Man Undaunted
Matt Brown

 

 
A dark green four-story condo looms up over a run down street. Peeling paint revealed the previous vibrant blue color. Boarded up windows conceal whatever lurks in the inner darkness. The whole building seems to sag towards the street away from the rising sun. A foreclosure sign hanging on a high barbwire fence next to several other warning and danger signs gives the building a foreboding appearance. A singular opening in the fence seems to be the only entrance. Also a shadow continually passes across the opening, almost invisible. Inside, pictures of a more prosperous time for the building can be seen. A tall man with dark hair and a ruby cross-incrusted golden ring stands in front of the building, holding open the door, of the then blue condo. The same man was in the other pictures standing in front of a supermarket, library, and school; and finally in a shattered frame he sits atop an expensive looking car in front of a blood red estate. A wooden creaky staircase filled with holes and rotted spots almost ready to collapse as if it were alive and all breath had gone out of it, led to the next floor. On the second floor you would find no more stairs but visible is a rope ladder pulled up to the ledge above. On the third floor, in the last room at the end of the hall, a thin line of light streams forth from a partially open door.
Inside sits a man; tall with eyes of such a dark brown they appeared almost black. Clad in a black trench coat, pants and shirt. On the coat rack to his right a gray fedora with a red feather is perched.
 
Jack Smith, an overall dark character, not someone you might greet on the street. He sits examining the stump of his pinky and then the beautiful ruby encrusted ring. All of a sudden he let out a low long whistle. He smiled at the sound of a pleasantly familiar, light pata pata pata of his loyal accomplice�s four paws. He let down the ladder for his one and only close friend to come up. The same dark shadow that had passed across the opening of the fence swiftly sped down the hall to her master.

 
The strange dog stands before Jack and waits. Jack utters a few words and feeds his dog Tressa. Tressa is the last of a dead breed; she seemed to be able to blend in with any surroundings. Suddenly Jack hears the shatter of glass, Tressa races downstairs, Jack grabs a colt revolver only to hear a high yelp from below. He hurled the pistol across the room and leaps all the way down to the first floor. Unaware of his excruciating wounds from the fall; he ran full bore towards the yelp, adrenaline pumping. Jack came to the front hall and realized he was to late. Blood was splattered on the floor, but Tressa was gone. Through his anger he prayed that the blood was the thieves and not Tressa�s. Jack returned to the third floor and all he could do, for now, is to get ready for work. When he gets outside, he finds his car with flat tires, shattered windows and a flaming engine. Then Jack noticed his leg his knee was twisted at a sickening angle from the great fall. So he sat down and prepared for what he had to do.
�GGAAAAHHH.� He cried out in pain as he wrenched his knee back into place. Jack managed to stand up and get on the bus in order to get to work.
 At work he saw the same thing he saw every day. A tall building, stuffed with no end of cubicles and herded workers. The competent were few and separated, but they had managed to form a small organization resisting the corporation they feigned to serve. One of the idiotic workers said,
�heeeyy Jack, what�s with the limp?� Jack replied by striking the man across the jaw, knocking him senseless to the ground. When he recognized one of his associates (he really couldn�t call them friends they were simply working towards a similar cause) he told them about his morning.
�Do you think it could have been one of� them?� Paul Sherman inquired.
�No doubt in my mind, it had to be,� said Jack, �But I have to wonder how the found me and more so how they were able to detain Tressa.�
�Do you think it could be Maurice?� Paul asked.
�Ah yes Maurice could definitely have been involved.� Replied Jack. Maurice was Jacks estranged second cousin. Maurice had a deeply disturbed yet, ingenious mind. He used it to plot against the small resistances emanating from within the corporation.
Maurice sits at his desk gearing himself to confront his cousin. Maurice walks out to Jack�s cubicle and says to Jack
�Late again Jack? I wasn�t, neither were any of the other productive company family. It would appear that you have to stay overtime, again. Not to mention the cut in your pay.� Jack stared at Maurice with such cold fury that Maurice almost sprinted away. He knows that Jack knows about him being involved in the capture of that rotten mutt. Maurice was always afraid of Jack ever since they were forced to share a room oh so long ago.
�Jack and that rotten dog are both of a dying breed. Full of conviction and honor, soon no one will step out of line, this corporation will achieve perfection!� Then the door to his office burst open and two burly men dragged in a bruised worker.
 
