Gunnar Ross Chapter 3: An Old Man and A Ring

Chapter
3

An
Old Man And A Ring

Gunnar stood there dumbfounded, he
looked up to ask the old man how he did that, but he was gone. He
laughed, thoroughly impressed, he was fully fooled. He actually quite
enjoyed that. He thought it was a good use of ten dollars. However
nice it was, though, he still needed that six pack, and that was his
last ten dollars. His bank account is empty too. Payday isn’t for
another 3 days.

“Shit,” Gunnar hissed. He went back
inside.

He approached John, putting on his
friendliest smile, “Hey, bud! Hows the working life going for you?”

John put the lids on the oil pots and
glared at Gunnar. “You’re not usually this nice to me. Is there
something you need?”

John was only 16, but he was sharp.

“Don’t give him money!” Alice
called from the grill, still scraping away at a particularly stubborn
burn mark.

“Is she right? Are you asking for
money?” John asked, looking betrayed.

“I’m not asking for money just to
have, I always pay my dues,” Gunnar tried to give his most
trustworthy smile. This was half true. “Alice can tell you, if I
can’t repay in the money you gave me, I give back in doing a
favor.”

“W-well, how much do you need?” John
asked tentatively.

“Just ten dollars. Just enough to pay
for some… snacks tonight.”

John sighs, “Venmo or Cashapp?”

After the ping of money sent, Gunnar
said “Thanks,” and clocked out for the night.

Gunnar went outside to unchain his bike,
but his heart sank when he saw that it was gone.

“FUCK!” Gunnar yelled, “FUCK!
SHIT, SHIT FUCKING DAMN IT”

He kept shouting and threw an empty
bottle at the wall in frustration, shattering it. He pulled his flask
out to take a big drink but there was hardly a drop left. He exploded
more. “CAN’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING DRINK WITHOUT SOMETHING GOING
ASS UP!”

Alice came outside, “Dude, I can hear
you clearly in there, what the hell is wrong?”

She looked at the empty bike rack. “Oh.
Sorry. That sucks. Do you need a ride home?”

“No. I can walk, I’m not a child,”
Gunnar said through gritted teeth, “I want to leave this city so
fucking bad!”

He kicked a rock nearby into the street.
He wheeled around and sat with his back to the wall. He immediately
felt cold spreading across his rear. That was the final straw. He
started sobbing. Alice looked around awkwardly hoping someone was
nearby to take the burden of dealing with Gunnar, to no avail.

“I… I have no idea what you want or
need right now.” Alice said, tentatively putting her fingertips on
Gunnars shoulder, “There, there?”

Gunnar brushed her hand away. He
sniffled, wiped his face, and gave a very puffy eyed smile, “Just
being dramatic, see you tomorrow!”

With that, he ran off towards home.

Once he was out of sight of the
restaurant, he finally slowed to take a breath. He stopped, looked at
the sky, hoping to see some stars. There never are, though. He lives
as deep in the city as you can get. The closest nature he can get to
is on the other side of I-35, in a park that seemed to always have
hippie music playing.

He always had a general sense of dread
and despair, but tonight felt different. He felt like he was
remembering the most delicious meal hes ever had, and while he can’t
remember what it was, he missed it dearly.

He was thinking back to the old man. “I
like you,” he said. And for some reason, Gunnar liked him too.
Whatever the feeling he had had, he wanted it gone. And there’s
only one thing to do that.

On his walk home, He stopped at the
local gas station. He walked in, and went straight to the back to the
beer section, he grabs his usual, the lowest possible quality, which
was the only six pack under ten dollars. He got it rung up by a
generic, never to be seen more than once store clerk, and walked out.

As he started making his way home, now a
30 minute walk, Gunnar heard something strange. He has seen his share
of street fights over lost bets, cheating boyfriends, whatever, but
he heard a familiar voice for the second time that night.

“Please don’t do this, I have no
money, I just spent my only ten dollars on a sandwich.” The old man
from earlier said.

“Then I’ll take your sandwich, pops,
I’m hungry too, sharing is caring,” a young voice called out,
probably some punk teen trying to bully an old man.

Gunnar really didn’t want to get
involved, but he felt compelled. He couldn’t just let an old guy be
mugged for a sandwich. He put his beer in a corner out of the way, in
which he found a busted chair. He grabbed the least splintered leg.
He slowly moved toward the sound of the scuffle.

“Give it here, old man, I don’t want
to have to hurt you.” the punk said again. Gunnar rounded the
corner to see exactly what he imagined. A teen with a small blade was
holding the same old man from earlier at a standstill against a
wall..

