The Apathy Bomb

By Spencer Kimble

Andrew is an Army pharmacist who works with soldiers who have returned from war with scars both visible and those more internally held. His own history with tragedies informs his ability to connect with his patients, but has also driven him to alcoholism. Andrew has problems. He's despondent about his work, he's angry with God about how his life has turned out, his car is a piece of junk, he's convinced he's turning into wallpaper, his best friend doesn't seem to be helping much, and he's become... apathetic about life in general. With the help of some old friends and a new one he may just be able to be saved, but can they save him in time? What will he do when he finds that his own fate has been inexplicably intertwined with that of millions of innocent people?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spencer Kimble
• Release date: Nov 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370125012

Spencer Kimble

I'm just your run-of-the-mill lunatic looking to entertain people!

Book preview

The Apathy Bomb

By Spencer Kimble

Copyright 2017 Spencer Kimble

Bookend 1

A middle-aged Yazidi man sat cross-legged as he languidly tore pieces of flat bread, occasionally dipping it in hummus between bites as he sipped strong coffee. The bleating of sheep, their chewing, and their footsteps were all the sounds he could hear, other than the telltale whispering of a leaves rustling in a light breeze. The sheep wandered around him browsing on the sparse grass near the boulder he used as a seat. The serenity was a welcome change from the horrendous war and strife which had recently engulfed the region, his home. As he glanced to the sky, he only saw few streaks of cirrus clouds. The sun was rising. The sky was transitioning from the dull grey of early morning into the orange of dawn, and then finally, the brilliant azure sky greeted him as the sun tracked higher into the sky. It looked like it was going to be a nice day. He exulted in the beauty and relative safety saying a soft prayer to God in thanks.

Ara thought about his home in Ninevah. There had been such horrific violence and tragedies; atrocities were still being discovered daily. He had recently lost so many friends and family; he was just thankful to be alive, free, and to return to the relative safety he had enjoyed for so long while simply tending his flock of sheep. The militants had been defeated and driven away. Ara and his remaining friends and family were working diligently to rebuild their lives and rebuild a new normality.

With his breakfast finished, he slurped the last of his coffee loudly as he greeted a neighbor who asked for him to watch his sheep as well so that he could help rebuild another neighbor’s house. Ara agreed happily. His friend thanked him and made his way into the village. As he walked away, a loud thunderclap roared across the sky off to the west. Ara instinctively slid off the boulder in the opposite direction seeking cover. He glanced down the path to the village and saw several people lying on the ground, glancing skyward in fear. He looked too. There was a billowy, white, and quite unnatural cloud that had formed in the sky to the west. Ara watched as this unnatural cloud rapidly dissipated. His brow furrowed as he frowned at this event. What did this ominous event portend?

Chapter 1

An old, rusted Datsun 240z pulled up in front of a bar. At one point in time it was probably blue. By that point in time was more of an off-blue. The sign on the front of the bar read The Watering Hole. It was in an upscale strip mall in the foothills above town slotted between a super market and an expensive coffee stop. The once-blue car’s brakes squeaked somewhat as they slowed the rattling jalopy to a stop. A door-shaped piece of dross opened and out stepped an equally dilapidated man, his pant’s cuffs tattered, his once-nice, and pressed shirt frayed at the ends of the sleeves. He was short and balding, though that process had nearly completed. He slowly exited the rusted rattletrap and wandered towards the entrance. A cold autumn breeze made him pull his jacket collar up over his exposed neck reflexively against the cold. The same breeze that made him pull his collar over his neck carried debris with it into the bar: dried brown leaves, wrappers from various sundries, an old cigarette pack, and this disheveled little man.

As he entered the bar, he scanned the patrons. He spotted his subject and turned towards him. A man sat at the bar enjoying the music coming from the jukebox. He wore an old Dallas Cowboys hat which had been worn so long, that it had sweat and dirt stains throughout. He was drumming his hands on the bar as he puffed on a cigarette. His head bopped to the music as the bill of the cap alternated between obscuring his face and showing it. He didn’t see the small; disheveled man approach him. I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have beee-en... he sang, slapping his hands on the bar to the beat.

