Get On With It -- FRAYED EDGES

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Date Posted: 16:52:26 01/14/04 Wed
Author:

toothy
Author Host/IP: 209.240.205.60
Subject: Get On With It
In reply to: toothy 's message, "Invisible Tears" on 16:29:27 01/14/04 Wed

chapter two
Get On With It

�I knew I had her. I may have been the one in extended care recovery with two broken ankles, a smashed hip, a few broken ribs, a punctured lung, a cracked scull, a broken arm and a crushed hand, but Xel (pronounced 'Shell') was really the one who was the prisoner. As a nurses aid and the new girl on the ward, she worked the graveyard shift. I'm sorry, I mean the night shift. I was told they don't like to use the 'g' word at the hospital. It's interesting though how that term came into being. In the fifteen hundreds, medicine wasn't what it is today. Early death was common. Graveyards filled quickly. To make room, the dead were exhumed and entire families were buried together. It became clear some were being buried just a bit too early. One out of twenty coffins were found to have claw marks on the inside. They began drilling a hole in the coffin and then a string would be run to the surface where it was attached to a small bell. The wealthy would hire people to sit by the grave site in case the bell tolled. Hence the term 'graveyard shift'. But if you understand the world the way I do, it gives a whole new meaning to the words 'dinner bell'.
�
�In truth, Xel was one of the lucky ones. She was born in a small village on the Yucatan peninsula where there are few opportunities. Her family managed to persuade a missionary to sponsor her to a nursing school in the states. She graduated at the top of her class and found herself in high demand. To her credit, she returned home as she had promised she would. By taking a job at the Cancun hospital, she was able to help bring modern medicine to her native people in the surrounding Mayan villages. I had only known her from my short stay at the hospital, but I found her background surprising. She was a free spirit who became bored quickly and dare I say, she had little 'patience'. So I decided to push her buttons just a bit. If I'm going to tell a story, then I'm going to tell it my way.
�
"I understand what this is about Xel. You're the type who likes to read the last page of a book first. Straight to the action. No time for the details. Fine then, I'll give you what you want. On the final day of the 12th bak'tun, Lord Pacal rose and ripped the still beating heart from my chest. My dead body was then tossed down the 91 steps of the pyramid of KuKulcan. I awoke in this bed to hear the doctor say I had broken more than half the bones in my body. He then quickly tried to use his bedside humor to add that it wasn't so bad, because half the bones in the body are in the hands and feet."

"What? I've read your chart and it says nothing about you having your heart ripped out. It mentions a missing little toe, but nothing about a missing heart."

"That's the beauty of it. It happened in 2012, so I have many years before it happens again. And I can tell you I need the time to prepare. Death is very painful."

"This doesn't make any sense. I'm totally confused!"

"Of course you are. You wanted to hear the end of the story first. If you would let me tell it my way, it would make more sense. But if you have bed pans you need to clean....."

"OK, fine. Tell it your way. Just get on with it"
�
�I knew she didn't mean that last comment to come out the way it sounded. It was just a bit of her impatience showing. I used my good hand to bring my index finger to my nose with a wink and a nod that she should show more respect. The embarrassed look on her face let me know she understood.

"Good", I said, "Then I will as you put it, get on with it"

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[> [> R.martin's Story --

toothy, 17:51:08 01/14/04 Wed [1] (209.240.205.60)

chapter three
R'martin's Story

"Let's see now, where was I? Maybe I should start over."

"Oh no, we don't need to do that!" exclaimed Xel. "You were five years old crying like a baby when you had a vision you would live to be a hundred and save the world."

"So you were paying attention. I guess we can jump ahead then."
�
�I come from a large family. By the time I was eight...

"Eight?", Xel said, interrupting again. "I realize you've been stuck in this hospital bed for weeks, but your concept of jumping needs some work."

"Hush now, we've already been through this. Perhaps you'd rather give old man Smithers in 209 a sponge bath."

"House keeping takes care of that during the day shift thank you very much."

"When are you going to get on the day shift? Nurse Cratchet gives a nice sponge bath, but it's a bit too quick for my tastes. I like a little more foreplay."

"I can't believe you. Your body is all busted up, but still all you can think about is sex."

"Haha, true. I lay here all day starring at the ceiling tiles....."

"Obsessive compulsive disorder"

"What?"

