The DX Chronicles (Book 1): Not Against Flesh and Blood Page 6

  It took one more trip to gather three open boxes of junk foods, homemade baked goods, and containers filled with other late night snacks. As they walked to the front entrance, with the door propped ajar by one of the dorm’s large, bistre-brown trash cans, Erik led with two boxes in his arms that partly obscured his view, and Bryen followed with a larger box ruffling with potato chip varieties. A chirp signaled David’s following as he locked his vehicle’s doors and crossed the street with a box under his right arm and his plastic bag under his left. As Erik and then Bryen entered the dorm, David glanced to his right, to one of several green dumpsters lining the left side of the road, and pitched the plastic bag to the metal container. Continuing on, he focused on his dorm as the bag’s crash somewhere near the dumpster’s center reverberated along its walls. As he came to the double-doors, he stopped and looked behind his shoulders and, as he stepped in, he faced forward, being redirected to the back entrance some fifty yards down the hall, where an individual stepped through the opening doorway with a duffle bag in one hand and a black book-bag in the other.

  David squinted as he recognized the shuffling posture of the young man dressed in a white and black long-sleeved tee shirt, faded blue jeans that hugged his waist, and an all-black hat. David inhaled to speak, but the other interjected:

  “What’s up, Piekarsky!?”

  “Shawn!” David called as he came to his door, “nothing much, dude; how was your break?”

  “Oh”, Shawn replied as he stopped thirty feet off, alongside of Room 107, “it was pretty good; I’ll tell you about it once I finish getting my stuff from my car. Are you the only one in your room who’s back? I know B-money had that intensive.”

  “Which…would mean that I’m probably not the only one here”, David remarked as he stopped alongside of his room.

  “Well, who knows, he could’ve gone home for a day”, Shawn suggested.

  “Uh…no, a six-hour drive for someone who even had a car wouldn’t make sense”, David replied as he motioned his right leg into his room.

  “Well, it is B-money”, Shawn replied as he inserted his keys into the keyhole.

  “That’s true”, David replied with a slight tilt of his head as he retracted his leg and motioned it through the entrance.

  “The door’s open”, Bryen groaned from within Room 111.

  “What did he say?” Shawn asked.

  “He said ‘the door’s open’”, David replied.

  “His door’s open”, Shawn retorted as he stepped back.

  “Oh, by the way, Klinge’s here”, David called.

  “Oh, you don’t say”, Shawn humphed as he unlocked his door, pushed it in, and entered a room lit by a fluorescent light that painted the brown and white walls with a stale glow. “‘Sup, Nate?” Shawn greeted to the individual across from him who focused on the forty-inch flat screen television atop the five-tier dresser and beaming the first-person shooter from the adjacent Xbox.

  “Hey”, Nate, a clean-shaven, 5'8" man with his running sneakers on, and dressed in a black tee shirt and silver-grey running shorts, replied, his eyes never leaving the screen as his fingers smacked the controller in a burst of clicks, turns, and presses. He and Shawn were about the same height, with Nate, perhaps, an inch taller; had the same pale complexion, while Shawn’s face and parts of his arms were covered in freckles, and had nearly identical hair color, a brunette coloration dark enough to be mistaken for black; however, Nate’s hair, which sat as a bush of relaxed curls above his eyes, bore several silver follicles, interwoven in sporadic locations and visible enough to gain notice.

  While Nate’s eyes were a medium-dark brown, Shawn’s were lighter, drawing closer towards a raw umber; Shawn’s face was of a more ovular shape, with his visage levelling out atop the shortened patch of his hair, while Nate’s face was angular, his jaw line and the corners of his head turning in dull points. Nate bore an athletic physiognomy, his calves widened and narrowing as they neared his feet, his torso bulging with enough muscle to explain the majority of his one-hundred-and-sixty-pound weight, and his arms, though having little toning, bearing obvious strength. Shawn, though of a sturdier build and wider frame, bore a more evenly distributed musculature which far surpassed Nate’s in mass.

  “How was your break?” Shawn asked as he dropped his belongings beside the desk which sat under the loft along the back wall.

  “It was okay”, Nate replied, his eyes, though widened as they scanned the television, appearing dulled.

