Chester and the 24-hour Lottery

Chester disliked confrontation ever since entering Neighborhood Saldivar at age seven. A kid handed his ass to him on the first day thinking he cut the line for haircuts and women arguing in his vicinity brought back awful memories of home life. Before Van or Racket explained why they tried to beat the crap out of each other Chester fled from the situation.

Garth hissed, “Coward!”

“Go away,” he snapped, “This is no time for fighting.”

“Chet! Where are you going?” Van shouted.

He waited until reaching the hallway of his room before spinning around. Garth trailed behind Racket and Van. Their faces showed slight bruising, and he crossed his arms defensively.

Van gazed with those bright green orbs and his heart slowed when she also smiled, seeming happy to see him after a few days apart. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even when Racket asked why he wouldn’t talk to them.

“Saldivar’s here.” Van declared.

“I know,” he leaned against the cool wall, “What do you want?”

“Hello?” Racket snapped her fingers in his face closer than he thought she stood, “How dare you ignore me! Did Saldivar speak to you?”

Van stepped forward, the three of them forming a tight triangle of mixed signals and emotions. He felt at a disadvantage pinned against the wall, and his left eye twitched in aggravation.

"Back up!” he growled at both women, smirking at their surprised expressions.

Van took a few steps backward giving Racket room to inch closer, her hot breath lashing across his cheek when she yelled, “Watch your fucking tone, Chet! Don’t forget I’m in charge. Answer my question.”

Chester gripped Racket by the shoulders, swinging around until she slammed into the wall. His hands latched onto her throat, fed up with her demanding, tyrannical demeanor. It was bad enough knowing Spell spouted lies about his mental state but to put up with a woman who constantly berated and questioned his manhood made Chester’s self-control snap.

“Chet!” Van grasped his straining arms as he choked Racket with concentrated fury, “What’s wrong with you? Let her go!”

Racket’s dark eyes lit up seconds before she kicked his knee and performed a maneuver that laid him flat on his back wheezing for air. The bitch loved riling his anger only to fuck him up. He moved to stand, but Racket stomped a boot on his chest, smiling maniacally.

Van punched Racket in the throat, causing the woman to flail backward gasping for breath, unlike Chester’s strangulation. Garth finally intervened, holding Racket back so Van could help Chester off the floor. The four of them were in a screaming match when Saldivar and Susan Potter rushed from the other end of the corridor to intervene.

“What are you doing?” Saldivar demanded, looking at the women with obvious disappointment, “Is this how you’ve been behaving? Has perdido la cabeza?”

Garth let Rocket go and Van stepped aside with a sheepish expression. Rocket rubbed her throat, glaring at Chester as if Saldivar wasn’t there. She looked bat-shit crazy with her butchered hair sticking out every which way.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Van stood tall, “It won’t happen again.”

“Are you okay Chester?” Potter kindly asked.

He nodded, back aching and lungs not taking enough air yet to respond.

“Vanyla attacked me in the mess hall and had the gall,” Rocket moved until standing beside Saldivar, facing them like a scolding bunk monitor, “to accuse me of mistreating Chester and abuse of authority! I explained your orders, but she doesn’t believe me.”

Saldivar sighed like they were misbehaving children, “Chester needs protection from those who could tire of waiting and turn him in. When I imparted to a select few this location, they told friends and family members. People are scared, venerable and act irrationally in times of high stress and I hoped you’d come to this conclusion.”

Chester felt his face grow red, “Sir, I only wanted to eat breakfast.”

Potter cracked a small smile and clasped her hands together, “Vanyla, why don’t you return with Chester and we’ll forget this happened?”

Saldivar’s frown wavered when he saw Potter’s smile. Potter was an unusual beauty in her late forties, slender with pure white hair always pinned up in an intricate bun. Whenever Chester watched her in the past, there was grace and controlled power behind her words and movement. As mayor, she risked everything to join the revolt against Spell.

“You knew they would call my name,” Chester blurted, “I wish I had never signed that blood oath.”

