,” I said before aiming the barrel towards his neck.
My finger was ready to pull at any moment, I’d send a forty five round directly into the neck of this fucking tweaker. 
“I remember you as well, but trust me, I was not following you,” he said warmly. 
I took a step back but I didn’t take my aim off of him. 
“The boy,” he said. 
I squinted my eyes at him. 
“What the fuck are you talking about geezer?” I said. 
“Did you see the boy holding his Mother in the streets?” he asked.
I aimed at his chest again. 
“How do you know that?” I asked.
He took a step closer, a single step and not an inch more. 
“I can explain more, I just don’t want to explain at gun point,” he said. 
I felt compelled to put my gun down and talk to him. However, I’d seen many people get fooled in robberies, and the money wasn’t the only thing they took. I kept aiming at him, and I didn’t break away. 
“How the fuck are you doing this?” I asked.
He took a step back.
“Doing what exactly?” He asked. 
“Don’t play fucking stupid with me! Did you lace me or some shit?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly. 
“Now why would I do that?” He asked. 
I was silent and I felt my hand trembling. 
“You’re being called by a higher power,” he said.
I fired a shot in the air, the bullet ripped through the air and was lodged into a brick building. 
He didn’t flinch a muscle, he didn’t even blink.
“I’m just trying to help you,” he said. 
I aimed at his head and thought about pulling the trigger. 
I saw his forehead in my iron sights.
“Now listen son, don’t you think if I was going to hurt you, I would have by now?” He asked. 
I felt the shell of the warming shot against my shoe, I felt my blood pressure rising by the second. 
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked. 
He tilted his head to the side. 
“I’ll tell you if you put the gun down,” he said. 
I looked around his waist, a heavy Trenchcoat covered his body but I didn’t see anything that might be a weapon. 
I pointed my pistol to the ground but I didn’t put it up.
He took a few small steps towards me. 
“I know it’s scary, I understand fully,” he said with a voice like silk. 
I took a deep breath in.
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked. 
“You’ve been called upon,” he said. 
I blinked my eyes a few times and tried to process what he just said. 
“What?” I asked.
“I understand it’s hard to understand, it took me a long time to come to terms with it. However, I didn’t have a person who could help me,” he said. 
I shook my head a few times.
“Tell you what, we can talk about this over some food,” he said with a hand extended out.

———

Marcos Diner was a shithole. However, it was a proper twenty-four hour shithole. The menu was designed to pander towards children and people trying to nurse hangovers.
They also had the cheapest coffee in town, two dollars for a cup of Joe and let me tell you, it definitely tasted like the cheapest coffee in town. 
We sat in a booth in the corner of the room, we were the only people inside. My head felt like a train had rolled over it. 
“What the fuck are you saying?” I asked like a student at the end of his rope. 
“The end times are here my friend,” he said somberly. 
I rubbed the sides of my head as he spoke. 
“So what does this have to do with me?” I asked. 
He tapped his fingers against the table. 
“I don’t know,” he said. 
I wanted to throw my cup of coffee into his eyes. 
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked. 
He shrugged his shoulders. 
“All I know is I need a team and it looks like you’re in it,” he said. 
“A team?” I asked with my eyebrow raised. 
He took a long sip from his coffee cup.
“You aren’t the only to have seen what you saw,” he explained. 
I shook my head at the man who I was starting to believe was insane. 
“So what are we going to do exactly?” I asked. 
He looked around the empty diner to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. 
“We’re taking down a giant,” he said in a hushed whisper. 
I sat in my seat and stared at him. He took another sip of his coffee. 
“I don’t know what it is, but I do know that if we don’t stop it, those visions aren’t going to be just visions,” he said. 
I got out of the booth and five dollars on the table. 
“You’re crazy old man,” I said as I left the diner. 
I walked back to my van, it was now almost four in the morning. 
I felt like I was going to pass out on the street. 
I pushed myself to get to my van and laid on the mattress I kept in the back. 
As soon as my eyelids touched, I was out cold. 

Blood was up to my knees. 
The skylines were an amber hue that haunted the land like the hand of a specter. 
Droves of drones flew above me like birds in migration. 
The piles of bodies stacked high like they were man's attempt to build a new tower for Babylon. 
I woke up in a cold sweat. 
“What the fuck,” is all I could think to say.

“Come on man, just one to hold me over,” the man named Spider begged. 
He was shirtless, he was sadly always shirtless. He also never wore any shoes, I’ve seen his blacked bare feet on everything from burning summer asphalt to ice covered back alleys. He only wore a pair of what had once been grey sweatpants. They were covered in every stain humanly possible. Grease, piss, shit, seamen, blood, and God only knows what else. 
  “I’m not running a fucking charity man, I’ll give it to you when you have the money,” I said firmly. 
A grown man tried to do puppy eyes on me. It wasn’t cute, it was actually one of the saddest things I’d ever seen.
  “Fifty dollars,” I said. 
He glared at me with pure bitterness. 
“I can’t use my fucking arm man!” He yelled. 
  I rested my hand on the holster. Spider was waving at his metal arm that had its fist clenched and was pointing downwards.
  “Fifty bucks, same price it’s been since you first came around,” I said. 
  “Just give me a breaker and I’ll get you the money three fold,” he pleaded. 
I sighed, I heard that line from everyone. 
“If you could get me a hundred and fifty bucks in the next week, you could probably just reactivate your arm,” I said. 
He huffed and puffed and I saw tears starting to roll down his red cheeks. 
“Fuck you man! Fuck you!” He yelled before walking off. He made sure to use his one flesh arm to raise a middle finger up to me. 
I didn’t turn my back until he was nowhere to be seen. 
I gave it a second and then scattered to slam my van door shut and drive as fast as I could in the opposite direction. 
  I've played this game a few times. Some jackass tries to use the power of tears to convince me to do shit for free. 
Spider had been a client of mine for years. It was always the same thing: bypass the subscription paywall that his enhanced arm had. If he had the cash I did it with no problem. However, you had to hack that shit weekly when the next subscription payment was due.
I won’t bore you on the details, just know it is a fast fix but it’s also a hard one. 