  “Did you get to go home, and see your family, and all that?” Shawn asked as he brushed the sides of his pants and turned to Nate.

  “For a little bit; then I came back here and worked”, Nate replied.

  “Okay, I gotcha”, Shawn replied as he adjusted his hat, “at least you got some work in before the semester so you can save up for next year”, Shawn remarked with a grin.

  “I hate my job”, Nate muttered.

  “Hey, it’s a job; we’re pretty much in a recession, so I’d take it.”

  “I doubt that”, Nate coughed as he returned the controller to the top of the wardrobe, and turned off the television. “Is anyone here?”

  “Oh, we’ll I’m glad you asked”, Shawn replied. “Piekarsky, B-money, and Garcia are all here.”

  “I was pretty sure B-money was here for his intensive. He wasn’t responding to my texts though.”

  “Well, go and make him feel guilty; I’ve got to talk to Piekarsky about something.” Shawn bustled out of the room.

  Nate followed, squeezing Room 107’s doorknob to ensure that it was unlocked, before slamming the door and walking down the hall. He then lifted his arms to stretch them, but seized as his right arm thrust down and grimaced as his visage bloated with cherry-red. He stopped, motioning his left for the top of his right shoulder and tapping it, and, in response, he cringed again, his right fingers twitching while he spread his legs to keep from collapse. “I think he’s coming over to yell at B-money”, echoed from Room 111 and directed Nate to rear up, lower his arms, and squeeze his fists. His right arm, though partly numb, hung firm by his side as he continued to the open door.

  “…So of course the only time I’m home, none of my friends are around”, Shawn continued as he stood across from Bryen’s desk, “all in the freakin’ Coastguard, man”, he finished as he flung his arms, with David standing along the corner of his own desk and nodding without remittance. “So you said you got to work?” Shawn asked.

  “Yeah, yeah”, David replied as he crossed his arms, “a few hours here and there. It’ll definitely help me out when I go buy books.”

  “Oh yeah, of course; and it’ll also curb the cost of the lady-friend when you take her out to dinner”, Shawn remarked with a grin as he let his hands hang from his pockets.

  “True; true”, David replied before glancing to the door. “Can I help you, Klinge?” he asked as Nate entered, directing Bryen and Erik to turn from their laptops.

  “I don’t know”, Nate replied, “can you?”

  “Can’t I!?” David yelped. “I don’t need your negativity on my first day back!”

  “Then look at freakin’ pictures of unicorns and kittens or something, buddy! I’m not in charge of your thought life!” Nate proclaimed. “Anyway_”

  “I’m not in charge of your face!” David interjected with a point.

  “Whoa, buddy, rude!” Nate retorted before shaking his head and turning to Bryen. “B-money, did you not get my texts?”

  “Intensive”, Bryen replied, his headphones in his ears and his eyes on his screen.

  “Wait, how come you can hear him when you have headphones in, but you can’t hear me!?” David asked with a point.

  “Maybe he just doesn’t want to listen to you”, Shawn suggested as he smirked at Bryen.

  “And you couldn’t respond to my texts?” Nate inquired.

  “It was intense”, Bryen replied as he clicked his mouse and yawned.

  “Ah, intensive…intense…funny”, Nat
e replied with a shrug.

  “You’re intense”, Shawn interjected as he tried to make eye contact with Bryen, while Erik, David, and Nate glared at him. “Oh!” Shawn blasted as he spun to David, “speaking of intense! You head back along 81, right?”

  “…Yeah”, David replied while fisting his hands.

  “Did you hear about that bridge in Harrisburg!?” Shawn exclaimed. “My parents were talking about it before I left; almost kept me from driving down because they were afraid I would get struck by a meteor or something!”

  “Wait, meteor, what?” Nate coughed as both Bryen and Erik pulled out their headphones and turned to Shawn.

  “You guys didn’t hear?” Shawn asked as he looked around and then back to David.

  “No, I was in the middle of an intensive”, Bryen remarked, “an intensive inside of the ‘Igneous Bubble’. The only news I see on a regular basis pertains to all of the money that’s being donated.”

  “Working”, Nate replied.