"It's fairly common. You have nothing to do, so you end up counting the ceiling tiles over and over"

"Actually, I was going to say, the little pin holes in them begin to look like constellations of naked women. But I want you to sit there and be quiet, because this is important. Let's see now, where was I. Oh yes..."
�
�I come from a large family. By the time I was eight, I had three older brothers and sisters, and three younger brothers and sisters. My mother had lost her first shortly after the child was born, so I think she may have been trying to make up for the loss. Both my parents were professionals and very creative people, but when it came to naming us kids, I don't think they spent a lot of time on it. All of our first names started with the letter 'r'. There was Robert, Reid, Ruth, Richard, Rosalind, Randy, and Rodger. This was the cause of much confusion at times. I remember watching TV with my brother Reid one day when my mother came in with one of those looks I knew so well.

"Randy, you go tell Reid get out of his room this instant. He's making way too much racket back there."

"I'm Richard, and this is Reid", I said, making the mistake of correcting her. "Rodger is in his room, but I don't hear any noise."

"You know who I mean. When he's not making noise, that's when he's up to something. You boys need to be outside anyway."

"..but we were watching this movie."

"Don't but me, now out, all of you, scoot."

�It didn't pay to be anywhere around when one of my brothers was in trouble. To end some of the confusion, we began calling each other by our middle names. The problem was, my oldest brother Robert had the same middle name as me. To make up for this, they called him Martin and called me R.martin. I liked the sound of it. It sounded more like a verb than a noun. A naughty verb. Having a lot of brothers and sisters did have it's benefits though, especially around birthday's and Christmas.
�
�Over the years, I began to have premonitions on a daily basis, but nothing like when I received a gift. Everyone knew I could 'guess' what I was getting, but I 'knew' it wasn't a guess. I could clearly see any present given to me no matter how well wrapped. On my fifteenth birthday my girlfriend's dad tried to test me. When I held the small wallet sized gift box, I said it's a Craftsman tool box with a 109 piece combination ratchet set. I opened the present to find he had cut out an ad for the tools he had bought me from a Sears flier and had put it in the box. There could be no mistake that I had a 'gift', and it scared me.
�
�I tried to ignore my "inner". That's what I called my premonitions. I despised the idea that I was psychic. I wanted to live in a world of science and math. I figured everyone has a sixth sense of sorts. You leave the house and you 'know' you're forgetting something. You get to the car to discover you've left your keys inside your now locked house. That's the way it was with me. Only 10 times more so. I reasoned my brain somehow got wired with the abilities early man had and was lost when civilization got in the way. Nothing more. I had tapped into a forgotten animal instinct and was simply picking up on molecules and pheromones around me. I also decided it was best not to talk about it.
�
�On my eighteenth birthday, I went down to the Army recruiting station. My family tried to talk me out of it, but I was adamant. If I was meant to save the world, this seemed the likely path to that end. My inner told me it was time to travel and this time I was willing to listen. As it turns out, there was a cruise ship travel agency next door to the Army recruiting store. I walked through the door and declared my need to travel, but quickly added that I didn't have any money. I nearly laughed out loud when the lady behind the counter asked me if I had any special skills.

"Special skills?"

"Well, for instance, how many languages do you speak?"

"I want to say one, but I don't like to be boastful"

�My little bit of brevity didn't go over too well, so I quickly added,

"I'm a good cook. I've been baking cakes from scratch since I was five years old."

This didn't seem to impress her and since I didn't have anything else to add, we spend a few moments in silence as she looked me up and down. Finally, she spoke.

"Do you have a birth certificate and a valid passport?"

�When I replied yes, she handed me a clip board with some papers to fill out.

"We have a 10 day cruise of the Mayan Riviera leaving in five days from Miami. You'll have to find your own way there."

�My dad was glad I didn't join the army, although he had nothing against military service. He had been in the army himself. He wanted something more for me, or I should say, from me. He had told me of all my brothers and sisters, he expected the most from me. That's a hard thing for any child to live up to. I'm not sure someone who lives by the light of day can ever understand someone who fights for life in darkness. He wasn't too crazy about me working on a cruise ship either, but I think he figured it was a phase. I knew I could depend on my mother for a bus ticket and a little spending money.

�When I got to the downtown Atlanta bus station, I took the first bus leaving for Miami. It turns out this bus was on rural route. It stopped at every small town as it left the city behind. I didn't mind. I had a great time chatting with people as they were picked up and then dropped off in the next town. I had a nice conversation with an elderly woman who was going to Albany to visit her grand kids. There was the live in house keeper who was going home for the weekend to be with her husband who was a long distance truck driver. I remember them all.

