A Record of Things to Come
Chapter One: This is the Beginning
Jeremy Preston sat on the couch, watching the television with glazed over eyes, and eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. The machine cast a peaceful blue glow throughout the room, and his eyes sparkled with images of an Abtronic commercial. It was two a.m. His life was perfect. He gently drifted off to sleep, as images of Abtronic models filled his dreams…
Chapter Two: Jeremy’s Dream
Jeremy walked down a long hallway, with doors filling the walls to the right and left of him. His pace was unsteady, pushing forward, with different degrees of speed and intensity. He stopped, turned to his left, to find a door with glowing blue light surrounding the edges. He reached for the doorknob, but his hand went straight through it. He fell over backwards with surprise, but the floor disappeared, and he began falling through a purple sky, blue clouds floating up past him, wind whistling through his shirt. The clouds began to change form. They became tall, and thin, with ripped abs! Suddenly the entire atmosphere began to throb, first slowly, then faster and faster, until it was more like humming. Faster and faster, and more and more intense! Finally he just couldn’t take it! He screamed loudly, and woke himself up. He was sitting in the recliner, with a shotgun in his left hand. It was light outside.
"How long was I asleep?" He shouted to his mom in the other room.
Chapter Three: No More Milk
"About ten minutes," she yelled. "I’m going to the store for more milk!"
"Oh, no you’re not!" he replied, with a surprising amount of malice in his voice. "We don’t need any more milk," he said, getting up from his chair, and walking towards the kitchen, shotgun in hand.
"We’re all out!" his mother screamed in terror.
"We have lots of milk," he said calmly, taking a shot at her leg. She screamed in agony. "Then where is it??"
"In the fridge," he said, "see for yourself." He opened the fridge, and pieces of a frozen corpse fell out, piling onto the floor.
"Is…is that enough for a bowl of cereal?!?" his mother demanded.
"I believe so," he said, aiming the gun straight at her gut, and pulling the trigger. She screamed shrilly. Blood poured out of her, flooding the kitchen. With difficulty breathing, she said, "Then at least pour me a bowl of froot loops.
"Pour your own froot loops, I don’t have time," he said. He shot her in the right shoulder, increasing the bleeding, and amputating her arm.
"I can’t find a spoon!!" she cried in desperation, with fear in her eyes. She knew her death was imminent. Standing above her huddled form, he muttered, "Then drink it." He took a final blow to her head, finishing the job, and splattering himself with blood.
Chapter Four: The Phone Call
Jeremy’s orange pants were soaked red with blood at the bottoms. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, and his socks were warm and soggy under his feet. He slipped his mother’s wedding ring off her finger and walked into the front hall, leaving a red trail behind him. He walked up the carpeted stairs and into his room. He picked up an axe off his bed, and headed to the phone. He noticed the note he had written to himself last night — it said "kill mother — 740-6839." He dialled the number and waited.
"What do you want?" a gruff voice on the other end answered.
"It’s Jeremy," he said.
"Did you do it?" the voice asked.
"Yeah," he answered.
"Good. I’ll be right over," it said.
"Wait!" he replied quickly. "Why did you tell me to do it? And who are you?"
"There’s a reason for everything," it answered. "I’ll bring my chainsaw."
Chapter Five: Grand Theft Auto
Jeremy sat on his bed and waited. Eventually he heard a diesel engine drive down the road, and pull into his driveway.
"Come on!" he heard someone shout.
"He took the axe off his bed, grabbed the coat off the back of his door, and headed downstairs.
Grabbing the bloodied shotgun, he headed out the front door, to find a GMC van parked in his driveway.
"Take your parent’s hatchback, and follow me to the used car dealership," the voice in the van instructed.
"What??" Jeremy exclaimed.
"Well, you can’t expect to go on a killing spree in a Volvo, now can you?"
"I guess not," he said, laying his weapons in the passenger’s seat and starting the car up.
Chapter Six: An Old Friend
Following the van in his little grey hatchback, Jeremy heard the cell phone ring, so he picked it up.
"Hello?" he answered.
"It’s me," the voice said.
"Hi, who are you?" he asked.
"Asshole! You don’t know who I am yet??" the voice demanded.
"Um…no," he replied.
"Fuck you! It’s Genevivre!" she said.
