| Song of the Dinosaur |
Chapter 1 |
Now I�ve got the needle
And I can shake, but I can�t breathe
I take it away but I want more and more
One day I�m gonna lose the war...
(Sublime - �Pool Shark�)
In the darkness, a needle lay gleaming on the cheaply built table. The man who sat before it took another drag of his cigarette and contemplated the long glass syringe, with its shiny needle at the end and cloudy liquid inside. He finished his cigarette and tied a handkerchief around his upper bicep, watching the muscle ebb and flow. He thumped a vein in his lower arm, watching it rise, angry and red. Picking up the syringe, he inserted the needle end into the vein and emptied the contents into his arm. Slipping the needle out, he laid it back on the table and untied the handkerchief. He took out another cigarette from a pack on the table and lit the end with a match from his pocket as he stared, glassy eyed, into the darkness....
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Noah Bradley sat at his desk, head buried in his math notebook as his teacher, Mr. Larry, wrote algebraic equations on the blackboard. His thick notebook was filled with, not Math problems, but song lyrics, and he scribbled in yet another one in his unreadable handwriting that was a mix between English and Spanish. So she told me to come over and I took that trip/ Y entonces ella sac� mi extremidad de la seta / And when it came out it went drip drip drip / I didn�t know she had the G.I. Joe, kung-fu grip.... �Noah? Noah Bradley? Earth to Noah?... Stay after class Noah. I want to talk to you,� said his teacher, who then turned away to help a girl with math problems. Noah watched the clock as he �studied� his math problems. �3... 2... 1... I�m outta here,� he whispered right as the bell rang and he darted out of the classroom as Mr. Larry whirled around and bellowed, �Noah?! Noah! Noah!! Noah James Bradley, get back here !� Noah ducked his head and kept running, darting between students and muttering as he bumped people, �Sorry... sorry... scuse me... coming through... thanks... finally!� he half-yelled as he ran out of the building door and scuttled across the street.
Noah was, to put it plainly, a punk. His skin was pale, as though he had never seen the sun. His black hair had red dyed tips and was worn short and spiked. He wore a skeleton earring in his left ear and several rings and spiked bracelets on his fingers and wrists. He wore mostly black, his pants being baggy and his shirts loose. His sneakers were unlaced and he had a tattoo of a bloody sword on his shoulder.
He took out a pack of Marlboro Red 100�s and shook two out, sticking one in the seam of his closed lips and the other behind his ear. He lit one cigarette, heard staccato steps behind him and grinned, holding the hand with his freshly lit cigarette up just in time to be plucked from his fingers by two freshly manicured black nail-polished nails. �Thanks,� said the figure, now slowing down to walk next to him. �No problemo chica,� he said, as he took the other cigarette and lit it, turning away from the now gusting wind in his face.
The girl�s name was Lindzey Rockwell, and she was slowly getting into the punk phase, as was evident by her black nail polish on her long nails, black lipstick, tight fitting boot cut blue jeans with black zipping ankle boots and white blouse. She also wore her black-with-red-highlights hair short and loose, with a few small braids thrown in here and there. Not many people messed with either of them; Lindzey was safe because everyone thought she was a witch; Noah was safe because he was a punk.
They had been friends since 3rd grade, when Lindzey had come to class during the middle of the year, and had sat next to Noah. She never knew, but he had a crush on her from that day on, when some little kid tried to tease Lindzey, with her black hair and dark grey eyes, that she was a witch. Noah knocked the kid out, and he and Lindzey had become best friends. Since that day, you could always find them together, whether they were over at one another�s house, going to the mall, or just hanging out at school.
They were now passing the elementary school, and turned down the street next to it. They both lived on the same street too, had for years. Now they started talking.
�What were you writing in Math class?� Lindzey asked as she took a drag off her second cigarette. She knew about him scribbling rhymes in his notebooks, had even punched a guy out for teasing him about it. She understood it, probably better than anyone else. His family didn�t know about it, no one else did.
�Just a rhyme that popped into my head. You know how I get, I get these rhymes and I can�t do anything but write that rhyme right then,� he said as they got to her house. She half-smiled and nodded. Yes, she knew. She stubbed her cigarette out and rummaged through her purse for the house key, then opened the door with a click. She walked in and motioned for Noah to come in too, but he shook his head.
�Nah, I gotta split. You know how Mom can get... she wants a �family night�, just her family eating at the table,� he laughed. He started walking back the way he came.
�Oh ya, I understand. Better get home Noah-boy, or you�ll have the wrath of Mom turned upon you!� she laughed. She wasn�t being ironic. She was serious; she knew how it was with Noah�s family.
�Tell her I said hey!� she called to him.
�Definitely,� he called without looking back, for he was now at the end of her driveway and in the street. Their families were close, hell they were practically related. He could stop over at Lindzey�s house any time and spend the night or eat dinner, whatever. It was the same with her. She entered her house. He walked on in the street.
�Damnit,� he said as he started panting and his blood started racing. He looked behind for Liz and ducked into the forest, where it was immediately at least ten degrees cooler, and darker too. He walked to a small clearing and dumped his backpack. There was a stump there, where he sat, and took a syringe and a small vial out of his pocket.
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