Note: The following is an adapted composite of earlier stories I have written.
Matt sat back as Norma recounted a story from the end of the old world, where the seeds of the new one were planted....
Segment 1: A Back Alley in the City at the Edge of Nowhere
Hiding the lit cigarette with his cupped hand, the big goon took a few furtive hits before flicking the only half-used butt down the stinking alleyway. His partner cracked a smile, snickering, "You afraid the boss might pop out this soon? Don't worry--he'll be in there for another good hour, at least." They were a Laurel and Hardy duo in contrasting size and shape, not that anyone remembered who the long dead comedic actors were these days.
"Shut up, fucker," shot back the heavyset man, who waved the smoke away. He adjusted his tie. "Why are we using the back door this time?"
"Damned if I know; but it's probably something that needs to be a little discreet. Even the boss has to keep up appearances." The thinner man pulled out his phone and began playing with it.
Both men were wearing the dark suits favored by high flying criminals and government security details; although it wasn't difficult to guess which service the two were in the employ. They were waiting outside the rear exit of a popular room salon and karaoke club where the rich and degenerate drank, sang bad songs, and received very personal service from attractive women.
A stretched SUV with blacked windows and no tags was idling a few meters down the alley, waiting to go as soon as the entourage was ready to leave. The boss had brought his usual cadre, even one of his wives--which was unusual for the old man.
When the door banged open, the man playing on his phone almost dropped it. He stifled a curse when he saw who it was coming out.
Platinum blond curls waved around the woman's bleached white face, high cheekbones like cut stone, as she locked her gaze on the two security men. Her black leather outfit was as severe as her expression as she crooked a finger and croaked, "Hey, give me a cigarette." The big man hurriedly pulled out his pack from inside his jacket and tapped one out for her to receive. He used a lighter to get the cigarette going once it hung on her rouged lips.
Some of the brittle tension around her eyes relaxed as she let a long breath of smoke out into the night air. She patted the man's shoulder, "I needed that. I can't believe we can't smoke inside the club. I was losing my mind." She coughed up some phlegm and spat out into the alley, and grumbled, "This synth tobacco is rough."
The three stood near the rear exit in awkward silence for moment. She killed the cigarette and tossed it aside, "Hey, we have a special package tonight. Make sure to deliver it properly. Here's the address and instructions, follow them exactly. My husband will be coming out later, we've called another car. No questions. No problems. Or it's --." She made a crude noise while slashing her side of her hand across her neck, and then stomped back into the club without bothering to check their response.
The big man knew his place and he was compensated well enough that taking crap from the client was practically baked into his pay package.
The thin man spat, "I hate that bitch. When the boss gets bored with her, then we'll see who's...well, who." His face looked like it had eaten a bad prune.
"That the best you got?" chuckled the big man. Before they could say anything more, the door banged open again. The woman returned, this time dragging another girl behind her. Pallid under the harsh sodium light over the exit door, the girl was blindfolded and chained from a collar around her neck to two metal cuffs on her wrists. She even had leg irons attached. Otherwise, she was naked except for her long, black hair that almost ran to the small of her back. Shivering in the night air, she didn't say a word.
"Here, take her, you morons," the blond pushed the girl towards the startled men. "And if you shit heads even think about getting the wrong idea..." She made another chopping motion with her hands.
The big man eyed his partner for a moment, shrugged, and picked up the girl, slinging her slight frame across his shoulder. Without further ado, the men walked to the SUV and climbed inside after laying the girl down on one of the wide bench seats. The boss's wife looked for a moment as they drove off, a lazy smirk on her face, "I'm the best mom ever."
Segment 2: A Gift with No Return Address
Bleary eyed, Paul Francis Parker rubbed his face as he finally woke up. He didn't need to check the clock to know he had missed his first morning class yet again. He groaned, kicking his bed cover aside, the dregs of the dream he'd had still churning in his mind. By the time he was brushing his teeth in the sink, he'd forgotten most of it. Someone banged on the door to the bathroom. He remembered that his friend, Sung, had stayed over, ostensibly to study, but they had gamed on the console until well past midnight.
He opened the door as Sung stumbled inside, cursing, "Hey, why did you lock the door? I really have to go." Sung had gotten smashed, so Paul wrinkled his nose from the stench of stale beer.
"I told you the damn latch is busted. We're late again by the way. Never going to graduate at this rate."
"Why the hell are you even bothering. The world is fucking ending," Sung admonished as he began urinating into the toilet bowl.
Paul kept the brush in his mouth and slammed the door as he exited, "Come on. I don't want to see that."
From inside the bathroom, Sung shouted, "Why? You jealous? You're never going to snag that raging hot girlfriend with your prudish attitude, my friend. Get some while there is still a market."
Ignoring the personal jibe, Paul exclaimed, "That's bullshit, this is the fourth economic crash in the past ten years, we'll ride it out just like we always do."
"Trust fund cum stains like you never have to worry. For the rest of us, shit's hitting the fan, I'm telling you. My relatives have gone turtle already and they keep telling me to leave town for their hole in the ground."
"So, why the fuck haven't you gone yet?"
There was a loud farting sound from the bathroom. Sung was now taking a shit. He yelled, "Have you met my relatives? I'd rather risk it out here."
Paul angrily sat down on the couch, still brushing absently, as he eyed the mess on the coffee table. The room was a shambles. It took him a long moment before noticing the large box in the middle of the room.
"That wasn't there last night," he mumbled. Maybe there had been a delivery in the morning. He shook his head, went to the kitchen sink and rinsed his mouth. He drank down some tap water, then went back to look at the box. "Probably more junk from my father."
He scowled. He'd told them he was no longer accepting anything from the family. Grabbing it with both arms, he meant to throw it out.
"Damn it, this is heavy," he panted. Giving up, he sat down on the floor, rubbing his bed hair. A sound came from the box, making him sit up. He grabbed a knife from the coffee table and used it to cut the packing tape off the top. After hesitating for a moment, he flipped it open, took a long look, and then just as quickly closed it again.
"Shit."
Thinking furiously, he grabbed the box by its edges and tried to pull it to his room. It was too heavy. He switch to pushing it, and after some effort, it began sliding on the floor which was made of some fake wood finish, so once he got momentum going it wasn't too hard. When it got to the door to his room, it wouldn't fit. Sweating, he cursed. He could hear Sung washing his face in the sink. He had seconds before his friend would be coming out.
As best he could he tipped the box over, ripping it in the process. He didn't stop to wonder how someone had carried in such a fragile, cardboard box into his apartment. The object inside tumbled into the room with a thud. Frantically, he kicked the wrecked box into the room and shut the door, just as Sung walked out of the bathroom.
