First Edition Smog Days 2016 By: Jack Williams Published By: Jack Williams Writing http://jwwbooks.weebly.com Email Author: [email protected] Store: http://lulu.com/spotlight/jw6517238 This is a Work of Fiction This is Public Domain Android App – JWW Books Google Search: JWW Books Or Try The Play Store

Smog Days Dust. Particulate. Smoke. Car exhaust. Ozone. Chemicals. Toxins. Smog. It makes you want to puke. We wake up and we choke on it. We suffocate from it while we sit in the traffic jam. It seems there is no escaping it. It is omnipresent. What would we do without it? Its either live in the city and breathe it in or move to the country and escape it. It is up to you. Sometimes, it kills. Johnson knows all about that. For him it is all too real. A sad, undeniable, cold, hard, fucking truth. The reality. The one that is inescapable. It seems that the struggle of life is never over. It seems that for some, the struggle is just beginning. Some men just can't take it. For them it is 1

all too much. Johnson was old. Sixty-four years old. He had recently retired from being a mail carrier. He got a nice pension. Today. October 7th, his wife was being buried in the ground. Her rotting body, recently embalmed, was lying in a coffin waiting to be lowered into her grave. Her final resting place. There was a priest and he was talking away. He had prepared a eulogy, as no one else had wanted to speak. Johnson could barely pay attention. His wife's name was Kathy. Kathy Johnson. Johnson was very troubled by her death. He did not cry. He did not seek counseling. He did not take antidepressants. He thought back to her final hours. 2

…....... October 3rd Johnson spent the day at the hospital. He always spent the day at the hospital. It had been going on for months now. His wife, Kathy, had terminal lung cancer. Her hair had all fallen out from the therapy. She looked absolutely dreadful. She slept all day and all night. A machine breathed for her. It was her time to go. She would die happy despite the circumstances. She had always been happy. She was a happy woman. A smile was always on her face. She made Johnson so happy. He loved her with all his heart. It was a deep warm love. They married over thirty years ago. Now Johnson was left with a hollow feeling. One of despair. One of dread. One where, he knew that at any minute she would expire and he would be left alone to live out his mundane existence in misery. 3

How disgusting of a reality it was. Johnson felt like a mental patient. He felt like he was completely fucked up. He was completely fucked up. In his mind, he cursed God. He cursed God and he swore revenge. He swore to get the world back for what it had done. Why is life so hard? Why is life so meaningless? …...... October 7th That was the day his wife died. It was less than a week ago. She breathed her last breath and drifted off onto the afterlife. He wanted his wife to rest in peace. She would rest in peace he decided. The funeral ended. Only a few people had 4

attended. As the spouse of the deceased he was required to hang around after and shake everyone's hand. He had to thank everyone for coming. For some unknown reason he just couldn't do it. So he got in his truck quickly and drove away from the funeral home. It was raining out, but nevertheless they would bury his wife today. Johnson felt sad. He felt low. He felt like stabbing someone in the face repeatedly. He felt like snapping. Now there was nothing to do except sit at home. Luckily he had a case of beer. Now, they were his only friend. He drove home alone, then he went inside and spent the day alone. He sat in front of the TV and refrained from turning it on. He sat there and drank beer after beer. A few hours went by and then he was drunk. Johnson

started

to 5

get

massively

depressed. His wife's death got him down so much. It truly was a loss. It truly broke his weak, diseased heart. There was nothing he could do. It was all out of his hands. He knew whose fault it was. The coal power plant. Drivers. Industry. The system. That is what killed her. Smog killed her. Smog killed Kathy. Now he was left all alone to suffer. He had to do something. It wasn't Kathy's fault. After all she wasn't a smoker. She didn't deserve this at all. Now she was dead. Dead at sixty-three. God, how he missed her. She was never coming back. He would never see her again. He was lost. Completely lost. Never again would he have love. Never again would he have companionship. For him there was nothing left but misery. Johnson truly was a mess.

