BRUCIE

TWO

Sunight seeped through the red drapes and onto his small forehead as he shuffled awake. He climbed off his flat belly and switched off the fan with a yawn. He did a quick shower in the bathroom hall which was already wet and hurried downstairs to the kitchen where his father was already up and frying eggs.

"Mornin daddy," he stated as he sat around the counter.

The old man gave him a serious look and returned his focus to the stove. "I thought you said you were never wearing that shirt again", said the old man.

"I'm over it daddy, Marcie is gone, and so is mommy," he said, plucking a hole in the sleeve of the black race car T- shirt.

"And may God continue to bless ther souls," said the old man as he placed a plate before Brucie " You don't look hungry."

"Daddy," he looked beyond the test glasses into the aging old brown eyes of his father "I'm fine, let's just finish your bad cooking and get out of here."

The muscular old man placed the egg on his son's plate along ith a slice of brown bread and plainly said "I'll be in the livingroom when you're ready."

Brucie poured himself a cup of black coffeeand plastered the dry bread with butter before choking down the amateur egg sandwhich. He finished the coffee and made his way t the livingroom where the old man was watching the news on the leather couch.

"You ready?" asked the old man as he clicked off the television and got up.

"Yeah," Brucie replied with a sigh and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yeah," Brucie replied and turned his attention to the blank television screen.

"Go brush your teeth," the old man ordered.

"C-mon daddy, half the guys there don't even the shower," he retaliated.

"Now Brucie!" the old man towered above him with darkness in his brown eyes and a rising geyser of rage.

"Fine, fine," he said and headed upstairs to the hall bathroom.

He quickly brushed his teeth and headed back down the rickety wooden steps to the livingroom where his father was back on the television. Brucie stood behind the sofa with folded arms and noticed that the channel was on an emergency watch.

'This is a national health hazard, all civilians are required to stay in ther homes. Keep all doors locked and remain inside at all times.Any civilian spotted on the street will be shot on sight' were the words that repeatedly ran across the base of the multicolored screen.

The old man jumped at the voice of his son and held his chest as he turned to face him.

"Daddy what is this?" asked Brucie as he looked from the plasma to his father.

"I don't know kiddo, but it doesn't seem like we're going anywhere today," the old man replied as he ran down the channels; repeating the same message over and over.

"I wanted to visit Lameer today when we got back from the site, you know she lives right down the street-"

"Brucie," the old man interupted "We're not going anywhere today.'

"You honestly believe everyhthing you see on television?' he asked with folded arms.

 "When it's on two hundred of our channels you bet your hide I do," replied the old man.

The boy dropped his arms and sighed "We should at least look outside, you know today is the mayor's birthday, maybe this is his idea of a joke," Brucie suggested.

The old man nodded in amusement and dropped the remote on the couch. Brucie watched as he slightly opened wooden front door and poked his head outside. As sunlight trickled inside a long shadow of his father was casted against the couch as Brucie stood behind it; anxiously waiting to hear what all the fuss was about. His father closed the door and turned to face him and calmly whispered "Go upstairs and lock yourself in your room," with complete darkness in his eyes.

"Why? What's out there?" he asked fearfully.

"Brucie do as I tell you. There is a gun under the kitchen sink, I want you to take it out, go upstairs and lock yourself in your room," the old man replied with stern serenity.

"But why?" he asked; on the verge of tears.

"No more questions Brucie!" the old man commanded "Just do as you are told."

Brucie ran for the kitchen and searched under the sink where he found a rather large handgun in an old bucket filled with empty beer bottles. He ran back to the livingroom where his father was still standing by the front door with the look of frustration and fear on his old face.

"Good, now upstairs," he said with a sad smile "I love you son."

Brucie nodded and held back tears and made for his bedroom where he locked the door and knelt against it; feeling the warm water leave his eyes. He cried within himself as he held the gun in his right hand and eventually brought himself to calm down so he could think straight. As quickly as he could he pulled apart the bedroom drapes and flipped open the blinds and his watery eyes widened to an insane degree.