Beast Machine (28 page)

Chapter 26
Trailer Trash Living

The sun was just inching
its way above the eastern horizon. It shot through the weak clouds
in the distance at the speed of, well, light. The sunlight was
particularly brilliant on this Wednesday morning in rural Arkansas.
It shone brightly on a trailer park named “Pinewood
Hills.”

Each trailer was, somehow,
a different color of brown. Some were dark brown from soot; others
light brown from being in the sun for years; some were rust brown
with holes in the sides; and a handful were newer trailers that
were just beige that would eventually be dark brown, light brown,
or rust brown with holes in the sides.

Dogs and cats, some wild,
some domesticated, could be found lurking past the trailers in
search of food, water, a mate to birth more kittens or puppies, or
shelter from Pinewood Hills’ inhabitants. Fast food wrappers, used
and unused rubbers, and beer cases were strewn throughout the
community, but was merely brushed off or run over on the dirt paths
that were used as roads inside the community. Children of the
community would make use of the trash lying about their
neighborhood for fun: soccer, stick ball, ‘trash tag’ and water
balloon fights where the children collect the rubbers (used and
unused) and fill them up with water.

Amongst the trash, children
and the animals typically laid several drunks, junkies and the
mentally perturbed – though, the latter could be used to
describe
all
of
these people. It wasn’t a pleasant looking community, this Pinewood
Hills, but it was a place many called home for decades. Things were
changing, slowly, for
some
residents. Particularly for the residents that
worked at the reopened mine owned by Chairman Obelis. Their
trailers were still an ugly dark brown, light brown, or rust brown
with holes in the sides, but their minds – their minds! – were
changing for the better.

“
Um, honey,” said a
monotone but pleasant sounding man’s voice, “could you grab my new
thermos from the cupboard, please? I’m back here putting on my
uniform and shoes. It’s taking longer than expected.” The man was
back in his small bedroom and the dirty floor creaked with every
step he took.
Wenk, wenk, wenk
the floor told the man every step.
Wenk, wenk, wenk
roughly
translated to, “Fix us, fix us, fix us.”

“
Huh?” replied a woman’s
voice. “Why don’t you get it y’self? I ain’t uh slave fo’ you.” The
woman groaned loudly. It was a painful sounding groan. The kind of
groan one makes when they are constipated and nauseous.

“
Ha! You’re right, I’ve got
legs don’t I?” replied the man.
Wenk, wenk,
wenk.
He exited the bathroom with his work
uniform on, his boots on and his face freshly dried after washing
it clean. It was a navy blue mining uniform and the nametag
stitched in red read
Mandrake
. “You look lovely today,
honey!”

The woman was sitting in a
rickety sofa chair that had more puke stains and rips than a couch
at the county dump. In fact, the woman’s yellow-brown puke puddle
from the night before was still fresh on the left side of the sofa
chair. She went out last night, but couldn’t remember where and she
couldn’t remember how she got home.

Giant dream catcher
earrings hung from her ear lobes, glimmering at the points where
sunlight shot through the windows. Her ‘going out’ attire consisted
of a ragged
Coors Light
shirt, a bedazzled strapless bra and jeans with holes at each
knee. Despite the woman’s less than pleasant appearance, Mandrake’s
compliment was sincere.

“
Fuck you,” said the woman
with her eyes closed. “I’s miss my ole Charlie baby. He was a real
man.” She moaned seductively
.
“He was a gritty man; he was still so sweet and
innocent but real dirty.” The woman opened her eyes and stretched
her arms at Mandrake. “Come do some pills wit’ me, baby. We can
watch that movie you love with all the midgets named Frodo! Charlie
never would give up th’chance to watch those movies!” Her eyes,
lazy and bloodshot, followed Mandrake’s short journey around the
trailer as he looked for his thermos and tried to tidy up as best
as he could before work.
Wenk, wenk,
wenk.