"Genevivre Maillet?" he exclaimed, "I thought you were dead!"
"I was, but…Satan gave me a second chance,’ she explained.
"Good old Genevivre," said Jeremy, "always kidding around."
"I’m serious," she told him. There was an awkward silence.
"Okay, the dealership is to the left. Turn here," she said.
Chapter Seven: Buy, Sell + Trade
The grey hatchback followed the blue van into the parking lot of the car dealership. The driver’s door on the van opened, and Genevivre stepped out. She was tall and thin, with a black trenchcoat that touched the ground, and heavy army boots. She had short blood-red hair, and bright green eyes that sparkled with the intent to kill.
"Let’s do this," she said, her sharp teeth gleaming in a devious grin surrounded by red lipstick.
Jeremy got out of the car, and took the shotgun with him. It was the same routine that he and Genevivre had practised over and over countless times. In the old days, they used to travel from place to place killing whomever and whatever they came across. That was before Genevivre was killed. A vengeful lawnmower salesman had hacked off her head with a lawnmower blade. It had been the saddest day of Jeremy’s life.
"Hey Genevivre!" Jeremy shouted, "let’s see the scar on your neck!"
Genevivre only laughed. "You think I let Satan give me my old, stinking, rotten corpse back? No way!"
"So that’s a new body?" he asked.
"Yeah," she bragged. "I’m a lot stronger now, and my hair’s naturally red."
"No more dying it with the blood of your victims?"
"Nope," she told him. "Now let’s get us a car."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Jeremy and Genevivre walked on up to the used car salesman standing next to a silver convertible Ferrari.
"Hello, good sir," Genevivre said. "We wish to trade in our Volvo."
"Very good." The distinguished salesman replied,
"That gives you $200. Which automobile would you like to purchase?"
"That Ferrari," Genevivre said, pulling a handgun out of a holster at her side, and holding onto the salesman’s head, all in one swift motion.
"Please don’t hurt me!" the salesman screamed, as Jeremy pulled out his shotgun. "It’s my first day on the job, and my wife is pregnant!" he blubbered.
"Just give me the keys, and we’ll leave you alone," Genevivre promised. He pulled a key ring out of his pocket, and slowly handed it to Jeremy.
"Thank You," Genevivre said, before she shot him in the brain. His body went limp, and a trace of blood trickled down out his mouth.
Jeremy got into the car, and backed it over the body. Genevivre pulled her chainsaw out of the sheath on her back, and sliced the body into precise portions. Together, Jeremy and Genevivre poured the remains into the front seat of a Ford Focus.
"One last thing," Genevivre said. "Let me show you how strong I’ve become." She picked up the old Volvo, crumpled in into a ball the size of a basketball, and hurled it into the side of the Focus, causing it to explode in a mushroom cloud.
"Nice!" Jeremy exclaimed. "That could come in handy!"
Chapter Eight: Home Crack Home
Genevivre in her van, and Jeremy in his convertible, they headed down the road. Once again, he heard his cell phone ring. It was Genevivre.
"Where are we going now?" he asked her.
"Back to my place first," she explained. "We’ll drop off your car, and we can both ride in my van. It’s big enough for now.
Jeremy drove for a bit, until they reached an abandoned underground parking complex. He followed Genevivre’s van down three levels, to the basement floor. She got out of the van.
"You can leave your car here. Hop in the van," she said, carrying his weapons to the back of the vehicle.
Chapter Nine: Laura’s Done
They drove the van down a road in a particularly flamboyant and transparent part of town, looking for someone to kill. And just as their luck would have it, that’s exactly when Laura Dunn ran into the middle of the road.
She waved her arms around frantically, screaming "Iay eakspay igpay atinly!" over and over.
"Eesay ouyay innay Ellhay!!" Genevivre screamed, as she pushed the gas petal in all the way, and steered the van directly into Laura’s rib cage. She heard a sickening crunch, and smiled. Her blood lust had been satisfied. She laughed hysterically, as she heard both thumps beneath her tires. She slammed on the brakes, so she could see the damage she had done. Jeremy got in the back, and opened the back doors of the van. To their dismay, Laura was still alive!
"Wow!" Genevivre exclaimed. "I know only two people that can withstand a hit like that! And we’re both in this van!"
"Ialshush Micwubba!" exclaimed Laura.
