Introduction

186 11 3

by jeffreykovaljr

by jeffreykovaljr

CODE JUNKIE

Kevin is an unpleasant man who loses his job and finds it difficult to deal with other people. He has those he considers friends, but he mostly prefers to focus on code, alcohol, and cynicism. Then, Kevin begins to experience odd hallucinations. In one moment, he finds comfort with a complete stranger, and in the next, he finds himself in a darkened, pixelated wood. A crowd of creatures are gathering, but Kevin doesn't sense danger; rather, he feels anticipation. Something is about to happen.

When Kevin is thrust back into reality, the visions do not stop. Soon, dream figures start to follow him into his normal life, and life conspires to keep him in the small town of Deptford, longing for his first love and feeling numb inside. He isn't exactly happy with his existence, but he doesn't have the motivation to change anything. Things do begin to change, however, in strange and horrifying ways.

CODE JUNKIE is a story of cynicism, introspection, and addiction. As Kevin must overcome the trials and tribulations of everyday life, he becomes more and more entranced by his hallucinations. Is he crazy? Prophetic? Or something else entirely?

CODE JUNKIE is a tale about an unpleasant man who loses his job.

Welcome to Deptford County.

Conceptualized and written originally as an ARG between 2010-2013, CODE JUNKIE was my first long-from written work. Here it is, a decade later. There are flaws inherent in all first novels, and a few things that now make me shake my head, but the story within will always hold a special place in my heart. In the spirit of this re-release, I will be making minor revisions and edits for flow as I release two chapters a week. But the original story will be there in its entirety. I hope you enjoy it.

To friends and family, past, present, and future.

INTRODUCTION

You never know when the end of your tale will suddenly find you.

Sometimes it's the drink; sometimes, the cancer. Perhaps you live a charmed existence, follow three squares a day and get plenty of exercise, much like an inmate, and find yourself on the underside of an eighteen-wheeler crossing a busy street that you could have sworn was vacant just moments earlier. Despite living in fear of pandemics that sweep the streets, we often refuse to wash our hands after using a public restroom, eat in restaurants, shake hands with strangers, and kiss babies. However, if we were to act differently, we would be labeled as hermits, insane, broken, or germaphobes. You know: weirdos.

As humans, we love to dwell on nonsense, write our own afterlives, forge our own outline of the universe, and create a unique perspective, just like every other person before us. The religious worship their deities and their pieces of wood or porcelain, and the atheists stake their claim that our bodies simply turn off the lights. But we all end up in a wooden box, in pieces on a busy street, lost at sea, or some beautiful combination of the three that would make for one hell of an obituary. Though it is unlikely that I am going to fulfill such a colorful destiny, not even my bloodline has escaped the curse of willing oneself to believe that they know what happens upon death and what causes our beating bodies to experience it.

My grandmother once told me that we die when we lose the ability to love. At the time, I was too young to understand the whimsy of her words. Now, I am left with a memory that leaves a dull, crooked smile and an unshakeable sensation of what a happier person would label as l'esprit de l'escalier. I had some smart-ass comment shortly after the conversation with my grandmother, but it is not important now.

As I stand in line at a convenience store, my dull companion Jerry is making small talk with the cashier. Jerry's curls and Pillsbury demeanor cracked years off his identity, and living a lifestyle that more adequately held a labeling of "man-child" (rather than boy or man), led to him inadvertently identifying with the immature young adults around him. They were both smiling into each other's awkwardly spaced teeth. Jerry was saying something about the personal history of the popular sci-fi icon on her faded t-shirt, and she laughed, appreciating the reference. She was blonde and probably hadn't yet graduated high school. I looked at the register, confirmed that Jerry and I were done purchasing our wares, and slowly turned towards the large windows that fronted the store. My other traveling companion, my other co-worker, sat in his small car, the vehicle still idling and shining light in the dark. Ted animatedly looked from Jerry to me and shook his head, grinning. I moved towards Jerry and touched his shoulder.

"Jer, your wife's going to be expecting us," I said, slurping the sugary beverage from my cup and walking towards the door. No, Jerry wasn't married, he didn't even have a girlfriend, but the anxiety that I had just managed to synthetically induce would lead the mildly obese, bumbling fool to hastily sweep his belongings off the checkout counter and follow my retreat, so we could finally leave the damn place.

It was cool outside. Autumn was approaching. I quietly entered Ted's car and adjusted my coat upon sitting in the passenger seat.

"Did he fall in love with another cashier?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, making Ted laugh. "I don't think he even realizes it half the time."

"Man, when will he get a clue... with the braces and everything."

"To be fair," I reminded him, "he still wears a retainer, as well."

Ted nodded. He wasn't nearly as incompetent as the other people we were forced to associate with. Maybe that's why I could bear spending time with him, and in turn, Jerry, who was stumbling out of the convenience store's front door and quickly making his way to the car. In a less-than-graceful display of human aptitude, he heavily placed himself into his seat and strapped his seatbelt on, although Ted was in no hurry to drive away. After Jerry breathed audibly for a few breaths and got his bearings, he mumbled, "You know, Kevin, you're an ass..."

Jerry was not a monster. For whatever reason, he just became horrendously awkward around any and every girl. Perhaps, growing up sheltered, he felt more comfortable around others going through their own permanent awkward phase. Ignorance and innocence courting one another in a race to the bottom.

"We are what we are, Jerry."