Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Walter Wallace - Chapter 36

Phil was completely in his element. He may not have fit in to look at him, with his loose ragged clothing and general unclean nature – unless he was thought to be one of the passengers pulled out of the train – but he felt at home. He cruised around the hill that overlooked the wreckage at Newport Haven, slipping in and out of different TV reports. He had been on at least seven different networks already; Dad would be so proud. There was a heavy set security guard who was trying to shoo him away but it wasn’t too hard to shake this minor nuisance – Phil was a pro.

He had been having fun all afternoon. It was maybe a little callous to find joy so near to such a tragic incident but Phil was a practicing Buddhist and knew that death –even two hundred of it – was merely another passage of life that must be confronted, not feared. Now was a time of action and the best thing he thought to do was avenge the dead. And the best way to do that was to get to the bottom of this whole mess.

On the surface it may have appeared as though all Phil was doing was inflaming the reporters but he was also doing a little investigative journalism of his own. Before entering into frame he made sure to catch a little of the gist of the presentation, hoping to build a base of knowledge for his own articles that he was planning to write.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Walter Wallace - Chapter 35 (The Real 35)

Lucy Blues was in her hospital bed watching the news for the first time in what felt like years. It had only been a month since her self-imposed exile but the freedom she felt was like a planet released from the gravitational orbit of its Sun. She no longer had to care about the woes of the world and troubles of others. If not for a careless glance at the local newspaper a week ago she would still be in her father’s cottage chopping firewood or knitting a blanket. Deep down she had to admit that perhaps that lifestyle couldn’t be sustained forever but she knew it was better than her old life and as the film crews passed by the little window of her hospital door, she felt that her cottage escape was just a dream set to fade into sweet reminiscence as her real life steam rolled on like the train that brought her into town that day.

She didn’t actually remember too much from the train. Her last memory was recognising the velocity increasing dangerously. Then she felt as though she were asleep in the cottage again with Walter Wallace’s face smiling down at her gently. It was surely a dream but as she willed herself to wake up his face only became clearer. It was charred and worn. He wasn’t smiling, instead wincing and his pained expression softened into acceptance as a wave of light and noise crashed over them. Reporters and news programs were snapping at them from every angle before the paramedic crew muscled them to reasonable distance.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Walter Wallace - Chapter 35

Whisky sat in the driver’s seat of the white van a short distance down the road from all the other vans that lined Station St outside of what was once Newport Haven Terminal. Chips was away from the van doing a recon on the crash zone for Boss. Not too far down the road Whisky could see Mark Tanenworth, who was initially supposed to be surveying the area. Boss, however, never trusted his brother and had decided to use Chips and Whisky – who were in the town keeping tabs on Walter Wallace – to investigate.

“What about the mark?” Whisky had asked Boss after receiving his instructions.

“I told you, Mark is useless- you mean Walter. Look, don’t call him the mark anymore. Just call him- OK. FUCK! Look, the trains are more important than Walter for this one moment. Sure good ole’ Walt is a goldmine but he isn’t bigger than CitaRail. Find out what’s happened because we are going to need a statement on this soon and I don’t have time for your FUCKING OPINION!”

Whisky had thought to disagree. Walter was bigger than the trains; possibly bigger than Citadel itself. He didn’t know how he knew but he knew. It filled him with a great deal of confusion. Despite everything that he felt programmed to do - everything that Chips would do in a heartbeat and that he would have done in half a heartbeat only a few weeks ago - he resisted his duty. His growing ideals of insubordination should have been reported to Boss by now, he still felt a natural inclination to do so, but his resistance continued.