6

At that drunkin' moment something changed in Johnson. Some small part in his brain broke. It was just too much for him. He missed Kathy so deeply. He decided right there and then that he was going to turn violent. He decided he was going to take the pain out on others. There was something he had always wanted to do – rob a bank – he wanted to rob a bank badly. It seemed so exciting. There was one he had in mind. It wasn't far and the tellers were frequently rude to him. He quickly made a list of supplies. Gun. Getaway car. Mask. Bag. He had all of those. He owned several guns and he could take the plates off of his truck and use it as the getaway car. First, he needed rest. He was completely drunk. He laid back on the couch and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of how exciting it would be. While he slept, Kathy was buried in the ground. 7

Johnson never even cried. …....... October 8th Johnson woke and then had bacon and eggs. He never forgot the plan. In fact it was completely the opposite, he thought of it constantly. It was six am when he got up and it was nearly eight am when he had eaten and was dressed and ready to go. The bank opened at 9:30 am. It was not far and Johnson had everything ready to go. He had a loaded handgun and a shotgun he would leave in the truck. For a mask he picked a balaclava and for a bag he chose a garbage bag. He sat at the kitchen table and waited. On the wall hung a photo of him and Kathy when they were young. They had gone to Myrtle Beach for a week and they had their photo taken on the boardwalk. Ice 8

Cream cones sat in each of their hands and smiles were drawn on each of their faces. Kathy was such a great person. Without her Johnson was lost. Society had taken her from him. He knew it. It was their fault. They knew that tragedies like this would happen and still they just let it. Johnson daydreamed about his dead wife while time passed by. Eventually he got ready and got in the truck. It was time to go. He drove to the bank calm as a small serene lake. The balaclava was on his head and it would conceal his identity as soon as he rolled it down. The plates from his truck were hidden in his garage and he planned on hiding the truck there when he returned home. Finally he arrived at the bank. He hated them. He wanted to kill them just for fun. Just 9

for something to do. Just to get the pain out. He parked on the street and skipped putting coins in the meter. He donned his mask and got the gun ready. He had the bag stuffed in his coat pocket. He had already thought up what to say. He decided he would keep it simple. “Fill the bag with money or everyone dies!” That seemed good. He still felt calm as ever. He was going to succeed too. He knew it. He knew he would succeed. He exited the truck and ran into the bank. It had just opened, so it was deserted. He wasted no time. He pulled out the gun and pointed it at the teller. She was a nice looking woman with a blonde perm.

10

“Fill the bag with money or everyone dies!” he shouted as he looked her dead in the eyes. “Okay. No problem.” she said. He pulled out the bag and set it on the counter. Her name tag said Robin. Beside her stood the only other teller. She had long dark hair and her name tag said Alexandra. Johnson was loving it. The adrenaline was pumping. He loved the rush. She took all of the money out of the till and handed it to him. It didn't seem like that much. “Now you!” he said to the other teller. “Okay.” she replied. She took the bag and began to fill it with money. When she was done, Johnson made 11

another request. “I want the vault.” he said calmly. “The vault is locked.” Robin told him. “Well open it.” demanded Johnson. He was pointing the gun right at her. “Okay let me get the manager.” she said. “Okay. Do it.” Johnson told her firmly. “William!” she called out. It turns out he was watching. He was hiding in his office watching through a crack in the blinds. A moment passed by and then he came out and walked up to the disturbance. “How may I be of help?” he asked. He was a fat man with a red face and curly hair. He wore a nice suit. “Open the vault.” demanded Johnson. “I can't sir. It is on a time lock. It opens at 4pm. That is all the money we can give 12

you. Please don't kill us.” said the pudgy bank manager. Johnson wasted no time. He got the bag and fled. He had no idea whether or not they set the alarm. He didn't think so. He got in his truck and sped away. Back at home he hid the truck in the garage and took the money inside to count. He hid the gear in the basement and dumped the money on the table to count. It wasn't much – three thousand and change. Still, it was fun. Johnson liked the rush. He liked the thrill. He had more planned. Tonight he was going to blow up a bunch of cars and set a nasty fire. That would teach society. After all it was their fault that Kathy was 13

