Ne'er Do Well's Release

I have now published Ne'er Do Well on Amazon.

The Link

A sixth excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Six

            He ran. He ran until he had finally arrived. Home. He put his corroded copper key into the deadbolt lock, turned the knob, and entered. A thick, strong smell filled his nostrils. Mold. His living room was cluttered with a thin layer of clothing, magazines, and trash. Had someone been there before him? No, his house was always a mess. Indeed, Steve was in deep need of a visit to the land of solitude, the impenetrable world, the world where none of the struggles of the universe could seep in. Steve went to his bedroom.

            He laid himself down, taking in the light blue, flaky walls, the sun’s golden sheath, and the incomparably gorgeous clothing closet. To him, it did not matter where, as long as silence permeated the air. Not surprisingly, he was thinking about an interesting theory. He dreamt of a simple world, where all moved at their own will, and all dreams were reached. Alas, for Steve this world was unattainable. Even for people like you and I, the truth of this philosophy is painful to endure…

            And as Steve sat in his comfortable bed, the mysterious, smiling man searched. Presently, I will take us to him.

“In only a moment… Just a moment…” He grinned

His steps were steady yet quick, like the speed of the workers in Ne’er Do Well. With each step, his smile grew larger, and he knew. He knew exactly what he was searching for and he was well aware of its location. He came upon Steve’s street, a rundown trailer park, complete with your average every day rusted vehicle. The man was stunningly strong, his fists pounding into a nearby rusty car; his strong, grey eyes displaying his commitment to his cause. His pace quickened, only one trailer away. As he finally reached Steve’s yard, he took at breath through his nose, as if he could smell his target. He knocked.

“Come on out, Steve.”

No response.

“Damn it, Steve. You know I like games, but you and I have been playing this game for much too long.”

His arm tensed. He grabbed the door by its sides and tore. The living room was exposed.

“Please pardon my rudeness.”

His manners were still programmed to work even in these kind of situations. He made his way to Steve’s room, aiming for the kill. He bashed open the door. And found…

Nothing.

“NOTHING?!”

            Steve was gasping for air. Despite his readings which suggested healthy food and exercise daily, he ignored them; the effect was felt. He was almost there. The secret entrance. But, how would he be sure the man wouldn’t follow him? No, he was sure the security doors would stop him. Or, would they? The man had torn off Steve’s door. These steel panels were most surely not going to stop him. Steve came to the crossroads; should he worry for himself and enter the headquarters or should he worry for the welfare of the association’s members? He chose the former. He ran further, past the hidden entrance…

            I bring us back to our villain, Kresh McCore, entering his home. An apartment located in deep downtown Ne’er Do Well; beautifully kept, by his one and only dear wife: Isabell McCore.

“Home again.”

“Welcome home, dearest.”

Isabell’s arms were covered in scratches, both old and new, a face emblazoned with romantic red scabs and sunset-purple bruises. Her explanation to her coworkers? A fall down the stairs here, an accident while cooking there, or perhaps a fall from the bed. They were simple accidents, which were in fact, experienced by many women in Ne’er Do Well. So, the explanation was acceptable.

“Honey, do you see this?”

“Umm, yes, dear, I do. It’s the floor.”

“Don’t get smart.”

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled, until allowing her small, young head to plummet towards the ground. The impact was felt, and rose tainted petals fell from her nose.

“Look at the mess you made. Heh… You thought you were finished. My darling, you have to do much better than that.”

And as she coughed lovely, rosy petals once more, she exhaled

“Yes.”

            He was finished. Justice had been served. Karma has a funny way of working, he must’ve thought. Near the bedroom door sat a precious, golden retriever; man’s best friend. Kresh McCore respected his dog almost as much as he respected his wife. Because of this, he expressed his love with several ‘check-ups’; A simple examination to confirm existence. A simple thrust of the foot, with a brown leather boot for extra special accuracy and an assured response. A loud cry of confirmed life filled the house instantly. He was satisfied, his wife had been ‘gently’ reminded of her mess-ups and his dog had shown his master that his was still filled with everlasting vitality. It had to be; else he would not have been alive for 8 years thus far. Kresh’s last dog lasted only a few days… ‘Lacked vitality’, he would exclaim.

            It was off to bed, with yet another day of failure. He was feeling much better now that he knew his fellow housemates were there alongside him. His wife in bed; His dog at his feet. He was ready to close his eyes to a day unrealized. He would be ready to open his eyes again in the morning. Another day another dream, he always thought.

