Take Away the Saints

Clean Break : Part 3 || Nate D. Burleigh

Incinerate fluid is quite effective when I burn my clothes in the age-old fireplace. There's only one reason my feet aren't burnt to a crisp, my boots are made with P4. That shit ain't cheap. They don't burn in the fire but the blood evidence on them is erased. They aren't even warm to the touch. These are the only buildings I could find with petrified wood floors. Heat seeps through tiny cracks where I haven't put the very expensive fireproof sheet metal.

Bullet holes in the belt of my extra set of fatigues remind me I'm not invulnerable. Besides wrong sized pants, my arms feel bigger in the large black tank top. This is my last OO-RAH. Maybe I should burn the place but can't bring myself to do it, not yet.

AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" echoes through my brain. I pinch my right earlobe.

"Neural net on. It's Izzy, sir. Shall I tell her you're busy." She's got a beautiful accent. Since the wars, everything is British.

"Nah. Put her through. Hey, Iz."

"Why can't I see you. Either you're in the outskirts again or you turned off your video feed."

Izzy sounds pissed, almost disturbed.

"Yeah. Just finished up some business in the outskirts. I should be back in about an hour."

"Good, because we have to talk."

"Oh ... really." There's an empty table in the back of the room.

Her hide will look gorgeous there. I've been eager to try and skin someone alive.

"Chess? Chess?"

"Neural net closed."

Sweet dreams, British lady voice.

Ass roasting wasn't part of the itinerary. Flies cover the ceiling. They press down like a blanket of silt. The place would burn if I dowsed it but it's time to gather my next ex. Sounds like she's done. Maybe this will always happen? And maybe I'll have an abundance of anniversaries to come? I leave the place intact. It's in my pseudo name, untraceable.

A quiet thump occurs behind me. My first thought is more of Evelyn's entrails or other soft tissue organs have slid to the ground. The truth confuses me. One of Brelan's eyes wobbles on the floor.

Must've bumped the table on my way out.

Got the ball rolling. I chuckle.

Her retina lays still on the dust covered wood. I check the other.

Didn't I place it looking forward? Somehow, probably with the bump of the table, a swivel took place. Now, the lonesome oculi gazes at its sister's lifeless body.

Plans have changed. I'm excited for Izzy to meet the others.

When I go to pick up Brelan's right eye, the left one on the table in front of me moves. Centimeter by centimeter the eye turns. I stumble back. The horrific gaze falls on me. My ass hits the ground with legs splayed open. The eye on the ground rolls between my legs.

Jackhammers go off in my chest. I scramble to my feet.

"You're just an eye!"

My foot flies forward. "Fuck you, Brelan." Her eye explodes into a vitreous goo.

The other is frantic. It twitches from side-to-side. I grab a small shovel next to the brick fireplace. Why waste ammo? A shockwave shoots up my arms as I repeatedly smash the orb into nonexistence.

"Guess Izzy won't have the pleasure of making your acquaintance?" I spit on the mush.

Sweat pours from my brow and my breaths come in quick, deep, gulps.