Potter straightened her shoulders, “Yes, I did, but I had no idea the strength you would bring to the momentous day we took back our freedom.”

“We didn’t!” he contradicted, ignoring the others disapproving stares, “It’s as Saldivar said, citizens are afraid and will try to profit from Spell’s good graces. Did no one listen to my speech? We’re doomed since Governor Spell still controls The Institute and Fort Ozark!”

“That’s enough,” Saldivar curtly said, waving a hand for them to disperse, “If I hear of another altercation like this, I don’t care who you are, you’re out. This is not the time to be fighting each other like children who don’t know better. Show compassion and help one another. I have more valuable things to do with my time.”

Frustrated Chester inhaled a deep breath, wincing when a sharp pain shot up his spine. Wordlessly he turned and entered his room but when he went to close the door Van slid inside. Saldivar, Potter, and Racket walked away but Garth lingered out in the hall.

“What?” Chester flatly asked.

He smirked, “We still have a lesson in an hour. Don’t be late.”

Chester flipped him off then laid on the bed, ignoring Van. He wouldn’t be practicing jack shit because he felt as if his back slipped a disc. Hearing Van sigh, he shut his eyes wondering if what Racket said was true.

“Did you fight Racket because of me?”

“Yes, and no. She told me you’re screwing.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Saldivar’s right and I’m tired of getting my ass kicked over stupid shit.”

She stood over him with a concerned frown, “Are you okay? Should I get medicine?”

“There’s some in the bathroom. Racket’s considerate that way.”

“She’s a witch!” she hissed.

He allowed a small smile, knowing he shouldn’t goad her but couldn’t help it, “Are you jealous?”

“Hardly,” Van scoffed, running water into a cup, “She’ll grow bored soon enough. We grew up together and left at the same time. She’s always been cold-blooded. The best at strategy and hand-to-hand combat as well. Choking her was a bad idea.”

“I’m full of bad ideas lately,” he grumbled, sitting up to swallow the pill which would make his aches disappear although the memory of the ass-kicking would remain, “Do you trust Racket?”

“Absolutely,” she didn’t hesitate, “and she trusts me. You cannot imagine the things The Institute put Construct Babes through and the fight earlier was about leaving. She believes we need to move against Spell immediately.”

Chester sighed blissfully, body relaxing when the drug took hold, “Oh yeah… so much better.”

“It’s unhealthy to consume a lot of that,” she frowned disapprovingly, sitting beside him, “What do you think?”

“I could never afford the medicine before but don’t plan on stopping since everyone keeps beating the shit out of me.”

“Not that idiot,” she laughed, bumping their shoulders, “Should we leave to take control of the neighborhoods?”

“Whoa,” he turned to see her better, “You just told me Racket is the best at strategy yet want to go in half-cocked? That’s a suicide mission.”

Van put her hands on his knees and he jerked reflexively. She noticed, giving a lopsided grin, “Racket made you extra jumpy. She’s convinced if we start in Crane, we’ll gain resources and manpower. I’m inclined to agree, but it’s convincing Saldivar and the others. I won’t make a move without orders and it pissed her off. That and she refused to let me visit you began the fight.”

Chester chewed his bottom lip contemplating. Crane was the furthest neighborhood from The Institute and Wayfarer City. He shook his head, gazing into Van’s green depths wondering where he came into all of it. He was a disastrous fighter. “I brought up your suggestion to Saldivar about hijacking Spell’s bulletin for one of our own, but he didn’t seem too keen on the idea.”

“Once we take back a neighborhood, it’ll be the perfect time to shove it in Spell’s face. Think of it as a reversal run liberating those we left behind,” Van nodded excitedly, “We can do this.”

“We?” he hated his voice sounded desperate, “I have no skills and would only be in the way.”

She laughed before smacking her lips on his cheek, lingering long enough for the smell of coconut to invade his senses. He really missed the girl, even though pain followed her charming smiles and kisses.

His resistance fell when she exclaimed, “Have faith in your delirium Chet! We’re going to infect the whole state!”