Fifth Excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Five

            “Would you like to see the control room?”

Steve was pleased.

“Yes, I would.”

“This way, then.”

Jerry and the unknown man led Steve through multiple expansive doorways and passages until they halted in the presence of a control panel, which was much larger than any Steve had seen before. The man placed both hands on the panel and muttered an undecipherable pass-phrase. After several rather loud, high pitched noises, a nearby chrome door opened upwards. Behind it sat several indistinguishable screens, panels, and buttons. A note on the furthest wall read ‘Authorized Personnel Only’. Several books of diverse colors and sizes were spread across the floor. Seated behind one of the screens was a dark-haired man, who wore a bright white lab coat.

“This way, boss!”

“How’s progress?”

The man showed the boss the screen which displayed a group of people, in town square, huddled around a scene of some sort. The association had installed security cameras in various locations around Ne’er Do Well, as to be expected.

“Then, they haven’t arrived yet, I presume?”

“No, but it is only a matter of time until they do. I suggest we take action. Now.”

“Mhhm. Are all of the men in place?”

“Almost. One appears to have gone missing.”

“Missing?! You’re joking…… Then we will carry on with the plan without him. Grab him and take him here.”

“Yes.”

It was then that the black-haired man grabbed a receiver connected to the screen and spoke

“Go. Now.”

“You’ve seen enough, Steve. Come along.”

            The boss led Steve through yet another door. The room reminded Steve of the elegantly quiet break rooms at his previous workplace. His old break room was merely quiet because Steve was the only employee who took breaks at Mr. Smith’s. He took a deep breath and relaxed in the lovely atmosphere.  The room itself had green lounge chairs, dispensing machines, and a dry, white wall.

“Please sit.”

Steve and Jerry chose seats and relaxed.

“Now, Steve. Jerry is, as you know, a Squad Leader. He will be the one you follow. For now, you can leave if you wish. I have shown you all that you need to see.”

“But, you have not even told me what this room is.”

The Boss raised his brow

“You can’t tell? This is the break room.”

“Oh, right”

Jerry laughed.

“My, YOU are perceptive.”

“Quiet. I’m leaving now”

Steve left the rooms, making his way back down the elegant hallway, ignoring the loud pool-players, and once again admiring the focused readers. He regained his focus; his destination was the Library.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while. Welcome back.”
“Glad to be back.”

Silence.

“By the way, are there any new arrivals?”

“Nope.”

There never were.

“Shame.”

Steve made his way to the west wing of the library: Science and Mathematics, the area Steve most seldom visited. Science and Math were challenging subjects for Steve and were the reason behind many of his school lashings. It was not as if he could not logically understand the world, rather he did not possess the patience to comprehend complicated equations and graphs. Yes, perhaps Steve was a little slow, by Ne’er Do Wellian standards. But on the rare occasion that he did challenge himself with the west-wingers, he found himself moving in different directions. This was probably because the topics stimulated a whole new area of his mind, or perhaps he had grown too bored with business tips and happiness guides. But, either way, Steve found himself thinking more clearly, and even more so, he found himself logically thinking through point A to point B situations. His book? Calculus: A New Perspective. This book in particular had a bright orange cover, perhaps to draw attention to it, and had beautifully drawn childlike pictures. Steve grabbed his new book and sat at a nearby table, blew off the dust, and ‘lightly’ escorted the other books from the table. BAM! Steve was the gentlest man in all of Ne’er Do Well.

Presently, off near the entrance to the library, arrived a man, not much unlike a typical Ne’er Do Wellian, with empty dark grey eyes, flawless white skin, and a black suit.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Why, yes… You can. I’m looking for a man named Steve.”

“He’s in the west wing.”

“Thank you.”

The man walked past the self help section, past a couple tables, pushing books off of their little seats. And, as he noticed the young man seated happily in his seat, he smiled.

“Hello, Steve.”

The man sat, moving uncomfortably close to Steve. Steve looked up, fearless.

“Yes?”

Steve knew those eyes. He knew how they worked. They were a tactic, an attempt to force guilt, then remorse, until finally causing the victim to conform. Steve looked deep into them, watching the eyes readjust. Steve was not afraid.

“I’m here to eliminate you.”

