R.U.N.

Run Under Never

Jules Thorn juked to the left and dodged the brawling people throwing furyous fists into eachother. What the fuck is going on? He started running away from this instant riot that had appeared when he rounded the corner, he ran fast, he always had been a good runner.
He couldn't believe what he saw going on around him.

Burning cars, people running every direction, many of them armed with improvised weapons.
How could something like this have developed so soon. Jules ran on past the horrible scene of a man being run down by a El Camino, driving the body into a lightpole with a horrid pop as the man's intestintes left his body like a greasey belch. So horrible!

"What the fuck what the fuck!", Jules screams as he blazes down the sreet, it sounds like a grenade went off a couple of blocks to the left.
Police car sirens wailed everywhere, Jules ran into a used books store,
straight past the owner, an old man with white puffy hair,
and towards the back of the place, a peacefull eye in the center of the outside storm.
The man just looked out the window of his musty store,
not taken aback by the insanity going on outside.
The walls shook from a explosion, a grenade? Books fell down from they're tall shelves,
bounceing off of Jules a few large tomes striking him in the head.

"What the fuck is going on out there? Do you have any idea?", Jules asked the white haired man.

The store owner closed his book with regretfull relunctance and looked up at his only customer. "AS a result of the time wars, time and dimensional barriers are becoming onstable".

"Are we going to die?".

"Yes, one way or another we are all going to die", The man said matter of factly. The sound of a full automatic rifle cut Jules response off and a few bullets found there way into the windows of the shop, glass and feathery book fragments filled the air. Jules dived onto the floor as the old man chuckled and put on a old vinyl record by the Phil Lectrum Quartet. The shots were not repeated and after a couple of minutes Jules got up form the floor.

"Are you alright?". Jules called out to the old man, but there was no answer. He got got and walked over to the counter, no one there, where did he go?

Being as nobody was visible in a store shaken by the spontainous warfare outside, Jules explored the backroom, always wandering what a bookstore's backroom must look like. The backroom smelled on ozone and it had all sorts of electrical machines, the newest looking like it was manufactored in the 1950's. The room throbbed with the machines, the throbbing made Jules half erect against his will. In the center of the room was a old fashioned barber's chair, with many wires coming from it, it gave off the smell of warm leather. Jules pondered this strange machine while what sounded like a full on war waged outside. The air viberated here making Jules feel vary strange, it brought back a strange longing for times before his actual birth. He ran his fingers along the chair, it feels like pleasures he has never known, wonders to unfold...Should he try it out? But he dared not, what if it's some freaky electric chair? Then came the sound of shattering glass as the front door of the shop expoded open with the patter of running footsteps then screaming as bullets ripped out of guns punching the air with ringing fury. Jules stood up spun around and fled out the back exit.

Jules was in a narrow alley, stinking of bum urine and vomited pizza. He block seemed strangely silent now, he lingered in the foul alley awile longer, fearing to get back onto that street again. It was stone quiet now, not a sound in the city, other then something metal pounding against a wall somewhere in the wind, where the hell did the instant riot go?

Caustously Jules looked out from around the corner of the alley. Burnt out cars lined the road, with broken glass and other debree, he saw part of a human arm, blue and green with age and decay, it lay next to a turned over vending machine. The mind of Jules began to churn with wild guesses at what is going on. Then he realized that he held a book in his hand, he must have taken it from the bookstore and not even realized it in his shock. He felt like no one should see this book, he stuffed it down the front of his pants and the walking was uncomfortable, pressure on his lower stomach, erotic pressure building in his lions.