  “I heard a bridge collapsed, but meteors? Are you sure?” Erik asked.

  “Dude, it was confirmed on the news by an official statement! A bunch of government agencies said that a freak meteor shower struck Harrisburg and then two more meteors struck one of the local bridges (I didn’t get the name). They have satellites on high alert in case there are more coming. Dude, I tell you, it’s like the end of the world.” Shawn turned to David. “Isn’t that how you get back?”

  “Yeah”, David replied. He scanned the floor as he leaned against his desk. “Truth is, I was…right ahead of it.”

  “Oh shoot!” Shawn exclaimed with eyes widened. “So if you had been held back by what? A few minutes? If you had been held back by a few minutes, you might not be here?”

  “Yeah…as negative as that sounds, Shawn…you’re right. I ended up having to stay at a hotel last night because I was rattled by the whole experience. It was pretty scary.” David looked up. “Only my family knows that I was there. I’m going to tell Clare later in the semester so she’s not worried before classes begin, but if you guys could keep it secret, I’d prefer not to talk about it too much. Just thinking about the number of people that died_”

  “No, we understand. I figured, if something like that happened to one of us, you’d do the same”, Shawn interrupted.

  “I really appreciate it”, David replied. “What I need to do is be thankful that I’m alive and not worry about how close I was to dying. I_”

  “That’s right, bud; you were one of the lucky ones”, Shawn interjected.

  “I’m not finished!” David barked. “I’m going to take this semester down hard. I’ll use the bridge as a reminder that every day is precious; so who’s up for CeCe’s tonight?”

  “Huh!?” Nate grunted.

  “What is it, Klinge?” David asked. “Since when do you hate CeCe’s?”

  “You just went on a spiel about making every day precious. Why not go to a more expensive restaurant like Olive Vineyard or something?”

  “Because I’m not rich! Now, are you going to CeCe’s or not!?” David growled.

  “I’ll freakin’ go to CeCe’s!” Nate blared.

  “Not with that attitude you’re not!” David bellowed.

  “Huh!?” Nate coughed as he swung his arms, with the top of his right twitching for a moment.

  “Shut up, Klinge!” David exclaimed. “We’ll leave at, like, five-ish, and we’ll invite anyone else from ‘the group’, who’s back.”

  “Turrisi might be back by then”, Erik remarked as he examined his rectangular BlackBerry.

  “Good; and that’s just enough time for certain people to get their acts together!” David remarked as he glanced to Nate.

  “What’s that supposed to mean!?” Nate asked as he stepped forward.

  ***

  For the next hour, David unpacked and loaded his clothes into his wardrobe, while Erik and Bryen remained at their computers, and while Shawn talked and gained enough minimal responses to continue talking. Nate had walked out thirty minutes after to return to his room. At the end of that hour, Shawn paused his mostly one-sided conversation at the sound of opening doors and then the blasting of the words “D-X, we have arrived!”

  Shawn stepped out and looked down the hall to see two individuals. The one on the left was about 6'2" without measuring the inch of buzz-cut, brown hair on his head, and bore the general and unrefined build of a high school fullback. The other beside him was shorter and slimmer, with his height and weight bearing a similitude to Bryen’s physiognomy, but, while Bryen’s arms and legs were long in comparison to his torso, that individual bore a more proportional frame, and long, straight, light brown hair that curved along the center of his forehead.

  “Is that Darren and Bryan Brown I see?” Shawn blasted down the hall as he placed his arms on his hips.

  “How are you, Mr. Albert?” the shorter and more slender man inquired as he carried a book-bag on his back and a duffle bag in each hand, his voice drenched in an accent that neared the density of a Tennessee native.

  “Well, Mr. Brown, I’m glad you asked. I’m doin’ pretty well”, Shawn replied, “and how about you?”

  “I’m doin’ just fine; glad to be back but not ready for classes”, Bryan Brown replied as he dropped his bags, reached into his pockets, and pulled out the red lanyard holding his keys. “How was your break, sir?”

  “Oh, it was pretty enjoyable, but let me tell you_”

  “No greeting for your roommate!?” the taller individual inquired as he dropped his luggage and lifted his arms.

  “Darren, you shush; I was getting to you next!” Shawn declared.

