Chapter 11

“What the fuck are you doing Wade?” I ask Wade.

He looks at me with his one good eye. That good eye shows just how bat shit crazy Wade has become. Wade starts laughing as though his favorite comedian just told a joke and he is the only one that heard it. He looks over at me. Sampson and I look get out of the car to see that he's standing over a barricaded building. Smoke is rising out of that building.

All I can hear are the screams. The terrifying screams.

“I'm doing what you taught me,” he says.

“There are PEOPLE in there,” I tell him.

Sampson runs forward at that moment. He's attempting to clear the barricades to let the people out. He doesn't see the bat that Wade has hiding behind his back. I run after Sampson barely making it before Wade takes a big ass swing at Sampson. I pull Sampson back and the both of us fall on the ground. One second later and Sampson's head would have been mashed on the side of the pavement.

I'm shocked that Wade literally just aimed a bat at Sampson's head. He's not playing any games and that's pretty much clear.

“This is the point,” Wade tells me, “You taught me Syn. On one of your sermons you told me...when things aren't fair, they are flammable.”

Wade circles around Sampson and I with bat in hand. He hits his bat several times in his palm. He wants to let us know that he's ready to use it again. Wade is threatening us. That boy that I knew is gone. That innocence went straight to hell. Wade is murderous right now. There is no other way to put it. He has completely fucking lost it and he's about ready to take the rest of us out with him if need be. I keep hold of Sampson preventing him from running forward. I can tell he wants to risk it. He's just looking for an opening.

That's when I realize that maybe I have to provide it for him.

I make eye contact with Sampson.

If he can EVER read my mind then this is the time. I needed to distract Wade so Sampson could take him out. That's the only chance we would get of getting out of there.

“I did say that once. I did say when things aren't fair, they are flammable and that you should light them on fire. THINGS. Not people,” I explain, shaking my head, “You don't kill people Wade. You don't burn people to the ground. You burn the system to the ground.”

“The people are the system,” Wade replies, “The powerful take what they want. They have corrupted this world so badly that there is no more sense of fair. Don't you get that Syn? HUH! No one helped me when they beat me. Everyday I wake up feeling those blows. No one even followed up when my mother died. It was acceptable to them. It was an accident. Well the days of convienient accidents are done. Now is the day of Syn. Now is when shit starts happening on purpose...”

Wade is laughing like a comic book villain. My heart is beating faster. He is having this bout of emotion explaining this to me.

Maybe that's why he doesn't see Sampson running at him from the left. He doesn't see Sampson charge him. Sampson tackles Wade to the ground as hard as he can and I have to say Sampson is one strong motherfucker.

“Help them!” Sampson screams.

His voice is hoarse and desperate. He's wrestling Wade on the ground and Wade is putting up a damn good fight. Wade is struggling to come up from underneath Sampson.

I can't help him either.

I have to save these people. Who would have thought? Me, Syn Clinton was being a hero for once in my fucked up life. I was putting away my horns and running to someone's rescue. All I needed right now was some blue tights and a cape.

“SYN DON'T! LET THEM DIE!” Wade is screaming.

He's saying it as though confused on why I'm attempting to save people's life. This was a concept that Wade really wasn't understanding. I don't remember ever running so fast before. I wasn't exactly like Sampson. I wasn't this big athletic guy. I make my way to the other front of the building and I start to clear out the barricades keeping the front door open. My heart is racing. I'm really saving these people.

“Sampson, you watching?”

I know it's petty but I needed this to be recorded. Syn Clinton was saving people. What THE fuck. I clear out all the barricades that Wade had up in front of the door in record time. I clear them out so quick that when the doors open I'm thrown to the ground so hard that I'm almost knocked out by all the people running to escape.

The doors fly open as the people at Edwin Reading's event run out.

I'm laying on the ground barely able to breathe just feeling like I really did something just now. Maybe I wasn't that bad of a person after all.

“Syn,” Sampson tells me.

