EXCERPT

On my way to the car I went through the garage and grabbed my son's aluminum bat. Even though it was for little league and smaller, it's coldness and weight felt good in my hands. I swung it under the eerie fluorescent light a few times, listening to it cut through the air. The sound calmed me. I slipped it behind the front seat and drove to Jim's apartment.

The trip over seemed longer than usual. It was like I wasn't even "there", if that makes sense. A weird faded softness covered everything, making the world superficial and fragmented, like an incomplete image. It felt like I was remembering what was happening rather than experiencing it. My mind seemed displaced, focused on nothing, and floating. Then the apartment building was before me, a patchwork of dorm and insane asylum, looming and shabby. I caught my breath and turned away. I didn't want to see him just yet.

I drove a few blocks to some random convenience store and bought a 6-pack of tall boys. I slammed one in the parking lot, thinking. How the hell was I going to do this? What the hell was I going to do, exactly? Beat his fucking ass, yes, but how far to take it? The wife likes them big, but Jim was the biggest yet. I had to take him out quick, with one hit. If he got a hold of me…

I thought about my son and knew I didn't want to kill anyone. I wanted to be there. Wanted to watch him grow up, give him advice, the works. Just like they do on tv. I reached behind the seat and sat his little bat in my lap and started doubting myself, almost purposefully, doubting my own passion and hate, the only things in my life I could sink my teeth into. The only things that gave the world color and heat.

His little bat. Maybe this summer he'll hit his first homer.

I opened another beer and put music on as loud as it would go.

from EOoN, Volume One (Cold Dead Hands)