JesperSB's Work In Progress

1: North Haven

The news was bad.

I was sitting in my small one room apartment, and watched the news.

Another town lost to the enemy.

This time it was are city with around ten thousand people, and I was partly to blame for it.

The apartment was small, and had just a sofa, that could be turned into a bed. A shelf that had my tv, and some fifty books, mostly Dungeon and dragons fantasy, and science-fiction.

A computer, and an exercise bike, I got from my friend who didn't needed it any more.

You could see the mall from my windows, and the small park, where children liked to play, before the war. Red bricked town houses, with Red rooftops, and the train station, was next to my high-rise.

The noise from the street, which connected the countryside with the city ran next to my home, and was ever present.

You could hear the police cars and other emergency vehicles all day and all night, when they tried to fight back.

The smell from 13th was heavy in my apartment, or maybe my brain had just gotten hypersensitive to it.

The curse, or the blessing, Maybe a little of both.?

The army sent in the flamethrowers, which was the only way we had to fight them.

Small, intelligent, and bent on killing humans.

The camera crew was right behind them, and followed them into the trap.

The house was brick and mortar, from the outside, it was just red brick stones and black roof tiles.

The windows was nearly all shattered, and the door was only hanging on at the lower hinge.

The soldiers in their silver spacesuits, and with smaller flamethrowers, went into the house, because there was children in there, and the enemy had captured them.

Don't ask why flamethrowers and children, was in the same sentence, or the right solution..

You had to have been there, to know.

I sat down on the sofa, and looked back at my life.

I was partly to blame for this, and most people knew it.

Not that I started out, trying to kill of the human race, I just liked to get high, and some where along the path, I found a new drug.

The trap was sprung, and the men were lost.

The soldiers got split into two groups, and somehow ended up using the flamethrowers at each other.

The camera crew stood outside the house, and filmed it through the cracked windows.

I could see the failure, and I was partly to blame, so I had to do something.

I sat down at the computer, and started writing my manifest.

Sound like the start of a serial killer book.

Well, Call me the friend of the serial killer, that might be the description that fitted the best.

The first couple of hundred words came out, like a dam overflowing with water.

Like You have this need inside You, and you never thought of a way to release it.

You heard the keyboard, my tapping on it, and the only other sound was the upstairs neighbor having sex with his girlfriend.

Sometimes you heard a siren in the distance, and your heard the cracking of the chair.

But word by word the story came together.

Where to start.?

Hello, my name is Roland Abadie.

And I am a drug addicted loser.

I was... but 13th change that.

2: Garbage Worker

The office was just another office, in the long row of government places I was sent.

The window was large, and a little opened.

The wood desk was government issued, and looked like early communist model number one.

Even in the western part of the world, that France, and Paris like to be a part off, the government design still looked like USSR.

I had done to much stupid in my life, and now I was damned for all eternity.

I never killed anyone, or done serious crime, but that should change over the next couple of months.

The lady bureaucrat behind the desk looked up and asked: “Be honest to yourself, and tell me, what do you want to do with your life.?”

I had been asked that question from many people in my life, and I had still not found an answer that rung true inside myself.

Being good at smoking weed, and drink beer with your friends, just sounded cool...

Well, it was cool, when you was eighteen, not when you where pushing closer to thirty.

For some reason this time the question struck something inside my, and the answer came out:

“I honestly don't know.”

I frowned my face, and this time I thought it might be the right answer. The lady smiled, and gave me the paper with my work assignment:

“Well, Here you get to think about the answer.

Come back when You have found an honest answer.”

The paper said 'Sanitation worker.'

I could always become a Garbage man, they made good money, but I had neither the physic nor the will to do that. And You could smell the garbage workers, even after they had the second shower.

It might it was just be my OCD, or ADHD, or what ever bunch of letters that would describe me....

I knew I had to get there, and be on time, because else I would lose my apartment and what little money I got from the government.

That knight I went to bed early, and didn't touch the grass, I would save that for later, when the day's work was done.

The alarm went of too early, but I got out of bed, and showered and shaved.

There might even be some ladies at the work, and I better look my best.

I got there in time, and just had a t-shirt, and jeans on.

I had a job two years ago, with sorting trash, and that might be where I got my aversion to garbage workers.

You thought sorting trash would be easy.?

Do it in the high summer, with the Sun baking it, and the smell.

You could smell, filled diapers, and rotten food, from a hundred metre away.

This place is a service yard, with a sheet.

The yard is for recycling stuff, like old windows.

The glass goes in container seventeen and the wood goes in fourth.

There are twenty containers, and a medium wood sheet, where the workers are stationed.

Old electronic, had a container next to the sheet, and I saw an old PlayStation, maybe a version two in the container.

I walked over the yard, from the entrance from the street. There was a single car with a trailer with some tree branches that was driving around the place.

They had barely opened, and some dad wanted to throw out some branches from his tree.

I came to the sheet, and knocked on the door, and looked inside the place.

A small desk, filled with small trinkets, like old model cars, that had been salvaged from the containers.

Behind it sat a large black dude, in a blue overall, with a black shirt beneath. You could not see where the shirt ended, and the arms began. He was making some kind of wire figure, by twisting the thin cable in to shape.