�I remember Donna. She was in her junior year of college and was also going to Miami. She wasn't on a wild and crazy spring break trip though. She was going to spend a week house hunting with her fiance. He had just graduated and was taking a teaching position at the University of Miami. Donna was going to transfer there for the next semister. I remember thinking how she had her life completely planned, but now that I look back on it, I have to wonder if I wasn't the one who had his life mapped out. When I got to Macon, I decided to wait a couple of hours for an express bus to Miami. This bus was very crowded. As I walked down the aisle looking for a seat, there was Donna in the very back waving at me. She planted a kiss on me as soon I sat down. I think the idea of me traveling without a destination turned her on. We didn't come up for air until Miami. We said our goodbyes before the bus pulled into the station as her fiance was waiting for her. I got off that bus into the bright Miami sun with a huge smile on my face.

�I didn't see a smile or the sun for the next five days. The upper decks of the cruise ship Princess Grace of Orteze were magnificent, but from the lower decks of the GOO, as I liked to call it, it was literally night and day. The kitchens ran 24 hours. As an apprentice cook, I didn't do much cooking. Mostly chopping. Vegtables, cheeses, meats and anything large that came across my station, it was my job to cut into little pieces. I did get good with a knife. A 12 hour shift was a short day and when I wasn't cutting, I spent time sleeping in one of a dozen pull down bunks next to the boiler room. Mine was the top bunk which were stacked three high. It was an art form to go from hand hold and toe hold to the top without banging my head on the low ceiling.

�The first port of call was the island of Cozemel. Several of us had the day off and everyone wanted to go to the topless beach to drink beer all day. In theory, this sounded great, but the idea of spending the next five days hung over and sunburned inside the bowels of the GOO didn't sit well with me. I saw a notice on the board looking for someone to cater a private tour of the mainland. I jumped at the chance.

�I joined a group of about a dozen travellers who had signed up for a trip to see Mayan ruins deep in the rainforest of the Yucatan peninsula. My job was to serve refreshments along the way and then later set up a cold cuts buffet.

�We took the ferry Nagifar to Cancun and then a very nice air-conditioned bus to Chichen Itza. After setting up lunch for the group, I was free to explore the temples. I decided to climb the 91 steps of the famous four sided pyramid. And a climb it was. Each step is only about six inches deep, but about eighteen inches tall. When I got half way up, about the as high as a five story building, I turned around to take a look. I'm not afraid of heights, but the steepness gave me a sudden vertigo feeling and I quickly turned around, hugging the wall of stairs. I finally made it to the top and I can tell you the view made the climb worthwhile. Yet as I looked out at the rainforest and then down to the people below, I had a strong feeling of uneasiness. The acoustics are perfect from the platform on top of the pyramid. I could hear all those below laughing and joking. Even their whispers echoed in my brain.

�My uneasiness became more intense. Every fiber of my being was on fire. I tried to remain calm by focusing on my surroundings, but that just made it worse. The picnic atmosphere screamed sacrilege. I could sense the souls of the Mayan gods of the past. They cried out to me, "why do you defile to our temple, this is a holy place". I got the message.

�I couldn't get away from that place fast enough. I stumbled towards the steep steps of the pryamid, but my inner was locked in the moment. The world began to fade away as tunnel vision set in. It was like a nightmare of being of being chased without the ability to move my feet. I stood shaking like a leaf. Then it happened; I had my first vision of things to come.

�It only lasted a moment, but it's a moment I'll never forget. I saw a raised hand holding a human heart with blood running down the forearm. This quick flash was replaced by images of a young girl performing martial arts moves. Then several quick flashes of hieroglyphs and finally, I saw the steps of the pyramid covered with blood.

�I came out of my trance disoriented. Faces everywhere. Then I heard someone say, "give him some air". I lied and said I was OK. They helped me to my feet and I scurried back down the pyramid. I packed up the catering supplies and headed back to the tour bus early. The sun had long set as we headed back to the coast. Fortunately, none of the guests needed my attention as they settled in for some sleep during the ride through the rain forrest.

Last edited by author: Mon September 06, 2004 16:55:46 Edited 4 times.
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[> [> [> continued -- toothy, 17:00:51 09/06/04 Mon [1] (209.240.205.68)

I still felt queasy as we boarded the ferry Nagifar. I was nearly two hundred miles from the top of the pyrimid, but the visions I had seen were as clear as the moment they had happened.

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