Shaken Omnibus

By Eric Roberts

One man to take on the world. Protect his people and bust his butt. can he survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Thornton
• Release date: Mar 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507038246

Book preview

Part 1: Shaken

1

Get your ass in here, Rubicon, mother says and I roll my eyes. I am thirteen for god’s sake. I don’t need this kind of crap going on.

Don’t need my mother telling me what to do when I am clearly old enough to get a job around here. I get out the door in my jumpsuit and head off to work. That’s right. In this life, I don’t get an education. I have life lessons and a job. Once turned thirteen, a citizen must work until the age of fifty five. And from there, they have to do what they have to do.

When I get to work, I start pushing the cart and once at the right speed, I ride the rails until I get to the spot where it stops just right. Thank Christ for the stop margins on the railing.

This is what it comes down to. Working the mines and suffering through the worst of the worst in order to survive. God help me I can make this. I can handle it. I toss on the mask and the eye gear before getting to work with the twirl blade we are given.

I dive into work. Busting my butt for twelve hours. When my shift is done, my arms hurt. My legs are weak. But I know I have done well. Based on the sweat pouring from my brow.

I ache in places a boy ought to not be aching in but it is worth it. Just means a nice bath for me tonight. And I can take my time. Indulge myself. I am young. Tough as nails and stubborn as hell. But it is what makes me who I am.

The day begins as it ought to. And the evening comes around as it should. I work hard and get out of the mine. Getting back to the home is nothing. Just a work train and hop off at the right time. Kick in the damage proof, soft landing boots and head down the street to my house.

2

At the house, I clean up and soak in a hot bath for a while. Once dried off, I help with supper and relax in front of the fire. It is a cold night.

I must do what I will to survive. To keep the family alive. And being the only other person other than my father to work well...it sucks.

But I do what I have to do. The women of this world are cursed to either cook for the rich or stay at home and hope for the best.

Mother only had four girls and one boy—me.

This is the nature of the world and as such I must face what I have to in order to survive. The good things are not always the best option.

And when I think about it, I know this is the toughest world we have ever faced. My god what is wrong with me to be so careless. So selfish. I don’t know. I am still young. Still 13. And I have much more to learn.

It is four in the morning and I am up for the new day. Up before father and up before mother.

I shed my mind from the thoughts that come around and figure it is for the best. I need to clean up. Get ready. And pack the lunches for father.

I snatch up the sandwiches made for us by mother and sisters. Once they are packed, I toss the boots onto papa’s lap. He passes out in the recliner from exhaustion rather than being in bed with mama. And I can understand. I sleep in the little one next to him.

He wakes up when they land on his lap.

What time is it? he asks.

Time to get ready to go, I tell him.

Do you have...?

The lunches are ready. The stuff is set out for supper and I am ready. Just waiting on you. I tell him.

Always the smart one. Ready for whatever comes your way. he rustles my hair and tosses on his boots before we head out. It is better to do it this way. If we wake up mother, she will throw her little fit and shed her tears.

And while it is somewhat appropriate given that we work a deadly job, it is not worth the drama that comes with it.

3

We ride our carts and head separate ways. I stop at the edge where we must start. A new day and starting a whole new tunnel. I set up the explosives to perfection and turn away while Victor—the trigger master—shoves down the handle.

A nice kaboom comes around and before long, I step forward with the gear on and we start making things happen. Another twelve hour shift coming along.

The more the twelve of us work the more we get done. Filling up carts and sending six of them down and back to bring on the carts and empty them. We need this. We just need it to happen. And we cannot fail. The last time someone failed they had their arm chopped off.

Sure they have a mechanical one but it is just not the same. Turns out that person’s marriage fell apart and the wife left him for someone that has money.

Sad shame when people are so selfish. So greedy. And shallow.

Not that it matters to me. I have a while to go before I go about finding love. And I don’t wanna have it anytime soon. Not with how much I see mama and papa fighting.

Sure I am a teenager but that will not stop me from calling them those names. Mama. And papa.

No one can stop me from calling them what I want. I am a teenager but I am close to my family. I know how easy it is to forget parents and such but they won’t be around forever.

And I wanna be ready for that day. The day they pass on. Not that I want that going on in the first place.

4

When you want something to happen, you have to push yourself. Strive for something better. And that is what I do. Working seven days a week, twelve hour days at 13. I am seeing more trouble. More times than most would ever wanna face.

But you know what...I don’t mind it.

Hard work pays off in the end. People appreciate it when you work hard rather than half handle it. I do what I have to do to survive. When I get off work that evening, I gather my stuff and ride off to the payroll line.

At the line, I get my envelope of cash and go from there. Father and I get home long enough to clean up and get mother’s list before heading out to the market.

We provide the list of stuff we need at the house before the marketer gathers it and brings it back to us.

Thirty eight bags come back to us. Talk about handfuls. This is tough but we make it back to the house before my hands and arms give out.

When father sets down the bags, he has red marks up his arms from juggling and holding onto the bags. Preventing them from falling. I’m surprised he is not getting burns or major aches that men of his age end up getting.

This is what it comes down to. Doing what you have to do to survive. And we love it.

Father and I live for the thrill.

And over the supper table, mother brings up something neither father or I expect.

"I was thinking we could try one last time