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The news camera hovered in front of my face, and a voice emitted from it asking me, “How does it feel to be on the verge of making history?” I recognized the voice immediately. It was James Smith’s which meant I was on his show, live. The red light next to the camera lens confirmed my suspicion.
“That’s your first question? Come on, now,” I replied. I really did expect more out of him. I mean, James is the top ranked news anchor and has been for a long time. I guess he was probably just starting out with generic questions to get to more specific ones. He does that sometimes. I just didn’t want to seem like an easy person to question. I hate those people who are obsessed with the story of their own lives.
Yes, I know I’m a hypocrite.
“Of course that’s my first question!” The man was jovial; I could see it in his voice. “We all want to hear the thoughts of the man who is about to beat Gordon Hughes’ record of nine lots. So how about it, Johnny?”
“Well thanks for your confidence. Hold on a sec.” I heard the clanking sound of a small avalanche of bricks from somewhere behind me. I turned around and caught sight of two holders hunched down in an attempt to sneak up on me. Maybe they were going for a hand-to-hand stealth kill which means a hefty bonus. Another thought that they were from Media, Inc. (James Smith’s news station’s parent company) flashed through my mind, but I immediately realized that this was solely a retail lot.
I can’t count how many times people have tried to sneak up on me; it’s always a mistake.
One of the enemy holders noticed that I had seen them, and his eyes went wide as he froze, paralyzed like a rabbit who knows it’s about to die. I shot the one behind him first; the hump of his back showed above the small pile of bricks that they had tried to use for concealment. The rabbit was too slow in drawing his weapon and fumbled with it. He was obviously nervous; it was probably his first time out.
I got him in the head. It was a nice shot; right between the eyes.
Letting my gun rest across the front/side of my body via shoulder strap, I turned around to the news camera and smiled. I did this and made a kind of mock bow, twirling my arm across my waste in what had become known as my signature victory move. Several people who had been watching from the street applaud this action while smiling and cheering. One man, or woman, let out a sharp whistle.
“A true showman,” James the newsman remarked. “And we can all see how actions speak much louder than words.” I heard a few people laughing in the background at the studio. “Which is why I’m going to skip the question of how you’re going to accomplish this feat and go straight to my next question.”
“Weren’t you going to ask me how setting this record feels?” I asked with a huge smirk across my face.
“Of course! Why don’t you share that with us?”
“Well, it feels pretty good, James.” There was some more laughing in the studio.
“There you have it folks; always a joker! Now into more personal matters. As I’m sure all our lady viewers know, you were recently named Cosmopolitan’s most eligible bachelor of the year. Out of all the wonderful single men out there, myself included” (I could practically see the man winking) “why do think you were chosen?”
“First of all, James, look at this body.” I raised my eyebrows to emphasize this obvious fact, although I was decked out in thermal gear along with all my other equipment. I also made a vertical sweeping motion with my left hand down the front of my body. I am pretty sexy. “Also, I think most women want to feel safe in a relationship, and so they look for strong men. Who better to protect them than the top rated holder in the world?” Winking, nodding, and smiling all at once.
“It’s got to be hard to compete with that. Trust me, I know.” There was more laughing and I remembered how I gave him a run for his money when we both showed up at the same club the previous month. “Now what we all really want to know: Is there a special girl in Johnny Schmitz’s life?”
“Well, not right now, but I am accepting applications.”
“What a joker! What woman could resist that? I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for now; off to a commercial break. Thanks for the interview, Johnny!”
“Any time, James.” I waved goodbye until the red light went dark and the news camera hovered off. I knew it would be back later for one of the evening shows and then again the next day. It showed up the next day too so they could film the McDonald’s CEO claiming the lot. A few other programs stopped by as well. You know, talk shows, late night shows, and more, but I’m going to skip over all those.
Anyway, I smoked another cigarette after the interview was over. Those breaks in between attacks are nice, although you can never really rest. I’ve been on missions we had almost ten hours to “relax” and others where we had an almost constant stream of enemy holders for sixteen hours. I kind of liked it when it was busier because waiting for someone to attack you can be pretty stressful at times. Also, time tends to fly by fairly quickly when you’ve got something to do.