I drove my van through the congested inner city streets. Advertising covered the sky like what stars used to do in the night. Shoes hung on the electrical lines and spray painted gave warnings to anyone stupid enough not to pay attention. 
I looked at the people walking in the street, they all moved like a school of fish. I paid attention to their enhancements, the visible ones at least. I looked at how they moved them, if they moved them. This was my hunt. 
One guy had two Priority G Legs. That meant he was either in construction or was born short. 
A kid had a Radi Max arm, it was one of the few manufacturers of children’s enhancements equipment. 
A woman had a Zeta Omniflex Series five arm. It was a light model with a rose gold coloring.
I just found a new client.
I did a shitty and illegal u-turn as soon as I could and tried to find the woman with the rose gold arm. My eyes were peeled and I soon found her. She was entering a coffee shop.
I parked my van and gave it a second before I popped out and walked in. 
The coffee shop was another dime a dozen coffee shops that pretend to be locally owned but are actually a franchise location of a multi trillion dollar corporation.
I was flash banged by the fake AI generated paintings, the plastic plants, the stupid little boards on the wall that talked about how coffee was life. It was stupid but it helped me build my case. 
I saw the woman with the rose gold arm was three people ahead of me at the order station. 
As I got in line, some geezer was outside screaming at people with a bible in his hand. I smiled, this meant that people would hesitate to leave, even the woman with the rose gold arm.
Zeta Industries was one of the first brands to really push back on self defense protocols in their enhancements. This meant the woman in the rose gold arm couldn’t defend herself from some crazed tweaker screaming bible verses. 
The barista bots were in full swing, mechanical arms were spiralling around and getting automatic pumps of cream and java. It used to be a spectacle, everything used to be a spectacle.  
The line moved and more people came in but few were going out. 
The woman with the rose gold arm ordered her drink and sat down in an open seat. 
She put on her visor and began to work. 
I ordered a plain black coffee and it came out before I even stepped out of line. I had it in clutch as I walked over to the woman with the rose gold arm. 
I calculated what to say and how to say it. 
The words were forming on the back of my lips. 
I pretended I was walking past her and I stopped for a moment. 
She was waving her hands in the air and I saw her virtually typing away at a keyboard. 
I looked at her long red hair and the black lenses of the visor that hid her eyes. 
“I love the color of your arm,” I said. 
She shook her head for a moment and tapped the side of her visor. 
“What was that?” she asked with her eyes still hidden. 
“The color of your arm. It looks really pretty,” I said. 
She bobbed her head for a moment. 
“Thanks," she said,” with a fake smile. She tapped the side of her visor and went back to work. 
I sat down next to her and began to drink my coffee. 
I watched the people for a moment, I looked to see if there might be another target to keep in mind, yet I saw nobody.
“Is that a Luna Lift?” I asked with my arm pointing at hers. 
She shook her head and tapped the side of her visor. 
“What?” she asked. 
“I was just curious if that was Luna Lift,” I said, playing coy. 
“No, it isn’t even close to that,” she said. 
She took off her visor, jackpot. 
“This is a Zeta Omniflex Series five,” she said with scorn. 
I raised my hands in self defense. 
“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s a nice arm,” I said. 
She looked at me for a moment and drank from her coffee cup. 
She was using her natural hand which was a dead give away. 
“Bad calibration?” I asked. 
She raised an eyebrow at me. 
“Can you please leave me alone?” She asked. 
I looked out the window and saw that the old man was still yelling at people on the street. 
“Sorry, sorry, I was just wondering if maybe you needed someone to calibrate it?” I asked. 
“I have an appointment,” she said. 
I bobbed my head and tapped my knuckles on the table. 
“Okay, an appointment, nice,” I said. 
She was starting to look pissed at me. 
“You know, the average calibration procedure on a Zeta product is about nine hundred dollars,” I said. 
She didn’t look pissed, she just looked annoyed now. 
“On top of that you also have to pay the appointment fee, the tip to the mechanic, and pay for any repairs needed. That can easily get up to two grand,” I said. 
She looked like she was hearing the punchline to a joke she’s heard a thousand times. 
I pointed at myself. 
“Now personally, I’m willing to help out for a fraction of that cost. I’ll calibrate it nice and neat for only three hundred dollars,” I said with a smug grin.
She let out a smile, it wasn't a smile that someone lets out when you have good news. No this was a smile that said one thing and one thing only: “You have just fucked yourself.”

She adjusted herself in her chair so that way her whole body was facing me. 
“I don’t think we had a proper introduction,” she said. 
“I’m Mark,” I said. 
“Well Mark, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Hazel, I work for Zeta Industries as a marketing consultant,” she said. 
I felt my stomach drop like I was on a roller coaster and I was creeping towards the drop. 
“Now, here’s a fun little fact for you. Did you know repairs of Zeta Industries products are a violation of user agreement?” She asked with her smile not fading. 
“Did you also know that such a violation of user agreements is against federal law and can lead to fines as much as twenty thousand dollars and two years in prison for every violation of such occurrences?” She said without skipping a beat.
I wish I had just given Spider his breaker code. 
“Now, to perform a calibration you need to be a certified biotechnology enhancement technician. Do you have a Zeta Industries calibration and repair certification, Mark?” She asked with her malicious smile still intact. 
“No ma’am, I do not,” I mumbled. 
“Oh wow!” She said in a fake happy voice. 
“Do you know what that means?” She asked with her head tilted to the side.
“That means you get an additional six months in prison with an additional three thousand dollars in fines for every infraction,” she said. 
I felt like a doe sitting in front of a speeding train. 
She sighed and leaned in towards me. 
“Now, I can either get your ass in debt and prison for the rest of your life, because I’m just making the assumption that I’m not the first person you’ve asked or have done repairs for, or you can leave right now and I can pretend none of this happened,” she said into my ear. 
I immediately got up and walked out. 
I left my coffee on the table and out of the corner of my eye I saw her putting her visor back on. 
“The Lord will smite down upon the wicked and make them a spectacle to behold!” The street preacher yelled as I left the café. 
His sweat had dried into a crust that covered his face, his beard was long and uncut. He dressed in an all black suit that looked like it had been stolen from a thrift store dumpster. 
He looked at me and I tried to think of the best way to not have an interaction. 
“Sir, do you know where you’re going in the end?” He asked me. 
I rolled my eyes at him. 
“Probably asleep, hopefully drunk,” I said. 
“That’s no way to live a life sir! Do you know what’s going to happen when you pass?” He pleaded.
I walked away from but I turned my head to the side and yelled: 
“Probably hurried, hopefully mourned.”

———
I drove around for a few hours and hit my usual spots. I did a few repairs but nothing too unusual happened. 
I parked my car by the river and walked towards the Rage House. 
It was at once an abandoned warehouse, to my knowledge it sat vacant for decades and was rotting. The metal siding was all but rusted, every window that once let the sun shine down on the workers was replaced with cheap wooden boards. Eyes are the window of the soul and the Rage House was a soul full of the finest low lifes in the city. 
I walked in and a grindcore band called Pig Fister was finishing their set. The use of enhancements made so they could play impossibly fast. I’d seen Pig Fister a few times, I didn’t really like the music too much but they put on a crazy show. Their lead singer wore a gimp mask on stage and ended every set with him rubbing lard all over his torso and throwing himself into the crowd of dozens. 
Nobody came for the music, the people who might be described as owners liked the music and so they had local bands open the night's festivities. 
As the band finished their set, the lead singer known as Cumster stopped rolling on the floor and got up. 
He pulled out a notecard from his back pocket and cleared his throat. 
“Mech suit brawling will begin in ten… minutes, please make your way over to the pit and please… place your bets if you… haven’t yet,” he said with the grace of a barely literate seven year old reading from the King James Bible. 
I didn’t gamble here or in general. I used to be a gambler, now I live in a van down by the river.
The Rage House had a deep pit in the middle of the floor. Was it meant to serve a purpose to the honest industrial complex that once sat here? Maybe, nobody knows nor cares. 
It wasn’t important, what was important was what we came to see. 
They already had two of their fighters in the pit. A pulley system was the only way they or their suits could get out. 
“Betting is closed for this round! All betting is closed!” A voice cried out. 
The crowd grew larger, we all stood against the railing that surrounded the pit.
The first two fighters were doing last second preparations for their fight. 
You could go to a bar and see something similar on T.V, you could also fork over two grand for a ticket to see it live. 
However, this was where the real fun was.
Two men in thousand pound metal suits fought until one of them had to tap out. They were light mech suits so it was significantly smaller than all the other classes. It was like a knight's armor but bulkier, heavier, and had all sorts of random bullshit welded to it.
“Now listen here chaps!” Said a voice over a speaker. 
“To the left we have Psychotron!” The announcer with a fake British accent said. 
The crowd cheered as the half ton mechanical man raised his arms in the air. 
“To the right we have the Painkiller!” The announcer said before the crowd went wild. 
They began to throw punches at one another and bits of scrap metal were being scattered across the floor.
I didn’t feel the excitement I usually felt. Something felt different, I felt scared. 
As Psychotron grabbed Painkiller by his waist and lifted him up, I felt my heart tightening. 
I was hearing screaming but it wasn’t the screaming from the audience, it was a collection of blood curdling screams that sounded like they belonged to Hell's Choir. I turned around to see what it was and I was no longer in the Rage House.
I was on a city street corner, a son was holding his lifeless mother in his arms as tears ran down his face like a river. The sky was blood red and piles of dead bodies were all around the street like dead leaves waiting to be picked up. 
I heard the sound of feet marching and I looked to the side and suddenly I was in a new place. I was in an army barracks and I was seeing a fleet of mech suits marching off. 
I shook my head and I was now in a place that was once a city. Flames burned high from the rubble and soldiers stood guard of it. They didn’t look like normal soldiers, they dressed all in black uniforms. 
From the burning pile of rubble I saw a hand pop out AJJ claw itself out. It was the son that held his Mother in the street. 
One of the soldiers looked at him and took aim. 
I tried to run to stop it but I was too late. 
Bang! 
The boy slumped dead on the ground, his body was convulsing from the death rattle. 
The soldier locked eyes with me and took aim. 
As he pulled the trigger back I found myself on the floor of the Rage House. 
I was surrounded by the faces of people staring down at me. I could hear the fight was still going on, the crashing of metal against metal and the people not around me were cheering. 
“You good man?” A voice asked me. 
I pushed myself off the ground and felt my heart still pounding. 
I pushed through the crowd and I heard the people talking amongst the yelling.
“Poor guy probably just got visionbombed,” a voice said. 
I squirted past a group of people coming over for the fight.
“No, that would be impossible,” a different voice said. 
“And how do you know that?” The first person asked.
“Because, Mark has no enchantments, he’s all human.”

