James Humphreys

10-29-14
3
OM&M Alternate Ending

RAGE
Lennie crouched in the bushes, hands over his head, hallucinating vividly. Every
once and a while, between his slurred murmuring, he would let out a scream or a
whimper. His words faded into disjointed, meaningless sounds. His bloodshot eyes were
opened so wide, it seemed as if theyd pop out of his skull.
Abruptly, he shot up, letting his frustration out with a scream. His head whipped
around, scanning the area. His eyes carried a glimmer of anger and darkness. He turned to
the tree next to him, clenched a fist, and punched it with all the force he could muster. He
pulled his bloody fist out of the indention he managed to make in the hard oak wood. He
took a moment to look at his damaged hand, moved his fingers around a bit, and sighed.
Lennie had never been that angry in his life. His tense face muscles relaxed, and
a fatigued look set on his face. He fell to his knees on the damp grass and looked out over
the glimmering water. Rabbits. It was as if the rabbits were all he really had left.
At that moment, George crawled through the brush. Lennie didnt look. He held
his gaze on the shimmering waves. George sat down behind Lennie, and broke the silence
with I aint mad, Lennie. I aint gonna give you hell.
All he got in response was silence.
Lennie? You alright?
How come I always do bad things, George?
I dunno Lennie. It dont matter though.
You aint gonna leave me, are you George?
George thought about his response before he spoke.
No Lennie. I aint gonna leave ya. Im gonna stay right with ya till we own that
farm and them rabbits.

As he said it, he reached for his pocket, slowly as not to attract attention. His
fingers slid around the cold, metallic grip of the Luger.
Look out over the water George. Think about the farm and the rabbits, like you
can see em. Dont turn around, just think.
What color rabbits, George?
Any color you can think of.
George slid the gun out of his pocket. His hand shook violently as he lifted his
arm to point the gun at the back of Lennies head. Lennie still looked out over the
rippling water, a distant look in his eyes. A slight smile crept onto his lips as he drifted
off into his thoughts of rabbits and alfalfa. George gazed down the barrel, his breath
coming in bursts and ice running in his veins. He hadnt even pulled the trigger yet, and
already he was disgusted with himself for taking the life of his best friend. Cold sweat
came in torrents, until he couldnt take it anymore and dropped the gun soundlessly onto
the damp grass.
Lennie turned around briefly, and George swiftly turned him back around.
Dont break concentration, Lennie. Keep imagining the rabbits.
Lennies head rotated back towards the water, oblivious to Georges intentions.
George took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and slipped his fingers around the handle of
the gun once more. He lifted it to Lennies head again, hands shaky, mind racing, heart
pumping. Trying to be quiet, George cocked the gun back slowly, but failed when the gun
made an audible click. Lennies head whipped around, saw the gun, took a moment to
process what was going on, and opened his eyes wide with shock. The shock quickly
turned to anger, and he grabbed a terrified Georges hand, crushing his fingers.
I thought you said youd never leave! shouted an enraged Lennie.
George only let out a pitiful cry in response, his face contorted into a pained
expression. Tears poured down his face, and he gave a feeble attempt at pulling the
trigger, but his broken fingers failed him. Lennie wrenched the gun away, and George
screamed, looking at his mangled hand. Lennie balled a fist like a boulder, and crashed it
into the side of Georges ribs, causing many audible breaks. George wailed in agony,
crashed into the ground a few meters away, and wept. Lennie strode like a giant over to
Georges limp body with fire burning in his eyes.

You told me youd never leave me! You lied to me!

