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In a contagion, sex and milk define survival.
We always used to practice together as well, we made a good team because we were in tune to each other and able to feel the others next move, we always aimed to be able to fight together without either being a weak link.
I failed him though. I was the weak link, while I was at the diner serving manner lacking pigs, they were being murdered. It had been two months since that incident. I had not once smiled, not laughed, not gone to work, not done anything but sit in the house with my eyes closed trying to figure out what to do next. I had lost the only reason for my existence. I had no family, only a few friends that lived in the country.
I turned around and walked from the church, leaving those pathetic people to their pathetic lives. It wasn't as if my family was even in those coffins, their remains were too ruined to be placed in those coffins, they had been cut into small pieces and their killer had already been found. I got into my car and sped out of the park and towards my house, the house was being organised for rental to the few friends our family had left. My few belongings were currently being packed into three small suitcases and with the rent money and money left by my parents, I was planning on a trip into the country, to move in with my friends from martial arts and help them teach the kids.
Right now though, I wanted alcohol, and dark place to feel sorry for myself, but I had work to do.
A feeling of dread ran across me as I stepped through the club door, it was a regular place that I visited and I quite often picked up a one night stand and drank till I was unconscious. Tonight, something was feeling wrong, I tried to shake off that feeling and so I grabbed a rum and coke, minus the coke of course. I downed that in just a second and ordered a new one quickly.
"Jay! Bro, you like, totally came, like, Shamus, he totally didn't think that you would totally not come cause you were totally wasted and gone Friday night."
Michael was a stoner, his eyes were constantly red and his face pale white as if he painted his face white every time he went out. I would drink till I was off my face drunk, just like I planned to do tonight, but never, never would I ever take drugs, I just couldn't do that to my body.
My sister was a crack whore and brother a pot head, my mother and father smoked pot with my brother most nights and sat on their fat asses watching telly while smoking up the house, that is how it had burnt down, now they lived with my pregnant sister of seventeen who already had a kid who was a year and a half old. So I kept my distance from them, they lived in Tasmania, I lived in Melbourne, I figured it was far enough away.
Michael was swaying slightly with a fat ugly Asian under his arm, probably one of the girls he supplied to by the looks of her blood shot eyes and white face. I downed my rum again and ordered a beer before nodding my head and moving away from the bar to find Shamus.
Before this night was over, I was going to get blind drunk, but first I needed to figure out what Shamus wanted.
He was sitting at his usual place, a couch at the back of the club, he normally just watched people, made sure that there were no fights that would get the club swarmed with cops. He didn't drink, take drugs or have girls hanging off of him. He just sat there sometimes while someone important talked to him and sorted out their issues. Today someone was sitting next to him; head turned towards him, but a curtain of long dark hair covering her face. All I could see of her was her black leather jacket, tight jeans and knee high boots that had only short heels.
Shamus looked up from talking to her and acknowledged me with a nod, something he very rarely did.