Apocalypse Now Now Read Online Free PDF Page A

when I was very young. Seeing a kid who was not only big and stocky for his age but who had honed his judo skills to perfection. He was a white-pyjama-suited whirling dervish of death, dealing out throws, trips and choke-holds.
    By some glitch in the system he had paired up to fight a far smaller kid in the opening round. His opponent was muchyounger than him, as well as being a tiny, pasty specimen. It was like watching a maggot fighting a rhino beetle.
    The bigger kid grinned, but I knew then that he had already lost the fight. There was no winning outcome for the rhino beetle. If he won the match he would be forced to beat up a little kid. If he lost he’d be the guy that lost to the maggot.
    The match started and the maggot proved to be much more capable than one would expect. He wrapped his legs around the rhino beetle’s neck and squeezed for all he was worth. The rhino beetle did exactly what he was trained to do in these circumstances. He picked the little kid up and slammed him to the mat.
    The booing and jeering from the ground was instantaneous. After all, the narrative was clear: big bully picks on the weak, nerdy kid. Every high-school TV show, movie and mini-series contained this premise exactly and the crowd responded accordingly.
    The rhino beetle had to fight cautiously, defensively, never being too aggressive or too dominant in case the crowd turned on him. The maggot was in his element and piled on the pressure until the rhino beetle simply couldn’t take it any more and gave in to what was a fairly weak submission. It was a mind game and the rhino beetle lost. I credit that maggot with teaching me my first lessons about the politics of the playground.
    I look up as I walk through the Sprawl and see that the sky’s disease has relented to allow patches of albino through the greyness. That would be a good omen. If I believed in omens. Superstition is for the feeble-minded. So are thoughts of fratricide, but as I see Rafe peeking over the wrought-iron school fence, I’m sorely tempted.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ I hiss, looking quickly around to make sure nobody can see us. This is not what I need right now.
    Rafe goes to the special needs school two blocks away but I’d banned him from ever coming to visit me at lunch break. The factthat I have a retard brother is not exactly a secret but I’d prefer not to be seen hanging out with him at lunch break.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ I repeat.
    He lifts a thick book and shows me a picture of a tall man with a huge beard leading Boer commandos across a burning plain like he’s some kind of khaki-clad Gandalf.
    ‘Great. Today’s little bit of history brought to us by my cognitively challenged brother. Seriously, Rafe, what the fuck are you doing? It’s your fault I’m having these dreams. You’re always shoving this stuff in my face, always trying to make me read this stupid historical bullshit. Well, congratulations, you’ve infiltrated my subconscious. It’s your fault I’m blurting out bits of Afrikaans in class.’
    He looks at me like I’m a raving idiot and then turns and walks slowly away.
    ‘Right,’ I mutter as I stalk off. ‘
I’m
the idiot.’
    I get to the edge of the lower sports field. In the corner is a spot where the iron fence has been bent to form a doorway to the outside world. I look around quickly and then duck through the hole. I skirt the alley next to the bridge that connects the surrounding residential area to the highway and walk quickly to a series of derelict rooms that used to be a Freemason Lodge. This is Central, the NTK base of operations. I knock and pull a face at the creepy carved Masonic eye that watches me from above the door as I wait. The door opens a crack.
    ‘Wassup, Russ?’ I say conversationally, mostly because I know it’ll piss him off. He joined the NTK because he wants respect, but he gets none from Anwar and he damn well isn’t getting any from me.
    ‘Zevcenko,’ he says. I nod,