SALVATION chapter 7

Salvation
chapter 7

Long beach, California
11: am
Michelle putterer about her condo sipping on coffee and hand watering the indoor plants that created a microcosm liking to a South American rain forest.
"Good morning Mister Fernster"...she said in a low soft voice..The big bushy Boston variety graced the condo bay window..
Her stereo kept busy kicking Nick's vocals just over INTENT's backdrop of drums, guitars, and bass.
She had put their first album on the cd player earlier and was listening to it for the second time today..
A soft smile accompanied her as she turned her attention to the acacia palms framing the Boston fern above them.
Her favorite piece of furniture, a big fluffy oversized lounging chair, still held her helmet and leather jacket where she'd laid them last night after returning home.
She giggled to herself, "He sounds like Bruce Springsteen."...
"I like Bruce Springsteen" she told the glossy green palms watching them drink up their breakfast..
She frowned remembering Jackie hadn't called and left a message as promised..
Jackie was suppose to confirm the wedding gig this Sunday. If it was a go.
Jackie Thornson had formed the all women rock band three years ago and Michelle was currently the fifth keyboardist to join.
A high turn over was the nature of bands and a constant headache for band managers.
Finding work was difficult enough.
Worrying whether every member would show up or not was the other half of it.
Jackie had named the music group "Girls Night Out."
They did covers of mainstream top 40 rock bands starting in the 80's to present.
Jackie and Michelle shared lead vocals depending on the current song being performed.
Jackie's voice covered the ranges for singers such as Pat Benetar, Grace Slick, Chrissy Hynde, Reba Mc Entire.
Michelle's suited voices such as Madonna, Stevei Nicks, Jewel, Cyndi Lauper.
They had built up a versatile repertoire of almost 200 songs, including dance, rock, country, and punk genders.
Michelle enjoyed it. It was a fun band. The fact it was an all woman group was a blessing.

She had almost given up her music ambition after a year of dealing with egos,
expectations, demands, promises, and ugly rage.
More often than not her music contribution was secondary agenda when
offered a position as a member of a predominately male band.
The memory of the last band she had associated, and her narrow escape caused her to pause.
She sat down on the eight foot couch, a matching component to the big easy chair..
Taking in her surroundings.
The condo, furnishings, her late model Toyota economy car, monthly monetary needs, all taken care of by her parents.
It was on one hand, a means to an end..Without their support she realized her life would be like many in the pursuit of a career in art, very difficult..
All the traditional warnings were true..
Michelle also realized her acceptance of the parental gifts was love returned
in the form of her Mother and Father's peace of mind.
It had been two years now since she'd been out here, on her own.
And true the music world with all it's artistic expression, continued to draw her heart in much the same way it did before her journey began..
However as she lived her life day to day, evening to evening, night to night, she felt there was still much she wanted to obtain outside her occupational goals..
She longed for the right person to share her life with..
That special man whom she could feel not only free,
but compelled to communicate her victories, challenges, setbacks, joy and sorrows.
Sitting here now, rehashing the coarse memory of fear and humility she lived through during the dark days of her association with Herman Gilespie and his fledgling band MENACE.
She wondered if the kind of man she saw in her mind's eye existed in the realm of musicians..
Men seemed so full of,...themselves.
She should have followed her initial instinct when she first heard the kind of music MENACE created..
It wasn't the heavy metal nature of the compositions that caused a red flag in her being.
It was instead the nature of the words attached to the songs..
Lyrics that promoted a religious fervor.
They were not the typical expression of a group conscience immersed in
the pursuit of fame and fortune, as was the case with most she had come to know.
Nor were they simply a reflection of an addiction to pleasure.
Herman Gilespie was a zealot in the religion of self gratification.
A kind of unholy priest in an order of theology who's creed placed the pursuit of power most high.

She was at first infatuated with the music. It's presence.
The atmosphere of excitement. The near hypnotic effect it had on fans.
It was weeks before she began to sense what was left after the clearing of the stage.
She never found Herman to be an attractive man..
His build is wispy, thin..His face too long and his shoulders slump.
He has an effeminate nature that is accented by his attempts to hide it.
Plus, he stinks..
Before she had any idea of his 'religion', she often thought to herself "it must be against his religion to bathe."
His advances toward her started almost immediately.
At first he masked charm..Or what he must have conceived to be charm.
Herman lacks the ability to comprehend what it means to touch a woman.
He only understands the concept of grope.
In the words of Paul Simon, "The man ain't got no culture."
No amount of civil communication dissuaded him..
He seemed not to hear words like, "I am not interested", "I would prefer
to keep things professional", or "Keep your fucking hands to yourself."
Choosing instead to keep her backed in a corner, his glassy eyes reflecting it's prey.
A frozen smirk pasted to his face.
She began to miss rehearsals, making excuses, feinting sickness..
That's when he got mean..
The lust in his eyes turning to hate.
To this day she had not decided which was the more unnerving..
She shook her head and threw the memory off..It was over..Done with..
She had changed her address, changed her phone number, and disappeared.

