Backwards Compatibility

I started to write this story backwards. I haven't finished it.

Backwards Compatibility

August 10, 2009

Sam - Thats it. Just Sam.

I slam the door. Bullets splinter the wood as light escapes through. One manages its way through my shoulder, explodes through my back and embeds a piece of bone into the wall behind me. I collapse to the floor as two more bullets whizz by my head. The pain muffles the sound of my screams. The door opens and a hand grasping a .38 special peeps through. I kick the bottom of the door as hard as I can and the wrist doubles back and snaps. The gun falls to the floor and I desperately clamber to get it. The door slams open and greets my forehead with a loud smack. I fall back dazed but I manage to release two rounds before losing conscious.

I'm awakened by the sound of a snap. Fingers are being waved in my face. Seven, on one hand. Now six. "Five" I manage to stutter. The ambulance roars past the blur of traffic. "Whats your name?" a voice echoes. Identification is the least of my worries right now. Its better not to be known. "I don't remember."

"What year is it?"

"F**k you."

"Listen, asshole. I'm hear to help. I need your cooperation. You're suffering from a gun shot wound to the chest. You're not coughing any blood so the bullet missed your lung. By the look of the wound, you're lucky to be breathing right now."

The face is too blurred to be distinguishable. It might as well be coming from a shadow. Plus, luck has nothing to do with it. If you feel luck got you where you are then you don't freaking deserve what you have.

Sleep. Sleep makes everything better. It makes my headaches go away. The hell with aspirin, motrin,.. tylenol. Sleep cures all. Have cancer? Sleep it off. If you don't wake up, you're cured. Medicine is a crutch. You're born to die. The pills you take to get rid of your headache is designed to mask the symptoms. Its not a cure, retard. It relieves the pain until your body cures itself.

So let me cure myself.

I awaken to the sound of beeps.

August 9, 2009

Sam - Thats it. Just Sam.

Sometimes you have to take a step back to figure out the step forward. You always have that one moment in your life you wish you could change. Maybe you could of taken a different route home, you could of left that last round out of the magazine, you could of not answered the phone...

The phone rings for the 5th time. Go to voicemail, go to voicemail, go to voicemail you piece of shit. Don't answer it. For the love of god.


"You f@$$ot. You're dead. You think we would just let you leave? You think everything would be cool? You're in so much deep shit right now-" click. I can't help but stare at the phone. Its the scariest thing in the world right now. It might as well turn into a fucking snake and slither around my throat. "Piece of shit. Who the hell do they think I am?" I try to muster up some courage. I could scrape it from the bottom of the bucket of hope I just puked in. Fear pushes its way past assurance. "I'm so f**ked."

August 8, 2009

Timothy James Hayward

Today is going to be great. My day. I am the f**king man right now. Money in my pocket, smile on my face, not a care in the whole world. The drug business isn't a pretty one but it pays the bills. My fortay is selling Opioids, such as OxyContin and Vicodin. Antidepressants pop up here and there, Valium, Xanax etc... Whatever these kids fiend for, I can get. Raves are the place to be. The Austin scene is never shy of these. Raised in a small town in Bastrop County where everybody knows each other, I had to move operations. People kept sticking their nose where it didn't belong. First they'll start to comment on your nice clothes, fancy jewelry; then they start to question how much you spent on your car, the rims, the screens, why the tinted windows on the Excursion, etc... Everybody knows. Its on the tip of their tongue and only whispered when your back is turned. "Drug dealer."

The police can been payed off pretty easy. Nobody in a small town wants to draw attention to themselves. Negative attention anyways. The mention of high crime statistics in a small town can scare off well needed tourist. Every small town has something they're famous for. People usually come to this 5,000+ community to see the place where the 1998 movie "Hope Floats" that starred Sandra Bullock was filmed. Hope floats alright.

August 8, 2009

Sam - Thats it. Just Sam.

"You're coming right?"

I look over at my friend Matt. My face probably looked like a tomato dried up in the sun and then stepped on.

"Ofcourse. I need something to get rid of the pain though." Each word I muttered through clenched teeth as pain crept up the sides of my mouth. The taste of blood never left. Even days after the fight, the laceration on the roof of my mouth still bleeds. I gargled salt water and rinsed my mouth with Listerine to keep it from getting infected. I couldn't help but poke at it with my tongue.

Matt grabs the door handle to leave and looks back. "You already know I got the hook up. Don't worry man. Just show up at 8. " The door slams behind him.

"I need to get that door fixed", I think to myself.

August 5, 2009 - 12:30 AM

"Open the door! For the love of god man, please!" Saliva mixed with tears. Sams face continued to swell to a hideous size. Finally the door opens. "Holy shit, dude." For a second Sam imagines a smile creep across Matts face. Delusion. Matts a friend. The world doesn't make sense right now.

Matt hands him an ice pack and sits next to him on the couch. "The world never makes sense. We go through life just as confused as the day we entered it." Sam looks at him puzzled. " Did I say that out loud?" Matt situates himself at the far end of the couch and surveys the damage. "You look like you ran face first into a brick wall." Sam displays a row of blood stained teeth. "Sure feels like it." He manages a smile then quickly regrets it as pain lashes across his face.

"So. Tell me what happened."

August 5, 2009 - 10:15 AM

James Meet Mr. Crowbar

A 2x4 catches the side of James jaw. Thats broken.
His eye lazily watches a crowbar being waved in his face. Words are being yelled in his direction. They are indecipherably now. They might as well be speaking spanish.

He catches something. A name. Howard No. Hayward Yes. That name sounds familiar.

The hook end of the crow bar disappears just below his rib cage.
Its a magic trick. How neat.
Massive amounts of blood spills to the floor. The crowbar is jerked back and entrails fall in a sloppy mess.
Well thats not fair. Thats cheating.
James collapses to his knees. He heaves over and buries his hands in his exposed insides.
Not fair at all.
Everything becomes crystal clear for a split second. He sputters blood from his lips, heaves a last sigh of air then dies.

Dropping the crowbar to the ground, "Freaking nut job was so high, he probably didn't even know where he was."

"Most likely.
Shit is strong man. Real strong. Strong enough to make you face God with a vengence and demand answers. Thats not for me. Personally, don't tell the boss this but I think its morally wrong what we do." He looks back at the crow bar wielding murderer and they both crack a laugh.

August 5, 2009 - 9:15 AM

You are what you eat.

The mouth full of gravel wouldn't be so bad had his teeth not been slammed into the back of this throat. James catches a glimpse of Sam throwing a punch. Everything seemed to be playing in slow motion. A pair of hands pulls him from the ground and lifs him up. Blood, saliva and tears mixed on his face and created a visage that accurately portrayed how he felt. Bits of gravel fell to the floor in specks like diamonds. Sam was slowly lifted off his feet with a punch to the stomach; the wind whipping at his coat. A car rolled slowly up the street. As it passed James caught through the passenger window, a face was smiling. A quick nod and the stranger disappeared along with the vehicle. A crack and the world went black.

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