�Mister Sherman,� Maurice spit as if it were a dirty word. �I was informed that you have been involved in some anti productive activities.� Abruptly Maurice turned and thrashed Paul Sherman mercilessly with a blunt two by four he had concealed under his desk.
�You�re just like the rest Maurice, only could hit a held man.� Paul uttered. Maurice dealt him a violent blow to the ribs and the men briskly hauled him off. Not to an infirmary but just to the curb where they threw him and left him for the buzzards.
Four days later the workplace appeared to be the same. But Jack thought he had some idea where his dog Trissa was being held. He left a water bottle next to the bed where Paul Sherman lay.
 
 And made sure that the bandages were still holding. Jacks discovery about the violence inflicted on a Paul fueled him to find Trissa and whoever captured her. Reluctantly Jack realized how hard it was to lead such a lonely life as his, even with Trissa, but he was glad to have Paul for company. Jack thought back to the days when he had been that jolly man in the pictures, before the fire. Jack used to be a successful landlord until he had resisted the corporations� attempts to purchase his property. At first their offers diminished and one offer grew. However, when Jack Smith wouldn�t sell his land they resorted to threats and violence. That all lead to the enormous fire lit in his estate. He had refused all offers from the corporation president so the President sent Maurice and some goons to burn Jacks estate down. That was a horrible night, the night when he had lost not only his finger and estate but also his happiness and pride. After that night he became what he is now, a hardened, dark, angry man.
At work Jack goes straight to his computer and begins to try to find out as much as he could about the corporation�s history. And with the help of another in the resistance (John Bladensburg) he found what he was looking for, the name of the corporation�s entrepreneur. Lady luck smiled on Jack that hour, his companion was able to find the current residence of the corporate leader.
The large house on the coast seemed to be totally dark and inactive, but Jack is smarter than to trust such a false image. To his right stood
Paul Sherman bandages only at the ribs where he had been most severely injured. Jacks only protection was his revolver and his keen senses. Just before he advanced on the house he thought about when the corporation had first begun to take over. It started small; small enough to not be noticed until it was too large to stop. Jack was only in high school when it came. Everyone seemed to be part of the family in the corporation. Jack had to leave his home before he was even out of his first semester of college in order to get away from the massive business. He traveled far to find a place nod seeded by the corporation. And he did find peace for some time and he prospered but eventually, just like everywhere else the corporation began to take over. It wasn�t that the company created bad products but that they wanted everyone to do exactly as they were told and for all to be one generic �breed.� Yes that is what Jack hated most about the corporation; everything the same every day every week every month! But Jack didn�t have time to think about that now. He silently sprinted towards the house.
 
Jack enters the house and realized how little he had comprehended about how powerful the company�s owner must be. A howl yanks Jack from his thoughts once again. Furious with himself for forgetting the purpose of being here, forgetting for even one second made run even faster. He knew he was getting closer, he even heard the thud, thud, thud of whatever was imprisoning his poor Tressa. He burst into a room and saw Trissa just standing in the center of a large office type room. Tressa leapt upon him and joy surged through both of them. Then, a phone on a desk rang and Jack answered it.
�Hello?� Jack recognized a forced, chilling voice as Maurice�s.
�Congratulations Jack, glad you found your pooch...�
�When I get back I am going to tear that hideous tongue of yours out of your head!� Jack interrupted. Maurice�s voice shook like a sapling in a wind
�Sorry Jack.� Maurice said and then hung up. Then Jack realized what he had walked into. Jack yelled
�Tressa RUN!� He blew a hole through the window and Trissa leapt out. A blinking light on the Television stopped blinking and Jack knew what was coming. Fire erupted from within the T.V. and engulfed Jack Smith.
 
Maurice hummed a merry tune on his way to work. He said to himself �My day will be oh so much easier without having to tell Jack he is late, he always took that so personally.� He greeted a few of the workers on his way in to his office. Maurice decided not to discipline anyone he was in such a happy mood. He took a seat at his desk and reminisced. A knock came to his door; Maurice said, �Go away I am going to take a nap.� Maurice closed his eyes. The smash of the door to his office made him snap up. A hand slammed down on Maurice�s desk� a hand missing its smallest finger.
 







 

 

Copyright © 2004 Matt Brown
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"