“
Thanks for the offer,
honey, but I have to go to work!” He pulled a comb out of his
pocket and combed his hair to his liking. He grabbed his thermos
out of the cupboard, “Ah! There it is!”, and poured fresh coffee
from the pot. “Smells like heaven!” The thermos and coffee maker
were brand new additions to the trailer after Mandrake was rehired
at the coal mine, but the items were so nice and new that their
glistening bodies stuck out horribly in the musty, stain filled
trailer. “Do-dah, do-dee, heavenly to me! You are so heavenly to
me!” sang Mandrake lightly. He turned toward the woman sitting in
the sofa chair and winked.

Charles Mandrake was a much
more pleasant man now that he had the Carda Implant, unknowingly,
inserted into his brain stem. He still had a few physical
indicators of his past – the yellowed teeth, leathery skin, and
grimy hair – but he began to work towards correcting his life as a
whole. “The physical aspects will be corrected with hard work,”
his
new
mind kept
telling him. His old mind obliged to stay out of the way. For
good.

“
All you people workin’ at
dat new mine are ackin’ weird and shit.”

“
It’s not a new mine, dear.
It’s the same, but under new ownership!”

The woman scoffed loudly
and scratched under her breast to find an itch that had been
bothering her for days. She hated this new man. She was quite happy
floating through life on drugs, beer and canned food. Why couldn’t
he anymore?

“
Oh, don’t scoff! Us miners
are acting, and feeling, much better, honey! These filter things
have changed around all the miners’ lives! The things I can smell
now are
wonderful
,
though I’d wish you’d clean up your messes some days…” He kept a
smile on his face but glared at the obvious human made spots on the
floor, on the ceiling and on the walls. The spots were made from a
variety of products. “You should get one,” he said with his back
turned to the woman. He peered into a mirror and adjusted his hair
for one last time. He was nearly set to leave for work.

The woman lit a cigarette
and turned on a late ‘80s boxy television set. The station was
partially scrambled but a reality show of some sort could be seen
on the television. Three scantily clad women with large breasts
were fighting over something one of them had said in a previous
episode. It had the makings of a modern day Shakespearian
play.

“
These bitches are
hilarious; Charlie baby, come watch dis show wif me, hunnie-kins,”
pleaded the woman. “I’s would l-u-v it so much, I’s can blow you or
I’ll let you take the old dirt road – you know – like old times
sake?” She did her best to look seductive but ended up looking like
a foot instead.

“
I’m sorry, Belinda, I
can’t – I have work!” He adjusted his tie under his miner’s uniform
and brushed a small amount of debris off his shoulders. “I work to
provide for
you
.”

“
Fine,” said the woman
angrily. She took a drag of her cigarette before saying, “How would
I’s be able to afford dat filter ting, anyhow?” Smoke billowed out
her nostrils. “Somethin’ like dat can’t be cheap. Ex-specially if
it works.”

Mandrake stopped for a
moment to contemplate the topic then said, “I’m sure the new owner,
Mr. Obelis, would pay for it. I’ve never met the man, but he’s
already been the most generous person to me in my life. I’ll broach
the subject today at work!” Mandrake began to hum a delightful
tune, the same one he was singing moments ago.

“
Broach? What the fuck?
Like one of dem pin things?” said the woman, clearly confused. She
took another drag of her cigarette. She blew the smoke directly at
Mandrake. Her teeth were caramel colored and snot slowly began to
ooze out her right nostril, a very similar look that pre-Carda
Implant Mandrake wore.

“
It means: I’ll ask my boss
about it! Love you, honey, do something beautiful with your day!”
said Mandrake. He kissed her on the forehead and left the trailer.
She shook with disgust and spit a disgustingly large loogie onto
the floor.

“
Fucking prick,” said the
woman. “Won’t even drive th’ damn car anymore otha’wise he might
hurt th’ en-viro-ment,” she said mockingly. “Hope he gets syphilis
again from that skank two trailers over.”