I want to state three things first and foremost:

1. I am not a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints.

2. I do not plan on becoming a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints.

3. This is not a joke.

Sorry if that sounded snarky, I just felt like that is information to put forward.

Anyways, I live in the south and I saw these two missionaries in the parking lot of a grocery store. It was in the 90s and we had high humidity since you know, it is the south. The dudes were on asphalt which makes it even hotter. I asked them if they had any water and they both said yes. I asked them if they had any sunscreen and they said no. I go inside to buy my groceries and I also bought a thing of sunscreen for the guys. They seemed super grateful for it and I told them to try and stay cool.

Now, I know this summer is going to be brutal. This spring has already been brutal.

So, my question is: can I offer to take the missionaries to get ice cream or an Icee or something? I think you guys get abused way too much by people and I won't see eye-to-eye with your beliefs but I have the belief that all human beings deserve respect and love.

So would it be creepy if I took them out to get ice cream? Would that violate any type of church rule?

I imagine they would like a break for an hour and actually talk to a person who isn't going to just verbally defecate on them.

And of course, I would pay.

The open sign flickered and the only sound was the hum of the refrigerators. 
I sat behind the cash register, a cheap tabloid magazine in one hand and an energy drink in the other. It was the perfect compliment to my dinner of hot dogs and Cheetos. 
I had another hour on my shift and nobody had been in since one.
The moon was out and the only light from outside were the street lamps. The parking lot was vacant of any cars, the only thing out there was a man stumbling towards the door. 
  This was the graveyard shift. It was my preferred shift, I hardly had to do any work and no customers were around to bother me. I was really more just getting paid to wait for the morning shift people to come in. 
The front door opened and I didn’t even look up. I continued to read about some schlock article and sipped my raspberry and orange flavored Redbull. 
  If whoever came in stole something, I wouldn’t give a shit. 
As I was finishing reading an article about a colony of doomsday crazies who lived underground, I noticed deep heavy breaths coming from in front of the counter. 
I looked up from my magazine and saw the most grotesque looking man I had ever seen. 
He had a big unkept beard that was stained dark black. His skin was deathly pale, I could see the black veins under his paper white skin. 
He wore a trench coat, a once plain white undershirt, and jeans. All of them were riddled with holes and stains that could only be described as ominous. His hair was long, black, and greasy. He was staring me down, I didn’t feel like a socially awkward customer, it felt like I was looking down the barrel of a shotgun. 
  “Looking for a pack of smokes?” I asked while putting my magazine down. 
He said nothing, his only response was heavy breathing.
I glanced down and saw my only line of defense. 
An aluminum baseball bat that was definitely older than me.
“You strike me as a Camel man,” I said, trying to defuse the situation. 
  He said nothing, he just kept staring at me. It looked like he wasn’t blinking at first but as I slowly crept towards the baseball bat, I noticed he was blinking exactly when I was.
 “Are you lost?” I asked. 
He said nothing still. 
“Hey look man, you gotta buy something or leave,” I said with a firm tone.
  I felt the handle of the baseball bat in the tip of my fingers. 
  “Are you okay? Do I need to call someone?” I asked. 
He jumped over the counter and I immediately grabbed the baseball and swung it at his face. 
  The aluminum baseball bat made contact with the man’s cheek and the swing followed through the whole way. 
He froze for a second but he didn’t go down.
“Fucking tweaker,” I said under my breath.
I swung at him again but as I was about to make contact with his temple, he grabbed the bat with one hand.
He looked tired and dazed but I couldn’t shake him off of it. 
He tore the bat out of my hands and threw it at the drink fridge. The shattering of glass broke me from a trance of terror that I hadn’t realized I was caught in. 
I booked it from behind the counter and ran to the supply room. I could feel he was only a foot away but in a desperate effort to give me some space I grabbed one of the wine bottles we had on display and chucked it at him. As the glass bottle shattered on the ground I made it into the storage room and slammed the door shut. I locked it and barricaded myself in with a folding chair we had.
He began to pound on the door. It was loud and angry pounding. He didn’t speak, he only screamed. It didn’t sound like a human screaming, it sounded like an animal screaming. I pushed my fear aside and made my way to the manager's office. That would give me one more level of protection and I could use the landline to call for help. 
Chuck kept a revolver in the desk, he thinks we don’t know about it but it’s a public secret.
  I got to the door of the manager's office and I shook the handle. It wasn’t opening, it wasn’t budging. 
It dawned on me that it would obviously be locked if management wasn't on the clock. 
As I tried to figure out what to do, I heard him throwing his body against the door.
If I went out the fire door, that would be a dead give away where I was. This guy would leave the store and come out back. There was a key that disarmed the alarm but that was in management’s office. 
Then the simplest solution came to me: just call the cops. 
I pulled my cell phone out and used my trembling fingers to dial 911. 
As soon as my finger was about to press the call button, the door broke down. 
He stood in the doorframe as the door hung on its hinges. 
I bolted to the fire door, I could see the silver and red door bar was only inches away from me. 
Then I felt his hands on my shoulders. I felt his weight pulling me down to the ground and I felt my head being thrown against the tile on the floor. 
Everything then went black. 

