Evolutionary Men

EVOLUTIONARY MEN

BY

JAKE PERONI

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2009 by J Perrone

All rights reserved

www.facebook.com/evolutionarymen

Smashwords edition produced DRM free for convenience of the reader. No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from the author. The exceptions are for the private use of the purchaser/owner or by a reviewer, who may quote excerpts in a review. If you received a copy without purchase or permission please visit www.facebook.com/JakePeroni to submit how it was received in the designated contact form.

Characters and events in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN 9781452448022

Published July 2016

16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7

Dedication

For YOU

Prologue

What if a ghost is simply a soul’s existence lost in the absence of time?

~ Unknown…OK it was me.

Chapter I

Armed with a smile, defeated by exhaustion, Skylar leaned over the dark wood stained crib. Bright beams of sunlight framing the window shade, altering the reflected blue walls of the nursery. Gazing down at her joy, her smile a comforting cloud over her precious little baby now drifting asleep. A mind of innocence, coasting somewhere into a dream of limited flight. The act sparked a curiosity inside of Skylar, a wonderment of what her child lay witness to in the subconscious dreamworld. A little mind so pure, so oblivious to the pleasure and perils this world will deliver outside the sanctuary of these four walls. A world unknown, where mystery surrounds the simplest of objects. There is so much yet to experience. Her half smile now complete as she finally yields to her exhaustion. The door creaks as she closes it to shield her napping baby from the disruptive rumbling of a zipper clanging in the dryer down the hall.

Skylar makes her way through the thin hallway of the cozy two-bedroom condo, to the living room. Passing dirty baby bottles and scattered piles of procrastination along the way. She deludes,

No time to clean now.

Only one thought perturbing in her mind,

Rest.

Her first break of the day, with full intent of wasting it by doing nothing at all. Lying on the couch, she checks the monitor’s volume to be sure to hear her little heart wakening. She closes her eyes hoping to catch up on some much needed sleep.

Her peepers crack open. The warm light of the day dilating the pupils of her light blue eyes. Not accustomed to mid day naps, Skylar finds herself in the midst of a mental discussion that she cannot hush long enough to fall asleep. Her thin, dark skinned forearm splintering the calmness of the room as she reaches for the remote. Skylar switches on the television in an attempt to wash away the silence that gives her mind audience. Adjusting the volume down to coat the silence with gentle whispers from the television. Her eyes adjust as the bright green bar on the television screen shrinks by one miniature vertical line at a time with the fading volume. In the background of the interrupting volume status, sits a woman behind an anchor desk. Words displayed on the screen remain illegible as the irritating volume bar lingers. The unsettling look on the reporter’s face daunting Skylar’s curiosity. Her head lifts from the pillow as a mere facial expression from the reporter fills her head with dread. Now the green bar increasing as her slight interest grows into a thirst for comprehension.

Suddenly making out Breaking News as the caption behind the volume she now sits up. Her head filled with the all too familiar reluctant dread of disheartening news broadcast for the masses.

Another terrorist attack?

Another mass shooting?

Whatever is happening, it’s not good. Her initial curiosity evolving into lust for assimilation.

Commercials.

Skylar thrust her head forward in protest, biting her lip in anguish. Now upright facing the TV, she sat impatiently for the channel seven news to return. After the short advertisement the news was back before she could change the channel to another broadcast.

"We return to you live with breaking news"

Julia Roche reported from behind the anchor desk. Her brow still wrinkled with concern.

Skylar's mind racing with the memories of all too many heartbreaking live broadcasts, some which seem so long ago, and some that feel as if they were yesterday. With her unsettling nerves leaving her throat parched and dry, she tunes in.

"Again, moments ago, a scene of unbelievable horror in the square outside Faneuil Hall, in Downtown Boston today. Witnesses attest to MASSIVE gunfire we are told."

Julia paused to collect her sentences rushing to deliver the news instantaneously.

"I repeat, massive gunfire. Casualties are reported, but how many victims, we are not certain yet. Police remain on the scene...treating this as..."

Julia stumbled her words as she listened to the news feed in her ear while trying to focus on what she was saying to her audience.

...As a hostage situation. As we understand it, there were two shooters, both appear to be young in age. Although not confirmed, they are believed among the dead. Details remain scarce as we go live to Edward Rabinowitz live at the scene

Skylar raised her hands to her mouth in disbelief. A wave of compassion washing over her with the horror of the situation unfolding before her.

The camera remained focused on Julia Roche, and Edward never appeared. Julia tried to blanket her inexperience by again repeating what she knew of the situation while gazing off-screen in a plea of relief hoping her team can transfer the attentive audience granting her a moment to collect herself. The awkward chaos of the broadcast persuaded Skylar to change the channel.

