Life goes on

Chapter 2: Charlie hits but doesn’t run

The parking lot beside Paulo’s was no longer aflame and much less interesting to everyone else as a result. Onlookers with smartphones had moved on with their lives, leaving the lot much easier to walk through without tripping over somebody posing.

Charlie walked past the several policemen and firemen which remained at the lot and clicked the small red button on the car tab that Ivan had given him. Somewhere on his right, an alarm chirped loudly. Turning around, he followed its call until he stood in front of what he was looking for.

When Charlie laid his eyes on the compact green smartcar, he at once realized why Ivan had stayed with Mango. For starters, Mango couldn't fit in the tiny vehicle if his life depended on it. If it didn’t have any windows or doors, and had a handle jutting along the top, it wouldn’t have been too difficult to mistake Ivan’s car as a very large suitcase, complete with an assortment of different stickers that Ivan had stamped on. Unlike your traditional bumper sticker, Ivan seemed content to decorate his vehicle much like one would decorate a Christmas tree, slapping stickers to the roof, hood, and Charlie even noticed one curled around the exhaust.

The sight of the car brought back unpleasant memories of the one time he had made the mistake of going golfing with his uncle many years ago. Back then, his uncle had been a large and unignorable part of his life-which meant that Charlie was often left cleaning up after his destructive wake.

He didn’t remember why or how it happened; but somewhere between hole seven and ten, his uncle had flung a nine-iron at some geese that were in his words; “eyeballin’ him.” Understandably, the geese did not take kindly to this. Little did his uncle know what he had just brought upon the two of them.

Before he could even scream, they had swarmed at the two of them in a hissing and writhing formation that was frighteningly coordinated. It was as if they had knocked over a bee’s nest, but instead of angry bees- they had unleashed a legion of feathered hell-snakes. After a lengthy chase, against all odds- they had managed to outrun the bloodthirsty gaggle with the help of their little golf cart.

Yet somehow, the car before Charlie looked even smaller than that golf cart to his surprise. Once he managed to get inside and close the door without dislocating any of his limbs, he was relieved to see an absence of stickers inside.

In a way, it was the opposite of Mango’s vehicle. For starters, it was clean, modern, and it looked like it had seat belts. Most importantly though, it didn’t seem to be on the verge of bursting into flames. Above the gear shift where the stereo was supposed to be, was a blank screen of some kind. Whether it was a television or a rearview camera, Charlie couldn’t be sure because there didn’t seem to be a power switch.

Confused, Charlie continued to search for a way to start the ignition. He remembered seeing newer cars on the television that started with a big red button of some sort, but none of the buttons he pressed seemed to do anything at all.

“Should’ve taken my chances with Mango’s car,” Charlie mumbled as he poked a couple more buttons pointlessly. “Piece of crap, nothing ‘smart’ about this thing at all.”

As if on cue, the small screen lit the entire vehicle up in a brilliant burst of white light. Before Charlie could scream, it was over as quickly as it had begun.

SCAN COMPLETE, a soft voice reverberated from the car’s speakers. OCCUPANT: CHARLES C. MINNOWS. CIVILIAN MODE ENABLED FOR GUEST, CHARLES. PLEASE ASSUME THE POSITION.

A thin strap burst from the side of the car, then latched itself to the right side of Charlie’s seat with a piercing *click*. Before he could process what was going on, the strap suddenly squeezed, driving the air out of Charlie’s lungs like a python holding down a mouse.

BODY MASS HAS MORE GIRTH THAN AVAILABLE DATA SUGGESTS. READJUSTING.

At once, he gasped as he felt the strap slacken as feeling slowly returned to his organs. Charlie wasn’t afraid of many things, but right there, he was suddenly aware that he was at the mercy of something cold, heartless, and unafraid of body-shaming.

