Saturday came. The planned party had been a bore for Lett. It sounded shit , all she wanted was a stage where catastrophe struck, ridding her of her boys. Clarky had taken on some poof persona that had him decorating the house with fairy lights and candles. Not only had he sourced ecstasy he had got it into his head to dress up as what looked like a girl. Mick and Dean were disgusted. Did he really impregnate her? She'd rooted all her boys, they were different in their sexual custom and whatever fitted her mood she would chose. She regarded Clarky - already high, knowing it was him through timing and confirmed through the Macka dude. Mick spoke:
"What the fuck's this shit?" Gesturing at his attire. Clarky beamed.:
"The party! The good-bye, I mean, the party." He tugged at what looked like a multicoloured toga, he had a head band beaded with fluorescent light. His pupils were large and enormously black. Dean said:
"Clarky, it is easier to just call you a fag hedonist, why don't you go home with them losers after the party?" Quickly Clarky's eyes travelled to Lett, they all clocked the journey. They knew, Lett had made him fall in love. Lett's fingertips brushed her stomach, her pregnancy was on the verge of showing . She wanted to nest, and Clarky threatened to cast a tear in her eye. She was losing her aggression. Fucking Mum, she thought, trying hard to frown over her slight smile.
People arrived, the party was in full swing. Clarky happily cuddled away at the hedonist set who had set up decks and were mixing late twentieth century melodies with current thud. They were near naked, displaying decadent flesh, painted with swirls of florescent greens and orange. Their hedonist's eyes flashed like cats when they shrank into darkness . They looked cool, their hair chalked white, fashion having a say at the end of days.
Lett watched from the sidelines, she talked with Mick and Dean and another few dudes they knew to be survivalists, their conversation was guarded and confrontational, as if they supported rival football teams who hated each other.
"You couldn't take more than two litres of water on your person, it would cost you too much energy to carry it." Mick said.
"Depends how strong you are." There was some bristling.
"If you think of it personally you'll fuck up. Go by the book man." Mick clenched his fists:
"What fucking book?" The conversation was going nowhere, it was just posturing and Lett couldn't be assed joining in. She looked over at the door as it opened, more hedonists came in, they glanced at the grim eyed survivalists then hurried over to the decks. There was shouting and cuddling and tears and kissing. She caught Clarky's eye, he tried to break free of her stare but was unable to, he untangled himself and joined them. The door opened again, and some bleak eyed teenagers came in. They looked like they should be at home, adolescence glowing in their cheeks. They opened beers and began to take the piss out of the hedonists. One of them approached Lett and the boys:
"Got and drugs?"
"Yep!" Said Clarky and he sailed away with the 15 year old to the decks. They watched him trot off, Dean:
"That little cunt has ..." Lett cut him off:
"He's making it seem legit let him have his fun." She couldn't help caring, she wanted to go over to the fun too, she wanted to find a bowl of feathers and curl into it. She wanted a drone to blow all their heads off. She, just, wanted!
The door opened and in walked Macka. He didn't look at anyone. He wore jeans and a white T shirt, he was older than all of them. His eyes rested on the scene rather than them. Lett felt Mick shift stance, she knew he was threatened. The house began to rattle, the decks spilling to the floor, Macka said:
"Put your plans into action, The Pole Shift has arrived."
YOU ARE READING
The Pole Shift
Science FictionEarth Crust Displacement, a theoretical and devastating geological event supported by Albert Einstein. What if it was about to happen, what if we knew it was upon us? What if some of us were being watched . . .