“I really don’t want to have to hurt
you, young man, but I will,” the old man whimpers. He glanced over
to Gunnar and his shuddering slowed.

“HA!” the punk laughed, “You,
hurt me? I don’t think so, just give me the bag, and we can forget
this ever happened.”

The old man smiled. A smile of pure
victory. He looked back to the punk, “Do you want to see a magic
trick?”

He reached for his neck, and pulled off
a necklace, breaking the string. He threw it at Gunnar, yelling,
“Catch, boy!”

Gunnar reacted faster than his brain
could process. Abandoning his original plan in an instant, he dropped
his chair leg and dived for the flying object. He barely caught it.

“Put it on!” the old man cried. The
punk was frozen in bewilderment. Gunnar looked at what was thrown to
him. A beautiful golden ring with a large, forest green emerald
inlaid into an intricate pattern.

“What will that do to help? Do you
need me to protect it?” Gunnar asked, also bewildered, forgetting
about the person robbing the old man at knife point.

“No you silly child, you’re going to
HELP me,” the old man yelled as if Gunnar was a child asking how
to push open a pull door. “Put it on and think really hard about
VINES.”

Gunnar thought he must have been knocked
out from the blow to the nose from John earlier that day. Vines? Gunnar thought in disbelief, What are vines going to do to help​?

He slipped the ring on, the cool metal
sliding over his pointer finger, as it reached the base, the ring
warmed, and contracted, shrinking to fix firmly but comfortably on
his finger. It glowed dark green.

The teen finally came to his senses.
“That’s a nice piece of jewelry, bud. Why don’t you hand it
over and pops can keep his sandwich?”

Gunnar felt a sense of warmth and power
flowing across his body in that moment. He felt like he had the power
of the earth in his control. He still thought he was dreaming, but
also thought he might as well enjoy it. He pointed the ring gem first
towards the teen.

“Get away from my friend!” Gunnar
yelled, and put all his focus into the ring. He thought about vines.
Vines that would constrict this kids movements, tying up his arms and
legs long enough to run away with the old man, and his drinks.

The teen rushed Gunnar. He prepared his
knife to plunge into Gunnars gut, and Gunnar closed his eyes, Time
to wake up! Gunnar thought. He closed his eyes, hoping to hear
his alarm.

He waited but nothing happened. He
suddenly felt tired. He opened his eyes to see the gem on the ring is
glowing bright green. Quickly, vines sprouted from the ring,
writhing, looking for something to latch onto.

The teen simply stared, standing still
like a statue for seconds. Gunnar couldn’t believe what he was
witnessing.

After a moment, the teen said, “Fuck
this,” and ran. But it was too late. The vines wriggled and writhed
around his ankles, spiraling up his legs like a serpent. The vines
contracted, and he fell face first into the pavement. He tried
crawling and pulling the vines off, but to no avail. They wrapped
around his arms and contracted again, his arms and legs trapped. He
looked like a giant, green caterpillar. The vines surrounded his face
and blocked his mouth just enough to allow him to breath, but not
enough to scream.

As he struggled, Gunnar saw the vines
stop being produced by the ring. The glow died out, and suddenly
Gunnar felt a wave of exhaustion. He collapsed, losing consciousness.

BZZT BZZT BZZT BZZT BZZT. Click.

Gunnar shot up in his bed. He jumped
onto the floor and began patting himself from top to bottom. “It
was a dream!” Gunnar said. He laughed. “It was just a dream!”

He noticed the time, 9:50am. He still
has two and a half hours to get ready. He was so happy he vacuumed
the rug where his bed lies and took out the trash.

He
happily went about his normal routine, up until he opened the fridge to
get eggs and bacon.
When he saw the six pack in the fridge, he fell backwards in shock.
The six pack was sitting in his fridge, missing one, with a note
written on a discarded lottery ticket. “Thanks for the help,
friend. I took a beer as a delivery charge. I’ll be in contact.”

Gunnar
sat in his kitchen, staring at the note. Suddenly the whole event
came crashing over him, reality setting in. He was exhausted, sore,
and hungry. He was so hungry that he was shaking. He was so sore that
his arms felt like they were on fire. He
felt like falling asleep right on the floor again. He was too
preoccupied. His attention was focused on his memory of the previous
night. It was real! Vines shot out of a ring on his finger.

Another thought rushed into his head. He
scrambled up and hurried to the wall with a fake outlet that he
installed when he moved in a year ago. He pulled off the false front
and let out a sigh of relief as he saw the small ornate box still
sitting snugly in the hole. He pulled it out to make sure it was
still intact, which it was.