His voice chimed an eerie noise, devoid of emotion. Within only moments, the man reached in to his pocket and reached for the one thing Steve may have actually feared: A gun. The man aimed. Pulled the trigger, and just then, Steve hit the hand of his enemy, displacing the bullet. BAM! Within moments Steve was running. He broke through the nearby window. He was headed for the hospital.

“Please, can you help me? Gunshot wound. My arm.”

“Name?”

“Please, I need help NOW!”

She spoke louder

“Name?”

 “Ahh, please.”

“I can’t help you without a name.”

“Steve.”

“Social Security Number?”

“Really?”

Louder

“Social Security Number?”

His mumblings were robotic

 “871-758-8490-1903”

 “Date of birth.”

“11/14/40”

“Ok, here you are.”

 “What?”

“Fill that out and we will be right with you.”

            Steve carried himself in to the waiting room, filled with chairs, magazines and televisions, all useless in distracting him from the pain in his arm. He waited….. Waited some more…. And again… Until, darkness….

            Steve awoke to find himself placed in a hospital bed; his body was complete with a strange machine and cheap, disposable clothing. He had the complete package, or so he thought.

“Hello Steve. Do you have medical insurance?”

“What? No. Is the bullet out?”

“Of course not. We just attached a device to your body to ensure that you have enough blood.”

Steve checked his arm. Still bleeding.

“It’s still bleeding.”

“Yes. But the machine puts enough blood in to make up for the lost blood.”

The nurse smiled… An ignorant smile.

“I see…. Could I see the doctor first?”

“No. We need to ask you some questions.”

“I know you must be new here or something, but actually, I am in deep pain, and despite what you think, I’m still losing blood. I NEED to see the doctor.”

“Excuse me? I AM a senior nurse and you WILL cooperate or I can just as well refuse you service. You’re not in THAT much pain.”

“I was waiting in there forever. Could you not have given me faster service?”

“Forever, huh? Let me check…”

“30 minutes. Forever, huh?”

Her sarcastic tone was beginning to irritate him.

“Actually, yes, when I’m bleeding, it is.”

“Please cooperate, Steve. We are only trying to help. You just have to help us.”

“Help you what? Make sure I can pay the hospital fees?”

“Well of course, Steve. We all have to make money somehow.”

“I’m done.”

“What are you doing? Stop!”

“So that’s what happened, huh?” said Jerry

 “Who knew I would rely on a hospital instead of you guys. That was my mistake.”

“Yeah. Don’t go back there. Bad place.”

“Hmmph. I can tell.”

“I actually had an experience there when I was young…”

“Oh? Was it as terrifying as mine?” inquired Steve

“Perhaps not, but despair-invoking nonetheless. It was a time when my grandmother was very sick. She was sick with a disease called Scanderitis. I’m sure you’ve read medical books, right?”

“Uh… not many.”

“Oh well, it’s deadly. Very deadly, actually. And, it would be only another day until she was ready to leave the hospital. I was happy. I would be able to see Grandma again, ya know? But, you’ll probably be able to guess what happened next. As it turns out Grandma was too poor to afford the next hospital bill. My family was helping out, I was working an extra job; we all helped out. But even we weren’t enough. Grandma didn’t have a chance. They threw her out. Just like that, Steve. Like a piece of trash. Didn’t even tell us she was outside on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. When I went to visit her the next day, I saw her lying outside. You know, I guess they forgot to clean her up after she died 8 hours ago. I was heartbroken… and furious. I stormed into the place; I was brewing a storm bigger than anything you have ever seen. What I didn’t know was that they had dealt with people like me before. They knew what they would do. I walked up and said ‘Hey! Why the fuck is my grandma lying dead outside?!” They had built and prepared a system, a pre established wall of indifference to push away my kind. ‘Name?’ That’s all they said. I kept asking. The only response? ‘Name?’, ‘Name?’, ‘NAME?’! I wasn’t finished. I stormed my way past the front desk and demanded to speak to the doctor or someone who was in charge. I demanded respect. They all treated me the same. ‘Oh? Yes, we can help you. Just give us your name first.’ Their robotic smiles were atrocious, but I was desperate. I gave in. ‘Jerry’. After many hours of questions I was given my answer. ‘I’m sorry. We can’t help you. Why don’t you come back tomorrow? I’m sure we can help you then.’ My body, my face, my mind was so hopelessly angry that I was driven over the edge. I was not the only sane one there anymore. I had given in to indifference as well. When I did that Steve, I was no different than them. I began to take out my careless rage on my family and friends. That was when Ne’er Do Well began to change, as anger only caused indifference, which drove people to hopelessness when they achieved no growth, no answers.

