2018-01-18 0337

I can tell you this is fucking bullshit.   I’m tired of the dreams.  The nightmares.  Not sleeping.  I finally went and saw Downs a couple months ago, since Henri wouldn’t give me her head doctor’s name.  Course, that’s half a lie covered in secrecy since he only knows me at Smith, the head of security.  Just like everyone else at the Center, we are all supposed to get “scanned,” for any potential invasion or control by the victims of the Upsurge, whatever stupid name they are labeling them with now.

Course, have to handwrite this BS since Titan is such a fucking snoop and has Apex recording everything.  Guess I’ll burn this bullshit before everyone gets up for training anyway.  Not like Shawna’s going to be up early.

Still, guess I can’t break the habit of following orders. So, describe what fucking horrific memory woke me up this time.

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We’d been in Mazatlan for a little over 2 months. Enough to find some meaningless yakka, enough to pay for the booze ‘n’ a shitty apartment in the old town. There was plenty of “construction” teams ‘n’ fishing charters for the slutty American tourists ‘n’ ex-pats down here who liked someone who spoke pommi with an accent other than Hispanic. Fucking twats the lot of them, don’t want a Hispanic accent in Mexico.

Long enough to have a routine. Yakka construction on the weekdays, be the front bloke, pash coit for the expats. Go out on one of half dozen charters on the weekends to do the same for the jackasses just here for the few days. spend most of the night drinking or eating, or more, down the street in El Chulijo’s. My Spanish started rusty, ‘n’ with a Salvadoran accent, at first. That wasn’t the best but they got used to me, I ate what they couldn’t sell ‘n’ drank shitty booze all night long, ‘n’ if anyone got out of hand with the staff, well, i made sure it didn’t get too far gone. Only the grotty Federales came by here anyway. It was a shitty life but one I deserved.

Bryce did the construction then fucked off on the weekend for all I know. As long as he didn’t get into strife, he flirted with the teenagers whose parents were fucking off on the charters or the golf course or whatever. I should’ve known he couldn’t keep it in his duds. Well, that’s not fair. I just wanted him to keep them away from the flat.

So that night, or maybe morning, I should probably have known something was up when I walked up the rotting staircase. I suppose he thought quiet whispers were going to hide from me, but I could smell them better than I could hear them anyway. Would have been better off if he’d just been paying for it like I thought at first. I slammed the door to make sure they could hear me, then crashed onto the stained couch. They were in the shagging single bedroom. I didn’t really give a flying root then, I mean who really cared as long as it wasn’t going to bring some dill cop down on us. Boy, was I wrong but who’d a believed the flickin’ truth. Flipped the idiot-box on. Not much on but Spanish ESPN. Didn’t matter, I don’t like quiet anymore. Lit a cancer-stick, opened another bottle of tequila, ‘n’ did a line. Waited five minutes, ‘n’ repeat. Tried not to listen to the fact that jack-all was happening in the room next door other than whispers. Bryce, ‘n’ one unknown Aussie female based on what I could hear, and I hear almost ever’thing now. Which should have been my fucking clue, but i was bushed after not sleeping for six months. Going through the motions.

I glanced up blearily when Bryce finally came out. What he actually said is foggy anymore, because when she walked through the door, I froze. Then I started concentrating as Bryce finished introducing my next nightmare. I think he said something like Georganne, which I knew was crap.

She smiled, with a barely hidden layer of terror, probably what she thought was seductive, ‘n’ I knew she was a prostitute, but I also could tell she wasn’t more than seventeen, ‘n’ I was ready to kill someone, anyone.

In the dreams I get up from the couch real slow, walk towards the chick, stepping around her, before stopping ‘n’ standing in the short hallway that lead to the entry. Then I turned, looking at her, ‘n’ said, “Nice to finally meet you, Karen.”  She paled to a sheen like death, before crumpling into my arms in tears.