Sampson leans me up like the love interest at the end of some corny ass movie. He's so sexy when he does it. He rests my head against his knee and examines me when he realizes I fell.

“Wade...” I say, “Where's Wade?”


“He got away,” Sampson explains to me, “Forget him though. Are you OK?”

His hand brushes over the side of my forehead. I took a damn good fall when the doors pushed open. I can hear people all around me. I can hear all the people that I saved. Some have gathered around to look over at me and see me knocked out. Others have just started crying closer to the road. The building is still going up in flames behind me. The bright lights form some sort of halo around Sampson's head.

“Seeing stars and shit. Am I a hero now?” I ask Sampson.

He laughs, “Yeah bae. You're a hero.”

I don't even acknowledge Sampson calling me his 'bae'. I just try my best to sit up. I need to take a victory lap or some shit.

If Sampson and I were a few minutes later all of these people could be dead. If we weren't smart enough to figure out what Wade was up to there would be no celebration.

“Maybe he'll let me in heaven now,” I state.

“What?” Sampson asks.

Sampson doesn't understand and I don't have the fucking time to explain it to him. Ever since I was young I always assumed that God just wouldn't let me into those pearly gates of his. I just always figured that when I died I'd be walking up to heaven and someone would be like “Oh fuck no, it's Syn.” Then the angels would go batshit crazy. They'd started ringing alarms and shit. They'd build a waller faster then Trump's Mexican wall to keep me out of their shit.

So at least now I could say, “Hey, I saved a couple of people.” Hell maybe that way the wall won't be so tall. Maybe I'd be able to sneak in or something. I liked sneaking into shit.

“It was HIM!”


It was that moment my dreams just come crashing down. It is Edwin Reading. He is pointing at me. There are tears in his eyes. I see his wife and kids are with him. There is no sign of Wesley Reading. Edwin Reading is covered in soot. He points at me with this finger. I'd never been really thanked before but I was pretty damn sure this isn't how that went about happening.

“You can thank me later.”


“He burned down the building! HE BURNED IT DOWN!” Edwin stated, “I saw it with my own two eyes.”

Now you think when someone blames you for something you wouldn't do that you should argue with him. That would be the sane thing to do. The problem with that mind of thinking is that I'm not really feeling insane once I hear his accusation. I find it hilarious. Here I am doing something good for once. For once I'm the one who didn't actually burn something down. For once I'm actually innocent and I'm still being blamed for it.

So I do what any fucking crazy person would do at that point.

I hug myself, I sway back and forward and I laugh. I laugh like a madman. I laugh like this is Wade laughed. My laugh is loud, it is ignorant and it is absolutely fucking crazy.

Whispers are forming throughout the crowd.

“That isn't what happened...” Sampson is telling them, “That isn't what happened. I was here.”

“He's lying! He's defending his lover!” a voice says, “The Reverend is gay!”

Now that wouldn't have meant much if it had come from just anyone. The reason that it was very important in this situation however was because we were in the south. It was also because we were in a very religious city in the south. The last reason and probably the most important reason why this was a very influential line of attack was because this line of attack came from Sampson's very own wife Dahlia.

Dahlia had been attending the event with Ms. Nicole. Not only did I save this bitch but I saved Sampson's annoying ass mother.

I get up at that moment.

Well...time to make a run for it.

Sampson turns to me, “Syn. Don't. It'll look worse.”


He can read my mind as always. I laugh. Hell. This is amusing. All this shit is fucking amusing. I was having a good time with it. I have to admit. I have to admit that it's even more funny when the entire crowd is looking at me like I'm some kind of madman. Where the fuck was Wade in all this? He did what I should have done a long time ago. Wade ran his ass away.

“It was HIM! Wesley is DEAD because of him!” Edwin Reading says at the top of his lungs.

His brother was dead. No wonder he was so emotional. Maybe that is why Dahlia was in her feelings too. Wesley was Dahlia's baby's mother after all.

