Time Bones

LUST (story)

LUST (story)
Lust


Lust is as a vengeful slave beating an abolitionist with a whip.



"Fifty cents apiece," said the suave salesman with a very friendly smile as he indicated by gesture of his hand the racks of multi-colored slacks beside him. This was the first time Krod had ever been in this particular store and he could not believe the prices of the goods offered for sale. The store, a converted airplane hangar alongside an old, abandoned airport, had a small, white, freshly painted sign hanging out in front with the word "Goods" printed in broad, black letters. It was not a store Krod would have entered due to its sign, or impressive store front, he had really only stopped in hopes of finding some water for his overheated car engine, and the owner had invited him in to look around.

"I'd like three pair," said Krod, not really sure what to expect. He thought the owner at this point might smile and say that it was all a joke. Nobody sold goods at these low prices.

"And what colors would you like?" asked the owner, whose name Krod had learned was Slatan.

"Dark green. That certainly is a deep, rich color."

"Excellent choice. This is the most royal-rich green I've seen in a long while. It's almost velvet-like, isn't it?" responded Slatan.

"Yes, but all the trousers you have for sale seem to be made of this same kind of material," replied Krod, as he looked over other merchandise, but for which he had no particular interest.

"Now, how about a new car for you?" remarked Slatan after he had taken the money for the slacks. He came from behind the glass counter and headed toward the back of his store, seeming to sense that Krod would follow along.

"I can't afford a new car now," said Krod, as he held back a short distance. He didn't know if he liked the attitude of this self-confident salesman or not. Slatan didn't respond to Krod's hesitancy, but continued walking toward the rear of the store where he slid a large door aside for himself and Krod to pass through. Before them was the interior of a large warehouse which once housed airplanes. Mercury vapor lights, illuminating the windowless expanse cast a bright, metallic sheen over the room and its contents.

"We have the blue Corvair, perfectly good, for ten dollars," began Slatan, as he touched the hood of the first car of about forty in line, all of which looked brand new.

Krod almost lost his breath when he heard the price. He had actually bought the slacks he tightly clutched under his arm for a dollar fifty, so he had no reason to believe Slatan would not sell him the car for the price he had been quoted. Krod was in the process of saying, "Sold!" when, Slatan said there were still better buys further down the line.

"We have a selection of cars at the end here which will probably be more suited to yourself. There is a Cadillac at the end here which may be just the thing for a person of your taste," Slatan finished, as he continued walking along, Krod now trotting close behind.

There it was. The last car of the line. The most beautiful four door, pearl white car he had ever seen. Krod walked around the gleaming car as Slatan stood to the side, smiling. There was not a flaw to be seen anywhere on the inside or the outside. It was perfect.

"How much do you want for it?" asked Krod in a quavering voice as he stood looking at it, trying to appear but moderately interested. He desperately wanted the car but was sure he could not afford such luxury.

"Seventeen dollars and fifty cents," responded Slatan evenly as though he were saying seventeen thousand dollars. "If this one isn't the one you want, we might consider one of the others..."

"I'll take it! shouted Krod. "This is the one I want!" He grabbed his wallet, snatched a twenty dollar bill out and shoved it toward Slatan. He was going to seal the bargain immediately. Once Slatan took the money Krod was offering him the car would belong to him. His heart was pounding within as Slatan paused a moment, looking at the bill a second before reaching out to accept it.

"An excellent choice," he responded in a condescending manner while taking the offered money, smiling as he did so. "I'll return in a few minutes with the title to your new car and you can be on your way, unless you wish to remain and shop awhile longer. I've just begun an extensive advertisement blitz which should be on radio and television in about fifteen minutes. I expect to have quite a few sales at that time, so then I'll be
very busy. If you see anything else, now would be the time to buy it. Just look around and I'll be right back."

Krod did look briefly around the large, expansive airplane hangar. From where he stood in the interior he could see some busses and motorcycles along the far wall, then came rows of home appliances and furniture groupings. There was a lot of everything in the vast interior of the building, but all he could think of was his new pearl white Cadillac.

Krod pulled outward on the door handle to his new car and watched it noiselessly swing open. Sliding behind the wheel, and then dropping his three pairs of slacks on the seat beside him, he saw the key was in the ignition. Krod turned the key and the engine snapped to life, purring its power through the length of the car. "Mine," he thought to himself, "It's all mine. What a beautiful automobile!" He pulled the shift lever into dive. The luxurious car moved silently, effortlessly down the wide aisle designed for the cars to be driven outdoors on. It was difficult to wait till he could leave so he might run his new car on the open road.