George shook with sobs on the ground, and Lennie raised the gun. He laid his
oversized finger on the trigger.
You lied!
He pulled the trigger. A shot rang out, echoing through the mountains. Georges
body lay sprawled on the ground, but Lennie didnt calm down. His heartbeat kept
drumming and his angry grip on the gun did not loosen. It was if he hadnt registered
what he had done yet, but it was sure to hit him like a freight train later.
He heard Carlson and Curley coming through the brush to investigate, and he
quickly ducked behind the tree he had previously struck with anger. Curley came through
the undergrowth first, unarmed. Behind him was Carlson, holding Crooks shotgun. They
didnt see Lennie, who tightened his grip on the Luger and dipped out from behind the
tree, aiming at Carlson. He squeezed the trigger, and the muzzle spit out flames. The
bullet found its target, and burrowed itself in the side of Carlsons head. A remarkable
shot for a first-time shooter. Curleys head whipped around, and he saw Lennie standing
near Carlsons corpse, aiming at him. Lennie focused, steadied his hands, and click.
Lennie was out of bullets. Curley saw his only chance in the form of the shotgun
lying on Carlsons lifeless chest, and made a run for it. As he dove to the ground and got
his hands around the barrel, Lennie brought his foot down hard on Curleys already
smashed fingers. Curley howled in agony, and released his grip. Lennie grabbed the
barrel, flipped it, and held the barrel to Curleys head. Curley froze, not wanting to be on
the receiving end of the buckshot.
Lennie, put down the gun. We can talk this o-
His words were rudely interrupted by a loud report as Lennies pugnacious
instincts took over. The scene was grotesque to say the least; Curleys corpse lay next to
Carlsons, minus the head. Lennie was still on his frenzy, and crashed through the brush,
looking for Slim. He ran in the direction of the ranch, and heard someone else moving
nearby as he approached the gate.
He scanned the area, looking for Slim. He saw a head appear briefly in the trees,
and began his pursuit. Slim was no match for the robust Lennies long strides, and soon
Lennie was right behind him. Lennie hoisted the gun to his waist, and shot at Slim on the

run. The spray of bullets got him in the legs, and he suffered to a gruesome crash landing,
a knot of tree roots striking him in the head, causing a ghastly laceration. Lingering on
the edge of consciousness, Slim looked down at the stumps that had taken the place of his
legs. Horrified by what he saw, his eyes rolled back into his head and he blacked out.
Lennie left him to bleed out under the thick canopy of the forest.
It was 8:00 now, almost sunset. The men were all in the bunkhouse eating dinner.
Long shadows were beginning to creep down the dirt path as Lennie made his way
towards the bunkhouse. His mind was still filled only with anger and frustration, not only
at George but at himself as well. I always do bad things. He broke into a run. Whats the
harm in a few more?
He checked his gun, and realized he had 2 bullets and shot twice, and was
therefore empty. He left in on the ground, and approached the bunkhouse. He stopped for
a moment, and felt the cool evening breeze waft over him. He took a deep breath.
Im sorry.
He made his way to the shed behind the bunkhouse, and pulled out the firemaking tools, consisting of kerosene and matches. He walked around the bunkhouse,
spraying kerosene all over the walls and leaving a trail of it leading away. He took a
shovel and wedged it in the door bar slot, preventing it from being opened from the
inside. The matchbox was then taken out and a match was struck, sparking and lighting.
Lennie gazed at the flame for a few seconds, watching it burn down, until tossing it onto
the kerosene.
The whole bunkhouse erupted in flames almost instantly, the dry wood feeding
the blaze. The inside of the bunkhouse filled with screams, and Lennie sat down to watch
as the workers pounded on the door from the inside. A thick cloud of black smoke
spiraled up into the sky from the firestorm, as the hellish scene continued to worsen. The
inferno kept spreading until every square inch of the now-charred bunkhouse was
covered with fire. Finally, the roof collapsed, silencing the horrifying sounds coming
from within. Suddenly, everything became very still, the silence only broken by the
crackling of sparks jumping off of the black scaffolding of what used to be the
bunkhouse.

Lennies calm expression melted into absolute horror. What have I done!? Lennie
seemed to return to his right mind, and looked down at his hands. I never meant to hurt
nobody! Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. His heart started to rush, and he threw
back his head and yelled, Im sorry George!
Crooks, meanwhile, had retrieved his gun from near his house and brought it back
inside to reload. He heard Lennies anguished cries, and brought his newly loaded
shotgun with him outside. He crept up silently behind George, and as he sat there
weeping, pointed the gun at his head and promptly fired. Lennie flew forward, his body
hitting the ground with a loud thump. The light left his eyes, and the life drained out of
his body.
Crooks propped the gun onto his shoulder and looked at Lennie, his body outlined
by the still-blazing fire in the distance. It looked exactly like an action movie scene.
Crooks eyes lifted up to the decimated bunkhouse, and thought of all the people inside.
Theyd treated him so poorly, and he found solace in the fact that now they were dead
while he was alive. A smile crept onto his lips, and he turned around and headed back
into his house, leaving the field of death behind.