This Rotten World (Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

second of it,
even if she had no idea what the band was saying. It was actually better that
way. There were no words to get hung up on, no meanings to ponder. There was
just fury and feedback.
    Clara's
boyfriend Courtney loved it every bit as much as her. He was a little rough
around the edges, and he still hadn't warmed up to dating a potential lawyer,
but when you had been going out as long as they had, you overlooked the fact
that one of you had turned into a sellout. Her hair was a natural color now,
for the first time in years, a cocoa brown. She had taken all of the metal out
of her face, and she was thankful that Courtney had talked her out of getting
her ears gauged years ago, or else she'd be sporting big floppy earlobes.
    She smiled
as she caught a glimpse of Courtney spinning on the other side of the pit, his
eyes feverish with joy. Suddenly, a face appeared in front of her. It had
red-rimmed eyes, snarled like Billy Idol, and didn't seem quite right. She
shoved the man away, and sped along on her own route, counterclockwise, always
counterclockwise.
    She tripped
over the shoe of one of the people lurking on the edge of the circle. Clara's
effort to catch her balance went for naught when her foot slipped on the
beer-slick dance floor. Her ankle twisted outward, and she felt a pop. She went
sprawling to the ground, not even noticing the burn of the knee she scraped on
the laminate floor due to the intense pain in her ankle. The hands of the
people in the pit pulled her to her feet and ushered her off to the side. She
leaned on the shoulder of a stranger, grimacing in pain; she turned around to
see Courtney struggling with the man that she had shoved away in the pit.
    From her vantage
point, she could see that the man didn't belong here. His flannel shirt and
camouflage hat had the reek of hillbilly about them. She moved to help
Courtney, but her first step was one of agonizing pain. Her ankle simply wasn't
working right.
    All she
could do was scream and point as the hillbilly sunk his teeth into the side of
Courtney's face. Courtney lashed out at the man, punching him in the jaw with
his fists. The hillbilly pulled back, taking a bite of Courtney's cheek with
him. The fury of the pit had stopped, and Electric Fever, noticing the oddity
of a still pit, stopped playing.
    Courtney
stumbled backwards, his hand held to his face. "What the fuck?" Blood
seeped through his fingers, as the lights overhead continued to display an
alarming array of different colors. First his blood was black, then it was
blue, then it was yellow. The hillbilly stood at the edge of the pit, chewing,
and seemingly lost in the process.
    Ace Fever
sauntered across the open space, his microphone clutched in his hands, the
crowd watching with anticipation. In broken English, he challenged the hillbilly,
"You want to fight? You fucker fight me!" He stood at the ready, and
finally the hillbilly's eyes seemed to focus on him. It shambled towards him,
and Ace backhanded the man across the face, whipping the man's head to the side
and knocking his camouflage hat to the ground. But he kept coming. Ace took
another swing at the man, and slipped on some blood in the process. His punch
hit the man in the shoulder, and had about as much effect as an ant sassing
god. The man grabbed Ace in a bear hug and pulled him close. His mouth opened
wide, and he bit into the chest of Ace. Ace screamed and struggled to get away
from the hillbilly, but all of his 130 pounds wasn't enough to break free of
the grasp of the man.
    Jungle
Fever broke his bass guitar over the head of the hillbilly, and that's when all
hell broke loose in the club. Clara didn't see the rest of what happened, but she
crawled to where Courtney was holding his face. Together, they helped each
other to their feet, and then pushed their way outside, through drunken and
riotous punks and away from the unbridled violence in the club. A bouncer
brushed past them, but she doubted that he would be able to