One day, I quit. I quit everything, my job, my marriage, my mortgage…. Everything. And, in the lonely reaches of poverty, I met the Boss. He had a dream. And he’s leading that very dream today….”

A Forth Excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter 4

“How much further?”
“It’s only another four blocks. We’ll be there soon.”

Steve and Jerry were on their way to the Association’s home-base. Jerry had been persistent in his persuasive maneuvers and had finally succeeded in convincing Steve to come. It was not long after that Jerry stopped moving
“I thought you said four blocks. This is only two.”
Jerry made a ‘Shush’ noise and placed a couple of fingers in front of his mouth. He whispered
“We’re here.”

They were standing in front of a seemingly empty lot, but, on closer inspection, a small shed sat in the middle of the insignificant, white field. At this point, Steve knew that the association was serious business. He could tell that they knew how to stay under the radar. Jerry walked forward to the white moon bathed field and motioned Steve to follow. Steve followed.

When they arrived at the abandoned, wooden shed, Steve noticed something of interest: The doors were unguarded and the entire structure was close to falling apart. Much to Steve’s surprise, Jerry went around the shed and lifted a rather large barrel and placed it aside. Underneath, a simple piece of grass, untouched by the white blanket that covered nearly all of the field. Jerry lifted the grass, obviously fake, and revealed a coppery, rusted door of sorts. The door looked nonfunctional and ancient to him. Jerry knocked on the door twice, pricked his finger with a needle and proceeded to place it in a hole conveniently located on the door. “Did you get your tetanus shot?” Steve giggled silently to himself and gained no response. Then, the door slowly creaked open, creating an unbearable noise similar to the sound of nails screeching on a chalk board. It had reminded him of the unbearable lashings he had received in grade school when he had played hooky. What was he doing, you ask? Fishing. Steve was an excellent fisher and could perhaps make a business out of the sport. This moment was, to him, like fishing. He sat and waited, patiently, for something grand, something marvelous to pop up and surprise him.

After three more inner grates opened, Jerry pulled out a rope and a lighter and descended down the deep, almost humid hole. Perhaps it was in some way connected to the sewers. Steve bent over and took a whiff before starting his descension. Yep. The aromatic, sweet, tingling smell of urine. It was an unbearable scent that had caused him to place his hand over his nostrils. He then realized that he needed both hands to climb down the rope. He sighed, took the rope in both hands, and began lowering himself. When he finally reached the bottom, there was Jerry, wagging his tail in anxious anticipation. The man was patiently awaiting his master, his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth. In this case, of course, the roles are reversed, but we can play along, can we not?

In the chamber was nothing of particularly noteworthy example except perhaps a stone wall, a few barrels, and the lack thereof of any outside light. I suppose this is why Jerry carried a lighter in with him. And as our heroes journeyed inside the dark corridor, Steve’s mind began to wander off…

“Where have you been? It is already 1:20 and class is almost over!”
“I went fishing.”
“Fishing? Again? You do know that I’m going to have to increase the lashings, do you not?”
“Yes.”

Steve was lost in the past. He was experiencing a moment when he arrived at school late. The schools in Ne’er-do-well were ‘protected’ by metal fences that were erected in order to keep ‘potential threats’ out of the learning environment. Cameras were positioned at various locations such as around the main building and in hidden spots on the playground. Yes, they were even placed in bathrooms. At the top of the two-story building were two large antennae which were to be used in the event of an ‘extreme emergency’. Usually the only time they used it was for the children who misbehaved and were to be sent to the higher-ups. In addition to all of this, the school had strict standards to be adhered to at all times. The boys and girls were to line up in the morning and sing the allegiance to their country and their ‘god’. The pledge was to take place at 7:15 every morning. Steve felt the pledge to be unbearably mundane and felt it much easier to sit during the pledge. He was punished accordingly. At Clark Dale Elementary, students were expected and even forced to become a piece of the larger whole.
“I would say… about twenty.”
Steve grinned and responded
“How about fifteen? It will make your life much easier when I arrive on time. What say you?”
The boy had been rather silver-tongued for his age. The man smiled
“I am feeling generous today.”
His grin widened
“I will give you twenty-one.”
But to no avail. The boy frowned, aware of his rapidly impending doom. He figured he could avoid it with a few choice words of humility
“Yes sir.” Once again, to no avail.

