Unrest: Chapter 2

Rellik thumped down the old stairs outside of his modest apartment. The walls were full of cracks and small holes that had been there since time immemorial. They were probably built that way. He climbed down one, two, three flights of stairs before he reached the ground floor. He exited into a large parking lot in about equal condition as the building he lived in, passing row after row of old vehicles before coming to his own, a rusty brown truck with a two-by-four in the back. It was a clunker by any standard, however, it worked well enough to get him from A to B.

He unlocked his car and lightly punched the door to get it to open. The cab was just large enough for Rellik to cram himself into, adequate but nothing more. The malamute turned the key and the vehicle wheezed into ignition, as if reluctant to have to carry the large hybrid around once again.

The car begrudgingly pulled out of the parking lot , driving over cracks and protrusions in the broken tarmac, and headed toward the site. His construction firm was making repairs to a road in the upper class section of Wahfl. The humans always needed repairs. Repairs to their roads, their lives, their wives. It was ridiculous. Hybrids never got any repairs. But you just have to make do with what you have.

Rellik passed nice cars with humans in them, noting their angry faces. Those humans. They seemed to take pride in looking angry whenever they drove. The fact was almost humorous. Rellik, however, enjoyed driving with his window down and arm outside, even if it was snowing. It was a refreshing contrast to the stale, musty air of his apartment.

Thinking of snow reminded Rellik of where he lived as a boy up in the far north. He came from a large family, the majority of whom were dead. He only had a couple brothers, and a sister, all part of the same litter. His brothers were street fighters and his sister was a prostitute. I come from a proud heritage, Rellik thought cynically. It was dark humor, in a way, thinking that he was the most successful member of his family. He hadn't seen his siblings in years, and for all he knew they could actually be dead. Ah, the life of a hybrid.

He slowed his truck to a halt at an intersection as a posh young human in sunglasses pulled up next to him in a low-riding convertible. Rellik, right arm on the steering wheel, other arm out the window, looked over at the man to his left. They made eye contact. The malamute smirked and gave a jerky nod of his head to the man. The man gave a half smile and nodded in return as the light turned green. They weren't all mean. They certainly all seemed rich though. Or maybe "rich" was just "less poor."

A few blocks later, he pulled off to the side of the road next to six or so other trucks when he reached the workzone and killed the engine. Slythe dropped what he was pretending to do and ran up to the car. He punched the door and it opened. "Hey man, good to see ya."

"Hey Slythe. You too." Rellik grabbed his hard hat and vest and stepped out of the vehicle.
"Turns out there's a busted gas line under the road. Messy. We got a backhoe diggin' up all kindsa crap over there. Really messed up a part of the road."
"How'd it bust?"
"Dunno. Just showed up and that's how it was."
"Sounds like life."
Slythe thought for a second. "That's deep, man."
"A damn mud puddle is deep for you, weasel." What Rellik said was not far from the truth, for Slythe actually did have the appearance of a brown weasel, standing about half Rellik's height, but broad-shouldered and muscular. Slythe slugged his friend in the shoulder. "Least I can get laid every once in a while."
"It's always about sex with you, man. Some people just aren't into it as much." Rellik began to walk towards the work being done.
"What are you, a faggot? Why don't you go wear some daisies on your head or something, go to that gay bar down on Gregor Street, sounds like your kind of place."
Rellik shoved Slythe, making him lose balance and fall on the ground. "You're a real prick, Slythe."
Undaunted, Slythe stood up and brushed the dirt off his fluorescent orange vest. "Haha. Chyeah, I know."
"Besides man, a lot of gays are just as into sex as straights."
"Oh what, now you're defending 'em?"
"They're worse off than we are, dude. At least we aren't being killed."
"Thass cause we can beat the shit out of those gangster types."
"Maybe so." Rellik put on the protective hat and vest as he reached the spot where the backhoe was excavating dirt. The supervisor turned to look at them. "Morning, Rellik."
"Morning, Jymm. How's it looking?"
"Worse off than when we got here. Good thing we're here though, gonna be a lot easier to fix than it breaking after we finished fixing the road." He looked at Slythe. "Slythe, boy, what the hell are you doing? Get back to flagging."
"Yeah, Jymm." He forlornly left and picked up the sign used to direct traffic. The job was mostly superfluous as the road was not a busy one, even at this time of morning.
Jymm turned to Rellik. "Feel like mixing cement?"
"Why not." Rellik tried hiding his dislike of the task.
"Good. You'da had to do it anyway. Cement bags are over there." The man pointed to a white pickup. "Drive down to the other site. They ran out."