“Dylan? Are you okay?” A voice asked. 
My head felt like it had been hit by a truck.
My eyes felt too heavy to open. 
“What’sgoingon?” I slurred out. 
My eyes forced themselves open and I saw the dim glow of the fluorescent lights in the storage room. 
  “Dylan, I called an ambulance. Are you okay?” The voice said again. 
I looked up and saw the hot pink converse standing before me.
“Gabby?” I asked. 
  “Yes, it’s me,” she said with a hidden terror in her voice. It was rather odd to see her not overly bubbly.
She was the usual opener and she never seemed to be in a bad mood. 
I forced myself to get off the ground but everything felt so much heavier. 
  “Did you catch him?” I asked. 
 “Catch who?” She asked.
I was able to roll over and was now on my stomach. 
  I looked up at the rest of her and saw the pure white fear that was in her eyes. 
  “There’s was a fucking tweaker in here,” I said. 
I pushed my hands against the tile and forced myself up. I fell into the wall almost immediately. Gabby was nice enough to try and help me on my feet. 
 “I’m not sure if you should be standing, I think the EMTS really need to check you out,” she said. 
  “I’m fine,” I said. 
She let out a laugh that was oozing with stress. 
 “No, no you are not,” she said. 
  I glared at her. 
“I’m gonna be fine. I just need to get home,” I said. 
My hand pressed firm against the wall. 
That’s when I started to hear the sirens. 
 “Dylan, just let the EMTS look at you. You were out cold,” Gabby pleaded. 
Everything felt wobbly, I was stumbling towards the door while using the shelving units to help keep me up. 
 “Chuck said he’s coming by,” she said. 
Each step I took felt like an act of labor. It felt like I was learning to walk all over again. 
  I swung open the door and stared at the store. The fridge door was still shattered and the remains of a wine bottle still rested on the ground. 
 I saw the flashing lights of cop cars and ambulances. Two EMTS rushed in and ambushed me. They made me sit on the stretcher. 
Questions were asked left and right. They poked and prodded at me.
“I don’t know, some guy came in and attacked me. I hit my head against the ground and everything went black,” I said. 
  One EMT was now in front of me, the other was behind me. 
  “Hey, can you check this out?” The EMT standing behind me asked. 
  “What’s going on?” I asked. 
The EMT passed a stethoscope to his colleague. 
“I don’t hear anything,” he said with mild confusion before shifting to bewilderment. 
He took the end of the stethoscope and placed it on my chest. 
The EMT from behind placed his fingers on my neck. 
  They both exchanged looks of horror. 
“We gotta be doing something wrong,” the first EMT said. 
 “We are doing one of the first things to teach you in school,” the second EMT said with an annoyed look. 
“We gotta bring you in buddy,” the first EMT said. 
  I shook my head. 
“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” I asked. 
Before I knew it, I was in the back of an ambulance. 
An EMT sat in the back with me, he kept his arms close to himself. He tried not to look at me but was taking glances at me from the corner of his eye. He was treating me like I was grizzly car accident he to drive past. 
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing…something?” I asked. 
He cleared his throat. 
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he replied. 
A puzzled look was spread across my face. 
“What?” I asked. 
He held his arms closer to his torso. He was trying to find a shell to hide in. 
“If I’m being honest sir…I’ve never seen a case like yours before,” he said. 
“Okay but like, shouldn’t you be doing chest compressions or giving me a shot or something?” I asked. 
“Normally yes,” he said. 
I leaned in closer towards him. 
“Well why aren’t you?” I asked. 
He shook his head and said nothing. 
“Okay so what the hell is wrong with me?” I asked. 
He looked at me for a moment and bit his lip. 
“We ran every field test we’re meant to run. You seem to have fine cognition and you’re breathing properly. You have some motor issues but nothing that would explain the condition you seem to have,” he explained. 
I rubbed my head. 
“I don’t want to sound like a dick but you didn’t really answer my question,” I said. 
He sighed and looked at me. 
“You should be dead right now, this shouldn’t be a conversation we’re having,” he said. 
“You should be in a body bag,” he added. 
I couldn’t decipher what the man was saying. 
“I’ve been doing this job for years and I’ve never seen a person like you,” he said. 
“What is wrong with me?” I asked. 
“Well, we need to take you to a doctor to properly diagnose you. This has to be a rare condition,” he said. 
“For fucks sake! What the hell is wrong with me?” I yelled. 
He flinched, a grown man flinched at me raising my voice. 
“I really don’t know how to tell you this,” he said. 
“I can handle it, I can’t handle this vague beating around the bush bullshit,” I said. 
He took a second and cleared his throat.
“Sir, you don’t have a pulse,” he said. 

The open sign flickered and the only sound was the hum of the refrigerators. 
I sat behind the cash register, a cheap tabloid magazine in one hand and an energy drink in the other. It was the perfect compliment to my dinner of hot dogs and Cheetos. 
I had another hour on my shift and nobody had been in since one.
The moon was out and the only light from outside were the street lamps. The parking lot was vacant of any cars, the only thing out there was a man stumbling towards the door. 
  This was the graveyard shift. It was my preferred shift, I hardly had to do any work and no customers were around to bother me. I was really more just getting paid to wait for the morning shift people to come in. 
The front door opened and I didn’t even look up. I continued to read about some schlock article and sipped my raspberry and orange flavored Redbull. 
  If whoever came in stole something, I wouldn’t give a shit. 
As I was finishing reading an article about a colony of doomsday crazies who lived underground, I noticed deep heavy breaths coming from in front of the counter. 
I looked up from my magazine and saw the most grotesque looking man I had ever seen. 
He had a big unkept beard that was stained dark black. His skin was deathly pale, I could see the black veins under his paper white skin. 
He wore a trench coat, a once plain white undershirt, and jeans. All of them were riddled with holes and stains that could only be described as ominous. His hair was long, black, and greasy. He was staring me down, I didn’t feel like a socially awkward customer, it felt like I was looking down the barrel of a shotgun. 
  “Looking for a pack of smokes?” I asked while putting my magazine down. 
He said nothing, his only response was heavy breathing.
I glanced down and saw my only line of defense. 
An aluminum baseball bat that was definitely older than me.
“You strike me as a Camel man,” I said, trying to defuse the situation. 
  He said nothing, he just kept staring at me. It looked like he wasn’t blinking at first but as I slowly crept towards the baseball bat, I noticed he was blinking exactly when I was.
 “Are you lost?” I asked. 
He said nothing still. 
“Hey look man, you gotta buy something or leave,” I said with a firm tone.
  I felt the handle of the baseball bat in the tip of my fingers. 
  “Are you okay? Do I need to call someone?” I asked. 
He jumped over the counter and I immediately grabbed the baseball and swung it at his face. 
  The aluminum baseball bat made contact with the man’s cheek and the swing followed through the whole way. 
He froze for a second but he didn’t go down.
“Fucking tweaker,” I said under my breath.
I swung at him again but as I was about to make contact with his temple, he grabbed the bat with one hand.
He looked tired and dazed but I couldn’t shake him off of it. 
He tore the bat out of my hands and threw it at the drink fridge. The shattering of glass broke me from a trance of terror that I hadn’t realized I was caught in. 
I booked it from behind the counter and ran to the supply room. I could feel he was only a foot away but in a desperate effort to give me some space I grabbed one of the wine bottles we had on display and chucked it at him. As the glass bottle shattered on the ground I made it into the storage room and slammed the door shut. I locked it and barricaded myself in with a folding chair we had.
He began to pound on the door. It was loud and angry pounding. He didn’t speak, he only screamed. It didn’t sound like a human screaming, it sounded like an animal screaming. I pushed my fear aside and made my way to the manager's office. That would give me one more level of protection and I could use the landline to call for help. 
Chuck kept a revolver in the desk, he thinks we don’t know about it but it’s a public secret.
  I got to the door of the manager's office and I shook the handle. It wasn’t opening, it wasn’t budging. 
It dawned on me that it would obviously be locked if management wasn't on the clock. 
As I tried to figure out what to do, I heard him throwing his body against the door.
If I went out the fire door, that would be a dead give away where I was. This guy would leave the store and come out back. There was a key that disarmed the alarm but that was in management’s office. 
Then the simplest solution came to me: just call the cops. 
I pulled my cell phone out and used my trembling fingers to dial 911. 
As soon as my finger was about to press the call button, the door broke down. 
He stood in the doorframe as the door hung on its hinges. 
I bolted to the fire door, I could see the silver and red door bar was only inches away from me. 
Then I felt his hands on my shoulders. I felt his weight pulling me down to the ground and I felt my head being thrown against the tile on the floor. 
Everything then went black. 

