The Pole Shift

Jimmy's Crystal

Jimmy looked up. His ear was bleeding. He took in the bulldogs, both teachers, and students. This was a defining moment. All eyes were on him, if he got to the other side it would characterize him. Winner. Leader.

                He shifted weight, and voices erupted:

                " Go! Do it!" Then Mr. Knowles shouted from the other side:

                "They made a mistake, you're not special, quite frankly you're  just a 'shit cunt'." That silenced everyone, the old teacher laughed, as if he too was a teenager and was pleased to shock the rabble. Even the other teachers shot him a glance, before training their eyes at Jimmy.

                Jimmy stepped across the base line. It was late Friday. In a world that wasn't shaking with imminent disaster he would have been well on his way home, off to play Quake Live, laugh at his step dad's novel and yeah-yeah his Malaysian mother.  Tinker in his shed and think about the weekend. He might wonder what it would be like to face a zombie apocalypse, have vampires nest in the neighbourhood, or a werewolf in the family.  Instead he had half a dozen adults, his teachers, and as many of his former high school contemporaries trying to stare him down, guess what his first move would be. He put a finger to his ear, electricity pulsed into his finger, like the tingle from a 9 volt battery. He whispered:

                "Prophet, what should I do?" There was a pause then:

                "Move and  fight assertively."

                "Can you help me?"

                "Not materially." 

                Some of the bulldogs noticed Jimmy talking, they looked at his bleeding ear.

                "His gone nuts!" Someone shouted.

                " His cut off his ear!" Observed another. From the other side of the court Helen shouted:

                "Run Jimmy run!" Jimmy looked over to her, suddenly he saw the far side of the tennis court as if it were a shore, and his people were gathered there urging him across turbulent seas. He felt like they belonged together. To either side of him stood the rest of the kids, not his people yet but possible enemies, strangers. They were muttering about making a break for it as soon as Jimmy went.  They were together, he was alone.

                The bulldogs only needed to catch one more and the contest would be over. Jimmy patted an object in his pocket, he had been practicing with it, working out how to be quick with the motions. He had used the razor blade to insert the crystal just before the game. A note from the Macka dude having been brought to him from Helen, who had found it on the seat of a pod.

                Good luck Jimmy, remember how a little village works, most of the survivors will forget. Insert the crystal in your earlobe, Prophet will help.

M.

Jimmy lifted the blade from his pocket, it had a bone handle and had been his grandfather's  cut throat, on the Saxon side. No one noticed the motion,  he stepped into the court. The student bulldogs went to rush, eager to see him fail, to condemn him as one of them.

                They're just like fucking zombies. He thought, and let the blade fold free of its bone handle. He easily side stepped the fat kid who was weirdly gnashing his teeth at him, then a girl he knew from his maths class tried to jump on him, Jimmy dug out his elbow and she oofed as he caught her in the ribs. He back peddled as the others closed and slashed down across the fat kids face. The back hand motion was a mere flick, yet a scarlet crease formed from ear to lip, then flooded across the shocked boy's face.

                No one quite got what Jimmy had done. Seconds of cognition ensued, in which Jimmy leapt forward, bundled over a boy two years young than him and arrived at Mr Leech. The man was visibly frightened, his jaw was already swelling, and he looked at Jimmy without intent, their eyes met, and Jimmy saw the cowardice in the mathematician.  Jimmy bundled him away as the cut boy let out a tremendous wail.

                "He cut me! I'm cut! I'm bleeding!" He looked at his hands and patted his face with exploring fingers. The boy backed away from them all, the moment awful, and he yelled. "You're all gunna die!" Then turned and fled. Meanwhile Jimmy had threaded passed two of the bulldogs, the cut throat held up like a candle. From nowhere snaked a strong hand that grabbed Jimmy's wrist, it tightened, then twisted, forcing him to drop his mean weapon. He looked up to Miss Wright's cold eyes. She hissed:

                "You devil." With her left hand she delivered a thunderous slap to his cheek that staggered him out of her clasp, he fell backwards, trying desperately to find his feet as he sensed movement from all sides but  too late, they had arrived.

                The bulldogs formed a circle around Jimmy, Mr Knowles pushed through them to look down on the student. He was breathing hard, his face contorted in physical an emotional pain, he said:

                "Yes, yes..why not? Who says we can't take the pods? I don't see that Macka fucker anywhere, it seems you are on your own young Jimmy." Mr Knowles's whole demeanour had changed, he was not acting, survival instinct had taken over.  He went on:

                "As a matter of fact I think the world after the Pole Shift would be much better served by teachers and, shall we say their, pets?" His face had turned harlequin in the late Friday afternoon light, his eyes bulged. One of the students made a suggestion:

                "Let's kill him."

                 Jimmy made to move but was shoved back down, the circle began to constrict and his ear tingled with electricty. Then, from the far side of the tennis court a hubba baloo erupted, and the students, led by Helen, charged the bulldogs.