Fan Fiction ❯ Fade to Black ❯ Let's Party ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter 2: Let's Party

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Fourth period Biology. Son of a bitch, this shit is stupid!!!! Why do I need to know about faggot-ass diatomic particles???? It was another long school day for me. I must say I am slightly above average intelligence, but the hardest subjects are Calculus and Psych, for me. Only some shit though....it's weird. Today our teacher was talking about genetic. I think.. I tuned Mrs. Sabel out, even though she was an attractive, 25 year old teacher. I was soon lost in a daydream.

"Josiah? Josiah? Hello?!!!"

"Huh...wha?" was all I could manage. Shit, she was asking me a question. I could smell her perfume. Lavender, I think....

"I said, 'Do you know why the government is trying to regulate genetic engineering heavily before it has really been begun in depth?'" she replied to me.

"Um.."ohshit,ohshit,ohshit,"because they realize that it has dangerous implications. For example, a terrorist organization could use this process to uh, um engineer a potentially devastating biological agent." Whoa, where the fuck did that come from?

"Hmmm, excellent answer! "She said and smiled. Whew, that was fucking close. She walked off and started talking about God-knows-what and I struggled to pay attention to the mundane dribble spewing from this very attractive teacher with huge beautiful brown eyes. Half the guys in my grade had it hard for her. I wasn't that serious, I just admired her beauty.

A period and a half later, I was in lunch, eating my sandwich and drinking my Surge when my friend John came up to me. John was a cool kid. He was a short, built kid that had an affinity to mountain biking and the MTV show Jackass. He plopped down in the chair across from me and I gave a short nod in greeting.

"I fucking hate goddamn gay-ass Geometry so fucking much it makes me sick," John managed to get out in between bites of his cold meatball hoagie.

"Shit man, I know what you're saying. This square root bullshit makes my stomach turn, too," was my reply.

" So anyway Jo, did you get the electricity in the factory working? Cause that would be kickass..."

"Yeah, man! Everything we need works. I took up and stocked a mini-fridge last night and put in the TV and CD player. Now, all we need is some beer for this weekend."

"I think I can manage that," John smiled wryly, "and you just gather our small group of friends and we'll have a nice little party."

"I fuckin' hear that. After this week in school, I need to relax. Get Heineken, if you can."

"No problem, Jo. So I'll meet you tonight at the factory?"

"Nah, come to my house and we'll pick everyone up from there. Two vehicles will be enough. Mine and yours"

"It's a plan, my friend," John answered, trying to hide a smile. This weekend looked very good.

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Seventh period study hall. One more period until I can leave this living Abercrombie and Fitch ad. I was sitting at my desk reading The Ultimate Terrorists, a book by some lady from Harvard. It was basically a case study on terrorism, all in all pretty interesting. Even though while I read it people looked at me like I was Osama bin Laden, I still liked it.

"Hey, good book ,huh?" a voice from my left. I turned to reply.....Oh shit, she's must be knew. I found myself looking at a blonde girl wearing a gray t-shirt and black pants. She had small, black wire frame glasses on over her pretty blue eyes. Wow....

"Uh, yeah. It's informative," I said. This must be that new girl everyone has been whispering about. She seemed nice enough.

"Hi again, I'm new here. My name's Sarah Benson. What's yours?"

"Josiah Jones, but everyone calls me Jo."

"So I hear there's a party tonight. Know anything about it?"

Know about it? I organized it, honey.

"Oh, yeah, I organized it. It's in an old factory I hang out in." I'm glad I didn't say honey.

"That's cool."

"Yeah, uh do you want to come?" This is good, establishing conversation.

"I would, but I don't have a ride and my asshole stepfather wouldn't take me."

I knew what my next move would be and I was nervous about making it.

"I could um, pick you up if uh, you wanted." Please say yes...

"That'd be great. I live at 152 Lee Street. White house on the right can't miss it."

"Ok, I'll pick you up at nine o'clock."

"Thanks." She smiled and my heart beat heavily in my chest.

*Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnggg* End of the day.

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I was sitting up in my room thinking about Sarah. I stared at the black walls I had painted last summer and thought about her eyes. So clear and beautiful. She seemed smart,too. I heard a knock on the door and heard," Come on, man! Beer time!WoooHOOOO!!!!" John.