"She’s weird," said Genevivre, "but let her come with us. We could use the extra strength."
"Are you sure?" asked Jeremy. "It might have just been a fluke."
"You’re right," she agreed. "We should test her." Jeremy stepped out of the van, and took the axe with him. He held the axe like a baseball bat, blunt end facing Laura. He swung the axe as fast as he could, and hit her in the jaw. A single tooth fell to the pavement, followed by a drop of blood. That is all the damage that was done to her.
"Get in the van," Genevivre said to Laura.
Chapter Ten: Death to Scully.
"So why did Satan give you a second chance, and no one else?" Jeremy asked Genevivre.
"He said something about me bringing evil to the earth, I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening."
"Really…" said Jeremy. He wasn’t very interested. "I also have to do this job for him. See, there’s this Christian Zealot, and he’s converting harmless atheists into raging Christians."
"Dear God!! Kill ‘em ALLLLLLL!!!" Laura screamed.
"It’s good to see that kind of enthusiasm from you, Laura," said Genevivre.
"Now let’s kill us up some zealots!" she screamed. They headed down the road to an old skyscraper. It was made of concrete, and it had a giant mural of an eye on the side.
Jeremy and Genevivre left Laura in the van.
"Now," Genevivre told Laura, "When a body falls off the top of the building, run it over with the van, okay?"
"I can handle that," Laura told her.
Jeremy took his shotgun, and Genevivre her chainsaw. Once inside, Jeremy asked her, "So, why is there going to be a body falling off the building?"
"The zealot’s name is David O. He runs a ring of zealots in this city. The first of his cronies is Scully. A quick-witted accountant who’s into meditation."
"Where is she?" Jeremy wondered aloud.
"She’s on the roof. She spends her time there, meditating. Many confused, devout worshippers come to visit her for advice."
"Oh," said Jeremy. "Are we going to pose as Christians?"
"No, I was thinkin’ we could just go up there and blow the hell out of her," she said.
"You still didn’t tell me why a body will be falling off the top of the building," Jeremy told her.
"I was getting to that. We’re going to push her off the top."
They climbed thirty floors until they reached the top, where they found Scully. She was sitting on a banister, meditating.
"Prepare to die, wench!" Genevivre warned. Scully’s eyes shot open, focusing straight on Genevivre.
"I have been waiting for you. Prepare to feel the wrath of my forks!" she screamed, pulling three sharp forks out of her pocket, and hurling them straight into Genevivre’s throat. Jeremy cringed.
"Nice shot," Genevivre said, curling into a ball.
"That’s it?" Scully asked. "You’re done already?"
"…but you’ll have to do better than THAT," she answered, standing up and pulling the forks out of her neck. The bloody holes healed almost instantly.
"You are tougher than I thought," said Scully, still smiling.
Genevivre started up her chainsaw. Jeremy loaded his shotgun.
"Go ahead and shoot," Scully said, "but I’m sure you—" Her speech was interrupted by a shot gun wound to the chest. "Ouch," she muttered.
Jeremy fired again, but he was out of ammo. He charged at Scully, plunging the barrels into her wound, and pushing her off the roof. To his surprise, she grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him with her!
"Oh, no!" Genevivre realized. "If he hits the ground, Laura’s going to run over him!" She ran to the edge and dove off, heading straight for Jeremy. She grabbed onto his hand, and they glided safely to the ground.
"Wow! Satan gave you the power to fly??"
"No, stupid,’ she answered, "I used my trenchcoat as a parachute to glide down."
Scully hit the pavement at a tremendous speed, disfiguring her, and spreading her lower intestines across the road.
"My first victim!" Laura said viciously, speeding the van towards Scully, and braking as she drove over her. Laura began to chuckle quietly. Her giggling grew louder and louder, until it turned into an insane cackle.
"Excellent," said Genevivre. "She’s tasted bloodlust. She’ll never turn back now."
Chapter Eleven: Immaculate Intervention
Jeremy and Laura sat in the back of the van as Genevivre drove. Jeremy was loading his shotgun, and Laura was talking to the wall. "Iay illedkay Ullyscay!" she announced, for the hundredth time.
"We know," Jeremy and Genevivre replied in unison.
"Oh shit!" Genevivre exclaimed. "Someone just went under the van!"
"…so?" Laura replied.