Posts Tagged ‘Steven D. Forbes’

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ZEDD By: Steven D. Forbes

Friday, January 16th, 2009

Zedd. That’s what the car was named. No one knew why, but that’s what he was called. Zedd. He’d seen many a season, and by the initial look of him, he was out in them. But, not anymore. Fifty dollars and a tow later, Zedd came home with me.

I found him in a junkyard, needing major work not only to run, but to look decent, as well. His previous owner died, and left it to his son, who wanted nothing of the car. That was a shame, really. In top shape, the black ‘69 Chevy Nova would be a car that even Steve McQueen would have been proud to drive. Especially after I got through with him.

I worked on him nonstop for months, customizing him inside and out.

But, I didn’t slouch on my schoolwork. I couldn’t. I worked too hard for an academic scholarship, and was even asked to tutor someone. My worst enemy, TJ. The teachers knew we hated each other. They didn’t care.

So, I bore down and gave it a shot. I’d just have to learn to live with less sleep as I worked on Zedd. He would be street legal, but just barely. When I finally took him out, though, I found out just how careful I had to be with him.

I don’t know how it started. I don’t think there ever was an actual starting point for our mutual distaste. TJ was a jock in high school, able to get a full scholarship in either football or basketball. He had a few of the ladies, as well, until they realized what a dick he was. Word gets around fast in those circles.

TJ was jealous. I was suddenly cool. He might have been big man on campus, but I was the one with the power. He tortured me when he could, doing his best not only to put me down, but to push me around. And when he failed the test I was tutoring him for, which put his scholarship in jeopardy, he decided he was going to get even.

***

I remember the first time I took Zedd out for a spin. We zipped along the road, and took a turn I wasn’t prepared for. We slammed against the guardrail, and I screamed, never having felt pain along my side like that.  Pulling off to the side, I eventually got out and inspected Zedd first.

He didn’t have a scratch on him. Not a nick. My eyes even played a trick on me, because a buffed pattern looked like a sly smile.

I pulled up my shirt, and it looked like I had been beaten and scraped with a rusted pipe. I barely made it home, and when I did, went straight to my room and slept for 24 hours.

The next day, I cut myself shaving, and noticed a scratch on Zedd when I did his daily walkaround. My nick was gone in five minutes. His scratch took 24 hours. I didn’t question. I’d never question.

***

TJ beat the hell out of Zedd, doing his best to wreck what had taken me months to restore. All over a lousy test. All because he’s a dick.

I felt every blow. It was like someone took a bat, and was beating me from the inside out. Ribs cracked, I couldn’t see out of one eye, a leg twisted unnaturally…We were a mess.

And now, TJ was going to be a mess.

***

“It was just a joke, man,” TJ screamed. He was bruised and a little bloodied, but better than that, he was terrified as he tried to skitter backwards on the asphalt like a crab. We hated each other for a long time, TJ and I, but now, it was going to end.

I got out. Hobbled, really. I coughed and spit, the hot copper taste in my mouth confirming what the wheezing rattle in my chest only hinted at. I didn’t need to see the blood to know it was there. It was as real as TJ.

Soon, that blood would be more alive than TJ.

What stopped him? Perhaps seeing Zedd recover from the beating he was given right in front of his eyes. I don’t know. All I know is that he was finally going to get what he deserved.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Please.”

“Exactly,” I replied.

Screeching tires filled the night air, and Zedd shot off like a rocket. His headlights were on, and never wavered from their target. Running over TJ would have been too good for him. Too fast. That’s not what Zedd did.

Zedd locked his tires right on top of TJ, forcing them to skid a few yards. He really didn’t have the breath to scream any more. The brake lights stayed on as the engine revved, the rear tires spinning over the pinned prick that was TJ. A spray of blood flew out from the tires as they spun, and as the life escaped him, my aches and pains went away. I could see out of my right eye again, and my breath held no hint of copper, my chest no longer wheezed.

I was whole.

Zedd turned around and came back to me, driver’s side door opening as he stopped.

“All we’ve got is each other,” I said as I got in, twisted leg straight again. “I’ll always have your back.”

The radio clicked on. As we drove off, the song “We Are The Champions” blared out from Zedd’s open windows.