Mary Margaret showed up as I my finished my cigarette and the sun was starting its descent behind the many buildings that crowd our land.
I don’t know exactly what it was about her that made me blush, and I remember trying to think of the last time a girl had had that effect on me. It felt like my face was on fire as I swam around in my own sweat. I knew I would only embarrass myself if I tried talking to her, although I also knew that I would have to unless I wanted an awkward night/day.
I lied again. I always did bring amphetamines with me so that I could stay awake for twenty four hours straight. It also staved off hunger pains. I’m pretty sure every holder uses some kind of drug to that effect.
Anyway, I held out my hand as she approached. When she shook my cold, sweaty palm I introduced myself, “Hi, I’m Johnny Schmitz.”
“I know,” she immediately responded with a smile on her face. “I was just watching you on the news.”
“Oh.” I must have looked embarrassed, but she was nice.
“No,” she briefly touched my chest with the tips of her affection. I knew she was doing it as an act of friendliness or flirtatiousness, but I’m pretty sure she was purposely trying to give me a heart attack, whether she knew it or not (my heart actually did stop for a second or three). “I liked it. You were funny.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I was the awkward one. Mary was smiling, cool, comfortable, pretty, creative, jazzy, and all kinds of other things that I can’t think of words for.
I loved her.
“So are you really accepting applications?” she asked. I was just a worm wriggling about her fingers.
“What? Oh. No, I was just, you know, trying to be funny. For the masses.”
“I see.” She just stared at me after that for a few seconds and I swallowed. Maybe she did feel what I felt or she just appreciated the sentiment. I’ll never know. She looked happy.
It hurts writing about this. I don’t think I need to tell you that, but it does.
You know, it’s just…you see death all the time. So why the fuck did hers affect me much? After ten lots?
People tell me all the time, “Forget about her, Johnny. There’s plenty more out there.” Like Gertrude…but I want Mary Margaret!
I had to get that out.
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It was a few hours later now, and I smoked a cigarette while Mary ate a Big Mac. The sun had set to be replaced by the artificial lights of the many buildings that surround us. I have seen a few stars once. It was on a very expensive trip I took to the beach. I remember looking back toward land seeing a kind of orange glow over everything.
“So what do you want out of this?” I asked Mary. We had been silent a while and I wanted to know her.
“What do you mean?” she asked after hastily swallowing a bite of her burger.
“I mean…why did you sign up for this job? I just did it for the money.”
“Not to be famous?” She smiled with the beauty of the ocean.
I smiled too, although I’m not that pretty. “Well, that’s just an added bonus. I’m not even sure I like it. I think once we take this lot and I retire, I’ll just go live in a hole somewhere, you know?”
“I see what you mean. It’s probably better that way. Everyone is still going to ask for your autograph, though.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed.
I loved her.
It wasn’t for any one reason, either. It was just the way she did everything or anything. She had a kind of lovely aura around her. I can see why people used to bury their dead. I wish I could visit Mary sometimes, but I all I have of her is in my head. Maybe I love her more now than before she died. I don’t know why or even what that means. It’s probably just because we never had a chance.
“But what about you?” I asked in reference to my earlier question.
“Um…really?”
“Yeah.”
There was a slight hesitation here. “You just inspired me to do it. I feel like you make a lot of people want this job. Everyone wants to be like Johnny Schmitz.” She gave a chuckle before this next part. “All my friends are going to be, like, really jealous of me.” She took another bite of her burger. It was even the way she ate.
“Nah.” I was blushing, and I kind of wished the cameras weren’t there.
“Yeah,” she said and it was then that I realized I wasn’t the only funny one around.
“You’re making fun of me, huh?”
“Yep.” She smiled and finished her burger. I was a little embarrassed, but she seemed pretty amused with herself, so I let it slide. “I have a college degree.” She had rushed the statement as though she had to force it out.
Of course I was shocked; a degree is expensive as hell. I really didn’t know what to say and I kind of stuttered out a few “why’s” and “how’s.”
“I spent all of my inheritance to get it.” And she decided to get a job as a holder? “I got it in engineering.”
