A Savage Life

We enter the camp with all eyes on us-mainly Damien and I. I could feel some of them looking at me with lustful longing, as if I was their Eros, and others that were drooling at me like my Aunt Carol does at the turkey during Thanksgiving. I sincerely hope I’m not about to get into a fight. My adrenaline and gut could sense it happening and I hoped nobody here is picking up on my vibes. I gulp. Humans are amazing, but there’s only one of Damien, Readoldd, and me and possibly a thousand of everyone else.

“So where are we going exactly?” I ask Readoldd.

“To a bar.” he replies, unsure of what he said..

“What’s a bar?” Sasha asks innocently.

We three men look between each other with Damien’s eyes lost in incompetent, Readoldd’s asking the same question, and I the only one who really knew. Readoldd puts down Sasha and pulls me to the side, leaving Damien, the incompetent one, to watch her.

“What is a bar?” Readoldd asks.

“A place where alcohol is served.” I tell him.

“What is alcohol?” Readoldd adds.

“A drug.” I say.

“What is a drug?” Readoldd asks.

And so I answer him, and then promptly remind him why we’re here.

“Oh, right.” he says.

And we continue towards the bar- which looked a bit futuristic on my part, as if somebody updated it twenty years or so, but not too far, with an open sign and glass double doors. There was even a poster that said, “All weapons, smartphones, or plans for abduction or implantation prohibited. Disobey at your own risk.” And then I wonder if a lot of people visit, including aliens. And what’s a smartphone? It might be a device these people have. Whatever. It’s probably too complicated to figure out anyways.

I look up at the sign to see if we had made it to the bar and yep, we had made it but the name. The name. Of all things, this place was called, drum roll please, “The Chain and Whip.” Oh joy, another delightful name, I suppose the owner lives on Torture Avenue, right next to Agony Street. And maybe his name’s Butch Knucklecruncher and his favorite pastime is to rip people’s heads off and eat their bones. I just can’t wait to throw myself into another situation that could endanger my life. And that feeling is killing me.

All four of us step through the doors, and immediately, the smell of cigarettes, booze, regret, and drunken anger could be smelt. Many booths littered the area, as did trash. Every booth was filled, and people glared and growled at us as we walked by them and made our way to the serving bar where a bald, slightly stocky man with broad shoulders was pouring several rowdy people a drink of liquor.

“Oh well, look who else decided to come to the bar.” snorted a clean shaven man with dark hair and a chiseled face.

Oh great, an enemy and I’ve just got here.

“Mr. Torma,” says the bartender. “What do you think you’re doing scaring away refugees?”

“Just keeping count, sir.” Mr. Torma replies snidely.

“Well stop.” snarls the bartender.

“Will do, your majesty.” Mr. Torma growls.

“Ignore him and come closer.” calls out the bartender.

We obey him and sit at the bar. I sit in front of the man, grabbing a good look at his eyes. He looks us all up and down, as if he’s layering his thoughts on who we are.

“I’ll be right back.” he says before he disappears into a kitchen and brings out a hamburger for me, a fried cod for Damien, a butchered leg of an unknown animal still dripping with blood for Sasha, and what looks to be a yellow, greenish-glowing soup filled with unknown chunks of who knows what for Readoldd. The food smelled appetizing, and I let go of all instinct and dug into my meal. The bartender stood in front of me and stared into my eyes with a welcoming grin.

“Yes?” I say warily as I look at him.

“Eat first, we’ll talk later.” the man replies to me.

And I do eat, and quickly. I inhaled the last of my water, and say, “So what did you want to tell me?”

“For one thing, it would be rude if I don’t introduce myself,” he says as if he was a naughty child, his brown eyes eying me up and down. “My name is Augustus Twarne.”

“Josh Asbury.” I say, holding out my hand to allow him to shake it, if they still do this in the future.

And immediately, the whole bar stops. Everybody stands out of their booths and step away from me, even Readoldd and Damien. Augustus just looks at me and sighs, “It’s obvious you’re not from around here.”

Wow, where did he get that from? The handshake, or the whole crowd of people cowering against the walls like I’ve got a gun?

“What did I do now?” I groan.

“Do a well known intergalactic threat.” Augustus replies.

I just look at him.

