Chapter 3

Music, music, music, concentrate on the music. Oh, but the trolley is so loud, there are people walking directly in back of me, screaming and shuffling far too loudly. A skateboarder almost ran me over, the sky is a pale blue and the sun is bright yellow. Precursors, I hate my life!

Haha, isn't it funny, though. How much this whole ordeal bothers me. They don't have to walk directly behind me, yet they aren't actually doing it on purpose. I doubt they even realize it's bugging the crap out of me and setting off my fight or flight reflex. I doubt they even notice I'm here.

I stop, looking up into a tree, pretend I'm looking at a bird. The group of cheerleaders passes me and I continue walking. This is so annoying. I follow them down the street, for they happen to be going in the same direction as I am.

I turn the volume of my Ipod up and hope it drowns out some of all that annoying noise. I stare at the concrete below my feet, trying to black out the world. Finally, I fall into a useless musing, or is it a memory?

I map Haven forest out in my head, the river and the way it felt running over my hands. They way the trees creaked and the sound their leaves made. How the birds would fly about, playing in the sky and blessing me with their music. The way the water felt on my skin, or the way that it shimmered and vibrated when electricity surged through it. I also remember the temple and they way the metal popped and dinged after the sun went down, and it cooled. I loved the way the hollow noise would travel for so far in the quiet evening.

I also remember the way the zoomers sounded, their own unique noise as they zipped across the sky. Or the way they felt when they were under you, that exhilarating feeling. Or the feeling you get the first time you shoot down a metal head; that pride and triumph.

The train raced past, it's wail knocking me out of my dreams and ruining the moment. Ah, well; it was nice while it lasted, like the whole trip to Precursora. It was best just to get my mind around here, this place. Society is better, safer, nicer. It wasn't a dog-eat-dog world here. It is a sit on your ass and get fat society. It was what I wanted, right?

Right?

I scan my pass for the trolley and wait on the bench for the next one going west. I sit by myself, detached from the rest of the high school students waiting for trolley. I sit straight on the bench, staring straight ahead. I'm not looking at anybody, not talking to anybody, not even texting. I've found out that this posture and attitude tends to scare people off.

Unfortunately, it was that moment, I found out my actions from earlier got me another stalker. There was Microbe, the boy I saved earlier. Everybody called him that, even the teacher. I don't think anybody knows what his real name is or why he's even in school. He's smart enough to be out of college by now. He tells people that he works for the government but I doubt it. I think he just looks for attention.

Regardless, he's standing by the soda machine, trying for all his might to look casual. To someone else, I suppose he might be fooling someone, but not me. I've been trained to look for spies and informants, to look for people that are trying to be casual but are obviously not. In other words, I've seen Sig do better, and it's hard for a big, black, desert survival dressed man to look casual. It just isn't…

I stare at him until he realizes I've spotted him. My stare turns into a glare when we make eye contact, telling him silently to go away. He comes over. He's either too stupid or just desperate.

"Fancy meeting you here," he smiled at me, showing a mouth full of metal. "Come here often?"

"You are not amusing," I deadpan.

He deflated for the second time that day, at least that I had seen. "Thanks for saving me."

"You already thank me, go away."

"Can I come over to you house or something?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"My mom doesn't like men, she's a lesbian." That was the lie of the century. I personally have nothing against homosexuals but my mother thinks of them as spiders. What can I say? She's a cruel woman.

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment. "What's your name?"

"You ask if you can come home with me before you even know my name?"

He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes and stood, seeing my trolley. "Green line or Orange line?"

"What?"

"The trolley lines, which one do you take?"

"Eh, neither?"

"Then goodbye."

"Wait! I didn't get your name!"

"I know." Before he could say anything more, I boarded the trolley and went to find a seat. He stood by the door for a moment, as if in indecision, then stepped back as they closed. The horn honked and the little red train started to move, leaving Microbe on the platform.

/-/-/

It was Saturday at last, and I had just finished my usual rounds. That meant I had money in my pocket, exhaustion in my limbs, but satisfaction for a day's hard work. Every Saturday I go around and do chores for people, they give me money in return. No big deal, moving on.

What made today special was the fact that I could add another twenty-fie dollars to my jar, making just over three hundred. Enough to get a new playstation since my old one took a dump on me way back when. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

I hurried to my room, eager to look at all my hard earned money. This was exciting, finally I could play Jak and Daxter again. It had been way too long. I could honestly say I missed Jak. And I don't mean the whole control his every action either. I miss that friendship we had. I wonder if he misses me too, or if he's forgotten me.

But this isn't the time. I enter my room, see nothing amiss but still have that aching foreboding in my gut I get every time something bad is about to happen. Please let it be nothing but past nightmares coming to the surface.

I reach under my bed, feel around until my fingers brush against the cold, smooth glass of my money jar. I roll it toward me and allow it to come into view.

The only thing that I could think of next was: "Shit! Not again!"

XXX

Broken Wolf/D.R.M.