The man grabbed the boy’s wrists and bound them in ropes attached to two wooden planks. The devices were very popular at Clark Dale, two per class, and were set about five feet off of the ground. In addition, small buckets were set underneath the devices. The man then retrieved a rather large whip from his desk drawer. It was so large that it was probably the only object in the entire drawer. As procedure dictates, the man pulled the boy’s trousers to his ankles and removed his underpants. The boy’s rear was on display to the entirety of the class. The man hoisted the instrument above his head slowly, gathering strength and then, swung forwards with utmost dexterity and speed! Whoop! Snap! With each and every hit a scream could be heard throughout the halls and a cackle which increased in pitch at each successive blow. The boy’s legs were soaked in blood after only 10 lashes. The man continued, swifter than ever with a force that would only be comparable to almighty Zeus’ terrorizing bolts of lightning. Afterwards, the man took a deep breath. A feeling of accomplishment and power rushed through his mind instantly. At the same time, his very soul elevated to heavenly (or hellish) heights, while the student’s legs shook with fear. As custom in Ne’er-do-wellian schools, the students were left to soak in the despair and regret of their actions and were usually left to starve and relieve themselves until the end of the school day. Of course, all of this was done in the company of the entire class. Even when the children had behaved, he still chose a ‘Lucky Contestant’ to witness his fury. Most of the class watched with cold indifference, their frozen stares penetrating the souls of those who were chosen to suffer. The stares were like hammers that drove stuck-up nails back to where they belong.

“Hey! You coming?”
“Oh… yes.” Steve continued onward at a hasted pace and in almost an instant, a beam of light had broken the darkness. They were almost there.

They reached a metal, barred door which featured pass-card verification devices. Even so, the place was almost completely unguarded. Once again, the security was lacking.
“Why is no one standing guard?”
“Just wait.”
Jerry inserted his card and opened the door. When Steve entered he saw a room, but not just any room. No, it was beautiful. It had long hand-woven rugs, imported. The ceilings held exquisite chandeliers, which reflected a thousand golden sparkles across the ceiling. The walls were covered in light neutral beige and the halls had expensive paintings and pottery. Steve had not seen art like this in a very long time, because art was rarely viewed in Ne’er-do-well.

When they passed a couple doors, they reached the only open door and noticed something marvelous. A whole group of people book-licking! He became so excited that he almost ran in and jumped for joy. He was halted by the fact that it would be rude to interrupt one who is book licking. Jerry had somehow disappeared while Steve was gawking at the intellectuals, so Steve began searching for him. About three doors down he saw more people that were doing things he had never seen before. Some were hitting balls with a long stick on some type of green table, while others sat in front of a television holding small, round devices with buttons. Everyone seemed to be having a grand time and even Jerry was enjoying a game of hit-the-ball-with-a-stick. Steve ran enthusiastically to Jerry
“What is that you are doing? It looks… fun.”
“Oh, yes. This is pool.”
“Pool? It does not look like you could swim in that.”
“It’s different than that. Here. Take a swing.” Jerry handed a stick to Steve.
“Hold it like so… and then.”
BAM! In a quick moment the ball went flying across the room, bounced off the walls and missed nearly two people.
“Oh. I can see why this room has fewer decorations than the other rooms.”
“Yeah… This is Gary. He’s also in communications. He works under me.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
 After the greeting, Gary leans over and whispers something in Jerry’s ear
“Oh, yes. I almost forgot. I will. Yes.” Jerry then turns his attention to Steve
“We are going to see the boss now. I’m sure that you will like him.”
Steve chuckles. “Will I?”

Jerry led Steve through another, shorter corridor until they reached a reinforced metal door with a slightly crooked note. The note read ‘BOSS’.
Jerry pointed at the door “This is it.”
“You don’t say?”
            Jerry then proceeded to knock on the metal door until a man came out of the room. The man was wearing a heather gray business suit and slacks, a hat, and… clown shoes? He had a fair complexion, rosy pink cheeks, and a large grin stretched across his face. He outstretched his hand to Steve, who grabbed the hand, feeling accepted and welcome
“Happy to have you aboard, Steve. You got quite the fine catch this time, Jerry.”
 “What is your name?”
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”