“Dylan? Are you okay?” A voice asked. 
My head felt like it had been hit by a truck.
My eyes felt too heavy to open. 
“What’sgoingon?” I slurred out. 
My eyes forced themselves open and I saw the dim glow of the fluorescent lights in the storage room. 
  “Dylan, I called an ambulance. Are you okay?” The voice said again. 
I looked up and saw the hot pink converse standing before me.
“Gabby?” I asked. 
  “Yes, it’s me,” she said with a hidden terror in her voice. It was rather odd to see her not overly bubbly.
She was the usual opener and she never seemed to be in a bad mood. 
I forced myself to get off the ground but everything felt so much heavier. 
  “Did you catch him?” I asked. 
 “Catch who?” She asked.
I was able to roll over and was now on my stomach. 
  I looked up at the rest of her and saw the pure white fear that was in her eyes. 
  “There’s was a fucking tweaker in here,” I said. 
I pushed my hands against the tile and forced myself up. I fell into the wall almost immediately. Gabby was nice enough to try and help me on my feet. 
 “I’m not sure if you should be standing, I think the EMTS really need to check you out,” she said. 
  “I’m fine,” I said. 
She let out a laugh that was oozing with stress. 
 “No, no you are not,” she said. 
  I glared at her. 
“I’m gonna be fine. I just need to get home,” I said. 
My hand pressed firm against the wall. 
That’s when I started to hear the sirens. 
 “Dylan, just let the EMTS look at you. You were out cold,” Gabby pleaded. 
Everything felt wobbly, I was stumbling towards the door while using the shelving units to help keep me up. 
 “Chuck said he’s coming by,” she said. 
Each step I took felt like an act of labor. It felt like I was learning to walk all over again. 
  I swung open the door and stared at the store. The fridge door was still shattered and the remains of a wine bottle still rested on the ground. 
 I saw the flashing lights of cop cars and ambulances. Two EMTS rushed in and ambushed me. They made me sit on the stretcher. 
Questions were asked left and right. They poked and prodded at me.
“I don’t know, some guy came in and attacked me. I hit my head against the ground and everything went black,” I said. 
  One EMT was now in front of me, the other was behind me. 
  “Hey, can you check this out?” The EMT standing behind me asked. 
  “What’s going on?” I asked. 
The EMT passed a stethoscope to his colleague. 
“I don’t hear anything,” he said with mild confusion before shifting to bewilderment. 
He took the end of the stethoscope and placed it on my chest. 
The EMT from behind placed his fingers on my neck. 
  They both exchanged looks of horror. 
“We gotta be doing something wrong,” the first EMT said. 
 “We are doing one of the first things to teach you in school,” the second EMT said with an annoyed look. 
“We gotta bring you in buddy,” the first EMT said. 
  I shook my head. 
“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” I asked. 
Before I knew it, I was in the back of an ambulance. 
An EMT sat in the back with me, he kept his arms close to himself. He tried not to look at me but was taking glances at me from the corner of his eye. He was treating me like I was grizzly car accident he to drive past. 
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing…something?” I asked. 
He cleared his throat. 
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he replied. 
A puzzled look was spread across my face. 
“What?” I asked. 
He held his arms closer to his torso. He was trying to find a shell to hide in. 
“If I’m being honest sir…I’ve never seen a case like yours before,” he said. 
“Okay but like, shouldn’t you be doing chest compressions or giving me a shot or something?” I asked. 
“Normally yes,” he said. 
I leaned in closer towards him. 
“Well why aren’t you?” I asked. 
He shook his head and said nothing. 
“Okay so what the hell is wrong with me?” I asked. 
He looked at me for a moment and bit his lip. 
“We ran every field test we’re meant to run. You seem to have fine cognition and you’re breathing properly. You have some motor issues but nothing that would explain the condition you seem to have,” he explained. 
I rubbed my head. 
“I don’t want to sound like a dick but you didn’t really answer my question,” I said. 
He sighed and looked at me. 
“You should be dead right now, this shouldn’t be a conversation we’re having,” he said. 
“You should be in a body bag,” he added. 
I couldn’t decipher what the man was saying. 
“I’ve been doing this job for years and I’ve never seen a person like you,” he said. 
“What is wrong with me?” I asked. 
“Well, we need to take you to a doctor to properly diagnose you. This has to be a rare condition,” he said. 
“For fucks sake! What the hell is wrong with me?” I yelled. 
He flinched, a grown man flinched at me raising my voice. 
“I really don’t know how to tell you this,” he said. 
“I can handle it, I can’t handle this vague beating around the bush bullshit,” I said. 
He took a second and cleared his throat.
“Sir, you don’t have a pulse,” he said. 

It was super popular with my classmates back in my Elementary school in Oklahoma. That would have made the timeframe be something around 2011 to 2014. That would have put me between the third and fifth grade. It was a super popular book. 

It had a kid who dressed up as a superhero he made up for Halloween. He convinced his two other friends to also do DIY costumes instead of doing store bought ones. 

I also remember there being a thing about how the kids older brother got into an accident while playing football and was hospitalized. 

The title was a self deprecating superhero name. I want to say it was something like loser boy but Google says that it isn’t it. 

Now, here is the reason why I’m looking for it. I never finished the book, I got a few chapters in and I had to give it back to the school library because summer break was about to start.
Has it been ten to fifteen years? Yeah. Am I still miffed that I didn't finish it? Also yeah.

I'm trying to find a place where I can post a multi-part satire story. It is science fiction in a technical sense.

I'm basically posting a novel chapter by chapter and I would love to find a place where I could post it.

We arrived home late that night. More accurately we arrived home late for an eight year old. 
 I was in bed but I heard my parents talking downstairs in hushed whispers. 
I knew not to eavesdrop, my parents always told me it was rude. However, the curiosity was too much to bear for me. I got out of bed and quietly snuck towards my bedroom door. I avoided the random toys and clothes I had scattered around on my floor, avoiding them like I was in a minefield.
  I creaked the door open ever so slightly and stuck my ear out. 
  “I just feel like he’s a hack. Why would a man who can print gold ask for money?” My Dad asked.
  “I mean, it makes sense. He said he needed to try and find ways to improve his machine,” my Mom replied.
There was silence for a moment. 
  “That apple had to be worth at least a few grand,” he said.
 “Well, maybe it’s a walk of faith? We keep praying for financial stability and this might be the Lord's way of helping,” she said. 
  There was another long silence. 
  “Let’s send him a hundred bucks. I don’t want to buy a case of snake oil,” my Dad said. 
I closed my door and walked back to my bed. 
  I shut my eyes and dreamed of the Midas machine. I saw visions of gold, golden streets with golden cars. Golden homes and golden trees. Golden people who I did greet. Yet the golden people never said anything back to me. 

I woke up the next morning and rushed downstairs. Mom was eating breakfast and Dad was reading the paper. The morning ritual was as followed in our home: 
Mom made breakfast for Dad and herself. I always got stuck eating cereal except for on the weekends. Dad would read his paper and tell Mom a very water down version of what he just read. I’d usually ask a question about what he said and I was greeted with the same response every time: “You’ll understand that when you’re older.”

I poured a bowl of cornflakes and sprinkled some sugar on top before dumping milk over it. 
 “They’re already talking about him in the paper,” he said, disgruntled. 
  “Do you blame them? It was absolutely spectacular!” My Mom replied. 
I dove my spoon into the bowl and munched away. I had much more important matters to deal with that day. 
  As soon as my bowl was empty and rinsed, I booked it outside and hopped on my bike. 
  It was a cherry red cruiser and I swear on the Bible it was the fastest bike I ever had. I’d added a clothespin and a card to the back tire to make it sound like a motorcycle. I told myself it boosted the speed.
 I rushed down to the park because I knew they’d be there. We met there everyday during the summer time. 
  “Hey Billy!” Yelled Randy Green. 
I looked over and saw him and the gang hanging out at the swings. 
This was back when playgrounds didn’t really care about safety. Our swing set was on a hill and we would always try to swing as high as we possibly could and jump off it and then roll down the hill. We called it a “kamikaze”. 
  I put my bike on top of the pile of bikes that was our calling card. 
Randy rode a green bike that he painted himself. 
Oliver had a bright yellow bike that we always called the bumble bee.
 Robin had a chrome bike that she said looked like it was from the future. 
Walter had no bike. 