"Here we are," said Slatan, as he flagged Krod down and handed him the necessary papers showing ownership to his new car.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot!" responded Krod, accepting the papers along with the change from the twenty dollar bill. As he looked at the signed title, the realization swept over him that it really belonged to him.

"As you drive straight ahead you'll see an overhead door marked with an 'H'. Go through that one. Of all the doors, that is the only one that opens by itself. On your way out you might wish to stop and look at our airplanes. We have a really good price on them all. Thank you for your business ... drive carefully." Slatan lifted his hand in farewell as Krod drove toward the overhead door marked with an "H", which opened by itself as he approached.

Krod's intention was to head directly downtown and drive about the streets awhile and then go for a long drive on the open road. But his attention was drawn to his right as he drove out the door. There was an Executive Blue Star Jet parked not more than fifty yards from where he was. His new, sleek, beautiful pearl white automobile seemed to stop by itself just about half way there. Krod jumped out, looking at the beautiful plane from a distance, and then hurried over to the waiting jet. Krod almost fainted as he kept his eyes on the glistening finish and sleek lines of the aircraft. His heart was transmitting strange pounding sensations to his mind as he considered the possibility - even the remotest possibility that he might be in position to buy such an aircraft. He would work the rest of his life for such a beautiful jet plane.

He ran is fingertips over the tread of the tires. They were new. The paint looked fresh and the skin of the ship was perfect. He stood there wondering if he could sell his new car in order to make a down payment when the familiar, friendly voice of Slatan came from behind him.

"This is really an excellent aircraft," began Slatan in his usual suave manner, "but we do have less expensive ones inside another hangar. If you could afford it though, this would be the best buy of all. This is our featured best buy on the sales blitz I was speaking of."

"Yes, yes," began Krod not knowing exactly what to say. He was afraid to make mention of the price because he didn't have the million plus dollars it would take to buy it. He was afraid not to speak because he might pass by a lifetime dream. "Yes," he continued in a small voice, "but how much is it?"

"Because it is in near perfect condition, having full instrumentation, ultra-plush interior, pressurized, and has every option possible, the cost has been set at a very firm seventy-five dollars," Slatan stated in a matter-of-fact selling voice which indicated he would not be swayed from the figure he had spoken.

"I'll take it!" shouted Krod, not realizing how loudly he was speaking. "I'll take it!"

"I was hoping you would," replied Slatan, "so I brought the papers with me. Just sign here and I'll give you your receipt - once you pay me, that is," finished Slatan in his almost apologetic voice, having been forced to remind Krod of that slight detail.

"Here! Here, keep the change!" said Krod, as he pulled out his wallet and handed Slatan most of the bills within without looking at their denomination.

"Thank you. But this is much more than the asking price," said Slatan, with a trace of a smile.

"I don't want it! Keep it all! Just get out of the way and let me up the ladder!" said Krod, pushing his way past Slatan, holding the bill of sale tightly in his hand. This was his plane now. As though in a trance, he hurried up the ladder and entered the most plush, executive aircraft ever built.

Krod needed no introduction to his new airplane. He had read books and studied manuals concerning the Executive Blue Star ever since its introduction. He knew its instruments by heart and he knew how to fly it. What Krod wanted now was to get his new plane in the air.

Krod climbed into the pilot's seat. It was all familiar as sitting in his living room chair. Automatically his hands passed over the switches to start the powerful jets, touching them in sequence. In his mind he was now headed down the runway at one hundred knots. Now the wheel was being pulled back slightly. Then the wheel gear came up. Now to settle back and enjoy the cruise. Yes, he could do it. Krod knew how to fly his Executive Blue Star, and he was going to do it right now!

The nose of the Executive Blue Star had been pointed away from the warehouse or Krod would have seen what was happening outside and would have quickly hidden his new, pearl white car, then he would have returned for his new jet and parked it out of sight of the unruly crowd which was driving itself into a frenzy as they sought to buy everything in sight. The swirling mass of shouting people was arriving by the hundreds every minute. There was no longer parking anywhere near the street by the huge store. Were it not for the shut gates leading into the airport itself, cars would have been jammed about Krod and Slatan. As it was, people could no longer leave the building once they arrived. Anxious shoppers were abandoning their cars as near the store as possible, then forming part of a stream of humanity that continually pushed its way inward. The advertising Slatan had done was very effective indeed.