Chapter 27
BIOME

Hitbear exited the cement
truck slowly. “Been a long time since I’ve driven, well, anything,”
he said. “Didn’t do too shabby, I’d say.” He knocked on the truck
with his metal paw.
Tink, tink,
tink!
“These shaded windows did amazing.
Didn’t have to worry about looky-loos at all!”

Hitbear, Owlbert and Tubman
were entrusted by Gora to go to the exact location the group had
decided upon: 40.419 N and 123.184 W – a location north of
Weaverville, California. The beasts would begin the process of
digging a hole to push Dr. Borehole into once they had arrived at
the location. The cement truck also needed to be covered by brush
or at least concealed enough to not spook Dr. Borehole.

“
Remember, when you three
get to the coordinates, you must avoid contact with any human
being,” Gora had told the group. “Not only would it compromise this
mission, but it would compromise all of our lives. Don’t mess it
up.”

“
Where should we dig the
hole?” asked Tubman as she hopped out of the cement truck. She then
pantomimed rolling up her sleeves before realizing she had no
sleeves to roll up. “Damn it, I still need to get used to this
fur-body.” She adjusted her bandana instead to compensate for
having no sleeves.

“
Right here is a decent
opening with minimal debris, and the truck appears to be able to
squeeze through these trees,” said Hitbear pointing. “The ‘decent
opening’ is the most viable spot for the hole, I believe, as there
is little to no flora or boulder-sized rocks that would make the
digging extraordinarily difficult.” Hitbear could potentially move
the rocks, but there wasn’t enough time to test the theory
out.

“
Ja, I agree,” relayed
Owlbert. “I vill fly up zee tree here und keep ein eye out for
humans und mountain lions!” Owlbert flew up atop the nearest tree,
giving him a great vantage point to keep an eye out against
interlopers, and a wonderful view of California’s beautiful
forests.

“
Aren’t you going to help
dig?!” shouted Hitbear at his bird compatriot.

“
Nein; I’m ein owl,”
shouted back Owlbert. “I don’t have ein proper parts to dig ein
hole!” He turned his attention back to looking out for any threats
and soaking in the California sun.

“
Stupid asshole,” mumbled
Hitbear. “Okay, bunny, let’s get started shall we?”

“
Yup, let’s get done so we
can relax,” replied Tubman. “Where are the shovels?”

“
Shovels…?” said Hitbear
meekly. “What shovels?” He looked around as if someone else would
show up with the shovels.

Tubman hit her face softly
with her paws. “The shovels
you
were supposed to bring along from the lab. Gora
told you several times about the shovels!”

“
Bullshit, that wasn’t my
job!” said Hitbear.

“
Yes, bear, it was your
job, you fucking idiot,” yelled Tubman back at the behemoth bear.
She was smaller than the average bear cub and Hitbear was larger
than the average brown bear, but Tubman was not scared of him.
Tubman made sure to stand her ground in this life, like in her past
life. No one was going to protect her but herself.

“
URGH,” screamed Hitbear
loudly, scaring birds in a nearby tree. Owlbert giggled from above.
“Fine, whatever, I’ll just dig this hole. I’m the only one strong
enough for this shit anyhow.”

“
Oh, really?” said Tubman.
“I can dig a hole better than you.”

“
Bwaha!” laughed Hitbear.
He slapped his belly. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in the
past century. There’s no way you can dig a hole even two feet
deep!”

“
You want to put a wager on
it?”

Hitbear smiled. “Of course
I do, what’s the wager?”

“
If I can dig a hole
quicker than you then I get to plan the next mission.”

“
Deal. No skin off my
back.”

“…
and I get to pick what
food we all eat for the next week.”

“
Um, I guess that’s fine,
but no vegetables!”

Tubman laughed menacingly,
“Oh, that’s all we’re going to get, fuzzball.”

“
What do I win?”

Tubman stared off into the
distant. “Hmm. How about you win… you get to sleep on Gora’s bed,
while she has to sleep on the floor!”

“
Deal!” said Hitbear
excitedly. “You know Gora has specifications for the size of the
hole, right?”

“
No, but let’s hear them.
It shouldn’t matter.”