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SPACECRAFT
This is not a book -it’s a scam.
It’s the story of Nick, a seventeen year old weed-smoking, acid-eating, suburban nihilist dropout who accidentally stumbles across an idea that is truly revolutionary. In this text you will find arguments against art, money, sobriety, religion, education, and the rule of law.
This is Benjamin Broke’s first novel and it is deeply flawed and wrong on many levels. You should begin downloading it immediately.
White Phosphorus Chapter 1
Friday March 7, 2008
The fire was arson. No doubt about it. There was still smoke rising from the burned half of the house when the fire inspector told us. John took the news with his usual calm, just nodding as the guy told us what he’d figured out. “A propellant, most likely gasoline, was splashed onto the back wall here and all the way around to the porch. There was no attempt to make it look like something else. It’s arson.” He shook his head in disgust. “I’d say it was an amateur job.”
“Are there professional arsonists?” I asked.
“Lots do it for money.” The guy said. “Mostly insurance fraud. You could never get a payout with hackwork like this though. I suppose your homeowner is out of town?”
“That’s right.” John said.
“I have to contact the insurance company, but I doubt that’s what’s going on here. This looks like it might be some kind of vandalism. Maybe somebody has something against the owner personally?”
“Mrs. Patrice? I doubt it, she’s in her late seventies.” John shook his head. “She comes out here during the summer and has her kids and their families stay with her. It’s a vacation home basically.”
“Probably a random thing then.” The guy said pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He turned away from us and took an incoming call. The sky had been gray for awhile and was slowly turning blue as the sun came up.
“It’s not even spring yet and it’s starting again.” John said to me.
“You think this is part of the crime spree?” I asked.
“Yup.”
That’s what we called the sudden rash of thefts and obscene graffiti that had turned up in Lakeview in the last months before winter. The crime spree. There had even been an article in the Cleveland Plain Dealer: More crime comes to a gated Methodist community the headline read. It had caused so much concern inside Lakeview that two families had put their houses up for sale and more than a few renters had decided not to renew their leases another year.
“I guess in a way it’s good that it happened this early in the season.” I said. “Since there’s so few people in town now, it limits the suspects.”
“True.” John said. “I guess we can rule out Jordin Dinns and the local juvenile delinquents we were looking at last year.” He began to walk and I followed.
“Where we going?”
“I just wanted to check something out.” John said. We walked away from the scene, with the fire truck and cops and the few residents who were in Lakeview milling around trying to find out anything they could about this latest drama. John and I crossed the street to the lake front strip-park and went down a side path to the shed where the lawnmowers and gardening supplies where stored. The padlock from the door was on the ground, broken. John picked it up and looked at it. “Cheap lock, probably from Rite Aid or somewhere. Looks like they busted it with a crowbar or maybe a hammer. The yard guys keep a couple of cans of gasoline in here.”
“Should I go tell the cops?” I asked. “You think they’ll want to dust for fingerprints?”
“They wont bother.” John said. “But yeah, go tell them.”
On my way back to the charred house Ray Manesek intercepted me. He looked up at me from beneath his bushy eyebrows and large forehead. He had a coat on over his pajamas. “Hold up a minute, Ben. What did the man from the fire department say? Did he tell you what caused this?” He asked the question with the authority that his new position as head of the Resident’s Council gave him.
“Yeah, it’s arson. Looks like someone smashed the lock on the gardener’s shed and used the gas in there to start the fire.”
“Why in the world would somebody do that?” He asked
“I don’t know.” I said. The cops who had shown up after the fire truck were standing down on the sidewalk across the street from the park, looking out at the lake through a pair of binoculars. Ray and I noticed them at the same time and we walked down to see what they were looking at.
“…couple of drowned rats.” One of the cops was saying.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“See for yourself.” The one who seemed to be in charge said, handing me the binoculars. “Look at the buoy.”
About a mile and a half out was a small buoy with a bell, and on it were two wet men, huddled together. One of them was very fat. “What the hell?” I looked at the cops who seemed amused. I looked again and saw that there was no boat anywhere around them.
“I’m guessing we found your arsonists.” The cop in charge said. “We called the coast guard.”
“Probably take ‘em a half hour to get here.” I said.
“Those guys will have hypothermia by then.” Ray Said. “My boat would get us there in a minute.” The cop said it was a good idea and went with Ray. As they left John came down to where we were and took a look at the guys. Thank god for stupid criminals was his only comment. Soon Ray and the cop were speeding out to the Buoy in Rays little motorboat. The other cop watched through the Binoculars as the two wet men climbed in.
The two guys sat in the front of the boat handcuffed together with their arms crossed. The fat one looked Hispanic and the other one was a white guy who was tall and skinny. Sitting next to each other they looked like a pissed off Laurel and Hardy. Everyone standing on the dock had to laugh as they came into view. The other cop helped them get off the boat and then led them up the dock. He sat them down on a park bench and the cop in charge, the one who’d been on the boat asked for their names.
“Steven Habala.” The skinny one said.
“Ricardo Telano.” The fat one said. The last name rang all kinds of bells in my head.
“Okay so, what the fuck happened?” The cop asked. “Steven?”
“Sir, our skiff sank.” He said. “We swam to the buoy sir. That’s it.”
“We were going to swim to shore but we wanted to wait till it got light out.” Ricardo added.
“You didn’t notice a fire?” The cop asked.
“Yeah we saw all the smoke and the fire truck and everything. I guess we got lucky, ‘cause otherwise you guys wouldn’t have been there to see us.” Ricardo said.
“Pal, you’re a lot of things but lucky isn’t one of them.” The cop said. “When did your boat go down?”
“Last night.” Ricardo said, sullen now.
“What time? How long would you say you were on the buoy? You were still wet when we got there. Steven? How long?”
“Sir, I don’t know… Three hours I guess.” He said.
“Okay it’s six thirty now, so I guess the obvious question is what are a couple of cool guys like yourselves doing rowing around in a leaky skiff at three thirty in the morning?”
“Sir? Sir? We always go fishing at three in the morning. You catch the best fish right before dawn sir.” Steven said. “That’s the truth.”
“I fish,” the cop said, “and I never heard that.”
“Sir? It’s freezing out here, and we’re sitting here wet and handcuffed and we haven’t broken any laws sir. What are you doing to us? You trying to put something on us? We almost drowned tonight sir, and now you’re trying to put something on us. It’s not right.” Steven said all this without making eye contact with any of the officers around him. He had his head hanging down and he occasionally looked out to the lake, maybe at the buoy.
“You’re right Steven.” The cop said after a moment. “I am trying to put something on you. Arson. You came here
in the middle of the night, you and your friend, and you set fire to a nice old lady’s house. You probably would’ve gotten away with it but your stupid little skiff was taking on water, and you wound up on that buoy. We all know that’s what happened…”
“Sir?”
“We all know that’s what happened. The only remaining question is -why?”
“We’re not saying nothing else.” Ricardo said. “You already made up your mind that we done some bullshit, so there’s no point talking to you. We’ll just talk to a lawyer. I think I know one who’ll help us out.” He looked at Steven who smiled and finally looked up at the cop.
The Coast Guard hauled their old skiff out of the shallow water. It had a large crack between two of the floorboards and there was a coffee can that finally couldn’t bail the water out fast enough. They also pulled up a Dora the Explorer backpack that had a mini crowbar and two pair of black gloves in it. In the front pouch there was a small notebook with the name Madison Habala written in pink on the back cover. The two men were charged with trespassing, vandalism, destruction of private property, theft (the gasoline), and arson.
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