DRIVER’S SAFETY, ENSURED. The car spoke again. PLEASE UPHOLD THE RULES OF THE ROAD AND TRAFFIC REGULATIONS. HAVE A NICE DRIVE, GUEST CHARLES. A chill went up Charlie’s spine, feeling a mechanical malevolence about the way the car addressed him at the end.

Then, the engine then roared to life and the voice fell silent. Without another word, Charlie pulled out of the parking lot and decided to keep all comments about the car to himself for the rest of the drive home. Although, he did consider accidentally driving the car into a cold lake to prevent the rise of the machines, he suppressed the urge to do so. Ivan didn’t deserve that. After all, he did lend him the car. Charlie decided that he wasn’t about to betray Ivan’s kindness because of some selfish survival instinct.

When the opportunity presented itself, he planned on having a strongly worded chat with Ivan about what happened. Out of the car’s earshot, of course.

Its menacing personality aside, the car itself was a joy to drive. Charlie had never driven something so graceful; it was as if it was gliding on the road. In fact, he wouldn’t even be surprised if the car sprouted wings and flew south for the winter. There was no doubt in Charlie’s mind that he was driving something that was well above his net worth, and he had half the mind to assume that the car had come to the same conclusion. He drove slowly, careful not to incur the vehicle’s wrath.

GUEST CHARLES.

Charlie pretended that he didn’t hear a thing and resumed driving until the car spoke again with a metallic, inhuman clarity.

YOUR VITALS SUGGEST THAT YOU ARE UNDER DURESS, the car buzzed. I COME EQUIPPED WITH MANY FUNCTIONS THAT MAY HELP ALLEVIATE YOUR ANXIETY.

“You- Where did you get my vitals from?” he tensed up. The car could smell fear; he was as good as finished.

OWNER IVAN KEEPS MY DATADRIVES CONSTANTLY UPDATED. I AM AT THE APEX OF VEHICULAR ADVANCEMENT AND ONLY CONTINUE TO EVOLVE. GUEST CHARLES, MY SENSORS DETECT ANOTHER SPIKE IN HEART RATE AND PERSPERATION. NOT TO WORRY, THE SEATBELT WILL FUNCTION AS AN I.E.D. IN CASE YOUR HEART CEASES TO BEAT.

“What?!”

APOLOGIES, I MEANT TO SAY A.E.D. the car crackled. THE I.E.D. WOULD LEAVE A MESS AND WOULD NOT SAVE YOUR LIFE.

Charlie fought the urge to jump out of a moving vehicle, and instead stepped on the gas and took an absentminded right turn.

GUEST CHARLES. WHERE ARE YOU GOING.

Charlie unconsciously put more weight on the gas pedal, deciding to leave the car in a parking lot. He thought that a nice silent walk home was probably what he needed anyways.

YOU ARE TAKING AN UNNECCESSARY DETOUR TO ARRIVE AT 84TH STREET, NUMBER 84266. DRIVE TIME RECALCULATED TO SIX MINUTES AND FORTY- THREE SECONDS.

Charlie almost had an aneurism.

SEVEN MINUTES AND-

“How,” interrupted Charlie, words spilling through clenched teeth. “Do you know where I live?” He realized how silly he must have looked to anyone looking through his window at that moment, but Charlie didn’t care. He was well past that point today.

If he was paying a little more attention however, he might have slowed down for what was front of him.

MY MEMORY BANKS CONTAIN MEDIA FILES WHICH ARE EMPIRICALLY TESTED TO HAVE POSITIVE IMPACT ON THE HUMAN PSYCHE. I RECOMMEND ‘AMBIENT RAINFOREST NOISES THIRD EDITION.’ IT HAS VERY FAVOURABLE REVIEWS ON ITS WEBSITE.

*flump*

Suddenly, losing his job fell to the second worst thing that happened that day.

There was an audible *flump*on the front windshield and Charlie just barely caught a glimpse of the old man ricochet off the windshield and fly into somebody’s front yard like a sack if old russets. Then, what sounded like running rivers and a screeching macaw began playing on the car’s speakers.