I grabbed my trench coat and the keys to my truck and ran out the door. John didn't say a word. He was wearing his Jackass t-shirt and climbed into his little gray car and started the engine. We backed out of the driveway to my small but moderately furnished home and I followed John down the road towards the highway. His friend Pete or something worked at the big Weis supermarket off of the highway. This man sold us cases of beer for the lowest price I've ever seen. We quickly reached the turnoff and roared into the parking lot. We pulled side by side into two empty spaces and idled for a minute. We were waiting for the parking lot to be cleared of people so we could drive around to the loading bays without looking suspicious. John said Pete had the wonderful alcohol waiting and Pete often gave both of us a couple cartons of cigarette as a "frequent buyer bonus", as he called it. I looked over to John and he nodded then floored the car and shot across the parking lot. My V-8 engine worked overtime as I raced after him. We were at the loading bay in no time. Pete had four guys load the ten cases of beer into the back of my truck under some blanket and handed us two paper bags filled with cartons of Salem smokes.

"Jesus, youse guys likes beer," Pete said, handing me the smokes.

"What pissed-off, teenage delinquent doesn't?" I answered back, smiling. John handed him a fifty dollar bill, thanked him, and we sped off towards the factory. It was four o'clock.

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As we pulled into the parking lot, we immediately noticed a blue Camaro sitting in the far end and the doors to the factory were wide open. Someone was screwing with our shit.

"What's all this happy horseshit?!" John said looking at the car and then the open doors.

"Quiet!" I hissed and reached for my glove compartment. I pulled out two bandoliers with what looked like silver shotgun shells in them and tossed one to John. We strapped them around our waists. I then removed two black flare guns that looked like revolvers from under the seat and handed him one. He broke open the cylinder and made sure six flares were in the chamber. I did the same and we slowly walked into the darkness of the factory, holding our guns like SWAT agents. We turned right into the factory floor and made our way to the staircase to the adjoining office building, the only place whoever was there would be. We climbed the stairs, checking our corners, and stopped at the second landing. They were on the second floor. I snapped my fingers and pointed. John braced himself against the doorframe and covered the hallway as I ran lightly down the corridor, crouched low to the ground and stopping at the first door so John could follow. When he got up to me, we both heard the footsteps coming towards us. We crouched low in the doorframe of the office and saw a figured in a yellow Fubu sweatshirt coming around the corner, looking pissed. He hadn't found shit cause it was all on the third floor. He was about 19 and black as night. He was humming some DMX song I vaguely recognized only because MTV plays that shit. We waited for him to walk by us and then jumped out of our cover.

"Hey, what are you doing here alone?" I said.

"Don't you know factories are dangerous?" John said. We leveled our guns as he turned around.

"What you bitches gonna do ta me?" and Mr. Fubu walked towards us.

Don't fucking move, buddy," John said. This guy wasn't backing down, though. I raised the gun over his head and fired. The hallway was filled with the bright, flickering red light of the flare. His eyes grew wide and he pulled a knife from under his jacket and charged at us. John swung, knocked the gun into his head and the guy dropped his knife.

"Ok bitch, time for you to leave in your stolen Camero," John said. The black kid struggled to his feet and ran out the door and we chased him down the stairs and across the factory floor after stomping the flare out. As he pulled off in his Camero, we fired flare after flare at his windshield just to scare him off. The flares bounced harmlessly to the ground and after a minute they sputtered and died.

"Shit, that guy was a bitch," John said," Messing with our stuff...Jesus, he should know better."

" Yeah, well lets get the beer inside. You brought the coolers full of ice right? We'll putthe beer on ice, barricade all the doors from the inside so there is only one way in and then go see if Fubu fucked anything up on the second floor," I replied. We reentered the factory and climbed to the third floor and set the coolers down. Five trips later the beer was on ice. It'd be nice and frosty when ten o'clock came around.

"Let's go see what blacky fucked with," John said, exasperated from the strenuous exercise. We exited the third floor and went down to the second. We went down a corridor almost identical to the one above us and we took a left. The faggot had sprayed "H-masta wuz here" on the walls of the corridor in brown spray paint. Other than that, nothing else was amiss. We started to go back when I spotted a heavy steel door at the end of the hallway.

"Just a minute, John. Look at this," I said as I moved for the door.

"Looks solid. Think we can bust it down?" he asked.

"Yeah, just give it our full weight. The frame is pretty rotted," I replied. We got side bye side and rammed the door with our shoulders. It took two shots but we brought it down. The door buckled and fell into the room and we stepped through the door.

"Holy shit, this must've been security or something." John said. The room was like a long, walk-in closet and lining the walls were racks made for guns. Some of them were empty, but two of them had assorted rifles and shotguns lining the walls. At the back of the room was a desk with assorted shit lying on top of it.

