The man that still considered himself a boy, or at least wanted to, fingered the loop of metal that hung from his left ear. Left is right and right is wrong, that was the corny and cliché phrase that had always made him want an earring as a child. Of course, the first infection of the small hole had changed his mind, but that was in the past now.
“Hey Fell. You going to get off your lazy bum and help me with this?”
“I detest that sexy British accent of yours, Roger.”
He stood up from beneath the shady tree and took his finger away from the tiny loop, still itching to touch it one last time but resisting the temptation. His sleeveless blue shirt hung loosely on the rectangular shape frame as he moved forward to their latest house-project, squinting at the orange circle in the sky, a rising sun that had not yet cast its full radiance across the land. Still, it was so hot and humid. Sweat condensed easily on Fell’s recently hairless upper lip, and he winced as the salt stung his tender skin, infiltrating small cuts and bumps that came along with a drowsy morning, an unsteady hand, and a dull razor blade.
“Don’t make me come over there, young’un,” He heard Roger warn. The older man, somewhere in his late forties, glowered with deep chocolate eyes as sweat also beaded on his dark skin. He had been born in Jamaica, moved to Britain, and then finally moved here so that his child could be born an American. Crazy guy, Roger was, but somehow he had become a bit of a father-friend figure to the blonde boy over the years of their employment together. His head was completely bald, and creases showed at the back of his neck.
“Get the tarp,” Roger said, positioning himself at the bottom of the ladder. His shoulders were broad and thick, maybe twice the size of Fell’s.
“You sure you can handle it?” The blonde boy intoned. “I mean, with your crippling age…”
“Hush now, mate. Take an order from your superior.”
“Hey, we’re all equal here!”
“I meant in a mental sense. Hurry or I’ll make you be the one to carry it up.”
That shut the boy up, and he hurried over. His arms wrapped around one side of a tan colored tarp and he and another man lifted it off of the ground, the grass compressed into a square where it had been laying. They were fumigating this two story vacation home today, as the owners had been unfortunate enough to discover termites inhabiting it as they came out for the summer holidays. There was a large truck waiting nearby with a cylindrical weight on it’s back, full of nerve gas. Colorless, odorless and dangerous stuff. There would be tear gas put into the house too, to make sure no one accidentally walked around inside the house and to a quick, unknowing death.
They lifted the tarp up onto Roger’s back and he carried it up the ladder slowly, muscles all bulging underneath his clothes. Now, as far as Fell was concerned, was break time.
He made his way back over to the tree, sitting down, and glanced again at the truck that contained the nerve gas. He thought it was a little too fancy to be carrying something so deadly and disgusting; maybe if there was some dirt on the wheels or that nice shiny white paint job… his thoughts drifted away as he slumped against the tree, a doze overtaking him. Fell was bad about not getting any sleep at night.
~
“Fell! Wake the hell up! Do you want to get fired…!?” The words harshly penetrated Fell’s mind and he leapt up, temporarily dazed. A sweaty Roger was standing in front of him with arms crossed, and in the background the large dark blue tent was already spread out over the house and being nailed into the earth. Shit. His hand fingered the loop earring again as he guiltily rubbed at his eyes.
Then Roger shoved a clipboard into his arms and turned around, shaking his head. “Check off all the poles for the tarp, eh? Make yourself useful.” He stalked away, but Fell grinned, imagining the exasperation of the old man. He could never stay angry for long. Fell then started off towards the side of the house, making small checks on the clipboard as he saw the poles soundly nailed into the ground and the tarp secured.
As he walked, his thoughts became dazed as he became easily bored. The boredom dissipated quickly as he strayed too close to the house, and there was a sudden raspy burning in the back of his nasal area, and his green colored eyes quickly flickered to the tarp.
A tear. A large rip within the blue material, and the whirring that gave away tear gas, and possibly nerve gas, already being poured into the dwelling quarters.
The next breath made Fell gag. A sudden searing fire raced into his eyes, his mouth, his throat, nose, and made his skin fizzle. His hands clutched his throat instinctively as he stumbled backwards and landed painfully hard in the grass. Nausea rushed up his throat in a horrible spasm and he had to turn over and scuttle to the nearest bush, choking up his small lunch and a bit of water from earlier. His eyes stung with a ferocious intensity that had tears coursing down his face and his lids pressed together, blocking out all sight, and he barely heard the screams of his name as he choked and collapsed over sideways. The world disappeared into a cold blur.
“Is he… Doctor?”
“Yes…”
“The monitor…Never seen…. Quite like it…”
“Oh, he’s waking.”
Bright florescent lights and the sounds of muffled footsteps were the first things to greet Fell’s crash back into the world. His stomach rocked and coiled like an angry snake, grumbling and snapping its teeth at his throat. He gagged and looked for some sort of bucket, but the moment passed quickly and a sudden calm descended on his body.
“Ah. Mr. Lennox. Are you well?”
His head turned lazily to one side, and even that small motion made the room blur and spin. The boy groaned in response and twitched his hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Well. I come representing the Mynition Manor, and I would like to…”
“Hold tha’ thought,” Fell wheezed, as he pushed himself up off of the bed. The woman in front of him, wearing a dark business suit, fine brown hair pulled into a ponytail and a tall figure, was quite nice looking and he had to look somewhat presentable. One hand patted down his light blonde hair while the other pulled at his IV chord curiously, unconsciously.
“Sorry, but I’m already late reporting back as it is. You’ve been invited to participate in a tournament of sorts,” the nameless woman intoned, as she handed him a small brown parcel. It was long and thin. The size of a normal piece of printer paper, and he looked at it lazily. Fell wasn’t sure if he should be interested or not.
“Be there,” she added simply, and with an endearing smile, the woman was gone. He laid his head back down on the pillow and looked at the speckled ceiling above him, with displaced thoughts wondering what time it was and if he would be able to sneak out of the hospital room. The tear gas must have triggered one of his odd attacks… things he considered physical defects… but why? They never happened in the day.
And that was how he had ended up at the manor, suitcase in hand and pale hair laying in a messy sweep atop his head and the back of his neck. What the hell? He didn’t have anything better to do and they wouldn’t want him back at work for a while anyways. As he stepped through the doorway he looked around, gently and timidly closing the door behind him.
“Another contestant has come calling…” A voice mumbled, and at the time he couldn’t tell if it had been his own or someone else’s. This trip would be running on boredom and vacation time alone. |
Submission Name: MM AUD: Fell Lennox 
