Wednesday, August 6, 2014
The Gym (Blogophilia 24.7)
Slap. Slap. Slap. The sound of rubber against rubber was echoing through an empty gym. The pale orange shoes were unusual. They had been bought on a whim off of a clearance rack. They quickly reached their rhythm and the breathing began to labor. Sweat poured through the dark grey shirt and began to drip on to the running surface.
Two AM and Jeremy can’t sleep, too much energy from a too productive day. He didn’t come here often, but it was open 24 hours a day. And the few other desperate diehards in the place concentrated on their own routines.
Exercise bored him. It was only useful for the times he couldn’t stand still. It was used at the Hospital to fill time, or in his case, as punishment for not following orders. The orderlies would have him do military drills over and over. Compliance to the drills was a matter of rebellion for him. Sore and soaked with sweat, it would continue until he could no longer stand. And the next day, the same things would happen. Bend but never break. The idiots never would learn that.
Beep! The heart shaped timer signaled the end of the session. As the machine began to slow down, the thoughts became more focused. Most of the supplies are in house or on order. Next would be getting the farmhouse ready for testing.
Stepping off and wiping his brow, he looked toward the front window. The combination of shear darkness and stark overhead lighting had turned the glass into a fun-house mirror. Shrunken versions of himself looked back. It wouldn’t matter soon. The path of his life never would be bigger.
Taking stock of what had been accomplished, he moved to the butterfly press. He had enough material to make about twenty devices. Enough where a few could be tested out in the pasture at the Farm and still have plenty to accomplish the goal. Adjusting the weights, he looked in the mirror on the wall next to him. A perverse guardian angel smiled back at him, confident in his abilities of mayhem. The grin got larger as the arms of the machine began to come together. One...Two...Three...
Looking more an abandoned warehouse rather than a hardware store, Smithson’s was packed floor to ceiling with the detritus of years of operation. Snow sleds fought with garden netting for space. Dusty shop tools sat forlornly in a corner, waiting for buyers that would never come. Fertilizer and testosterone attacked his senses Keeping his head down, he went straight for plumbing. He grabbed a bunch of items, not really paying attention to any of them. Sections of pipe and end caps were rung up by a bored young woman behind a tall counter. The name tag said “Candy” and asked if she could help. Not really. She never looked up from her phone or spoke as she took his money. He could have just walked out the door without paying for all she cared.
Ace Hardware was more difficult, but also more productive. Like at Home Depot, there was a red-aproned troll to greet him. He spent the next fifteen minutes talking about a bathroom he was renovating. He hardly took a breath. Pushing down the rage, Jeremy listened carefully. There was a demonstration on how to thread and seal the pipe for maximum performance. This was important information, the better the seal, the better the blast.
Jeremy said he was renovating the farmhouse. He would be taking the walls down to the studs and completely redoing everything. The troll smiled larger and started pulling out various sizes of pipe and supplies he would need. When all was done, Jeremy was loaded up with adhesives, flux and a tool guaranteed to cut through the toughest plastic. The troll even asked if he had thought about the fixtures, but he hadn’t. He said he would be back for those when he was ready.
Downing a sandwich and some water after he got home, he hopped back on the laptop to order the explosives. Three orders under three assumed names from three different websites and all shipped to Mother’s house and scheduled for Tuesday delivery. Was the package guy was going to require signatures? If no one was home, maybe they would just get dropped. That will be found out soon enough. Only thing left was the triggers. There were several types to try. Maybe tomorrow.
When it was all done, it was all he could do to sit still. So, he came here.
He finished his reps on and moved to arm press. Setting it for 100lbs, he struggled as his arms extended. One more trip on the cardio circuit. The pain was exquisite. Pain is discipline. Discipline always wins.
Pic-The Blue Guy.
Pic Guesses: Heart (in blog), Cardio Circuit (in blog), Heart light, CPU, BIOS, Motherboard, Operating System. Pulse, Timer (in blog). System clock.