dead. He needed to be careful though. The cops would be looking for the bank robber – him. When night arrived, Johnson got to work. He got some gasoline and crept across the neighborhood. Then he found exactly what he was looking for. Some douche had a Porsche 911 parked in the driveway. Johnson wasted no time. He doused the Porsche with gasoline and ignited it. It very quickly turned into an inferno. As he was fleeing he heard the car explode. The alarm began to sound. Johnson lit up more cars. Pretty soon there was a series of fires burning across the neighborhood. Johnson felt it wasn't enough though. He needed more. He knew where to get more. 14

He was going to hit the coal power plant in downtown. He would need a bomb though. Luckily he knew how to make one. When he got back home, he hid out and began to draw up plans. A well placed bomb in the smoke stack would topple the stack and would be perfectly symbolic. He needed some dynamite though. He knew where to get some. There was a mining company downtown and they had a ton. He used to know an employee of the company years ago and he had told him all about it. Johnson made up his mind, tomorrow night he would break in, steal some dynamite, then the next night he would attack the coal power plant. He would have to drill into the stack to place the charges. Luckily he had a large drill and extension cords. There was just one problem – security – 15

Johnson would have to take care of that though. As he drifted off to sleep he thought of his plans and how great it would be. …....... October 10th He had the dynamite all ready. Ten sticks. The break-in had gone perfect. He managed to get in, get some dynamite, and escape before the police arrived. He was in his truck now. He had all the gear he needed. Mask, gun, drill, duct tape, explosives. It was all ready. He was going to do this shit. It was now night and the plan was to sneak in, then find the security guard and then take him prisoner and duct tape him to a chair or something. Then he would plant the charges. He had a remote detonator to set off the charges. With any luck the stack would topple over. 16

It would definitely make him feel better. A few moments later he arrived at the city's coal power plant. They had left the gates open and he got in no problem. He parked near the common building and turned the truck off. Then he put the mask on and got the handgun ready. Now all he had to do was find the security guard. He decided to hold up a few moments. Luck struck and the security guard came outside. He noticed the truck and turned on his flashlight. He pointed it at the plates and then approached the truck. Johnson wasted no time. He hopped out and ran at the guard. He pointed the gun at him and told him to freeze. The guard obliged and appeared to be unarmed. He led him into the common building. Johnson asked him his name and he said Williams. The guard asked if he would be 17

killed and Johnson told him of course not. Johnson duct taped him to a chair and sealed his mouth shut as well. Then Johnson went back outside and got the gear ready. He found the ladder to the roof and brought all the gear up. Then he began planting the charges. Ten sticks of dynamite around the base of the stack would topple it for sure. Johnson had all of the charges placed and began to get the detonator connected. He switched on the remote and the strangest thing happened. The charges detonated and the smoke stack really did topple. It toppled right on Johnson's mutilated corpse. Johnson was dead. But it did not end there.

18

He dreamed. He dreamed that he really did detonate the charges safely from his truck while making his escape. It was sublime. The smoke stack toppled over and left a cloud of dust. But something bad happened. Johnson's truck stalled. He tried to get out and run but he was stuck in place. He tried frantically to break free but it was impossible. Soon it got worse. Ten police cars surrounded Johnson. They put him in cuffs and dragged him away to the slammer. Johnson was helpless. The court decided that Johnson was fucked up, so they put him in a psychiatric 19

hospital. Soon he would go to prison. Johnson began to scream and whine. Then he felt an arm shake him. He awoke. He was in bed at home. The arm had been Kathy's. He looked at her. She still had all her hair. He had been screaming in his sleep. Kathy looked at him and said. “Frank are you alright?” Frank Johnson didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. THE END

20

21

22