Snippets from the Dark Side - Part 2As the birds blink in the dovetailing light and the gentle wind bends the vast expanse of wheat, Iggy welcomes reality with outstretched arms. The rising horizon fixates his stare for a moment, the descending reddening orange sun captivating as it prepares to land in the shimmering distance. Sound is beautiful now, the comforting upper hand of silence massaging his spirit. Iggy cradles the revolver in his hand, marveling at its chameleon-like penchant for assuming the temperature of any surrounding matter, and looks down. He runs his finger along its barrel, and it feels smooth and soothing.
Markus grabbed Linda's hand as she tried to enter the cave. "No," he said quietly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "No." Linda, demure and polite as usual, simply relented.
"Come on, Elman. My grandfather found that fossil in THIS cave, and I'm so curious!"
"It is forbidden. You know that."
Linda shook her hand loose. "I'm going in there." She stepped again toward the cave. Markus grabbed her arm, more firmly this time, and they struggled. Tears began to drip from her eyes. "Look," she said softly. "I'm not gonna beg you. I must go in." Markus watched a tear roll down her face and stretch across her lips.
"You know the rules." His words were firm, simple. "To break them could change history." As he pulled her back to the trail, he didn't see the knife.
"I am sorry," Linda said, fluidly slashing the front of his neck. Silently, painlessly, Elman slumped to the ground, blood streaming from his throat. Linda didn't look at Markus' body as she ran into the cave and disappeared.
Forty million years later, giant bats search the mountains for food. The mountains are their favorite feeding grounds, for there dwell the sparse, frightened, feeble prey known as humans. And across the planet's surface, all forms of technological civilization, including one business in particular known as 'Time Travel Tours', suddenly do not exist. Of course ST is still huge.
Exhausted concert aftermath
Bowls of chowder and crusty rounds of bread, washed down with steaming mugs of cider
Clots of snow slip off the steep Eastern European rooftops
KF adjusted his tie and stared out the window. Why are breasts so damned fun? he wondered.
EXT. FREEWAY. DAY
Early afternoon weekend traffic. The grey asphalt highway stretches out
like a great lazy snake sunning itself in the summer sun. Several cars
speed along, jockeying for position, yearning to reach their destinations.
DR. TRASH'S black BMW goes a little faster than the flow, hugging the fast lane.
INT. DR. TRASH' BMW. DAY
DR. TRASH is tired of driving; he's been at it for a few hours, returning from the gigs in Poughkeepsie, and has had his share of frustrating encounters with assholes on the road.
DR. TRASH' POV
As he rounds a bend, he sees a black VW Rabbit grow in size before him.
DR. TRASH can't go around because of cars currently on his right; the Rabbit, however, could safely move over and out of his way. It doesn't.
EXT. FREEWAY. DAY
DR. TRASH' BMW steadily approaches the Rabbit.
DR. TRASH' POV
He can see the driver of the Rabbit check his rear-view mirror. The Rabbit has a female passenger, probably the driver's girlfriend. The Rabbit still does not move over. DR. TRASH moves closer to it. The Rabbit driver looks at his passenger, smiles, checks his mirror. He doesn't budge.
EXT. FREEWAY. DAY
The Rabbit and BMW speed along in the fast lane like insects in a mating dance. The next lane gradually clears.
DR. TRASH' POV
DR. TRASH sees the clear lane, but sticks to the Rabbit like a fly on shit. All his frustrations are now focused on this asshole in front of him, who should abide by the rules of the road and move out of his way. DR. TRASH could now go around, but not now. He's on a mission. He's going to win this one. The Rabbit driver again checks his mirror... that BMW is much too close...
Ennis runs past the lumbering polar bears to the nearest pay phone, bruised, shivering and out of breath. He grabs the receiver and frantically punches at the keys... Can't believe I escaped, he thinks wildly, tears of relief mixing with the tears of fear, cascading down his flushed, bloody face. My God, why us? Why this? He and Ralph Sims had been walking back to the car, chuckling and grass-stained after mowing lawns in the neighborhood, when they'd suddenly heard thumping bass and a barrage of squeals. Whirling, they'd seen the car coming at them, indiscriminately mowing down anyone and everyone. Men fell wildly, women fell screaming, lawnmowers fell silent. It was all such a blur, it had all happened so fast, it was like a dream... a horrible, terrible nightmare... The car had come at them... Ennis shook his dazed head and jabbed a shaking finger again at the phone, desperate to reach someone, somewhere. Oh God, poor Ralph...
From the Journals of Ken Weeks: I guess I was just tired of it. Nag nag nag for hours on end, and not only did I want to be left alone, I didn't even want her in the same county, let alone cabin. I wasn't attracted to her anymore; any semblance of that affection I once felt for her that I had dimly termed 'like' had long since dissipated. My feelings for her were as dry as an African dog's soupbowl. And the nagging and tailgating continued. I'm not a violent man by nature. You could ask anyone (not her... anyone else).
"I wish you'd start smoking again," Frey grumbled as Wok sang of computers in a deep baritone.
Meanwhile, the S.W.A.T. team moved in on the overly-perfumed groupie. "I can't prove it, but I'm pretty darn sure I have the key to the afterlife," the woman said, spinning her head around in a 360.