“I'm telling you it wasn't him,” Sampson says, “He saved you people. It's my word against yours Edwin and we all know that you're as corrupt as they come. Syn exposed you for that at the church...”

It's funny hearing Sampson defend me. It's even funnier looking around to see where the closest available car is. I have to get the fuck out of here. I see one guy sitting pulling up his car. He's sitting in it. He's not too far from me. I have to make a run for it.

“I saw him light the match myself,” Dahlia replies.

That's surprising. Dahlia looks at me dead in my eyes. For a moment I think maybe I'm crazy as fuck. Maybe somehow I did have something to do with it. She is THAT convincing. Dahlia has tears in her eyes and everything. She's lying her ass off though. It's clear she is.

The people make moves towards me. They are trying to do some type of citizen's arrest I think. Sampson is the only one keeping them away from me.

He acts like some sort of defensive line, blocking these aggressive people.

“She's lying!” He pleads, “Everyone. Listen to me. I've been your pastor. You can trust me. Dahlia has a reason to lie. I'm leaving her. I let her know that.”

“I saw Sampson do it as well,” Ms. Nicole adds in.

“MOM, are you fucking kidding me!” Sampson screams out to Ms. Nicole as loud as she can.

He's lost it. All these people were lying on me. They needed someone to blame. I understood Edwin Reading and I even understood Dahlia. But did Ms. Nicole really hate me so bad that she was making up some extreme lie? Were things really that bad between us?

I could sit around and play the hurt victim but I'm not very good at that. I am very good at realizing that there is a time to talk and there is a time to run like hell.

I take off.

I can hear Sampson screaming back at me.

“SYN! WAIT! WAIT!”


I know it's making me look guilty as fuck when I grab the guy waiting in his car, toss him out of his car and steal his car right in front of everyone. It looks weird as fuck when I speed off, speeding right pass the fire trucks headed in the opposite direction.

I look guilty as fuck.

But hell.

Guilty and innocence didn't matter. Freedom is what mattered.

I drive around all night and find the only place that I can think to go.

“You going to let me in?” I ask.

I find T-Boy at a hotel room just outside of town. It's probably one of the only hotel rooms in Briarswood but the chances of them finding me here are relatively low. The fact that T-Boy is still in this stupid ass town surprises me but the fact that he is willing to give me help as soon as I give him a call doesn't. When I open the door he has his same cocky smile.

“I figured you'd come around,” he tells me, “That's why I didn't leave.”

I walk into his hotel room, “I need a shower, some tequila and some weed.”

“I just so happen to have all of those things...and more,” T-Boy says.

He bites onto his lower lip. He has no idea what I've been through tonight so I'm not surprised that he is flirting. It's not above T-Boy to flirt or whatever.

I go in the shower and let the water cascade down my back. I'm so stressed out. I can't believe everything went left like that. I can't believe I was getting blamed for something that I didn't do. I almost fall asleep in the shower. I'm that exhausted.

The only thing that wakes me up is T-Boy knocking on the door after a few minutes asking if I was OK and letting me know that he ordered a pizza.

I come out of the shower, don't bother to dry up and wipe a towel around my waist.

“Sexy...” T-Boy says when I walk out of the bathroom.

I ignore him, walk over to wear he is eating and grab the slice of pizza right out of his hand.

“I was eating that,” he lets me know.

I sit on the bed, “You know what I learned today T-Boy? Life isn't fair. No matter how you try to slice shit, no matter how you cut it, sometimes the shit that piece that you deserve just doesn't go to you. Sometimes you don't get shit. Now gimme the rest of that pizza...”

T-Boy sighs, gets up, brings me the box of pizza and lays it on the bed.

“What did you do now?” he asks.

“Pretty sure that I'm wanted,” I reply, “No way of knowing for sure, but just so you know, you may be harboring a fugitive.”

T-Boy shrugs, “I wouldn't expect anything less. I'd be more worried if you showed up at door in the middle of the night, stole my pizza and devoured it in my room towel WITHOUT a warrant. That is when I'd be really worried.”