Rellik walked by the excavation site. They hadn't made much progress, but that was probably because they had just started. Shrugging, he walked to the truck and turned on the engine. He drove further in the grass and pulled a U-turn, driving down a hill to the other site. Not too far from the hill was a lake. The lake was clear and beautiful, carefully maintained by a wealthy family, and probably off-limits to hybrids. The malamute got out and, seeing two young hybrids wave at him, grabbed two bags of cement from the back of the pickup.

The two resembled otters, and looked like twins. Rellik hadn't seen them before so he assumed they were new. "Hey guys. I'm Rellik." He dropped the two bags with a muffled thump and held out his hand to each.
"Erl," said the one on the left.
"Larrin," said the other.
"It's a pleasure. Alright, where's your bucket?"
The two looked around for a moment before locating a large trash bin by their white pickup. They handed it to Rellik, who laughed. "What are you giving that to me for? You guys go fill it up!"
Erl and Larrin sighed in unison and headed toward the lake. Rellik smiled and shook his head. He grabbed a shovel and cut the bags open, pouring them out onto the tarmac. He grabbed stray rocks from the grass area and lobbed them into the large powdered cement pile. The rocks would take up space and extend the use of the cement. He carefully made a bowl shape in the cement so when the water was poured into it, none would leak out.

The twins returned, struggling to lift the heavy container of water between each other. Rellik stepped over to them. "Here, you two. Let me take that. Go grab some shovels and get ready to mix." He took the garbage can from the otters and tipped the water into the cement, splattering some of it onto his pants and shoes. The newcomers readily stirred the mixture and got it to a usable consistency. Rellik grabbed a shovel of his own and helped the twins spoon the cement into the gaping holes left from the road repair at this spot. The small mustelids soon showed signs of fatigue; they were not overly muscular and smaller than humans. Because of this it was Rellik's responsibility to shovel most of the cement into place while the twins smoothed it out with trowels.

After a decent couple hours and several bags of cement the three managed to finish a 15-foot section of sidewalk that the construction had torn out. "When are we going to repave the road?"
"That's what Jymm said he wanted done next," Erl panted. Or maybe it was Larrin. They looked exactly the same.

Rellik checked his watch. 12:19. Lunch time. About time too. "Come on guys," Rellik instructed the otters, "Hop in the truck. Let's go get lunch." The otters did as they were told and the three drove up to the first site. The backhoe had made significant progress in the three hours they had been moving cement. It seemed that they were already recovering the area with dirt. Rellik walked over to Jymm. "Lunch. Did they already fix the pipe?"
"Yeah, best we could."

Rellik nodded and looked at the backhoe. He saw that Slythe was driving it and Roger, the Doberman-like creature who had been driving the machine when Rellik first arrived, had switched shifts with him. Rellik gestured to the weasel. "Lunch time!" He yelled over the din of machinery. Slythe nodded in excitement and cut the power. He ran over to Rellik. "Good thing. I'm starved." They walked toward their vehicles and grabbed their meals. Rellik took his lunch pail, which contained a likely frozen, 3-day old sandwich he left in the car over the weekend. Roast beef, one of his favorites. Rellik sat on the hood of his truck and said "I may not make a lot of money, but I sure as hell ain't gonna cut back on how much food I buy."
"Amen. Preach it, brother." Slythe had taken out a turkey leg. "Even if it's leftovers."

The two ate in silence for a moment before Slythe piped up. "You still messing with that gun of yours?"
Rellik laughed. "'That gun.' You say it like it's nothing."
"Well come on, it's just a gun. Now guns are cool and all, but good luck trying to get some ass with a gun."
"It's a work of art, Slythe. It's not just a gun."
"And for a sec, I actually wondered why you cain't get laid."
"Maybe I should start using slimy weasels for target practice."
"I swear, man, you're gonna end up shooting a human and then your ass will be fulla hurt."
"Not as much as the ass of whoever I shot." They both laughed, mouths full.
"When did you shoot it last?"
"Saturday. Went out to Baye Ken. Giant field."
"Sometimes I wish I could shoot it."
"Work out enough. You probably could."
"Shit, Rellik, that thing weighs 'bout as much as I do!"
"You weasels have to have some adrenaline rush thing or something. I might've read it somewhere."
"You're stupid."
Rellik laughed. "Maybe when you're older."


The rest of work droned by at a slow pace. The day was spent beginning to repave the road, but Rellik didn't get to start using the makeshift steamroller his construction firm provided. Erl and Larrin spent a good part of the afternoon quarreling amongst each other. It made Rellik want to break their necks.

Rellik sighed and climbed back into his truck, taking off his orange vest and hard hat. Now the day was over, though, and he could go home. His coworkers had a tendency to take advantage of his strength, because he was able to lift much greater weights than most of them. This left him feeling exhausted every day after work, but it was over for the day and he could go home and enjoy the comfort of his couch.