Walking to the stereo now, she turned the music off..
The haunting memory of Herman Gilespie left a depression in her mood..
She thought of Nick then tried not to think of him..
"What have I been thinking?".."I don't even know the man."...
She stepped in the kitchen and thoughtlessly began washing a few dishes laying in the sink.
"Honestly Michelle...You wanted to meet him you did..He was nice.
You had diner together..It was nice..That's it...That's all."
..."He does have nice eyes though"..."Damn it!"..She tossed silverware in the strainer
like an afterthought..
"It was just one kiss!"..."Why do you always do this to yourself?"
"For Christ's sake!"...."He probably won't even call."
The phone rang..

She turned to the sound amazed..Then realized it couldn't be Nick calling.
It was her cell ringing..She'd given Nick her number for the house phone.
Relieved for the distraction, and disappointed at the same time, she found the
cell phone in the motorcycle jacket.
"Hello?"
"Michelle!..Thank God I got you!"
"Mom?" She recognized distraught in her Mothers voice. "Mom?..Are you alright?"
"Honey your Dad is standing right here next to me..Listen to me Michelle..You've got to get in your car right now and come home."
"Mom..What?..What do you mean?" She could hear her Father's voice in the background.
"Give me the phone Laura.".."Michelle!"..
"Dad?" Her Father's voice cracked as if close to tears.
"Michelle honey...Turn on your television...Turn it on now while I am on the phone."
Michelle held the phone to her ear crossing the living room..
"All hell is breaking loose out there Michelle!..You've got to get out of the city now while you still can!"
Her Mother screamed in the background.."Tell her not to listen to the radio!"
Michelle grabbed the T.V. remote and pushed the power button.
"Yes Laura I am telling her!...Honey?"
"Yeah Dad." Her heart was pounding. Filling her veins with dread..
She had no idea why, but she was certain her parents feared for her life.
"Now listen to me Michelle!"..His voice was iron..
"When you leave the condominium you must make sure you cover your ears!..
When you get to the car keep the windows up and under no circumstance are you to turn on the radio!
Do you understand me?"

The television lit up to a local Los Angeles news station..
A speechless anchor woman stared back at Michelle.
Aerial footage rolled behind the woman of a scene playing out in downtown Los Angeles.
A scene of chaos and carnage..
Collisions of automobiles clogged the streets and sidewalks.
Hind quarters of vehicles extended out street facing entry doors and display windows.
Like births gone horribly wrong expelling backwards from a womb.
Doors hanging open and ajar.
Dead people, puppets with out strings falling out the sides.
And in each case a new owner standing near.
Bloodied from a fight won. Armed and grinning.. Protecting it's claim.
Michelle watched in horror as vehicles on a nearby freeway over crossing launched themselves like stampeded cattle to macadam graves a hundred feet below.
Looters by the hundreds pillaged the store fronts.
There was a certain added diverseness to what one normally expects in an urban environment..
The pillagers, the innocent, and today, the zombies.
The zombies were newzies..Never seen around these parts before..
They were the grinning ones.
The ones guarding the wrecks with radio's or cd players turned up full blast.
Some of the grinning zombies were content just standing around..
Plugged in.
Sporting portables..Cd players, mp3 players, cell phones with music players built in..
"It's the music!" Her Father screamed..." Michelle!..It's the music!"
The phone spat and cracked.."Dad?...Daddy?...She heard him faintly, fading, as the signal died.
"Get out!..Get out now!"
Her mind raced. She bolted to the bedroom grabbing her purse with the car keys all the while
gripped by a single thought..
"What am I going to cover my ears with?"...She couldn't think...
Not one single thing could she see or think to cover her ears with.
Tearing to the front door, "I'll cover them with my palms..I'll cover them with my palms!"...
Grabbing the door nob she turned back remembering her jacket..
The black motorcycle jacket with the helmet sitting on top of it..
"The helmet!"..It was a half helmet size but with ear flaps for cold weather..
She banged it on, cinching down the chin strap while grabbing the jacket.
The house phone rang..
"It's Nick."...It could have been anyone, but she knew it was Nick.
Her mind cautioned...."No time, no time, no time!"
"Nick"...
"No time! No time! No time!"...
His eyes filled her and she stopped her raging mind.
She raced for the phone in the bedroom ripping off the helmet.
"Nick?"
"You've got to get out of there." He sounded out of breath.
"I am leaving right now...Where are you?"..
"I am on the road heading east toward the desert....Meet me."..
"My parents just called, I....Where do you want me to me you?"
"Take the 10 east toward Las Vegas. Call me when your clear of the city.
Here is my cell number..858..612..2429."
She tore open her purse grabbing at a pen an scrap of paper..
He continued.."You have a cell phone?"
"Yep..I am bringing it with me...858 612 2429?"
"Right..You got a full tank on the bike?"
"The bike?..I am taking my car."
"No!..Take your bike Michelle..You'll never get through in a car!"
She turned her head taking in the scene on the television..
"Oh my God, your right Nick!"
"Can you get clear of the city with the fuel you've got honey?"
"Yes..Oh man, I am so glad I decided to fill it up last night!"
"Smart girl..Once you get on that bike don't stop darlin'..Don't stop for anything, ok?"
"Ok Nick..I am so glad you called."
"Me too..I'll be heading north after I hit the desert to find us a safe fueling station. I'll
be waiting for your call Michelle."
"Ride safe Nick."
"Ride safe Michelle."