“This is different,” I explain.

“How so?” T-Boy asks me.

“It's serious,” I shrug, “I guess that's a relative term. Maybe I should say that other people may look at it as serious. I kind of think it's a joke. Not a haha joke, but like a damn that's funny kind of joke.”

“Is there a difference?” he asks.

I lose my appetite. People were dead. Things were different this time. Even if I didn't kill them people were dead and three people were coming forward saying that I had something to do with it. The only witness who was on my side was supposedly bias because he was my lover. Yes. Things were pretty fucking bad.

“When other people laugh with you is one thing,” I explain to T-Boy throwing the remainder of the pizza, “When you laugh alone is another. Ha. When the voices in your head just...haha...crack you the fuck up...hahaha. That's not a haha joke. It's just funny, funny business.”

T-Boy looks over at me. He looks worried. He's looked at me before. I've seen that look before. He's worried about me. I can tell that he's worried about me.

“Syn. Are you OK?” he asks me.

“You think I'm crazy,” I state.

“You just...aren't making sense,” T-Boy says at that moment, “I'm not saying your crazy. I'm just saying slow down and make some sense. Please. Let's start over. What exactly happened today? What's so funny?”

Arson.

Terrorism.

Where do I start? Where does the joke end? When does reality begin? Who knows? Why was I even trying to explain this to T-Boy.

“I got to go T-Boy,” I explain to him, “Thanks for your pizza and your shower though. Can I take your weed with me? Don't worry about me driving high. It's for medical conditions. It'll help my glaucoma. I may even drive better.”

“Wait. Wait. What are you driving?” he states, “You don't have a car.”

“I stole one.”

T-Boy takes a deep breath. He seems thrown off that I'm telling him this. He seems even more thrown off that I'm saying it in a nonchalant way. I think because of my relaxed tone not connecting to reality it takes him a few extra minutes to really comprehend the words coming out of my mouth.

“I'm not going to ask,” he says, “But I am going to ask you where you're going. You're worrying me Syn. Something seems extra...off...with you today.”

“I'm going to see Sampson. He understands what's going on and can help me.”

Just the mention of Sampson makes T-Boy jump up to his knees. T-Boy has always had this competition with Sampson. You would think I was lucky. I had two of the most attractive boys I'd ever come across in my life still in my life in some way. T-Boy was attractive but he knew it. Sampson was a lot more humble in his opinions but for some reason that made They were always opposites and I always preferred Sampson.

That didn't mean T-Boy wasn't sexy. Right now, for instance he's standing taller than me with dark brown skin that looked like Hershey's kisses with the same kind of milky quality. There is no flaw on his skin. You would think he wore make up. He had perfect pores. It's a weird thing to notice but I always do notice it. The guy had silk skin.

“I can help you,” T-Boy explains to me, “I've helped you for years. Why the fuck are you going to Sampson?”

“He knows what's going on?”

“I've been the one here for you Sampson,” T-Boy explains to me, “When my brother abandoned you, who was there for you? I was. I'm in love with you, Syn. If you gave me half the chances you gave him, we'd be married by now...”

“Your incapable of marriage,” I respond to him, rolling my eyes.

This is the sex symbol who had guys in and out of his apartment back home. There was no way in hell T-Boy would settle for one person.

“Not with you,” T-Boy explains, “Sure. I sleep around. Doesn't everyone.”

“No. That's not a normal thing to be a man whore,” I explain.

“I wouldn't be one if you didn't put me in that position,” T-Boy explains, “It's YOUR fault I sleep around.”

“Jesus Christ,” I state sighing, “Everything is my fault today.”

He doesn't even bother to ask what I mean before going into his rant, “Seriously. If you and me were together I wouldn't need anyone. I give you your space. I stay patient. I stay out of it. But I'm never too far. I'm always waiting for you to realize that Sampson isn't shit and that I'm the one you should be in love with. Once you stop chasing him you'll realize that there are more than two lanes in this race. I'm after you and I'm going to get you. And I'm a fucking fast runner. You see these calves?”