The inside of the store was a nightmare. Those who had any article they wished to pay for might find it snatched out of their hands or arms by another who was determined to get a bargain. Clothes were being torn apart, goods smashed and objects thrown about. All this caused tempers to flare, so fights started and people were knocked about, shoved down and trampled on. For those who wanted to buy what they were able to keep there was no sales person to take their money, and there was no way out for those wishing to escape the insanity about them, and the press grew tighter and tighter. Many of those seeking to force their way in were looking to buy the Executive Blue Star which was being advertised on radio and television for the price of just seventy-five dollars to the first one there.

This pandemonium had been building during the time Krod had been mentally flying his new aircraft, while Slatan stood just behind him, smiling at unknown humor he seemed inclined not to share. He was still there when Krod rose up from his seat and started toward the aft part of the plane to shut the door.

"I'm going to take it up," said Krod, motioning to Slatan with his hand that it was time for him to leave.

"Fine, replied Slatan, "I'm sure you shall enjoy your new aircraft. I've been trying to think of some minor malfunction I was told about, but it escapes me at the moment. I'm sure you shall discover what it is. It can't be very important, for the plane was flown here just yesterday."

"I know how out check the systems," replied Krod with assurance as He began walking toward the rear of the aircraft, Slatan trotting close behind. Stepping to the entrance of the door Krod could see a throng of people at the back entrance of the hangar from where he had just recently come. Slatan, watching the mob mill about, seemed not to care about their unruly tempers as they shouted and fought with one another in their effort to get out the back door so they could see what was for sale outside. They had spotted Krod's new car and were surrounding it. To Krod's amazement, people were even getting inside - inside his new car!

"Is this the plane for seventy five dollars?" demanded one of the men who left the car when the mass of shouting people had grown so large it was obvious no one was going to get it in any condition other than wrecked. He was being followed by a thin stream of others. They reminded Krod of a colony of ants milling about, seeking their prey.

"It's mine," said Krod. "I just bought it from Mr. Slatan here." It was at this point that the smile disappeared from Slatan's face and a scowl appeared. He did not like to have his acts ascribed to himself in public.

"I suppose that car is yours too," responded the same man in his belligerent manner as others moved in close to hear the conversation.

"It's mine!" said Krod, shouting at those surrounding his car, and at the man who stood below looking upward at Slatan and himself. He winced as he recalled he had left his three pair of velvet like trousers in the car. Then he remembered that he had left the car title inside also, and the keys were in the ignition. Things were happening about him he did not understand nor like. Something was terribly wrong. People were tearing at each other to get in his car. He saw a slim woman running away from the crowd with all three pairs of his trousers. She was being chased by others!

As he watched, the back window of his once beautiful car smashed outward, while people all about were trying to establish some form of priority so they could claim ownership of it. A man emerged out the rear window with the title held high over his head as though he had just won a prize. He was immediately hit in the head by a large, fat lady who clubbed him with her heavy purse. She pulled him forward off the trunk of the car onto the pavement and fell with all her weight on his spine with her knee. Snatching the title out of his hand, she climbed on the trunk of the car and began forcing her way into the window from which the man had just emerged.

A back and forth rocking motion of his airplane brought Krod out of his stupor. He realized there was a mass of people moving about his airplane, many were now looking up and shouting at himself and Slatan. Men were fighting as to who was going to pay seventy five dollars for his aircraft! These people didn't seem to understand that he wanted both his car and airplane. He watched as a man reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of large denomination bills, holding them high for Slatan to see, while he screamed something indistinguishable above the rising tumult about himself. The man was hit hard in the stomach by a well directed elbow and his money scattered through the air while he collapsed into the milling throng. The world about Krod had become something insane.

It was even more startling to Krod when he felt Slatan try and push him out the door. Were it not that he had a tight hold on the hand grip, Krod would have been shoved headlong out the door. As it was he continued his body motion outward with Slatan still gripping his left arm, while he hung on with all his might with his right hand to the hand grip. Slatan suddenly swung out in midair, falling out the door of the aircraft with no place to go but down. He vanished instantly in the swirling sea of people as though swallowed up by an unseen vortex.

