Issue date: 11/15/07 Section: Stranded

Media Credit: Jackie McClelland

It was late. Price of doing business with the Argentine is that it all has to be done after hours. Not a young man anymore, all Jason Hunter wanted was a brew and a soft bed. To curl up and forget about his troubles until the sun came up. That'd be nice. Not going to happen, though; sleep was just where the bad dreams came straight to him and stopped sulking in the shadows.

Those shadow nightmares seemed especially close now, as he was crossing Queen's Park. Seemed to reach out to her from the darkness while he was still awake. Bucking to get at him before their time was due. Impatient. Very rude.

Queen's Park was one of the more unusual places on earth. During the day it was the seat of legislature, representative of local authority, order, discipline. But when the sun went down, it became a dark reflection of itself. Without the probing glare of the light, it was just another seedy locale. Looking around, Jason saw kids smoking illegal narcotics, strangers hooking up, those damn mole-men too. They were the strangest thing the park had to offer. Sex and drugs was understandable, but what was the appeal in secretly congregating to dig a hole all night and then fill it in before dawn? Damn weird place.

From the shadows, a small group of youths approached. "Great," Jason thought to himself, "I sure hope I don't have to spend the whole night busting some idiot kids from the school for possession."

But they didn't seem to be doing anything wrong. Just passing by in the park, on their way to some other location, not about to cause any trouble. It looked like they'd be gone without incident, but then Jason caught the eye of the tall one and knew it was no good. He had no time to react. It was a nightstick - where would he have gotten it? It flashed out from under his ripped leather jacket and struck Jason's stomach, crippling him to the ground. The others rushed to all sides, preventing escape. Jason was trapped.

The tall one with the nightstick began to talk. "Well, well, if it isn't Mister Hunter. Mr. Dean-o Jay Hunter. Don't you think it's past your bedtime?"

Jason did his best to ignore the pain, the burning sensation in his lungs that felt like he was breathing acid. He tried to talk, but could not. For now all he could do was look so pathetic that they wouldn't hit him again until he'd regained his composure. It was an easy thing to feign.

"Maybe you've heard of me and my pals," the tall one continued. "We're the Jor-munganders." A violence gang. Punks for hire. "Don't you think you've been treating those schoolchildren a little harshly? I hear you can only have a beer in your room so long as it's not in a glass bottle."

"Not at my school," Jason hissed as he attempted to lunge at the smiling jerk. One of the underlings kicked him from behind, sending him back to the dirt, ruining his only chance.

"Not smart, Mr. Hunter. And to think, they told me you was a hawk," the leader said as he raised his purloined nightstick, preparing to deliver the finishing blow. It never fell. Out of the woods, the mole-men came. They wielded shovels and trowels, and wore mismatched uniforms of coveralls and plastic dollar-store miners' hats. They were swift, taking the Jor-munganders completely by surprise. A few managed to escape, but most were cowed into submission, transformed into quivering puddles of fear lining the park floor.

Uncertain of what to do, Jason rose from the earth. An especially fat mole-man came over to him. He wore thick glasses and a whiskery mustache. "These hoodlums won't bother you again," the mole-man told Jason. "I suggest you leave us and may you always dig in peace."

"I can't do that. I need to know who sent them after me."

"That I cannot allow," the mole-man explained. "Questions are not our way. Our way is the hole. The hole is our way. We are diggers of holes and, let me tell you, you do not ask questions of holes. They are an irritable sort."

"But-"

"No. Go now. May it be many years before you come to reside in your final hole."

Jason looked around. The mole-men had already begun digging. There would be no reasoning with them now. Feeling defeated, but with his life intact, he left the mole-men and headed for home.

Jason Hunter will return in:
Feliz Navi-Dead!

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