T-Boy LITERALLY pulls up his pant leg to show me his calve muscles. Every time I even pretend to take him serious he does something extremely superficial like that. No one says no to T-Boy because T-Boy is fucking beautiful so when someone turns him down he just can't take it. This is all some sort of ego thing.

“Impressive. All my problems in life have been solved by your calves,” I throw my hands in the air, praising God, the maker of T-Boy's strong legs.

He sighs, “Now you're fucking with me. Fine. Go. Leave. Run to Sampson. That's where you always want to be.”

I shake my head.

“Whatever.”

I get dressed. T-Boy goes back to the bed. He has an attitude problem that's very clear. I go over to the desk and grab the weed off the table that is sitting there. T-Boy isn't going to argue about it. He was probably keeping it for me anyway.

As I'm leaving T-Boy shakes his head and looks over at me, “My mother thinks your killing Sampson. She thinks you're literally killing him. I thought it was bullshit. Now...I don't know. I kind of can see how you have that effect on people. This shit hurts.”

T-Boy means it as some sort of bonus level argument. With T-Boy there is always levels to his arguments. The bonus level was always when he tried to stab you on your way out. I was very well accustomed to that kind of argument from him. What I wasn't expecting was his argument to resonate with me. The idea of me hurting Sampson rolls into my mind again.

The cancer rolls into my mind again.

He was right. I had let the day's events clog my mind. I was hurting Sampson. I was killing Sampson. I had to stop this. I have to stop running back to Sampson and falling for him over and over again. His cancer would come back for me.

I was the fuck up. I was the cancer. Look what I had done to Wade.

I had to stay away from him.

I drop the weed on the table.

“You're right?”

T-Boy raises and eyebrow surprised, “Wait. I am?”

I turn around and make my way to T-Boy. I don't know what comes over me when I throw him to the bed. I don't understand at first what happens when I pin him down and start kissing him. My mouth engulfs his lips. My tongue rolls into his tongue. T-Boy is just as shocked as I am. At first he seems as though he's making a mistake but after a few seconds I can feel his dick get hard underneath me. He realizes that this isn't some wet dream he's been having. This isn't some bullshit that isn't really happening. I'm really kissing T-Boy.

“I'm going to let you fuck me...” I tell T-Boy.

“Oh shit...” is his response.

He doesn't argue. His pants go off soon. I find myself pulling at his pants and getting them to his knees. I start sucking his dick as soon as they are low enough. T-Boy's dick is as pretty as he is. I take it down my throat and slob up and down. My right hand plays with his balls over and over. I can see T-Boy clutching at the bed sheets. His toes curl. He rolls his eyes to the back of his head. As I engulf his dick T-Boy's chest raises up as though he's been possessed.

He let's out a pant that isn't the most masculine thing in the world but he's losing his cool.

I think almost immediately he realizes how it sounded and attempts to take control of this situation and be the aggressor. He grabs me and lays me on my side. He holds my leg up with his muscular arm and then struggles to dig through his things to pull out a condom. He bites the condom off and slides it on his dick. Next comes the lube. He's well prepared as he slides it into my hole.

He fingers me a few a times when he does it. His finger tips moisten me up after a few seconds and then his dick is inserted in me. He fucks me from the side. I'm facing the wall. There is nothing to pay attention to except for the penetration of his dick inside of me.

He humps me, licking at the back of my neck when he does it.

I can feel his heartbeat racing as it's pressed on my back. Thump. Thump. Thump. He fucks me to the beat of his heartbeat. I can feel myself clawing at the walls. I'm clawing at T-Boy. I'm sweating and panting as T-Boy struggles to keep me in line.

T-Boy fucks me all over that side of the bed. He kisses me. His tongue is so wet and moist. His dick is so hard and moist.

That's when he turns me around and looks me in my eyes.

“I love you,” he tells me.