He turned on the car and pulled out of the grass he had parked in. The time was just after three, perfect for going home and taking a nice, long nap. He drove home and pretended to listen to music, but the radio was broken on his car and had been for years. Besides, there wasn't any good music on the radio. All the good stuff had to be bootlegged from other countries that weren't so... despotic.

He drove through the commercial section of the city, noticing all the rich white-skinned humans with their nice business suits and briefcases. It made Rellik envious. He had never worn a suit before, and thought they looked sharp and classy. When he got rich, he would buy at least a dozen. Ties, too. Until then he was stuck wearing his blue-collared shirts. Which weren't so bad, after all. It was better than nothing on a snowy day. Just barely, though.

One day, Rellik was going to work in one of those tall skyscrapers, sipping coffee and talking about trends in something. He wasn't sure exactly what though, but it would be him doing the talking. He'd be the one with the big office with the view out the window, bossing other people around, preferably humans. It was a great plan.

Rellik pulled into the parking lot and got out of the truck, making it rock as the weight shifted. The noise of cars driving by swamped out the silence in his head, making it barely possible to even hear his thoughts. It always got noisy in the afternoon. He walked lethargically into the building and up the stairs to his minuscule apartment. It was small, but Rellik the bachelor did not need too much space. Just some space above his head. He walked in, locked the door behind him, and flopped on the couch. The worn but padded cushions provided instant relief as he let out a contented sigh. He grabbed the remote from off the floor, and after fumbling with it for a moment, turned the channel to a game show in which the contestants degraded themselves to earn money to go to a charity. Rellik watched in a half-doze as the people were tarred and feathered, paraded around in public in degrading costumes, and forced to participate in other brain-rotting antics until he nodded off.

The next thing he knew, he was standing up and rubbing his eyes. He looked at the clock. It was 5:30. He had slept for about two hours, and the clutch of fatigue had lessened its grasp significantly, but now he was hungry. The fridge was looking like a good friend right now. The malamute wandered over and looked inside. Disappointed, he saw not much was available other than beer. Some cheese that was probably expired and never-used condiments.

He shut the fridge and looked in the pantry. Again, there wasn't much available. Some canned vegetables, stale chips, and ramen noodles. Grocery day would probably have to be tomorrow.

Rellik had an idea. Today, he wanted to treat himself. He hadn't visited his favorite bar in a while, a few months, and they'd fix him up some nice food. He was a favorite over there. It wasn't like the owner had much choice. Rellik was twice his size.

Now he was excited. But he wasn't stupid. He went into his bedroom and opened the custom cherry case that he ordered for his precious Mutilator. Inside lay the gun, ornate, yet sleek, and polished and clean as always. The malamute grabbed the pistol and the large holster to the case's right, and carefully placed it at his waist.  Though he sincerely doubted he would need the weapon, he had learned long ago, at the death of his oldest brother, that it was important to be able to be one step ahead of your attacker. He picked up his keys and left the house again, after locking it, of course. Rellik decided to walk. The bar wasn't that far and he definitely did not want to crash his truck into anything just in case he indulged a little too much. The five-block stroll would serve to wake him up a little so he could enjoy talking to Smitty, the owner.

He set out to the opposite direction from the parking lot, passing other hybrids who greeted him with a smile. At least he had some support from his own race. There were a lot of small children, apparently homeless, whose parents had abandoned them due to money constraints. It was terrible. Rellik wasn't much for kids, but he did feel great pity for such a ravaged life. Most of these children would take an early addiction to drugs and not even learn how to read or write. A few human organizations sought to help them, but as far as in Surype, their hands were more or less tied. Rellik made sure to greet these poor children with especially large smiles.

He arrived at the front of the establishment, an unassuming brown building with a small sign that read "Smitty's Tavern." He could already smell the delicious scent of hamburger and booze, and he was still walking across the parking lot. He pulled the door open and the noisy ambiance overtook him. Lively chatter and laughter mixed with loud (pirated) music to create a warm and inviting atmosphere. Scattered throughout the bar stood at least eight small tables with four chairs to a table, a wooden counter with stools, and a tall wall full of bottles of liquor of all shapes, sizes, and potencies.

A few hybrids looked up at him in mid sentence, some less sober than others. Rellik smiled and gave a small wave before walking to the counter where the pudgy hybrid resembling a Scottish terrier greeted him with a laugh and a loud "Howdy, Rellik! Been a while!"

"Yes it sure has," he called as he sat down on an empty seat on the counter. There was only one other hybrid on the counter, one who was minding his own business. Smitty placed his arms straight against the counter and leaned over to get closer to Rellik. "So what'll it be?"

Rellik reached into his back pocket and pulled out a certificate given to him each week as his "wages." Everybody got the same. The hybrids just got taxed on it more. He waved the certificate at Smitty. "Steinbrecher. 10. Oh, and a burger."