“Billy! Was that really you on stage yesterday?” Randy asked. 
  I smiled and held my head high in confidence. 
  “Yes it was!” I exclaimed. 
“No it wasn’t,” Oliver said.
Randy punched him in the arm. 
  “Yes it was!” Randy said, defending me. 
 “It could have been any number of kids named Billy, I know like three,” Oliver said. 
  “Can you knuckleheads knock it off?” Robin said. 
Randy and Oliver glared at each other for a moment before having any tension between the two evaporate like a puddle on a summer day. 
We spoke of our Fourth of July’s and what we all did. We talked about the mesmerizing fireworks and the delicious food. Walter bragged about how his old man gave him a sip of beer and he suddenly seemed cooler to all of us. 
Yet no matter what we talked about, the conversation still turned back to the same thing. 
“He had to have just been a magician,” Oliver said smugly. 
“No, I held the apple in my hands, it was solid gold dude!” I refuted. 
 “Then why was he asking for money? If he can just print gold why not just do that?” Oliver asked with the smuggest look I’ve ever seen. 
I narrowed my eyes on him. 
“He wants to help us. He’s helping me, I gave him ten bucks,” I said proudly. 
Oliver laughed so hard I thought he was going to vomit. “You really think he’s going to pay it back?” he said in between pockets of breath. 
I clenched my fist and felt my jaw tighten. I thought of what to say, my eight year old brain tried to think of the perfect statement that would open the eyes to such a non-believer. 
“My Mom and Dad are giving him money!” I yelled. 
He froze for a second and looked at me like a doe in the headlights. 
He began to laugh somehow even harder and ended up on the floor. He was gasping for air as he laid on the sand around the swing set. 
“I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?” he asked. 
He got his laughter under control but still sat on the ground. 
“It was real! I held it!” I said. 
“Look Billy, when you’re older you’ll understand,” Oliver said in a condescending tone. 
I loathed when adults said that but hearing Oliver Scott say that to me made my blood boil. He was only a year older than us and he made sure to remind us of that once a week. 
“What can I do to prove it was real?” I asked. 
Oliver looked up and bobbed his head for a moment. 
“I don’t really think you can,” he said before shrugging. 
I darted my eyes left and right. I was hoping someone would speak up and help me.
Oliver sat smugly on the sand with his knuckles under his chin.
I had one thing to prove I was serious, the nuclear option for a child back then. 
“Bullshit,” I said stoically. Everyone’s eyes grew wide and I heard Robin gasp. 
Oliver stood up immediately. 
I felt like a cowboy in the movies, I was at a duel at high noon and I just fired my shot. 
“You said a bad word!” Oliver cried. 
“And?” I asked, feeling the most bad ass I ever felt in my life at that moment. 
“I’m telling,” Oliver said before walking towards the pile of bikes. 
“How about we make a deal?” I asked. 
Oliver stood in his place and turned around. 
“If I can prove to you that it was real, you don’t tell my parents I cussed,” I said. 
“And what if you can’t?” he asked. 
I hesitated for a second. I was wondering how good my hand was. 
“I’ll drop an f-bomb in front of my parents tonight at dinner,” I said.
With how everyone looked at me, I might as well have said I was going to burn down the local orphanage. 
“No way,” he said. 
I shrugged my shoulders. 
“I’m dead serious,” I said. 
I held my hand out for him to shake and soon Oliver Scott hacked a loggie into his palm and shook my hand. 
This would end up being one of the worst deals of my life. 

We rode our bikes around town. Walter scuttled right behind us.
I kept my eyes peeled for any indication of where the Doctor lived. 
With each house we passed, I began to feel the pressure rising. 
I didn’t know what house I was looking for, I had never seen the man before in my life. 
We went from east to west and north to south. We covered as much of town as possible. 
“I’m getting tired guys, can we slow down?” Walter asked. 
I looked behind to see poor Walter red faced and drenched so deeply in sweat that it looked like he had just gotten out of a pool. 
I held my bike brake just enough to slow down to his pace. 
He was breathing heavily. 
“I need a drink,” he said. 
I looked around and realized I had no idea where we were. 
This wasn’t a super uncommon thing, this was back when kids were allowed to be feral nomads. As long as we were home for dinner, our parents didn’t really care where we went. 
I stopped and saw a water hose in the front yard of a house I had never seen before.   
We dumped our bikes in the front yard and helped ourselves to the delicious taste of hose water. 
Walter was so thirsty he didn’t wait for the water to cool down. He guzzled down stale water that had been sitting for God knows how long in the hot summer sun.
 We each took turns drinking from the random hose. 
I turned my head as Robin was sipping down her share and I saw him. He was down the street in a house at the end of the road. 
He was just getting into his car and was beginning to drive away. 
My mouth was wide open and I immediately got on my bike and peddled as fast as my legs could. 
“Doctor!” I yelled out but it was too late. He was already gone. 
I stopped as soon as I was in his front yard. The  gang was right behind me. 
His house was oddly normal looking. It was underwhelming to see it. I thought it would be some castle like what all the scientists had in the movies. It was a normal looking house with a yard that had dead grass in patches. 
“What was that Billy?” Oliver asked in a disgruntled voice. 
“He was right here!” I yelled while waving my hand. 
“Well, you said that he could actually turn things into gold, not that he existed,” Oliver said. 
I looked over my shoulder and saw Oliver with the same smug look he always had. His bowl cut and thick black glasses somehow amplified the pompous demeanor he wore like a badge of honor. 
 I tossed my bike to the ground and began to walk towards the house.
“What are you doing Billy?” Walter asked. 
I felt the hesitation in my bones fighting against the determination in my heart. Each step I took was a war of ethics in my head. 
I found myself standing at the front door. I put my hand on the door handle and pressed down on it with the type of caution an archaeologist would have entering a forgotten tomb.
The door didn’t open, it was obviously locked. 
“Still dropping the F bomb in front of your parents tonight?” Oliver said with a chuckle. 
I turned around and began to walk around the house. 
I jumped over the chain link fence and heard the pattering of feet right behind me. 
“Billy, don't do this! I'll take it back!” Oliver pleaded. 
I didn’t listen to him, I walked through the barren backyard and found the door. The unlocked back door. The now open back door. 
I walked in and froze almost immediately. Reality had caught up to me. 
As I stood on the linoleum floor I realized what I was doing was completely illegal. 
I peaked my head out the back door and saw the gang leaning over the chain link fence. I could turn back around and call it quits. 
I could have done that but I didn’t. 
I waved my hand and invited everyone in like it was my own home. 
One by one they all jumped over the fence and rushed inside. 
I hadn’t really looked at the place when I first entered, it was weirdly generic. It didn’t seem like a house a person actually lived in. Everything was organized and arranged like it was under the assumption that a person would have and own those things. There were two couches and a recliner in the living room and they were all surrounding a dust collector of a T.V.
The dust was everywhere, the house was otherwise very clean but the dust covered every surface that was flat.
As we wandered around from room to room, I kept my eyes peeled for what I could use for evidence. 
“Hey look Billy, I won’t tell your parents that you cussed if you don’t tell my parents we went here,” Oliver said. 
“Deal,” I replied.
I still kept looking around the house. I thought we had seen everything, but that was until I saw the door. 
Right next to the kitchen pantry was a door. A normal door that you would find in any American house in any American town. 
I know what I’m about to say is stupid but that door felt evil. Like pure unadulterated evil lurked through the door but it also called out for me. I put my hand on the door knob and pulled it open.
A stairway descended to a black abyss. I felt my hands trembling. I looked to the side and saw a light switch. I held my finger under it and waited for someone to tell me no. I wanted someone to tell me that we needed to leave and that we went too far with this. Yet nobody spoke, everyone was right behind and I think they wanted me to turn around. 
I flipped on the light switch and began to walk down the stairs. 
When I got down into the depths of the basement, I was taken back for a moment.
There was the Midas Machine in the middle of the room. A panel on one of its legs was open and a wrench was right next to it. 
All types of tools and books laid around on the concrete floor. The books were either old manuscripts that looked like they belonged in a museum or books that looked like they came straight from a college book store. The walls were covered in papers that had symbols and concepts I still don’t understand. 
I stood in awe of the machine, a voice was telling me to run but I didn’t listen to it. 
On a work table in the corner of the room was the golden apple.
It wasn’t the only thing, there was a golden comb, golden handgun, a golden golf ball, and a golden human finger.
I wanted to pick it up. I wanted to grab one of them and run. Yet I knew that would be too far.
“He’s real, I believe you, let’s go,” Oliver said in a rushed tone. 
We went up the stairs and left. We got on our bikes and Walter followed behind us. We didn’t say anything, we knew this was a secret and that we would never go back again. That’s what I thought at the time. I wish I had just got the ass beating my parents would have given me for swearing.
I went home, ate my dinner, and was in bed before nine. 
I woke up the next morning and expected to do the same thing I always did in the summer time. 
However, when I got downstairs a woman was talking with my parents.
Her face was wet and clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in ages. 
It was Walter’s Mom. 
“Hello Mrs. Cunningham,” I said with an on edge tone. 
She looked at me but didn’t let out a single word. 
My Mom looked at my Dad and my Dad then stood and walked over to me. 
He put his hand on my shoulder and got down to my level.
“Do you know where Walter is?” He asked. 
I shook my head.
“What’s happening?” I asked with a tinge of fear in my voice. 
My Dad looked over his shoulder and looked at the stressed Mrs. Cunningham. 
“We can’t find Walter,” Mrs. Cunningham said quietly. 
“I woke up this morning and when I hollered for him to get his breakfast he didn’t respond. I went to wake him up and he was gone,” she said with a crackling voice. 
Mrs. Cunningham cried and my Mom comforted her. 
I knew exactly where he was. The moment they asked about his whereabouts, I knew exactly where he was. There was a voice screaming in my ear to tell them but I was too scared of what my parents might do to me. 
I just didn’t know at that time how awful things were about to get. 