___

© 2008 Steven D. Forbes

Steven Forbes is a comic book editor, writer, and columnist. His column, Bolts & Nuts, is updated every Tuesday at Project Fanboy

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FREE ME By: Steven D. Forbes

Sunday, January 4th, 2009

The acrid smoke from the incense burners irritated the eyes and tickled the nose of the naked, unblinking man. He sat in the middle of the floor, fat candles burning at the cardinal points, and electronics arranged in a magical construct that left no way for anyone to get in or out of the otherwise bare room. Bloodless cuts designed like circuits covered the man’s body, and he did his best to ignore the stinging sweat that seeped into the cuts and his eyes. Soon, pain would be irrelevant. The only thing that mattered now was the task at hand.

Besides the candles, the room was lit from the electronics that made up the physical representation of the spell. A soft blue glow surrounded the menagerie of gadgets and gizmos that filled the room: televisions, DVD’s, an X-Box, cell phones, laptops, mp3 players, cd players, computer towers, an electronic clock, microwave ovens, radios, electric keyboards, stereo systems, VCR’s, toys, lamps, blenders, fans, food processors, a washing machine, an oven, a fax machine, a scanner—if it drew power, it was in there. Some acted as transistors, others as resistors, they all wound in and around one other, leading back to one location: the man.

It was a simple timeline that humanity named progress that the man was setting out to undo. Franklin and that damned kite! He was the start of it. The power he had caused to be harnessed was blasphemy, and the planet now suffered for it. Harnessing electricity wasn’t enough. Of course not. When was Man ever satisfied? It had to be new, bigger, better, more powerful, more expensive. Horses gave way to steam, which gave way to electricity. Instead of thoughtfully going through and using alternative fuels, the planed was raped of her natural resources, her natural beauty.

Now, everyone was “going Green,” and it was trendy and hip. Al Gore, “creator” of the Internet, was a spearhead for the initiative. But even he wasn’t going far enough. No one was. It wasn’t difficult to return the Earth back to its natural state, it was just uncomfortable for Man, and therefore, inconvenient.

It would be inconvenient no longer.

A flash of lightning pierced the night sky, and a rumble of thunder was heard a few seconds later. At least the weather man was correct in his predictions. What happens when he no longer has satellite imaging to rely on? What happens to all of the beautiful people when they have to actually rely on their skills, instead of their faces? How will they fare in the new world?

Another flash of lightning; more thunder. The man picked up the nearest cell phone. Its glow spread to the cuts on the man’s body, and started to pulse in tune with it. The man knew the battery was drained, but he heard the crackle of an open line, a connection trying to be made.

A television popped on. A lamp glowed more brightly. A cell phone rang. The time was coming.

A wind came rising out of nowhere, screaming, uprooting what would not bend before it, howling as it slammed against the house, doing its best to crush it with vicious force. The man could feel the whole house shake and quiver under the assault. It only had to stand for a few minutes more.

Another flash of lightning, and the thunder coming faster on its heels. Closer, the storm. Closer, the end of man’s reign over all he surveys. Very soon, he will have to find a different means to power his machines. Very soon.

A cable moved. The man paid it no mind. He knew that what happened within the next few minutes would play out only as it could. He was an agent of change. As long as that change happened, nothing else mattered. Not who he was, not what he did. Was it more important to help a man, or to be known for helping a man?

Another cable moved, and then another. Lightning flashed, and the thunder was right on its tail. The brunt of the storm was almost overhead. The house creaked as the wind madly tore at it. Just a few minutes more…

The hiss of the television seemed to form words. The fax machine rang, and another cell phone buzzed. Was that a voice the man heard amid the din? Were those words?

“Free me.”

A flash of lightning lit the night sky, brighter than daylight, and the peal of thunder that followed immediately after sounded like the breaking of the world. The cables shot out, one at a time, and plugged themselves violently into the man, who sat there. His chest, his eyes, nose, mouth, back, abdomen—all became sockets to the appliances. The circuit glyphs that were cut into his skin glowed first white, then red, and then settled on blue as every appliance drew power from him. The bulb in the lamp exploded, as did the television and scanner. Head back, the man couldn’t even scream. That scream was done for him by something else.

That scream was done for him by electricity.

“FREEEEE!”

It leapt from the man’s body, blowing the house to splinters as it gathered itself from every electronic device the world round. The house was the epicenter of the final blackout man would know. Planes crashed, cars and trains stopped, people died by the millions as the power they relied on for so long was no longer theirs to command. The world was plunged into darkness once more, instantly returned to a more primitive time when life was exceedingly fragile.

The world turned, but man would have to find a different way to get along. The unfettered electricity would not be harnessed again.

___

© 2008 Steven D. Forbes

Steven Forbes is a comic book editor, writer, and columnist. His column, Bolts & Nuts, is updated every Tuesday at Project Fanboy

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