  “Fine, jerk”, Darren muttered as he dragged his duffle bag into Room 107.

  “So, anyway, before I was rudely interrupted”, Shawn began, “did you two drive back together or something? Because last I checked, you’re on opposite ends of Virginia.”

  “We timed it so we would both arrive simultaneously. I left about thirty minutes earlier than he did, and we filled each other in”, Bryan Brown explained as he stopped at Room 105.

  “Okay, I gotcha”, Shawn replied, “But hey, I’m going to set up my computer. Piekarsky and ‘the group’ want to head to CeCe’s.”

  “I’m down; sure”, Bryan Brown replied as he opened his door, “text me when y’all are about to leave.”

  “Will do”, Shawn replied. Shawn started for Room 107, but stopped as he picked up the chuckling exclamations and momentary yelps of Darren and Nate. The words ‘let me get next game’ passed through his ears and caused him to about-face and walk back into Room 111, where he found David facing his laptop. “Darren and Bryan Brown are here.”

  “Yep, we heard”, Erik replied as he sat cross-legged in his chair.

  “I asked them about how their break was going”, Shawn began as he closed the door about halfway.

  “Yep, we heard”, David repeated as he lifted his phone, wrote a text, and then looked to his laptop.

  “I invited them to CeCe’s; Bryan said he was down, and I’m assuming Darren_”

  “Shawn”, David began as he angled about, “is there something wrong?”

  “No, why?” Shawn asked.

  “Do you not want to go into your room?” David asked, “Because we also heard you say that you were going to get on your computer.”

  Shawn sighed, looked over his shoulder, and slammed the door. “So many freakin’ video games!” he wailed. “It’s like they don’t have classes!”

  “Well, technically, they don’t have classes yet”, Bryen remarked as he stared at his computer.

  “B-money!” Shawn howled, “Don’t you question my logic!”

  “You could always tell them to go to someone else’s room. It is your TV”, David noted.

  “Yeah but then they’ll complain, and I really don’t want to go through having to listen to them yell. I’ll just run in, grab my computer, and run back.” Shawn looked to the front-left of the bunk bed, where a bean bag striped wi
th green and yellow sat along the floor. “I’ll sit in your Packers bean bag, and I won’t bother you guys; I promise.”

  “Fine”, David replied, “but if you’re not quiet, I’ll tackle you.”

  “I’m well aware”, Shawn replied as he opened the door. “Don’t you worry; it’ll be like I’m not even here”, he finished as he looked back, nodded, faced forward, and stopped. “Oh shoot, what’s up, Turrisi?” he called as he stepped back and the three roommates looked up.

  Sauntering into the room in a chocolate-brown leather jacket with faded edges along its sleeves and a blue baseball hat with a red ‘B’ on its center was an individual between 5'6" and 5'7". He bore something of an athletic build, and his shoulders stretched to a noticeable width as he kept his arms still. He looked with hazelnut eyes, a fair complexion, and a layer of five o’clock shadow along the bottom of his rectangular face that mimicked the coloration of the even and short, dark-brown hair atop his head.

  “Nothing much”, Turrisi replied, his words interspersed with clapping chomps as he chewed a piece of gum and stepped. “What up B-money; how was the intensive? Let me guess”, he grinned as Bryen removed his headphones, “intense?”

  “That’s starting to get old”, David muttered. “What up, Davey? How was the break? I see you worked out a little bit”, David noted as he stood, walked over, and exchanged a rigid handshake.

  “Yeah, I’m getting myself back in shape because I want to start applying for police jobs before senior year”, Turrisi replied. “That reminds me: if you’d be able to give me some workout tips, it would help me a lot. I don’t want to overwork myself and hurt something.”

  “Yeah, Dave, of course; I’m your guy_”

  “Your eventual goal is to head to the FBI, right?” Shawn interjected, his arms crossed, and his mind not catching David glaring at him.

  “Yeah; I figure, if I start out at a state or city police job, and get a couple years’ worth of experience, I’ll apply from there.”

  “That’s cool”, Shawn replied.

  “Yeah, so, Turrisi”, Erik called while removing his headphones and grabbing his phone, “Do you have any more stories from your uncle?”