“Josh, friend, I can tell you’re new here, and believe me, I’ve had my fair share of weird,” he tells me. “And everyone here is an alien, save for me, you, you friend who doesn’t know who he is, and Mr. Torma over there. Please note that no two aliens hail from the same galaxy. I can only assume you’re a time traveler, from another dimension, or a time traveler from another dimension.”

And now I really am surrounded by aliens. Awesome.

“Um.... I’m not sure what I am....” I answer. And yes I AM unsure what I am at this point.

“That’s a new one,” Augustus noted curiously. “So, tell me why you decided to come to my camp?”

“Uh... ask Readoldd.” I say.

Augustus looks around and realizes that the throng is still held up against the wall like it was a shakedown.

“And I forget about all of them!” Augustus bemoans to himself.

He stands up and yells in about twenty-thirty tongues and then pulls his attention back to me. My group returns to my side.

“Aliens can be a touchy bunch.” Augustus whistles.

I don’t ever recall Readoldd being touchy. Though, for a guy who can do a quick search on a planet’s mythology, he sure asks a lot of questions.

“So, I’ll be back to you, as I take time to get to know all my aliens,” Augustus says, standing in front of Readoldd. “It’s how I take care of them. Hello, my name is Augustus Twarne of Earth. How about you, my friend?”

He pulls out a shot glass and fills it to the brim with whisky and vodka. Something I would be willing to try. But then ol’ me and my fat mouth allows my thoughts to spill out into the open. I swear I’m getting tape and taping my mouth shut the next time I get the urge to ask prying questions.

“Then why would you name a refugee camp and enslavement camp?” I ask. Augustus blinks at me as if I’ve lost it, then replies, “Why not? A long, long, long time ago, refugees were treated worse than trash. At least at an enslavement camp somebody cared if an outbreak was taking out their workers. They still had a chance for home. A slim chance, but at least a chance, unlike refugees. Nobody really cares for them.”

Deep. And now I know why such a place would be called such a name, but of course, I always have an audience, as Mr. Torma points out:

“If you’re looking to be enslaved, just a few continents over there’s a camp called, “Small Arms, Big Hearts Welcoming Camp.”

“Julien Torma,” Augustus calls from over the bar table as he wipes it clean. “There’s no need in telling others where they may be enslaved.”

“Alright, Mr. Twarne,” Julien almost sneers. “I’ll be sure to keep any useful information low key.”

“Good.” Augustus glares.

Thank God for Augustus, as I’m about to swipe a glass bottle off of Augustus’s bar and break it over Julien’s neck.

“This galaxy would be The Milky Bar right?” Readoldd asks, bringing me back into the present, but I still kept an eye on Julien.

“No,” Augustus corrects. “The Milky Way.”

“So Mr. Lixocte, where are you from?” Augustus asks.

“Red Portal.” Readoldd explains.

“Red Portal eh,” Augustus admires. “Where is that near?”

“Near the Black Solar Warp galaxy, 200,000 lightyear units away from the nearest planetary inhabitations, 500,000 lightyears away from the closest human colony, and 2.5 years away from the planet Glaciga, right next to my home planet, Iciga.” And now I’m lost.

Augustus just nods and goes, “Can you tell me why you’re so far away from home?”

“I had technical difficulties and crashed here for my own safety,” Readoldd explains. “I’m expecting more of my people to appear and take me back home. I shall journey space another day.”

“So you’re a tourist?”

“What are tourists?” Readoldd questions.

“Someone who travels just to be amazed by the world around them,” Augustus explains before he turns his attention to me. “So, Josh, tell me about you?”

“Yeah Josh, please.” snorts Julien.

“Your name is Josh?” Damien states in wonder.

I ignore Damien, and muster up a few words of my own for Mr. Torma.

“Rumor is is from the history books, you never existed.” I point out.

“Oh I existed,” he tells me. “From an alternate dimension. Have you seen any other strange beings walking around recently?”

I now know for sure that not only do aliens and tie travel exists, but so does the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m just waiting to see the Tooth Fairy.” I tell him.

He chuckles and cheers, “Now there’s a man who believes!”

He rose out of his booth applauding. Apparently I made a new friend. Aren’t I Mr. Popular.

He smiles at me with teeth sharpened into inhuman angles and goes, “Now you know what it’s like to walk into the shoes of another, just be careful what other dimensioners and aliens you come across. I would hate to watch you be eaten by one of them. Though that would dry up the snoring around here.”