Krod snarled at those looking up at him. They would not get his new airplane. It belonged to him and he was going to keep it. He slammed the large door shut and locked it. He could no longer hear the din around his aircraft. It was amazing how silent things had suddenly become. The only evidence as to what was happening outside was the continual rocking of his airplane as people fought about it, seeking to establish their right of ownership from scores of others who forcefully sought to do the same. Running to the cockpit, he fell into the pilot's seat and began starting the two powerful jet engines. Almost immediately the two engines sang their duet to energy, as their hot blast drove people away from the powerful machine newly come to life.

With both engines running full throttle, Krod let off the brakes momentarily and then reapplied them. He did this time after time, forcing the heavy aircraft ahead further and further, faster and faster each time as he did so. Krod wanted the people in front of the tires to have a chance to get out of the way. It wasn't that he cared for them, but he knew if people were to fall down and become packed in front of his aircraft their bodies would act as wedges under his airplanes tires, and from a starting position he might not be able to roll over them.

His plan worked. As his engines sang their forceful song of persuasive power people hurried to get out of the way. The Executive Blue Star began picking up speed, its resolute mass clearing a way for him. Faster and faster he was going, and then all the people were gone. If they did get in his way now he could run right over them.

As he swung the aircraft around so it was pointing toward the runway, he saw his once beautiful car with people still milling about it, and it appeared as though the fat lady had actually made it to the driver's seat! Krod could see many people were yet interested in his airplane, for they were pointing in his direction. He cared nothing for them or about the car now. The car was a wreck - let them have it. He had his Executive Blue Star. He was going to leave this crazy place and land in some safe spot where he could collect his thoughts.

Outward he raced toward the landing strip, his mind gaining composure as he sped along. Stopping as he came to the runway, so he could turn his aircraft onto it, he glanced out the window to his right, and to his amazement saw his pearl white car coming directly toward him. It appeared as though they were going to try and stop him from taking off!

Wheeling the heavy plane onto the runway, Krod shoved both throttles all the way forward. He watched the car make adjustment in order to try and intercept him. Krod leaned forward in his seat as though the momentum of his body might be added to that of the thrust of the roaring jets. His speed was increasing quickly as the two hissing infernos mocked the white car whose speed was quickly decreasing relative to his own. The air speed indicator had quickly risen to one hundred twenty knots. Krod knew he was safe. He no longer had to pay attention to the car and air speed indicator at the same time, so he focused all his attention on what he was doing, and on the runway.

Just ahead he saw a brown ribbon cut clear across it. It was a ditch of some sort, and there was no possibility of stopping for it now, but he didn't have to. Krod pulled gently back on the wheel and the Executive Blue star took to its natural element. He could feel the ground vibrations cease as his aircraft became airborne. Hitting the "wheels up" lever, he could feel greater forward thrust as the air resistance decreased due to their being tucked away.

The possibilities stretching out before him now were limitless. What luxury the Executive Blue Star would bring to his life. He was master of events now, and as master he would sweep over the howling mass below and show them who had conquered. They had gotten his new trousers and car, but he would have the last laugh. He would skim over the top of the old airport hangar with his engines going fill blast.

Beginning a right hand turn at three thousand feet, Krod started a steep descent toward the airfield. Below he could see the clogged freeway near Slatan's store looking much like a huge, winding parking lot. He could make out a rising line of black smoke coming from a dot inside the brown ditch which traversed the airport runway, and he knew it was his pearl white Cadillac that had crashed into it.

"Serves 'em right," he muttered to himself as he completed his turn, still on his angle of descent. He was headed right for the mass of tightly packed, multi-colored dots below. They would soon know...

Leveling out at one hundred feet above the ground, traveling at four hundred fifty knots directly toward Slatan's store, the twin jets of the Executive Blue Star whispered their last notes. Krod was flying a dead ship. The minor malfunction Slatan had mentioned, but which he had failed to remember, was the fuel gages did not work. They always registered full, even when the tanks were empty - as they were now. In just a few seconds the Executive Blue Star was going to be shared among them all.



Consider: What things constitute that which is worth fighting and dying for? Is it object or principle? Then, whose?

posted by Bones of Time @ 3:07 PM