And the weird thing. The thing that scares the fuck out of me is when I look T-Boy back in his eyes and I say, “I love you too.”

A few days past. I am hiding out. T-Boy and I spend days just making love. Sampson has blown up my phone to the point that it's dead. I don't have a charger on me. I don't need one. I lay with T-Boy and I'm just feeling like I can lose myself. I forget about the outside world. By the end of the week I almost forget about everything that happened the night of the fire.

I wake up to T-Boy butt naked. He has made me breakfast in bed. I mean it's not really like it's homemade breakfast. T-Boy ran to the local Waffle House and picked me some stuff up. Still, waking up to T-Boy naked serving me breakfast was beautiful. There were boys out here that would kill for this kind of thing. I should have been more than happy. I should have been counting my blessings.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He asks me.

He's smiling. He's smiling way too hard.

“Good. I love you baby,” I tell him.

I bite into a piece of bacon. I'm hoping that T-Boy smiling was just because he was in a good mood. What the fuck was my problem? First I tell Wade that I loved him and now I was telling T-Boy. I had a problem. Good dick got me saying the craziest things.

Luckily T-Boy doesn't rub it in my face. I think T-Boy knows that I love him---in my own way. I loved T-Boy in the way that if Sampson was never born then I would have settled down with T-Boy a long time ago. T-Boy was my first love and I did love T-Boy, but it wasn't the kind of love that T-Boy had for me. It wasn't unconditional love.

There was a condition.

And that conditions's name was Sampson.

“Is the food good? I had to hurry up...seems like there are protests or something happening,” T-Boy tells me, “The guy at Waffle House said they were closing down for the day.”

“Never seen a Waffle House close...” I state confused.

He shrugs, “Me neither.”

“Something definitely is up. Like everytime I go out to get us something to eat there are all these sirens. Roads are closed.”

Weird.

“What do you think it is?”

“Maybe the carnival's in town. That always gets people.”

“You think?” I ask, “It seems really serious. Whatever is happening out there. I don't know man...”

“No. It's definitely a carnival,” he responds, “Look where we are. This town is the kind of town that shuts down a town when a pig escapes a town.”

I laugh, “Oh ok, well if you say it's nothing then I'm sure it's nothing. You're the one who went out there and saw it. I don't mind hiding out here. Everything is right in the world. You been giving me good sex everyday, you taking my minds off of my problems. You taking my mind off of Sampson. The food is good,” I tell him.

T-Boy is still naked. He's letting me take him all in. It's a glorious sight to take in. I have to say. Slim waist and pecs that has no room for error. He knows he looks damn good. He knows he looks damn good naked too. I mean the boy was a stripper for godsakes. Men paid to watch him take his clothes off. He was damn good at being naked.

“I just wanted to prove I can take care of you,” T-Boy says.

I smile. He's so cute. I don't know why I'm cheesing so much. He's trying super hard. The guy goes to Waffle house and gets me a meal and thinks he's doing something. He really is thinking he just solved all the problems I had just by cooking.

“You're doing a good job,” I tell him.

I'm not even bullshitting him. Right now I'm actually smiling at T-Boy. I'm actually looking at him and he's making me feel happy. T-Boy had a way to make me feel happy. He had a way to just com ein my life and turn everything around.

“He keeps calling me,” T-Boy says,

I know he's talking about Sampson. We both know. He looks down at his phone.

“Did you pick up?” I ask.

T-Boy shakes his head, “No. No I didn't. What's the rush?”

“A lot of shit went down earlier in the week,” I state, “You might want to pick up that call.”

“Whatever it is...I got you. I can handle it.”

“Uh---T-Boy I said this was a little different right.”

“I love you,” he explains, “I'm telling you it's going to me and you. You know what that means. It means that we shouldn't be depending on Sampson. It means it's just me and you. For no one. I can handle anything you throw my way.”

He looks so confident. It's a turn on. I bite into my sausage watching him show off.

“Suit yourself.”