We arrived home late that night. More accurately we arrived home late for an eight year old. 
 I was in bed but I heard my parents talking downstairs in hushed whispers. 
I knew not to eavesdrop, my parents always told me it was rude. However, the curiosity was too much to bear for me. I got out of bed and quietly snuck towards my bedroom door. I avoided the random toys and clothes I had scattered around on my floor, avoiding them like I was in a minefield.
  I creaked the door open ever so slightly and stuck my ear out. 
  “I just feel like he’s a hack. Why would a man who can print gold ask for money?” My Dad asked.
  “I mean, it makes sense. He said he needed to try and find ways to improve his machine,” my Mom replied.
There was silence for a moment. 
  “That apple had to be worth at least a few grand,” he said.
 “Well, maybe it’s a walk of faith? We keep praying for financial stability and this might be the Lord's way of helping,” she said. 
  There was another long silence. 
  “Let’s send him a hundred bucks. I don’t want to buy a case of snake oil,” my Dad said. 
I closed my door and walked back to my bed. 
  I shut my eyes and dreamed of the Midas machine. I saw visions of gold, golden streets with golden cars. Golden homes and golden trees. Golden people who I did greet. Yet the golden people never said anything back to me. 

I woke up the next morning and rushed downstairs. Mom was eating breakfast and Dad was reading the paper. The morning ritual was as followed in our home: 
Mom made breakfast for Dad and herself. I always got stuck eating cereal except for on the weekends. Dad would read his paper and tell Mom a very water down version of what he just read. I’d usually ask a question about what he said and I was greeted with the same response every time: “You’ll understand that when you’re older.”

I poured a bowl of cornflakes and sprinkled some sugar on top before dumping milk over it. 
 “They’re already talking about him in the paper,” he said, disgruntled. 
  “Do you blame them? It was absolutely spectacular!” My Mom replied. 
I dove my spoon into the bowl and munched away. I had much more important matters to deal with that day. 
  As soon as my bowl was empty and rinsed, I booked it outside and hopped on my bike. 
  It was a cherry red cruiser and I swear on the Bible it was the fastest bike I ever had. I’d added a clothespin and a card to the back tire to make it sound like a motorcycle. I told myself it boosted the speed.
 I rushed down to the park because I knew they’d be there. We met there everyday during the summer time. 
  “Hey Billy!” Yelled Randy Green. 
I looked over and saw him and the gang hanging out at the swings. 
This was back when playgrounds didn’t really care about safety. Our swing set was on a hill and we would always try to swing as high as we possibly could and jump off it and then roll down the hill. We called it a “kamikaze”. 
  I put my bike on top of the pile of bikes that was our calling card. 
Randy rode a green bike that he painted himself. 
Oliver had a bright yellow bike that we always called the bumble bee.
 Robin had a chrome bike that she said looked like it was from the future. 
Walter had no bike. 

“Billy! Was that really you on stage yesterday?” Randy asked. 
  I smiled and held my head high in confidence. 
  “Yes it was!” I exclaimed. 
“No it wasn’t,” Oliver said.
Randy punched him in the arm. 
  “Yes it was!” Randy said, defending me. 
 “It could have been any number of kids named Billy, I know like three,” Oliver said. 
  “Can you knuckleheads knock it off?” Robin said. 
Randy and Oliver glared at each other for a moment before having any tension between the two evaporate like a puddle on a summer day. 
We spoke of our Fourth of July’s and what we all did. We talked about the mesmerizing fireworks and the delicious food. Walter bragged about how his old man gave him a sip of beer and he suddenly seemed cooler to all of us. 
Yet no matter what we talked about, the conversation still turned back to the same thing. 
“He had to have just been a magician,” Oliver said smugly. 
“No, I held the apple in my hands, it was solid gold dude!” I refuted. 
 “Then why was he asking for money? If he can just print gold why not just do that?” Oliver asked with the smuggest look I’ve ever seen. 
I narrowed my eyes on him. 
“He wants to help us. He’s helping me, I gave him ten bucks,” I said proudly. 
Oliver laughed so hard I thought he was going to vomit. “You really think he’s going to pay it back?” he said in between pockets of breath. 
I clenched my fist and felt my jaw tighten. I thought of what to say, my eight year old brain tried to think of the perfect statement that would open the eyes to such a non-believer. 
“My Mom and Dad are giving him money!” I yelled. 
He froze for a second and looked at me like a doe in the headlights. 
He began to laugh somehow even harder and ended up on the floor. He was gasping for air as he laid on the sand around the swing set. 
“I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?” he asked. 
He got his laughter under control but still sat on the ground. 
“It was real! I held it!” I said. 
“Look Billy, when you’re older you’ll understand,” Oliver said in a condescending tone. 
I loathed when adults said that but hearing Oliver Scott say that to me made my blood boil. He was only a year older than us and he made sure to remind us of that once a week. 
“What can I do to prove it was real?” I asked. 
Oliver looked up and bobbed his head for a moment. 
“I don’t really think you can,” he said before shrugging. 
I darted my eyes left and right. I was hoping someone would speak up and help me.
Oliver sat smugly on the sand with his knuckles under his chin.
I had one thing to prove I was serious, the nuclear option for a child back then. 
“Bullshit,” I said stoically. Everyone’s eyes grew wide and I heard Robin gasp. 
Oliver stood up immediately. 
I felt like a cowboy in the movies, I was at a duel at high noon and I just fired my shot. 
“You said a bad word!” Oliver cried. 
“And?” I asked, feeling the most bad ass I ever felt in my life at that moment. 
“I’m telling,” Oliver said before walking towards the pile of bikes. 
“How about we make a deal?” I asked. 
Oliver stood in his place and turned around. 
“If I can prove to you that it was real, you don’t tell my parents I cussed,” I said. 
“And what if you can’t?” he asked. 
I hesitated for a second. I was wondering how good my hand was. 
“I’ll drop an f-bomb in front of my parents tonight at dinner,” I said.
With how everyone looked at me, I might as well have said I was going to burn down the local orphanage. 
“No way,” he said. 
I shrugged my shoulders. 
“I’m dead serious,” I said. 
I held my hand out for him to shake and soon Oliver Scott hacked a loggie into his palm and shook my hand. 
This would end up being one of the worst deals of my life. 