“Oh my god, what have I done,” Charlie jolted to a screeching halt, stopping a front tire a few inches up a lonesome curb.

WHAT IS WRONG, GUEST CHARLES?

“I just ran someone over!” he screamed after briefly composing himself.

ONE MOMENT, the car made a low humming noise. YOU MUST BE MISTAKEN. I DETECT NO SIGNS OF LIFE AROUND ME.

He threw open the door and ran out as fast as he could, stumbling as he eventually regained the mobility of his limbs. Nonononothiscannotbehappening. Charlie scrambled towards the old man; his body sprawled face-first on the grass lying flat like a starfish. He would have looked like he was peacefully resting were it not for his legs bending in different directions.

To Charlie’s relief, he saw that the old man’s shoulders sagging with each slow arrhythmic breath. Around him, the neighborhood was quiet and lifeless, save for the two of them.

“Hey, are you okay-” he cautiously reached over to the man’s right shoulder.

The body suddenly pulsed as if it was struck by lightning. Charlie suddenly recoiled at the flash of steel that slashed the empty air in front of him. Before he could say anything, the man bounded towards Charlie again and struck the ground with force.

In front of him, Charlie saw he old man slowly crane his head towards him, a sadistic smile crawling along his face. He broke his icy stare to pull the large knife out of the soil, lodged mere inches away from Charlie’s foot.

“Takes a lot more than that to kill me Richards,” the old man howled as he tried to stand up. “Where are you, you pencil-pushing sunuvabitch? I’ll gut you like the slimy fish you are,” he pawed at the ground aimlessly. “Fer crying out loud, where are my glasses? YOU stay where you are, weasel,” the old man stabbed in Charlie’s general direction with sloppy, but clear intent.

“Put... the knife down,” Charlie made no sudden movements, his eyes glued on the blade thrashing around him like a rabid animal ready to pounce. “Listen, I’m gonna call for an ambulance right now,” he nodded. “We’re going to get you to a docto-”

“You don’t sound like Richards,” the crazed smile evaporated into a frown. “So, he couldn’t do it himself, eh? Sent a Corpo. lackey,” he spat at the ground with disgust. “You can’t fool me,” he bared his teeth, once again. “Well, if you think you can kill me- you’re welcome to try your luck boyo!”

“I don’t know who Richards is,” Charlie said carefully. A couple feet to the left were a pair of silver rimmed glasses. Slowly, he leaned down to reach for them. “And I’m not part of any corporation. In fact, I lost my job a couple hours ago,” he gently cupped up the glasses with his right hand. “My name is Charlie, and-” he chose his next words wisely. “A red, pickup truck just hit you and sped off. I’m going to call some help for you right now.” Sweating, he pulled out his phone, suspecting that he had just earned himself a less-than favorable place in hell.

Repeating the name to himself for a second, the old man then gave Charlie a strange look. He kept a tight grip on the knife he held as he studied Charlie through aged eyes that glittered a pale green. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the old man took a short breath to let out two menacing syllables.

“Bullshit,” he flared as a grimace curled around his lips. “That can’t be possible. If you aren’t part of the Corporation... this shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” he gestured to the phone in Charlie’s hand, frozen in mid-dial. “Put that down, now. I dun need no bleedin’ doctor,” he snarled, unsuccessfully flipping himself over like a beached flounder.

Charlie watched the man flop around on the grass as he reevaluated the situation. Perhaps the Corporation was a retirement home? Surely a psychiatric facility. Yes, that would answer a lot of questions.

On the other hand, he didn’t think that sending a man with a large sharp object to either of those places was very wise presently.

After a couple of fruitless attempts to roll himself over, the old man swore loudly. “Come ‘ere and help me up, ya fucking liar. Look, I’ll even put the knife away if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“That would help,” Charlie nodded uneasily. “It’s been kind of a rough morning.”

Once the dagger was tucked away safely in the old man’s belt, Charlie cautiously handed the man his glasses and picked him up awkwardly. His expression changed to surprise, then confusion, and finally; resignation at seeing Charlie’s face with his glasses on.

