Read Jump: The Fallen: Testament 1 for Free Online Page B

guppy. A little frog that my flock of childhood friends and I used to catch on one of our unsupervised romps around the flooded side streets. Some kid came up with the bright idea to throw one of the baby frogs back into the water as hard as he could. When its guts blew out its side and it turned belly-up, that became our new game.

    I can feel the disgust on your face, but we were kids, we were boys, and “Lord of Lions” has its rules. One of them is, that power has to be exercised in order to grow. Governments know that.

— X —

    I SLOW DOWN again. My perception of falling is speeding up and slowing down. Only this time, I don’t “ooze” to a stop. It’s more like someone slammed the brakes on a bus. And I lurch forward, and then it feels like the back of my head slams into something, and I see stars and a bright light. Then everything goes dark.
    When I wake up, I try to figure out what the hell happened. I glance over at the windows on the side of the building and I’m . . . naked!
    I know, I know—forty-eight, body gone to shit—grosses me out, too. But . . . it’s not that nasty, forty-something naked that I’m used to seeing in the mirror every morning. It’s more like a great, young version of myself before I realized that I would get old. Back when I was. . . And then I see it.
    When I was fifteen, I was playing at a cousin’s ranch in the Rural Zone. It was kind of a city-rat, country-rat thing, because there was plenty of things to experience on both sides.
    One night, it was getting dark and we were playing protector and citizen—chasing and then beating the shit out of each other with sticks—and I ran around the corner of the barn and fell into a pile of razor-wire that ripped nasty gashes across my chest.
    We headed into the house—me holding my bleeding chest and stomach and both of us, silent as sinners, as we beelined for the bathroom to see if we could patch me up.
    Four parents were smarter than totally quiet children, so it didn’t take long for them to figure out what happened. I spent the rest of the night begging not to be taken to the State’s Med-mart to get stitched up. Only thing worse than a gash in your chest is an incompetent State doctor with a God complex, learning to work a staple-stitcher on you like you’re some kind of Protection experiment.
    And there, in the reflection of what I have to believe is about a quarter way down this scraper, are those gashes—fresh, still purple, and barely healed. And then I see her and she’s naked too and I can feel myself getting an erection.
    I’m freaked out just like I was then, but this isn’t a forty-eight-year-old erection that I have to coax through the constant regret of failures with life, this thing is. . . There is a reason they used to call it a “woody.”

    Hey, what did you think you would remember about life? I won’t go into details, but I think her name was Sandy or . . . Cindy or some other S-sounding shit. Yeah, yeah, submit me—I can’t remember her name. But she was the first one, I remember that. Not much else to tell, it didn’t last long. Something that good never does.
    “What about love ?”
    Gimme a break. Until you’re about. . . I’m not sure men ever turn the corner, because “love” . . . is what my dick says it is.
    And there’s another lesson for you little purgatories: the dicks are in charge. Get used to that.

— XI —

    THE FAITHFUL ANGELS stirred on their perches above the arena, and they spread their wings and flapped and folded them back, weaving their armored feathers together—the shields were always first.
    The sound of angels, preparing for battle was unmistakable. Back and forth, that’s how the tide of eternity swelled. The threat of war was no different, so they tried to watch the soul be judged while they remained vigilant for any sign that Life or Dal would declare war.
    Life fluttered, hovering in mid-air in the middle of the arena. She turned slowly, watching her