The Bargain part 1

The Pavilion was covered in blue and green patio lantern light. The menacing midnight sky was alive with tension and relief, which in any other circumstance would have been weird but at this time in the Earth’s history it was completely understandable.

Max Jefferies stood by the bar offering platitudes and pints for any and all who would make his acquaintance. That was a pretty large change for a man who was normally shy and would not talk strangers unless a cataclysmic event took place – like waiting hours for the new Playstation 3 and finding out they are all sold out, a loss by the Canucks in the Stanley Cup playoffs or earth’s core imploding on itself. Max was talking-up a storm, speaking to anyone with the guile to pass him as he stood by the bar. For Max it was time for a change. The old ways had faded with the final clear sunset.

As the band, who had been playing a jovial chord, picked up the pace of the music, and Max picked up the pace of his conversations slurring words together like they were useless obstacles in the way of what he really wanted – some ass for the evening.

“Really you need to slow down with the drink, asshole,” a pretty young woman with golden hair and bronzed skin said in a disgusted tone. She then left the bar, but as she walked away Max gave her a parting shot: “What for?”

Heck that was Max’s dilemma. It was all “what for?” He could go on like he used to and behave like the unsocial loser he had been for years, be polite and subservient to all those who claimed higher status in society, but “what for?” He could have remained at home playing video games and watching Stargate SG-1 episodes, but “what for?” In his former life, he would have chosen that evening as a person chooses to breath. Now things were different and not through any choice he had made.

Max didn’t have much time for reflection. Since that news report started with that sentence: “well, we have enjoyed our time here… maybe too much,” trouble snowballed and by the time Earth hit its final seven days the world predictably descended in to hellish war. It made no sense to hold back now. Being tact was of no gain now. That was death.

“You want another?” the burly bartender asked Max, who was looking at the naked crowd on the dance floor.

“Of course,” Max answered in a sing-song voice that floated his lack of restraint.

“Say, man… your name?”

“Thor,” the bartender answered.

“I won’t even… ok, Thor why are you working tonight? It’s all ending anyways. It’s not like getting fired would make a difference.”

The bartender nodded his head and finished pouring the rocks glass full of scotch. He then bounced his head to match the drummer’s rhythm. He did this all with the smile of contentment.

“It’s like this: I would have nothing else to do,” the bartender answered, passed the glass to Max – who still wasn’t looking at the bartender – and then walked to a new, more attentive customer. Max behaved like he didn’t hear the answer anyways and threw his hand back to search for the glass. Once found, he picked up the glass with shaking hands and brought it to his lusting lips.

The crowd was like a zookeeper had left the cell doors wide open and feely allowed the lions to mingle with the deer. Max felt very uncomfortable wading through the group and so he had remained stuck to the bar acting as a spectator.

Specifically, Max’s eyes were trained on a wonderfully, physically-gifted female bouncing around the bar making the rounds with the animalistic men. If he had ever seen an angel like her he was sure it was in a dream or a porn movie. If he had ever seen a devil like her he was sure it was in a dream or a porn movie. She was passing through conversations like a society master, making the men laugh and she, feigning laughter, then slyly moving on to another conversation with another man. Max was enjoying watching this woman on the hunt.

Try as he might, he couldn’t remove his eyes from this wonderful woman who looked like a swan gracefully dipping in a pool of molten lava and coming up with her plumes in tack. His heart raced several times faster then it should hold and it might have been the alcohol or it might have been the nervous atmosphere but what did it matter, it could have been anything but it was certainly about her – this wonderful woman.

Suddenly the music changed pace and slowed to a mellow beat and the MC’s voice became a hypnotic sound wave, transfixing The Pavilion in to a more human environment.

The band struck up a rap version of REM’s ‘It’s the end of the world’ but before the band could get through the first verse, the crowd began to groan and shouted down the song. This was an unwelcomed time for clichés.

“Sorry guys,” the MC apologised meekly.

An old favourite of Max’s was then played next, which made him bop his head until a sudden urge developed in his loins. Max bid farewell to bartender and said he would revisit next week. The bartender laughed a hideous cackle that reminded Max that that was likely impossible, and so he offered a hearty farewell and then exited for the bathroom.

The scent of the bathroom was putrid. Dead bodies covered the floor. Max could tell some were overdoses. Others were suicide. While yet more were murdered. Not everyone could make it to the finish line.

A voice cried from a stall: “It’s a new way for man and for thinking. It is the end my friends. I’ve seen vegetarians eat meat. I’ve seen soldiers drop their guns. I’ve seen victims become assailants. I’ve seen walkers on the run. I’ve seen lovers become estranged and I’ve seen enemies act strange. It is the end my friends. And for many, that’s just the beginning.” The whole atmosphere was getting intense. But Max expected it. He wondered how else it could be. Max gazed at the mess of humanity on the floor and shouted back at the voice in the stall: “No my friend. Surely this is the end.” Bodies continued to fall. Max could take no more. He moved out.