Multiplex Fandango by Weston Ochse

Author:Weston Ochse [Ochse, Weston]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Dark Regions Press
Published: 2012-11-29T06:00:00+00:00

NOW SHOWING ON SCREEN 9

Low Men Weeping

Starring homeless heroes Homer and Hemingway

“Totally destroys the idea of randomness in the world.”

–L.A. Times Weekender

Filmed in High Definition

Only when the morning winds shift landward and the sun rises above the marine layer to beat down upon a city prismed by smog and the neon aftermath of another Los Angeles night, do the Low Men emerge to journey across the land. Not the smirking revenants of the evening, nor the drifters waiting for an easy mark, nor the beggars shouting Jesus Saves to whomever will take a moment to listen, but the Low Men — those contemptible few who tread a higher path, balancing salvation and redemption with the cruelty of necessity as they divine the trajectory of our lives.

***

The flat face of the trashcan lid ate the man's smile in a bright detonation of blood and mucous. He crashed into the side of the wall, then fell in a heap. Three other men and a woman ignored the fallen man as they scrambled to find a better position. The hunger in their eyes supplanted any kinship as they gauged how best to defend, how best to attack.

Hemingway twisted the lid just in time to block a thrown bottle meant for Homer's head, shifting to protect his blind friend behind him. Homer placed his hand in the middle of the larger man's back to keep track of where Hemingway moved.

Suddenly the woman lunged forward, the tip of a broken umbrella slicing millimeters away from Hemingway's abdomen. He kicked out. The woman slinked out of his reach, then lunged back like a dog. She picked up another bottle from the alley floor as one of the men decided that he'd had enough. He turned and ran, his soiled raincoat flapping behind him.

"Stay behind me, dammit!" Hemingway screamed, as he backed down the alley several feet, fearful for his best friend's safety.

Try staying behind someone you can't see, came the thoughts of the blind man.

"Then grab hold."

You say it ruins your timing.

"We won't have any timing with you dead."

The remaining three came at once. Hemingway spun, his taller frame shielding his smaller friend. "Which one is he?"

They're moving too quickly. I can't get a fix.

One of the men rushed Hemingway with a length of rebar, the dark metal easily capable of smashing his head or skewering him to the spine. Three steps and the man swung the metal in a sideways arc.

"Oh Hell," cried Hemingway, pushing Homer roughly to the ground. The larger man then sidestepped away from the blow, catching the length of metal under his arm as the energy of the swing dissipated. He growled at the pain of the impact, grasped the ridged rebar rod with his hand, and ripped the metal free from the grip of his attacker.

"Give it up and we'll let you go," snarled the woman. She might have been beautiful once, but meth had been an unforgiving mate.

Tell her we don't have anything.

"We don't have anything," replied Hemingway.

"You have more than me," she hissed, then launched herself at Hemingway.

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