SALVATION chapter 3

Salvation
Chapter 3

San Diego, California

Nick had been working the better part of an hour in the little office area of the studio when he heard the approach of Buck's old ford econoline van.
He punched the print icon waiting for the 'Battle of the Bands' advertisement to
emerge from the old Canon 1600 before logging off the internet.
Buck, Toby, and Mac sat in the van a minute finishing off a joint before the van's door hinges
squeaked and moaned signaling their exit.
Toby walked around stretching, and pulling dark sunglasses over the top of his receding hairline while
viewing the sky..."Oh, man..Dude, is it only ten?"
Mac checked the watch wrapped around his meaty wrist. "Quarter after".."Why?"..
He laughed, "Bro, you look like somebody walking on the moon for the first time.."
"Hotter than hell out here already."..Toby groaned..
"Bitch, bitch, bitch", Buck muttered..
"Blow me" Toby shot back...He pulled open the van and grabbed the 12 pack they'd hauled up with them.
Smiling, "Man can not live under these conditions without beer."
"Too early for me" Buck said moving to the shade of the big oak tree.
"I'll take one of those bad boys" Mac grinned..
"Go long", Toby said pulling a can out of the box. He backed up two steps feinting a quarter back.
"Fuck that!"...Mac stood.
Buck began his ritual Tai Chi exercises..He was tall, lean, sharp featured with jet black hair and green eyes.
Lead guitar, vocals, and a good foundation in the language of music.
His riffs were exacting, practiced to perfection, regimented.
What Nick brought to the band in the form of raw fresh inspiration, Buck balanced with hard finite boundaries dictated by music theory.
Together they had broken through some walls of convention and emerged an artistic expression to be dealt with.
Toby and Mac stood around a few minutes mesmerized by the display of fluent motion Buck demonstrated with the Tai Chi movements..
Fly's and meat bees being what they are..It wasn't long before the young men's concentration was disrupted by involuntary swats and swipes of defense..
They looked at each other, and broke out laughing...
The kind of giddy uncontrollable nonsense laughter that is inherent with a pot high..
Toby jerked a thumb in Buck's direction..."Talk about your man on the moon!"..
Causing the laughing hysteria to regenerate it's self, over and over...
"you guys are gay"..Buck commented never breaking his rhythm..
"Your girl friend doesn't think so" Mac spat back causing another round of side splitting.
As the boxcar was safe and secure it afforded the luxury of leaving their equipment set up..
Only packed and moved into the econoline Thursday nights as Friday, Saturday and Sunday's were gig days.
Toby and Mac managed to stumble their way up the wood steps to the studio..
Mac played drums and Toby bass guitar...
Like night and day, once in the studio their demeanor's changed..
Business like concentration..The work day had begun.
Three minutes later the stock yard erupted in a wall of sound..
Mac and Toby jammed warm ups..
Buck entered the studio and moon danced his way to the hard shell case housing his favorite Gibson Les Paul..
He slapped on the Marshal Stack, digitally tuned, and within 30 seconds had joined in..
Unplugged, was never in the mind set of any member of INTENT..

Los Angeles, California

Herman blinked..The shower stall was empty.."What the?"..
"Ring, ring"...The sound was right behind him.
Spinning around, his heart gagged in his throat.
What he saw recoiled his mind..Instinct reflex forced his body back.
His heels caught the edge of the shower entry..
Eyes bulging, arms flailing, ripping and tripping through the curtain as inertia had it's way..
Two things flashed through his intellect a split fraction before the back of his head meld with the ceramic sidewall of the shower.
"Things in motion tend to stay in motion"..And,...Wylie Coyote..
BAM!..Bam, bam!...The Flintstone kid kept flickering in and out of his vision as he slid down the wall..
He heard Ralf Cramdon yelling, "One of these days Alice!...To the Moon!"
He came to rest sitting on the shower floor..
Feet and shins poking out at a 45 degree angle pointing directly at the phone set sitting on the sink counter..
The mangled end of the extension line slithered and snapped like the tail of a poisonous snake.
Like a 'Headless Horseman' the decapitated jack terminal end was mysteriously missing..
Only Jagged flayed wire remained where the line had been savaged from the wall..
"Ring, ring"..."What a fucking day" Herman whispered, fainting in and out of conscienceness..
"Ring, ring"..."What a fucking day."

San Diego, California

"..And I find, that I don't understand, about love...
In time, will passion harmonize, with trust?
I really want to know, baby if it's so let's take a chance..
Please make up your mind do you want to find some true romance?
I want you to stay...
I want you to stay...
I want you to stay...
Nick belted out the bridge and chorus lines to the title track of the bands pending third album release..
It was now 7 pm and although exhausted, the atmosphere was one of a highly charged and productive day.
Nick's announcement of the up coming annual "Battle of the Bands" event hosted by a coalition of major record label corporations provided the band with new incentive..
The event was huge..Bands from all over the world bled, begged, borrowed, or stole to meet the criteria and thousand dollar per band member entry fee for a chance to be a part of it..
Every year one band walked away the winner of a guaranteed major record company recording contract, and international tour deal.
Opening for no less than the current tenth rated band in the world..
An honest to goodness tangible opportunity to be the next 'over night sensation' any ten year old kid ever fantasized jumping on their bed playing air guitar in front of 50,000 screaming cheering fans...
An hour later Buck, Mac and Toby piled back in the econoline talking a mile a minute about the shoe in INTENT would be at the Battle of the Bands event..
After the vans tail lights faded Nick sat down on the steps of the deck shaking his head.."Like kids at Christmas eve."
Crickets chirped in agreement..A hoot owl sang it's evening song, while coyotes answered in the distance..
Even after a gallon of folgers through out the day, he felt his head sag, and his palms returning to the boiling pots of water...Every day seemed to end the way it began.."Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered to himself..
"I am sorry"...Were you talking to me?"
He pulled his hands away and lifted his head..
The woman that stood before him was a vision..

Los Angeles, California

He woke up.
Sensing the back of his head was still intact, but the sick headache generating from back there made him question it..
Slowly raising his right arm he pressed a palm and felt a knot and something more..
Dry blood caked in his hair.
The traps between his shoulder blades burned, but he managed to get himself out of the shower and onto the toilet before pissing himself...
The phone stared back in silent menace.
"You"...He glared with pure hate.."You fucking, fuck!"..
Overwhelmed with rage, he stood, swooped up the handset and marched into the living room heaving it with all his might into the front door..
Stars filled his eyes, and feeling he was going to pass out again, grabbed an arm of the couch steading himself.
"You!...You belong over there!..With the fucking writing table, asshole!"
"Tap, tap, tap."...
Somebody, or something was at the door.
Fear..Total blinding freaking fear swallowed his rage like Jonah to a whale.
"Get the..fuck!...Get the fuck out of here!"
"Tap, tap, tap."..
"God damn it!..Are you deaf?...I said fuck off!"..
"Tap, tap, tap.".
He was whining now...Broken, and defeated.."Please....Leave God damn you."..
"Tap, tap, tap"....Something was at the door..