He successfully balanced the man with broken legs on his shoulder like one might hold a bazooka. He hauled him up with little effort, surprised that he weighed less than his dog back home. Charlie tried not to look at the man’s legs, which were dangling at odd angles in front of him.

“Agh, wait. See that round object on the grass there? It must’ve fallen out of my pocket. Would you kindly grab it before you dispose of me at that porch?” he pointed a thin finger at something shiny near the sidewalk.

Charlie picked it up in one hand and examined it closely, easily holding the old man with the other. It was heavy, pale-gold, and etched with various markings and scriptures that made his head spin. The oval-like object was beautifully crafted, clearly assembled with detail in mind; each piece symmetrically aligned to house its mysterious mechanisms inside. However, a short silver cylinder jutted out the side: curved unnaturally and chafed along its edges, unlike the rest of the object.

“Is this a doorknob?” Charlie raised an eyebrow, disappointedly. He shook the object like a rattle. Nothing happened.

“Ah, that is Nunya,” he scoffed dismissively, pawing toward the round object.

“Nunya?” Charlie said before he could stop himself.

“Nunya business. Now, fuck off and leave me be,” the old man snatched the object from Charlie.

“I’m trying to help, you know,” Charlie said heatedly.

“Help? Is that what you call this? Oh, that’s so funny that it hurts,” he laughed without humor until he clutched his side, wincing. "Ugh, bloody hell... Go on, I'm sure a jobless clown like you could get a job as a comedian.” the old man brushed him away.

“I apologized, alright-”

“You most certainly did not!”

“I didn’t? Er, well I can’t just leave you here. Right? Wouldn’t really be too responsible of me... Unless you’d prefer to call someone you know...”

“Try not to look so happy will ya? Forget you ever saw me. You weren’t even supposed to. Damned System aint’ working like it used to,” he muttered angrily as he wriggled out of Charlie’s grasp and crawled towards a tall wooden fence that stood at the edge of the yard. "Go on, leave me!"

Charlie stared at the old man as he made his way to the fence. Up ahead, he jabbed at the fence meaningfully with the doorknob, then yanked it off as if it were attached to an actual door. He watched the man do this repeatedly for about a minute and a half before wisely deciding to make his exit.

For that minute and a half, he considered what the implications of leaving a crippled man on a stranger’s lawn was. On the one hand, the man (who also happened to have a large knife) was clearly out of his mind and wanted nothing to do with Charlie. But on the other hand, there was a nagging feeling in the depths of his chest. While it was likely that it was a symptom of the reasonable guilt of having run over a senior with a car that wasn’t his, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it was a result of smoke inhalation from earlier in the morning.

“You broke my Knob,” a voice said below him which made his blood run cold.

Charlie turned around to see the old man, who was currently dragging his way toward Charlie while demonstrating a horrifying expression that suggested that he seemed none too pleased with the current situation. When he reached Charlie, he noticed the man’s trembling hands were cradling his doorknob-like object as if it were taking its last breaths on this mortal plane, destined to depart for the abyss beyond.

“What. Have you done,” his voice rose and eyes bulged as his beard seemed to flare in an uncontrollable fury. By this point, the old man’s face had already reached an unmistakable shade of vermilion, skipping the transition to pink and red.

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie’s heart skipped a beat when he remembered that the man had a blade in his pants somewhere. “Uh, we can go to the hardware store and buy you a new one. It’ll be even better than that old one.”

“Hardware store?!” the man bellowed as he writhed on the grass. “Hardware store?!! You can’t just buy something like this off any ole shelf. This is... How can I... Oh, fuck me. You have no idea what you’ve done, have ye?”