T-Boy smiles confident in what he sees. That's when he turns on the television and everything changes. That confident smile that he had on his face disappears.

National news is on. It's CNN. Some national news person gets on the screen and there is a picture of Briarswood, South Carolina on the screen.

“Riots have broken out among a group of people calling themselves the Cult of Syn.”

My eyes get wide. They show pictures of Briarswood BURNING. It's literally chaos out of there. It looks like Ferguson X20. It's the LA riots all over again. Then I notice the people who are rioting. A lot of them I don't notice. A lot of them have just shown up in Briarswood. There is something even weirder. They have something outlined on their forehead.

At first I think they are markers. These are permanent marks.

But they aren't.

“These people have tattooed Syn on their foreheads. The local police units are outnumbered by swarms of this Syn Cult coming from all over. This comes as their leader Syn Clinton released speeches on the internet that went viral. His radical words inspired an overnight movement that is centralized in the city of Briarswood. Thousands have heard Syn Clinton's rally call and have come to this small city in South Carolina to start what they call a revolution.”

Holy shit.

T-Boys eyes are wide. I didn't think human eyes can get that wide.

He just mouths off, “Syn...”

I have no idea how to respond. I have no idea what is going on. I didn't release any videos online. I didn't release anything online. I gave those speeches in private to Marigold and a couple of locals. I didn't even think they were being recorded.

Who the fuck recorded them? Who put them on the internet?

“These waffles are awesome,” I state, attempting to stop his eye from twitching like it is right now, “Way better than IHOP.”

T-Boy isn't going for it. He turns back to the screen.

“We have with us now a follower of Syn. He goes only by the name of Wade. Wade...can you please explain to us what this movement is about? And does Syn Clinton and his followers want?”

It was him! It was Wade! The murderous motherfucker is on television! Wade put those videos out of me speaking. It had to have been Wade. I watch the city of Briarswood burning behind him. Wade looks different. He has Syn tattooed on his fucking forehead.

“The Syn Theory is out there,” Wade tells us, “Syn burned down Edwin Reading's event earlier in the week. That was just a warning shot. Syn Clinton is the next coming of Jesus. His theory is on the web. We are starting a movement. We are going to take over this country. We're going to BURN this country down!”


Wade looked crazy. He looked absolutely fucking nuts. He starts laughing. He is repeating “PRAISE SYN! PRAISE SYN! PRAISE SYN!”

Other people join in the protest.

“Where there you have it folks. A new revolution that had the country and the world paying attention to this viral Syn Theory that has spread all over the nation. Every day more and more of his followers pour into Briarswood. Mayor Edwin has requested the Coast Guard to help bring order back into a city that is being torn apart at the seams. As the man himself...no one knows his whereabouts. There is a 5 million dollar reward for Syn Clinton for domestic terrorism charges.”

Domestic Terrorism? That was a new one. I take a sip of juice.

T-Boy looks over at me. I swear I think he is about to pull his hair out.

“Wh---wh---”

He can't even finish whatever he wants to say. He's speechless. I offer him some bacon. Bacon always makes me feel better. T-Boy doesn't respond. His mouth is just stuck open. I can't help but to sneak a little bit of bacon in it. It just hangs there. I giggle a little bit. He's never been really good at problem resolution but right now is on a whole different level. T-Boy takes things way too serious.

Sure, I had started some kind of crazy cult without meaning too. Sure I was wanted for domestic terrorism. Sure there was a crazy murderer with my name tattooed on his forehead that was causing civil unrest.

But the world wasn't all bad. T-Boy had some good sex and this was some really good fucking bacon.

“You still think you can handle this situation?” I respond.

T-Boy doesn't even respond. He hustles for his phone. He dials the number, “Sampson. SAMPSON! YOU THERE! HELP ME!”

I change the channel just as I watch someone from the crowd throw a Molotov cocktail. Chaos breaks out!

The last sight is the camera man running before an Emergency Broadcast goes out.

To read the next chapter go to www.crushedcrown.com