Next to him was the table for eating lunch, and behind that sat a skinny dude, with his Romance book in front of his face. Some photo-model man with bare chest and a large sword, fought with a ravishing girl on the cover.

I knocked on the door, and the guy behind the book said:

“We are not opened for the next hour.”

I smiled at the relaxed attitude of the place:

“Hey. I was told to report here, in ten minutes.

Should I just wait outside.?”

The black dude looked up, and smiled. Somehow black guys nearly always had a pretty smile. Maybe the white teeth looked better within the black colour, and his voice is deep and slow: “Hey new meat. Come in and make yourself comfy.”

He motioned to a chair in front of his desk.

I entered and sat down, placed my bag on the floor and smiled at him, but he was focused on the bending of the wire, into another master piece.

He did a short interduction.

He was called Sebastian, and the skinny white one is Abraham.

Sebastian put down his latest creation, and it looked like a small dog, or maybe a cat.

He looked up and said: “So you are the new kid, that has to work here.?”

I nodded.

He motioned to the yard and said: “We have three jobs here. Keep the yard in order, help the visitors, and clean up the surrounding area.”

He leaned forward and smiled, with his white teeth:

“You will have the clean up the surrounding area part.”

He pointed to some metal poles, and a roll of black bags, placed next to me: “Your job is to walk around those three housing projects to the north and pick up trash. Fill a bag with trash, and come back. Okay.?”

I nodded, picked up the poles, and looked at them.

They were the normal type. Two grey metal poles, both with a nail at the end, one of them had some black tape around the top, the other was all metal.

I chose the one with the tape, and pulled a black bag out of the roll, stood up and asked:

“Any thing else.?”

When you had been forced to done a lot of different manual labour, you know they all ways take the piss of the new guy the first day.

Abraham said from behind his book:

“He took the taped on.”

Sebastian laughed out loud:

“Damn. Some day You have to teach me that trick.”

I looked at him and then at Abraham:

“Was that a test or something.?”

Abraham looked over his book:

“Just a bet, and I won it again.”

He took the book back up, and flipped a page inside it.

Sebastian chuckled again: “Be back around twelve, and we eat lunch. Did You bring a lunch or should I order something.?”

I shook my head, and motioned to my bag: “No lunch. I didn't know if I would last that long.”

Sebastian chuckled: “I always order. Anything we should avoid.?”

I shook my head, as I step out of the small sheet: “I don't like vegan, but can eat it if somebody has a gun to my head.”

The two guys looked at each other for a second, and then Abraham went back to his book.

Sebastian stood up, and walked after me out of the sheet. He showed me a map at a board.

The map had four areas. Three concrete high-rises and an open area with green space, and what looked like a play ground.

He pointed to a spot, at the lower end of the map:

“This is us, and those four areas are yours to clean.

One a day, and Friday You help us at the yard. Okay.?”

I nodded and was about to leave, when he placed a big black hand on my shoulder:

“I hope You know how to take care of yourself.

This is gangland, and they all have knives or guns.”

I smiled at him, and shook my head:

“Always a catch.?”

He smiled and nodded:

“Be back a noon, and we see if you survived.”

I turned and walked towards the exit from the yard, when he shouted at me: “Hey. You forgot the west.”

He came over with a nice yellow reflective vest, that I put on, and asked: “So they have something to shoot at.”

He laughed, and repeated: “Always a catch.”

I exited the yard, with my black bag and pike.

It could have been worse. I could have been sorting trash in the head.

I walked towards the first concrete high-rise, the gray colour with the green back drop, and the balconies with their many different colours, and some even had disc pointed at the sky.

You heard music, some Arabic or maybe Hindu music from an apartment close to the top of the five stories building.

You smelled the first flowers that bloomed this early in the spring, and the warmth from the Sun that barely looked over the edge of the world.

I found my first piece of trash and picked it up using the pike.

The kids inside a fence was playing soccer, and shouted when somebody was close to score.

The idea of spending my summer walking around this area, and picking up trash, made me smile.

The only problem so fare, was that it was an Arabic area, which meant that was not so many girls sunbathing.

I chuckled a little at my joke, and found another piece of garbage, and put it in my bag.

My phone notified me that it was ten to twelve, and my bag was about half full.

Not special had happened, except for me helping a mother with her child.

I walked in to the yard, and approached the sheet.

A small car, with a food truck logo, was placed next to the sheet. You smelled hot, spicy food, and heard some woman laughing.

I walked to the door, and saw a big black woman, who was holding Abraham, as Sebastian was arranging the food. Abraham saw me and said: “Hallo New meat. How was the walk.?”

I smiled and sat down on the chair next to my bag:

“It was okay. No shooting or stabbing this time.”

The lady laughed at me, and gave Sebastian a hug:

“Now You take care of the young one, or I will have your hide.”

She smiled at me, and walked to the door:

“Eat up Young one. You need it, for the long walk.”

She chuckled and exited the sheet.

After a moment the trucked started, and left the yard.

Sebastian motioned for me to come to the lunch table:

“Came and eat. My sister makes the finest meals on the planet.”