Well that was charming advise.

“Don’t worry Josh,” Augustus tells me. “I won’t let you be eaten. I have a special way of dealing with people who do that here, and later, I’ll have a talk with Julien about telling people that.” I shuddered at the thought of what Augustus does do to people that eat others, or should I say, aliens.

Augustus turns to me and then an idea hits him as his eyes light up before he slowly asks, “Did you come from a facility?”

I’ve learned by now that answering that question makes enemies pop out of thin air like a magic trick and try to arrest/kill me. Kind of like going into a bad city neighborhood and showing everyone your knife. I stay quiet.

“Don’t worry, you’re not going to be turned in,” Augustus assures me. “I don’t want the attention.”

“I’m still uncomfortable answering you though.” I say.

“And that lets me know who you are,” Augustus shouts out like he won a bingo game. “I know all about your kind. Always lost, always on the run. You poor people! I wish you luck! And if I were you, I’d keep walking, technology will ensure that you’re traced by the breaths you take, the steps you walk.”

And like it was scheduled, guess who walks into my life? Drum roll please, Tarold Greysing! Really, I shouldn’t be surprised by now. Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised if I saw a mythical creature really.

“Ah, there you are you naughty thing you.” Tarold tsks like I’m a bad little boy. He even shakes his finger, but Jesus be praised! He didn’t smile.

He steps toward me, and Augustus leaps from behind the counter and points a nice little pistol in Tarold’s direction. It’s as tiny as a pea shooter, with buttons that remind me of a remote. Sadly the aliens offered no help. Instead, half of them vanished, and the other half were either still trying to sneak away, or watch what would happen. Julien Torma was still in the room, drinking his bourbon.

Damien instinctively dives behind the bar with Sasha. Readoldd sits at the table and stares at Tarold, confused, but he also knows what’s about to happen,, and I saw it coming from a mile away and didn’t bolt the other way.

“I know why you’re here.” I say.

An applaud emitted from Tarold’s hands. He stepped closer to me. I couldn’t step back any farther unless I wanted to fall backwards over the bar.

“Good job Guest-”

“Guest,” Damien howls. “I don’t know you anymore! Who am I? Who am I?” And he disappears out of the door, with Sasha on the ground, crying, and we all glaring at him.

“A one of a kind friend you have there, Guest,” Tarold noted, his head cocked to the side in confusion. “One of a kind... But you know what you need to do.”

“I don’t believe you should be here.” Augustus steps up.

“Actually,” Tarold Greysing’s bottom lip pops as he open it. “As a servant of the government, I have every right to detonate this place and everyone in it on a whim. Now hand over the Guest, or face the dire consequences.”

“Just ignore him and he’ll go away!” Julien Torma spouts in.

Yeah, what great advice, if I was in fourth grade. I hope Mr. Torma realizes that I’m in a life or death situation, and am not my neighbor that was arrested for tax evasion who held the belief that ignoring things made them go away. But now realizing that I’m no longer in a fair fight, I pick up a shot glass behind me and break it across Tarold’s head-if it wasn’t hard plastic. Glass would have shattered in his eyes, blinding him for my getaway with Damien, Sasha, and Readoldd. Would have. Tarold’s grey eyes storm at me as he lunges and wraps his hands around my neck, strangling me.

“Should I assist?” Readoldd asks, seeing that I’m getting the air choked out of my lungs and awaiting my order that I can’t speak. And now I deem Readoldd as useless if I have to ask him to help me get my potential killer off my back!

I gasp and choke until Augustus slams his pistol into Tarold Greysing’s temple.

I slid down to the floor, grasping for air like a starved vampire for blood, but it wasn’t long before Tarold had recovered, and he pressed a button on his thigh and soldiers flew in from the solid roof like ghosts (literally), and many kicked in the walls like robots, which I don’t doubt are. I still feel the pain that one cyborg lady gave me after Sabine hurt her. I wonder if we can take them on, I barely survived one.

“Cyborgs!” Julien cried, and I watched him flip over the table to it’s side and his teeth elongate and his body prepare itself for battle.

Just about everyone in there cursed.

Sasha was screaming now, and Augusts grabbed her and ran, but not before tossing his gun in my hand, that Tarold quickly kicked out of my hands, and that was a sign of a commencing battle.