We rode our bikes around town. Walter scuttled right behind us.
I kept my eyes peeled for any indication of where the Doctor lived. 
With each house we passed, I began to feel the pressure rising. 
I didn’t know what house I was looking for, I had never seen the man before in my life. 
We went from east to west and north to south. We covered as much of town as possible. 
“I’m getting tired guys, can we slow down?” Walter asked. 
I looked behind to see poor Walter red faced and drenched so deeply in sweat that it looked like he had just gotten out of a pool. 
I held my bike brake just enough to slow down to his pace. 
He was breathing heavily. 
“I need a drink,” he said. 
I looked around and realized I had no idea where we were. 
This wasn’t a super uncommon thing, this was back when kids were allowed to be feral nomads. As long as we were home for dinner, our parents didn’t really care where we went. 
I stopped and saw a water hose in the front yard of a house I had never seen before.   
We dumped our bikes in the front yard and helped ourselves to the delicious taste of hose water. 
Walter was so thirsty he didn’t wait for the water to cool down. He guzzled down stale water that had been sitting for God knows how long in the hot summer sun.
 We each took turns drinking from the random hose. 
I turned my head as Robin was sipping down her share and I saw him. He was down the street in a house at the end of the road. 
He was just getting into his car and was beginning to drive away. 
My mouth was wide open and I immediately got on my bike and peddled as fast as my legs could. 
“Doctor!” I yelled out but it was too late. He was already gone. 
I stopped as soon as I was in his front yard. The  gang was right behind me. 
His house was oddly normal looking. It was underwhelming to see it. I thought it would be some castle like what all the scientists had in the movies. It was a normal looking house with a yard that had dead grass in patches. 
“What was that Billy?” Oliver asked in a disgruntled voice. 
“He was right here!” I yelled while waving my hand. 
“Well, you said that he could actually turn things into gold, not that he existed,” Oliver said. 
I looked over my shoulder and saw Oliver with the same smug look he always had. His bowl cut and thick black glasses somehow amplified the pompous demeanor he wore like a badge of honor. 
 I tossed my bike to the ground and began to walk towards the house.
“What are you doing Billy?” Walter asked. 
I felt the hesitation in my bones fighting against the determination in my heart. Each step I took was a war of ethics in my head. 
I found myself standing at the front door. I put my hand on the door handle and pressed down on it with the type of caution an archaeologist would have entering a forgotten tomb.
The door didn’t open, it was obviously locked. 
“Still dropping the F bomb in front of your parents tonight?” Oliver said with a chuckle. 
I turned around and began to walk around the house. 
I jumped over the chain link fence and heard the pattering of feet right behind me. 
“Billy, don't do this! I'll take it back!” Oliver pleaded. 
I didn’t listen to him, I walked through the barren backyard and found the door. The unlocked back door. The now open back door. 
I walked in and froze almost immediately. Reality had caught up to me. 
As I stood on the linoleum floor I realized what I was doing was completely illegal. 
I peaked my head out the back door and saw the gang leaning over the chain link fence. I could turn back around and call it quits. 
I could have done that but I didn’t. 
I waved my hand and invited everyone in like it was my own home. 
One by one they all jumped over the fence and rushed inside. 
I hadn’t really looked at the place when I first entered, it was weirdly generic. It didn’t seem like a house a person actually lived in. Everything was organized and arranged like it was under the assumption that a person would have and own those things. There were two couches and a recliner in the living room and they were all surrounding a dust collector of a T.V.
The dust was everywhere, the house was otherwise very clean but the dust covered every surface that was flat.
As we wandered around from room to room, I kept my eyes peeled for what I could use for evidence. 
“Hey look Billy, I won’t tell your parents that you cussed if you don’t tell my parents we went here,” Oliver said. 
“Deal,” I replied.
I still kept looking around the house. I thought we had seen everything, but that was until I saw the door. 
Right next to the kitchen pantry was a door. A normal door that you would find in any American house in any American town. 
I know what I’m about to say is stupid but that door felt evil. Like pure unadulterated evil lurked through the door but it also called out for me. I put my hand on the door knob and pulled it open.
A stairway descended to a black abyss. I felt my hands trembling. I looked to the side and saw a light switch. I held my finger under it and waited for someone to tell me no. I wanted someone to tell me that we needed to leave and that we went too far with this. Yet nobody spoke, everyone was right behind and I think they wanted me to turn around. 
I flipped on the light switch and began to walk down the stairs. 
When I got down into the depths of the basement, I was taken back for a moment.
There was the Midas Machine in the middle of the room. A panel on one of its legs was open and a wrench was right next to it. 
All types of tools and books laid around on the concrete floor. The books were either old manuscripts that looked like they belonged in a museum or books that looked like they came straight from a college book store. The walls were covered in papers that had symbols and concepts I still don’t understand. 
I stood in awe of the machine, a voice was telling me to run but I didn’t listen to it. 
On a work table in the corner of the room was the golden apple.
It wasn’t the only thing, there was a golden comb, golden handgun, a golden golf ball, and a golden human finger.
I wanted to pick it up. I wanted to grab one of them and run. Yet I knew that would be too far.
“He’s real, I believe you, let’s go,” Oliver said in a rushed tone. 
We went up the stairs and left. We got on our bikes and Walter followed behind us. We didn’t say anything, we knew this was a secret and that we would never go back again. That’s what I thought at the time. I wish I had just got the ass beating my parents would have given me for swearing.
I went home, ate my dinner, and was in bed before nine. 
I woke up the next morning and expected to do the same thing I always did in the summer time. 
However, when I got downstairs a woman was talking with my parents.
Her face was wet and clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in ages. 
It was Walter’s Mom. 
“Hello Mrs. Cunningham,” I said with an on edge tone. 
She looked at me but didn’t let out a single word. 
My Mom looked at my Dad and my Dad then stood and walked over to me. 
He put his hand on my shoulder and got down to my level.
“Do you know where Walter is?” He asked. 
I shook my head.
“What’s happening?” I asked with a tinge of fear in my voice. 
My Dad looked over his shoulder and looked at the stressed Mrs. Cunningham. 
“We can’t find Walter,” Mrs. Cunningham said quietly. 
“I woke up this morning and when I hollered for him to get his breakfast he didn’t respond. I went to wake him up and he was gone,” she said with a crackling voice. 
Mrs. Cunningham cried and my Mom comforted her. 
I knew exactly where he was. The moment they asked about his whereabouts, I knew exactly where he was. There was a voice screaming in my ear to tell them but I was too scared of what my parents might do to me. 
I just didn’t know at that time how awful things were about to get.