“So why are you working here?” I’m pretty sure I sounded mean, although it was just the voice of surprise.
“I need to get money.”
“As a holder? You could be out on the ocean projects or something.”
“They pay on commission and I feel like I’d have to work there for years before I would get to see any of my money. The take care of you and all, but it’s just not fast enough for me. And on top of that, they’re just a complete waste of time compared to the alternative.”
“What alternative?” I’m sure you can imagine my confusion, but I tend to be a pretty patient man for the most part.
“The space alternative. We could expand our territory an infinite amount rather than just digging a hole for ourselves to die in. I already have preliminary plans for a space station and a colony on the moon, and that’s why I need the money. I tried to get a research grant from my university, but they refused, saying it’s a waste of time. But I can’t do it myself; I need a research team to help me fill in the holes. With the money I get from this job, I can fund a team, paying them as much as they want. I already have at least one person lined up who’s doing some research on his own about using super magnets as a form of propulsion in space.”
I just stood there and stared, thinking how crazy she might be. She wasn’t even looking at me anymore as she finished up her burger after her speech, and all I could say was, “Huh.”
“You think it’s stupid, right?”
“No, no.”
“It’s ok…I’m used to it by now.” She stood and walked into a corner of the lot and acted as though she were scouting out the perimeter. I kind of think she might have been crying then, and I thought then that maybe she did love me. I hope not…
I just wanted to be there with her. I wanted to put my arm around her and comfort her and tell her that yes, one day you will succeed in your dream. I’ll give you the money Mary, however much you need, and you will build your space station. We can live there together; be the first couple to get married in heaven itself. In that future, in that place, in that celestial nowhere, we can raise children and be the pioneers who struggle to survive in the harshest frontier that anyone in history has ever known.
And we will survive and that step in the evolution of mankind will inspire others to do so. Soon, all the countries of Earth will abandon this home world for a less decrepit, brand new environment. We’ll develop farms on the moon, water mines of Mars, thermionic energy plants on mercury, and even a method to travel to a new star which could only lead to unlimited, unimaginable possibilities.
And we’ll no longer have to think of different ways to kill ourselves.
And rather than digging a hole for ourselves to die in, we’ll build an Empire of the Stars.
And it will be thanks to you, Mary Margaret, whom I will always love.
Instead of telling her these foolish, childish, and inane things, I lit another cigarette to clear my head as well as my lungs. The previous one had gone out during my ruminations of the dreams we could share; the life we could share.
Since Mary’s death, I have often thought of taking my own life (I know the government would thank me). I don’t because if there’s nothing for me in life, how could there be anything for me in death? I try to amuse myself; still be funny and stuff, but it’s just…hard…I guess…
Anyway, Mary was still walking around, and I was still smoking another cigarette (speed will make you a marathon smoker) when the Starbucks holder came.
You ever wonder why you seem to see a new Starbucks pop up from nowhere every other week? It’s because their holders are the best. Well, maybe “best” isn’t the right word for them. Try crazy, suicidal, or insane. They’re the only company that sends out solo holders; which might seem like a huge risk because, by law, each company can only go for any single open lot one time. But one holder is all Starbucks needs.
According to their company rules, a holder must retire after taking three lots. I guess they think people tend to burn out or become less careful after taking that many. They spend about a year training their employees whereas most companies only spend about four months. I’ve heard the methods they use to desensitize their holders from pain, and none of them sound friendly at all. No other company has a training system like theirs and none would, because Starbucks sucks up all those people who are willing to torture themselves both physically and mentally.
I once battled with a Starbucks holder before my tenth lot. I got him only after my partner had died and I had taken three bullets (one right shoulder, one left thigh which painfully struck my femur, and one clean through my left calf muscle). It wasn’t a good experience and put me out of action for three months.
They told me that the Starbucks holder had sustained over thirty wounds before he finally died.
Mary, wonder that she was, got the one that attacked us with a single shot to the head. I got hit in my right thigh.
I was lying down on my back behind the short wall that stood in the middle of the lot when Mary’s face appeared above my own. I swear I could see a halo above her head. “Are you ok?” she asked.
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