Smitty laughed. "Only 10?"
"Yeah. I only want to get a little drunk tonight."
"You could drink rubbing alcohol and not get drunk." Smitty signed the certificate with the purchase information and crouched behind the counter to grab a beer for Rellik.
"I've thought about it. Probably taste like humans though."
Smitty placed a beer on the counter. "You're probably right!" He said with a chuckle.
"So how's business been, Smitty?"
"Oh, you know people. Always wanna drink, always wanna get drunk. Business is good."
"How's Delilah?"
"Good lookin' as ever. She's in the back. I'll give 'r your order." The Scottie stepped behind a door leading to the storeroom and kitchen. After Smitty left, Rellik looked around at the walls of the tavern, which were crammed with various knick-knacks: hubcaps, vintage posters advertising random goods, posters of actresses from other countries, and an oversized cleaver mounted above the entrance consisted of some of the potpourri of wall flair.

Smitty returned a moment later. "Yeah, I think she's doin' alright," the Scottie said with a smile. "I told her who came in today and she hollered all excited-like. She said she'll be out here after her shift ends at seven."
Rellik smiled. "You did right, hiring her." Delilah was a tall, slim hybrid who looked like a two-legged tabby cat. She was in her early twenties and was one of the orphaned children. Smitty had adopted her after his wife was killed in a car accident. Delilah had turned out to be a blessing in Smitty's life. She was mild-mannered, always positive, and always grateful for a house and bed. She was Smitty's "stray cat" who he had saved from certain death, and Delilah was ever happy to be a part of his family.

Plus, she was smokin' hot.

"I've been waiting for more of her burgers for so long, Smitty. I think I'm addicted," Rellik laughed as he opened his bottle.
"Don't lie, Rellik. You're just hooked on the Stein."
Rellik turned serious. "No I'm not. I could quit if I wanted."
Smitty picked up on Rellik's tension and backtracked. "Yeah, you could. I get it."

Rellik didn't bother to continue the conversation, and Smitty took the hint. He left Rellik to drink in silence, as he finished his first bottle within two drinks. He slapped the counter and Smitty provided him with another, taking the first off the counter. "Your burger should be done any minute," he said and walked into the back room. The malamute nodded. He popped the cap off the second beer and drank a swig of it.

The door at the entrance opened, and in walked five hybrids wearing rather loose clothing. They all wore green and had a stripe of shaved hair running down their heads. One had an eyepatch. Shit. Gangsters. They moved as one toward the counter and sat down around Rellik. The malamute pretended not to notice. They were all a little smaller than him, but they knew how to fight. He'd have to be careful.

Smitty walked back into the tavern and almost jumped when he saw the gangsters sitting at the counter. He meekly placed the burger on the counter and said "Here you go" rather submissively. He turned to the hybrids sitting on either side of Rellik. "What can I get for you fellas?"

They each listed off their orders and went back to talking amongst themselves. Smitty stood for a moment, expecting them to hand out their certificates, but then he realized these guys weren't in the habit of paying for things. He sighed and filled their orders as Rellik shook his head. Turning his attention to his hamburger, the malamute began to eat, and boy was it delicious. The charcoal of the grill pressed into the patty, seasoned to perfection with crisp pickles and savory mustard and ketchup. It was gourmet, and grilled with love, to Rellik. Delilah even made the patty a little thicker than usual. How sweet.

The hybrids sitting around him were starting to annoy Rellik. By the time he finished his burger they were each on their fourth beer and starting to get a little buzzed. After they finished, the five stood up and headed for the door. Rellik turned and tugged on the last guy's shirt. This was the one with the eye patch, and seemed to have the authority among them. He turned around.

"You gonna pay for your booze?"
The gangster looked down and glared at Rellik. "Whachoo say to me?"
The whole bar got dead silent. "I said, 'you gonna pay for your booze?'"
"As matter a'fact, I don't. So you can shut your goddamn face. I'm feelin' in a good mood today, so's I won't bust you up. But you better watch yo' shitass mouth before it gets torn up."
Rellik stood up now, and now it was his turn to look down at the gangster. "Hit me, buddy. Let's see what happens." The gangster hesitated. "Come on, pussy. Or did the last girl you raped rip your balls off?"

The gangster swung, and Rellik let himself get hit, to see what he was up against. Sure it hurt, but it wasn't anything too bad. The stupid thug realized in the middle of his second swing what he just did. The entire bar started shouting and stood up to apprehend the thug. A couple customers slammed their empty bottles on the table, breaking them and making the classic shank. Rellik saw one of the gangsters cuss under his breath. However, the leader appeared as stone and pulled his gun on the crowd, and Rellik in particular. The other four followed suit.

"Shit, you fucked up big time, man. I should kill you."