If pacing nervously was something one could do with two broken legs, the old man definitely looked like he was doing so just then. Whatever that broken object was, it seemed to be something of great importance to the old man.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t know. How could you? Yet here you are, somehow breaking the System and staring right at me. Even shattered my legs for good measure,” he let out an aggravated bellow at nobody in particular, but Charlie figured it was mostly directed at him. Charlie then took this as the final red flag to leave the man to his ramblings, taking a few steps back to the relatively safer smartcar.

“Don’t you run away from me, Charlie Minnows.”

“Pardon me?” Charlie stumbled in his tracks, completely off guard. The old man wasn’t even looking at him, but he could feel his eyes staring him down.

“That’s right, I know exactly who you are-though it took me a second to remember your face. Surprised, are you? I know a lot of things about you, boy. I know that you’ve lived here all your life, made yourself comfortable on some family land. You keep a private little rock collection in your basement, lined up along a bunch of tables and ordered alphabetically. I know other things that you’d never even tell your two fellas Mingo and Ivan,” he prodded Charlie in the knee uncomfortably with menacing intent. “So, listen here Minnows, you best listen to what I have to say, or I can make your life very difficult,” he promised, delivering Charlie what he could only recognize as a look of condemnation.

“I’m listening,” Charlie nodded as thoughts raced through his head. Clearly, the man was not normal. Frankly, Charlie didn’t feel like there was any use trying to reason with a crazed stalker with a knife. Right now, all he could do was bide his time until somebody showed up to help him. “My friend’s name is Mango, though. Not Mingo.”

“What a stupid name,” he grunted. “Never did have to visit him too often though. Should consider himself lucky,” the man scrunched up his nose as if he smelled something foul. “Anyways, seeing as you have nothing better to do right now, being unemployed and all...” he eyed the doorknob enigmatically. “You’re in luck Minnows, I want you to work for me. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that you’ll be doing my job for me, till I get this thing fixed up at least.”

“Wait, hold on a second!”

“Now, it’s probably against regulations, but I’m sure the Corporation will understand considering this holy show,” the old man continued, ignoring Charlie’s complaints. “Dammit, why did this have to happen today?”

“Look, I don’t mind helping you out. What sort of job would that be?” he said slowly, he still had enough sense to understand that he was treading dangerous waters. Anything could set the guy off, so he decided to bide his time. “What is this system and corporation you keep talking about? I know I’m not in any situation to complain or anything. Once again, I’m sorry about running you over,” he held out his hands apologetically. The old man did not seem impressed in the least.

“You have to give me something to work with though,” Charlie continued quickly. “To be fair, you did try to stab me with a big knife. Normal people don’t do that. Normal people also don’t carry doorknobs or crawl away from car crashes with just a bad temper. I mean, look at you. You’re like...”

“Like what?” the man scowled naturally. Charlie knew he was flying too close to the sun, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Old. Were you a gymnast or something?” he shook his head. “You flew like fifteen feet from the street that you were jaywalking,” he said accusingly. “You’re not normal. None of this is normal. Am I being filmed right now?”

“No,” the old man sniffed. “Never was limber enough for that sort of thing. As for why I’m not a smear on the asphalt... You’re right, I’m not normal. Perks that come with my job with the Corporation. To put it simply; we need to be kept alive to do what we do,” he stared at the sphere in his palm. “Think of us as the many cogs in a machine that we call it the System; the world in which folks like yourselves live your ignorant lives, while people like myself make sure it doesn’t implode next weekend.”

“This is a joke, right? In what world am I-”

Before he could finish that thought, he felt the wind knocked out of him.

“Hgnh,” Charlie doubled over, stunned from the impact of a fist to his stomach. "....the f-."

“I don’t have the time or patience for this right now. I’m going to just cut to the part in which you shut the hell up and believe what I have to say. Believe me, it’s a lot easier for everyone this way,” the old man fumbled around the inside of his worn and patched jacket. At a first glance, the coat looked much like something one might find tucked away in the deepest recesses of a neglected clearance bin, which was then dutifully washed in swamp water to give it that right tint and texture that few coats manage to achieve in a lifetime.

