The Knightstick Chronicles, Rough Justice

Ch1, Time Heals Nothing

 Two months earlier...

From the black of a dreamless sleep, I heard a faint sound in the distance. Like a buzzing, drawing closer and closer. What was that? A bug maybe? No... that's not it... I knew the sound, but couldn't quite place it. It continued, rhythmically, annoyingly, slowly dragging me back to my senses.

 Opening blurry eyes, I tried to lift my groggy head, but could barely raise it more than an inch. Waiving my lead-heavy limbs about, I searched aimlessly for the source of the annoyance that had awoken me. My slow, dumb fingers eventually found the vibrating phone and clumsily swiped the screen bringing an end to my tormentor. It was a hollow victory, I was awake now. Damn it. 

I sat up on the edge of my bed and let my feet flop to the floor, head-heavy and sore from the night before. There was only one way to help that. I grabbed the bottle at the edge of my bed and threw back a few gulps to delay the unwanted consequences of a disrupted bender. Wiping the sleep drool from my face I picked up my phone and, glowering, looked for the reason it had disturbed me. I hadn't set the alarm in months and no one called or texted me anymore. Well... Almost no one. It was my uncle Chuck. He left a message when I didn't answer. I contemplated deleting it, but grim curiosity beckoned and I pressed play.

"John, it's me. I just heard about your job. Damn it boy you know how hard I worked to get you that position. Nick is pissed with me for convincing him to bring you on. What the hell happened?"

Some part of my dulled mind felt the faintest twinge of guilt. I took another drink. My uncle's message continued. His tone shifted from frustrated to something softer, almost sad. I heard him sigh.

"-listen boy I understand. Goddamit don't you tell me I don't. You know what I lived through. But this is no way to deal. I won't help you with money anymore, but when you finally get your head out of your ass, I'm here. Call me." Click.

That was not how I wanted to start my day. Granted, I hadn't wanted to start my day at all. Still, rough wake-up call. 

I rose from the dirty bundle of unwashed sheets I called a bed and shuffled across my studio apartment floor, sifting through old wrappers and bits of stale food as I made my way to the bathroom. Lazily I faced the toilet and leaned up against the wall in a vain effort to position my hips over the bowl so as not to miss without actually aiming. 

 I could still hear my uncle's voice in my head. It irked me. I took another swig from the bottle as I splashed across the porcelain. 

Not bothering to flush, I stumbled out of the bathroom and made my way across the room to the window opposite. Without thinking I opened the shutters letting in the way-to-bright sunlight, regretting it instantly. I had probably slept in till about noon, not that it mattered. The idea of a wasted morning meant nothing to me. 

I looked out from my second-floor studio apartment to the cobblestone street below, lined with wood-paneled buildings and carved wooden shop signs hanging between old store-front windows. It all looked like something straight out of a scene from an old Western film. My apartment was on the second floor of a renovated historic building. The whole area was a landmark, the original site where the city was first established. Now it mostly serves as a tourist spot, but some people, such as myself, still live here, for now anyway. It was actually a small miracle (if those existed), I hadn't been evicted yet. 

Jack, The landlord, owned my apartment and the bar beneath it which he tended himself. He was a good guy and an old family friend who had let me move in about six years ago when I was first starting the academy. Back then, he had been excited to have me as a tenant. I wasn't so sure that was the case anymore. I was pretty sure my relationship with Jack was running on fumes. Family ties could only outweigh overdue rent for so long. Oh well. I took a long pull and drained the last of the whisky.