"Hey, this is nifty," I said and lifted what looked like a rifle. It had a long, thin, rectangular magazine and had a boxy looking sight on the top.

"Oh shit,Jo, that's a goddamn machine gun!" John exclaimed.

"A Tommy gun? What the hell is this doing here?"

"Maybe some break-ins made the owners nervous." John said. I moved over to the desk past the two gun racks and a cabinet full of ammunition and looked at a heavy black suitcase on the table. A silver tab on the top read "Presented to Jacob Silvers, best damned security leader I've ever seen. From J.D, owner of WHE, Inc."

I promptly broke the lock off and opened the suitcase.

"Oh my, what a lovely sight," I muttered and John turned to look. Lying in the case was a short double-barreled sawed-off shotgun. It's brass triggers and break-away switch were still shiny. I pulled it out and cradled it like a baby.

"This is going in my collection," I said. I planned on putting it in the secret drawer of my desk I discovered after hauling it up. You couldn't be too careful.

"Maybe you shouldn't. Our cops aren't that observant and the crime rate is high, but they'd notice gunshots coming from an abandoned factory," John worried.

"That's exactly the reason they won't notice if some stupid ass criminal got injured. They have their hands full," I replied. I turned and saw a cabinet set in the wall low to the floor. I ripped it opened and pulled out two lightweight, black, automatic handguns. They looked like Glock nine millimeters. I offered one to John to put in his desk in the reception room break area and his eyes lit up. John liked handguns. We both knew the other would never kill anyone with these. We grabbed ammunition for the Glocks and the shotgun from the cabinet and some spare handgun clips and John grabbed a Thomson's and a rifle to put in the secret storage space in the coat closet just in case. He filled his pockets with assorted ammunition for the guns and we trudged upstairs. I walked into my office and hit a latch by the bottom left leg of my desk and the secret drawer clicked open. I broke open the shotgun and placed two rounds into the chamber and closed it back up. After making sure the safety was on, I put the shotgun into the drawer with it's box of shells and closed the box. I then took the handgun magazines and threw them in a drawer and covered them with some back issues of Newsweek and closed that drawer. I then duct-taped the black handgun under the secret drawer after working the slide and putting a round in the chamber. I went out into the reception room and saw John tuck the rifle and Tommy gun into the storage space and replace the panel to hide them. I tossed him the duct-tape.

"Here, tape the handgun under your desk. Easy access." I advised.

"Ok, cool," John was warming up to our new security measures.

"John, we don't use these unless a life or death situation comes up."

"Don't worry, Jo. I get it. Let's have a soda or something." We returned to my office and I opened the fridge and pulled out two Brisk iced teas and tossed him one. He plopped down on the sofa and I sat in my comfy swivel chair and click on the TV. I tuned in to MSNBC. Headline news was on. It may sound uncool or lame or some shit, but I like to know what's going on in the world. Some story about the Navy's fuckup with the submarine and the Japanese fishing boat was on. I sipped my Brisk and looked at John.

"So, John. Have you seen that new girl? Sarah, I think?" I asked.

"Yeah. Sarah Jenkins. She's in my third period study hall. She seems quiet, but pretty cool."

"Yeah, well, I invited her to the party tonight."

" Hey that's cool," John said," maybe you two will hookup." I shrugged my shoulders maybe. We finished our iced tea and drove back to my house to catch a Jackass marathon on MTV. It was about five o'clock, with four hours to go. We watched four episodes and John jumped up off the couch in my living room at seven o'clock.

"We forgot to get food and shit for tonight!" Oh, shit he was right.

"Let's go, we'll get some at the Turkey Hill down the road. Let's take your car." I said as I went up to my room to dip into my hard earned cash from my Blockbuster job. Fifty should be enough for the whole weekend. I locked the door and noticed a note on the hallway table from my mom. It read:

Dad doesn't want to do visitation this weekend, sweetie and I have to work the whole weekend. It's this one damn client in Michigan. Wants to take a whole weekend for me to do his taxes and set up a budget. I left twenty dollars for the weekend. Eat out.

Love,

Mom

Damn. My fucking father was a deadbeat asshole. He never wanted visitation and I don't know why I cared cause neither did I. My mom works as an accounting consultant to all the big companies around the country. You'd think we'd be in a mansion, but we're happy where we are. We don't have a lot of cash extra cause we invest alot....it's complicated. I closed the door to my house and piled into John's car. John started the engine, backed out of our driveway, and then shot off towards the Turkey Hill Minit Market. Stupid name for a franchise, I think.