I love this song, the little man said as he pulled a seat next to him.

The other man barely reacted as the shorter gentleman said this. He reached out and slapped him on the back, Hey, bro Me too, he agreed.

I never liked that line very much, honestly.

Which one?

About being a traveler of time and space. I traveled both time and space when I walked across the bar to sit down. It’s just not very profound when you stop to think about it.

Damn it, Drew! the larger man groaned as he stopped drumming on the bar and began complaining, waiving his hands about dramatically as he thought about the implications. You just ruined it for me! he groaned.

I’m sorry, Andrew lied with a slight grin. Hey Gene! Can I get a shot and...

... a beer. a man who’d reached the end of what we generally consider middle age, finished his request for him as he began pouring the shot. Hey Drew. he cheerfully greeted the little disheveled man as a smile beamed out from his wrinkled face.

Hey Rusty. How was work? Andrew asked as he downed the shot of bourbon and began rapidly draining his beer glass.

I dunno, he replied. I didn’t go.

What? Why not? Andrew asked, perplexed. Is anything wrong?

Nope, Rusty laughed as he exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. I took the day off, man. I make them a shit-ton of money. I take a day off whenever I want and they better not say anything.

A tall, thin black man approached the two as they sat at the bar. What do you sell anyway, Rusty? the man’s deep baritone asked.

Andrew caught Gene’s eye by pointing to the bar, indicating that he was in need of refreshed drinks. Gene obliged, coming over to refill the shot and beer. No, Andrew said as he put his hand over the beer glass. Could you make that a pitcher of beer? he asked as he heard his other friend approach.

Fracking fluid, mostly, Rusty answered the thin black man with the deep baritone voice as he watched Andrew order a pitcher. "We sell all sorts of different chemicals through a subsidiary, too. I actually just got a new contract through one of those subsidiaries down on the military base last week. Oh man, what a commission that one was, with a contract renewed annually!" Rusty shook his head as he took a long puff from his cigarette.

Yeah, are they hiring? he asked.

We don’t hire losers, Rusty turned and looked into the man’s eyes.

Fuck you, Rusty! the man said and turned to leave.

C’mon Andrew said to James as he was about to leave, grabbing him by the shoulder. Don’t listen to Rusty’s bullshit, man. He turned to confront Rusty. That’s not called for. It does nothing positive. At some point, I think you’ll realize that we’re all just a big brotherhood of man. You’re all my brothers, sisters, and cousins. He expansively lectured his friend while motioning to Gene to get drinks as he pointed at his empty shot glass and a pitcher upturned on the inside of the bar.

You really believe that don’t you? Rusty asked him cynically.

I do, he said firmly.

You know, Drew, if we’re all a brotherhood of man and we’re all related like you say...

Yeah?

Every time you’ve ever had sex, you’ve committed incest, he laughed.

Mmmmm, Andrew groaned, unable to speak with beer in his mouth. That’s disgusting. You um, you almost ruined the idea of sex for me there.

Good! Rusty exclaimed Now we’re even for Kashmir. He changed the subject instantly Hey, what took you so long tonight, anyway? You’re running an hour and a half late.

I worked a little late and then I almost got into an accident on the way here, he answered.

Whoa? What happened?

Well, he began, this really big pickup truck just cut me off on the highway. He drove me right off the road. I barely kept control of the car, he explained. I almost honked.

Almost? Rusty asked. What do you mean ‘almost’? I think I would have honked, at least!

I saw his bumper sticker, Andrew explained as he drained another beer.

So? Rusty asked, exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke and putting out the remains of his cigarette. "What does that have to do with anything?"

It read, ‘I wrestle bears,’ Andrew explained. It was about that time that I started considering that I wasn’t in a very big hurry, the fact that we all pay taxes, and should share the road; I should let bygones be bygones and things like that.