Channel twenty-five running a similar story. This time, a helicopter recording the scene from too far away to keep Skylar’s attention. The reporters raspy, radio voice over the picture stating the similar story as Julia.

With a final click of the button, Skylar stood staring at an amateur video playing on a cable news channel. The Breaking News banner across the bottom of the screen advising the audience of the exclusive amateur video from the scene. Moments Ago plastered in a small, top corner of the screen. The low resolution and shaky quality of the camera work displayed the fear and utter chaos at the scene.

Screams in the background drowned by the overpowering quick, sharp piercing snaps of the gunfire. The video showing a woman's face overflowing with fear as she lay squatting in a cluster of other customers in some sort of retail clothing store.

The cameraman cautiously stands while filming and redirects the lens to the front of the store, showing the scattered huddled groups of bystanders throughout the shelter.

Echoing screams and the high-pitched jingle of the door chime announcing every time the door grants refuge for another innocent bystander. Outside the large front windowpane showed the balcony of the second level of the retail store. The camera approached the front door, people can be seen at the bottom of the screen crawling as low as possible towards the back of the store. Complete panic and horror gripping the faces of the unified strangers.

The gunfire's inconsistent punches heard in the background and then silence. Complete silence as apparently the news broadcast executives decided to drown out the words and sounds being shouted on tape.

The camera now at the front of the store aims out at the base of Faneuil Hall. Over the outside balcony they laid under cover, at the base of the main market foyer. A rounded shopping area at the mouth of a long cobblestone walkway. The circular end was riddled with bodies that appeared as blurs on the network broadcast. Although somewhat polished for network television, the faint blurs were more than enough to incorporate the gore of the scene.

The camera focused in on one blur. Overwhelmed with the sensation of falling, Skylar honed in on this blur, but could not make out if the body was moving on the ground due to the constant shaking and grainy pixilation of the video. The lens scanning the circular marketplace below them. Hiding behind the large white columns of the main market hall, a gunman seemingly welcoming any heroics continued firing into the fleeing crowds. More gunshots, the volume back on as the camera now focused at an overturned Kiosk lying against the brick wall across the common. An accomplice to the original shooter, perched between the wall and the Kiosk, laying cover fire for the prominent sniper in the open.

It was difficult to see any details of the two through the turbulent and poor picture. Skylar sat in terror, amazed at the broadcast, and resentful to the media for bringing this into into her sanctuary. Graphic and more horrific than anything she had ever seen, Skylar felt a deep inherent pain in her belly as if she was witness to the scene personally.

The gunshots cracked louder as the cameraman finally jumped for the floor. A sigh of relief from Skylar as she wasn't sure how much more she could watch. The camera caught a glimpse down the long stretch of corridor scattered with abandoned kiosks, littered with belongings and more blurred visions of devastation.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar pierces the screen. A chilling, unearthly howl sending pain and unfiltered horror directly through the television set, and disturbing the air of Skylar's living room. The tape stopped, and Skylar dropped the remote to cup her hands over her eyes in horror just as the soft sounds of her crying baby carry over the monitor.

Chapter II

A sharp, shooting pain tears through my stomach. Eyelids erupt open, exposing my vein ridden, exhausted, bloodshot eyes to the world. The dry air like razor blades, scorching my peepers as I keel forward in agony. A mind struggling to decipher which pain is worse, that in my belly or the brain-splitting headache. Before the thought had finished percolating, my nose crashes into something as it lunged forward. The numbing pain freezing my sinuses as my vision adjusts to the daylight, revealing the back of the seat invading my personal space. My mind finally awaking to a painful reality after a long foggy snooze. Suddenly, my body refocuses on the overwhelming pain ripping back through my stomach.

I’m in hell.

But just as quickly, a momentary release eases the aggression in my belly.

Did I just?

I grip the armrest next to me as the pain climaxes and subsides just as abruptly, with a tingling borderline warming sensation. Unsuccessfully clenching in a last willed effort to contain.

I think I’m Shitting?

Eyes still adjusting to the sunlight, I turn my sore, stiff neck to the left. A familiar face. My old friend Kirk, sitting before a big glass window, with the world speeding past his shoulders. The wide-eyed expression with his jaw hanging wide open in a mix of absolute disgust with a hint sheer joy immediately confirmed my worst fears. I’m me, I’m alive, and I just pooped myself.

God Dammit, where the hell am I?

My mind kicks in late, but with full force.

Damage control.

I glance around. Aisle to my immediate right only vacant with an empty, harshly colored seat pattern, a decor modeled after an early 80's porno. To my left, the ecstatic Kirk O’Brien, still speechless, with his skinny, gingerly freckled, pale,