“...Now, you can’t honestly believe to tell me that you’re a part of some secret corporation that runs the world. Oh, and apparently, they give you superpowers too. That’s all rather convenient, isn’t it?” Charlie was starting to lose his voice at all the yelling he’d done that day and he was feeling dizzy. “I’m the one who’s finally lost it, haven’t I? Surrounded by crazy people for years, and finally gone off the deep end. Stop. I don't need to be hit again."

“This is going nowhere. Just shut up and watch this, it’ll be easier this way,” the old man summoned a thin black book from one of the many pockets on his brown coat and flipped the pages until he seemed satisfied at what he found. He rapped the leather cover with his nails as he painstakingly scrutinized what was on the page. Finally, he arose from his trance and put the book back where he found it, cracking his knuckles while he began his crawl towards the front door of the house in front of them.

“Go knock on the door,” the old man said plainly as he dug his elbows through the lawn. “A woman named Amanda’s making a casserole in the oven right now. She’s going to answer the door while you tell her that you’re raising money for hungry orphans, or dolphins, or some nonsense. I just need you to keep that door open for no longer than a minute. Sound easy enough?”

“Is this going to get me arrested?” he followed the old man until he reached a door. There were half a dozen garden gnomes along a cobblestone path, each wearing a different coloured hat and trousers. “Seriously though, what are we doing to this poor woman?”

“Quit fostering about and knock on the door. Let’s just get this over and done with,” he brushed his pants in disdain. “Now I’ve got grass stains all over a perfectly good pair of khakis and I intend to get them out before it’s too late.”

He didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter, so Charlie took a deep breath and mentally braced himself. Approaching the door, he haphazardly knocked, hoping with all his heart that some producer with a camera would come out and tell him all this was a cruel joke. After shaking hands with the crew and giving the camera a smile, Charlie would laugh nervously, admit that he had been fooled, then punch the guy in the teeth.

Instead, the door opened slowly and a frail woman with hair white as snow stared at him. Charlie smelled something good coming from inside the house.

“Yeth?” she smiled, balancing herself carefully on a thin, black cane. “Thorry, you caught me at a bad time. Handths tied, denthures being cleaned,” she said apologetically. To Charlie’s shock, the old man crawled past her into the house and went down the hall. The old woman seemed not to notice whatsoever as he made his way to the kitchen like a soldier going through the trenches.

“Uh,” Charlie’s mind tried to process what was happening. The old man was now out of sight. “Amanda?” It was worth a try.

“Hm? Do I know you?” she squinted and pulled Charlie by the tie to examine him closer. “Ah! You mutht be a hriend of my thon,” she let him go. “Where are my mannerth, Pleath come in! I’m juth about done making fith catherrole.”

“It smells delicious,” Charlie was almost tempted. “But, I just wanted to see if... My friend was home.”

“Oh, he’ll be home thoon. Thut a buthy boy. He’th a pilot, you know,” she laughed. “Therved in the Air Forth.”

“Yeah, he’s told me a bunch of crazy stories,” he felt something well up in his chest. “Loves what he does though. A true patriot.”

The old woman nodded proudly. It was then, that Charlie saw the old man coming down the hallway, except this time he wheeled himself forward in a wheelchair.

“Job’s done,” he wheeled out the door. The old woman unconsciously stepped out of the way before he reached her, saying nothing as the old man rolled away.

“Heugh,” Charlie made a guttural sound as he watched the old man escape down the road and motion at Charlie to follow him. Charlie could hardly believe that there was no reaction from the old woman whatsoever.

“Are you thure you wouldn’t like thome catherrole? I alwayths made it hor Benny when he wath litthle,” she continued to speak to Charlie as if a theft didn’t just happen right before her eyes.

“Thank you, but maybe another time. Please tell... Benny I said hi,” he nodded curtly, then turned around and walked past the many gnomes that continued to stare at him.

“Come again thoon!” she waved joyfully, shutting the door slowly behind her.