"You decided that after reading the bumper sticker," Rusty laughed.

Of course... Andrew chuckled.

Rusty laughed at his friend’s discretion. Oh, Oh! Rusty got excited as he remembered something when he looked at his watch. Hey, Gene! Can you turn the TV to the news? The six o’clock news is about to start!

Andrew furrowed his brow in thought, Since when do you care about the news?

Gene retrieved the television remote from beneath the bar and changed the channel to the local news station and the six o’clock news that Rusty had requested.

In answer to Andrew’s question, Rusty pointed at the screen as he was busy lighting a new cigarette. I don’t, he finally answered after he lit his cigarette Check her out, he said.

Andrew looked up to the television screen to see quite a lovely young woman reading the news into the camera from her teleprompter. He didn’t recognize her and assumed she must be new. Ah, I see, Andrew said.

Yup, Rusty confirmed Andrew’s suspicion. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?

Yeah, probably, Andrew answered miserably without looking back up at the television. I’m sure I would have thought she was when I was still alive.

Meh, you’re not dead yet, Rusty dismissed Andrew’s morose tone. Man, would I like to meet her, he thought aloud as he ogled her on the television screen.

I think I’ll order another pitcher, you down for more? Andrew asked Rusty.

Nah man, I can’t keep up with you, he said matter-of-factly as he put another cigarette out.

James? he asked his other friend.

Thanks, but no. I think I’ve had enough. I better get going home anyway. I have shuttle duty, James told him. Take care, man, James said, patting Andrew on the back as he left.

Wait, what’s that? Rusty asked.

James stopped. Mostly? he asked.

Sure. Rusty offered.

I have to drive all the drunk officers and their wives home when they call, he complained.

Oh, Rusty said miserably. That sounds awful.

Actually it’s just boring, but I’ll be on duty until 3 am. I mostly just sit around and play video games waiting for it to end.

Damn! Rusty lamented James’ predicament. Alright man. I guess we’ll see you later, he said as James took his leave. So, what kept you late at work, anyways? Rusty asked as he continued ogling the attractive young newscaster on the television.

Oh, nothing much, Andrew said shrugging. I just had a bunch of the same old problems that had to be resolved. That sort of thing.

Like? Rusty asked absent-mindedly as he was mentally undressing the newscaster.

You know? Now that I think of it, one strange thing did happen today, Andrew said pensively.

Yeah?

A guy came to my window for his prescription and he didn’t see me.

What do you mean? he asked, as he continued undressing her mentally.

"I mean he didn’t see me. He looked right through me like I didn’t exist. Andrew said, a bit shaken. It’s like I was just wallpaper. I think I might be turning into wallpaper."

Rusty couldn’t contain his laughter. His face was buried in his hands, he shook his head back and forth. Ha! You’ve been wallpaper for years! he exclaimed as tears welled in his eyes.

Damn! Andrew swore.

Yeah, Rusty laughed.

You know? One of my coworkers keeps calling me ‘Stewart’ too

What? Rusty asked.

Stewart, he repeated.

That’s weird. What did you do about it? Rusty asked

Do? Andrew asked him, perplexed as he stirred his beer with his left index finger.

Yeah, Rusty laughed. "What did you do about it? Didn’t you correct him?"

Nah, Andrew moaned morosely. That seems like a lot of hassle...

Rusty was having difficulty containing his laughter such that he could make speech understandable. So you just let him keep calling you that?

Pretty much...

You know what, Drew?

Huh?

Wallpaper, Rusty said matter-of-factly.

Damn.

Stewart!?!? Rusty asked again, still surprised.

Yup, Andrew nodded shrugging.

That’s the name of a guy who buys second-hand underwear.

Andrew thought for a moment, furrowing his brow, Well, I buy mine new.

Good man! Rusty shouted, clapping his hand on his friend’s back.