After a moment, he slowed down to look
at the box again. He has had this box longer than he could remember.
As a kid in the Lotus Orphanage, the overseer was instructed to give
Gunnar this box when he turned thirteen. It was an ornate wooden box,
three inches tall, three inches wide, and six inches long. It had a
design of various flowers and the sun with a calm, yet pained look on
a bulbous face.

There were no signs of it being broken
into, but Gunnar had to be sure. He took the box to the table with
reverence, and set it down. Inside his wristwatch, he tinkered a
small latch to open a secret compartment he installed that contained
a small key. He took the key out, and slid it into the keyhole,
turned and heard the familiar click as the spring door opened. The
inside of the box was felt lined, with a jet black silk handkerchief
wrapped around an object.

He slowly unwrapped the handkerchief to
reveal a golden wristband. With ornate etchings, large swoops
surround a set of twelve indentations all around the side, with the
thirteenth filled with a gemstone. This gemstone was black and
purple, smooth and round. Underneath the wristband was a folded note
which he also took out to inspect.

It read, in very tactile writing with a
pen that seemed to give out every other word; “In your hardest
time, I will defend you to my last.”

Gunnar put everything back slowly. He
was very glad that nothing seemed to have been stolen. His most
expensive asset was the PlayStation 3 he got from helping Arnold
clean out his garage. Which didn’t even work at the time, Gunnar
thought that he spent more on replacing parts in it than it was worth
when it was new. Still he finally relaxed.

“I’ll be in contact,” Gunnar
repeated to himself. “Who was that old man?”

He stood up. He took his eggs and cooked
everything left. He ate five eggs, a whole pack of bacon, and some
questionable sausage that he found in his freezer. It wasn’t
enough. But it was all he had.

He held onto hope that this was all some
elaborate prank as he went to check where he kept his bike. It was
still gone. He began his walk to work. Every step he took felt like
walking on coals. Whatever he did last night, it nearly killed him.

Gunnar was reeling over his experience.
He wanted to tell everyone that there was a homeless old man with a
strange weapon prowling the streets. He wanted to go to the police to
file some kind of report. But he knew no one would believe him. It
was too unbelievable, it almost felt like… Does Gunnar dare say
that word? He lives in the real world, where that kind of stuff isn’t
real. Stuff that needed to stay in Dungeons and Dragons, not in his
life. But he couldn’t shake the feeling he just saw magic.

Gunnar shook himself out of it. There
was no magic. His bourbon must’ve been stronger than he thought. He
continued his walk to Boys Burger Barn.

When he finally arrived, it was only
11am, thirty minutes to clock in. he decided to use his free meal
early and got a big breakfast. He must have been a little sloppy,
because Alice came up to him.

“Hey Gunnar, you okay?” she asks,
“Are you hungover again?”

Gunnar spoke with his mouth full of
fries, “Yes, I’m fine, Alice, you don’t need to check on me,
I’m just really hungry.”

“No need for the attitude, I’m just
concerned about you, jackass,” she said defensively. “It’s ten
till clock in, thanks for being on time for once.”

Gunnar wanted to tell her what happened,
but he knew that that would just fuel her concern. No sober person
would say that a magic ring produced vines that trapped a punk to
save an old man.

Gunnar ravenously ate his meal. Alice
even bought him an extra double cheeseburger. He finished, and sat
back finally content. He looked at his watch again, 11:25. Five
minutes. The early signs of the lunch rush were showing.

On cue, seeing people show up, Arnold
said, “I’m off on my break, remember to smile!” and like a fart
in the wind, he was gone. He left a 21 year old drink enthusiast, a
16 year old kid, and a 25 year old attitude machine to run his shop.

Gunnar sighed and stood up. He clocked
in on time, and got to work. The entire day went okay for Gunnar,
Wednesdays were usually slow, so he had some time to think about the
night before. He kept looking at the door, hoping that the old man
would walk in so Gunnar could grill him about what happened. He
didn’t.

Gunnar drank his whole flask by 3pm,
breaking his rule. His head felt cloudy, but was able to go through
the motions.

Time went on, and John tapped Gunnar on
the shoulder while he was staring as a fryer basket full of burnt
fries. Gunnar jumped.

“Gunnar,” John asked tentatively,
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been on edge all day. Did
something happen?”

“Jesus Christ John, you scared me!”
Gunnar said, taking the fries out and throwing them away.

“I’m sorry but, since yesterday, you
don’t seem all here.”

“What the hell is that supposed to
mean?” Gunnar replied, opening a new bag of fries, “I just had a
bad night, alright? I don’t need a twerp like you trying to be an
armchair psychiatrist!”

Gunnar put the basket in the oil. He
turned back to John who had tears in his eyes. What made Gunnar
realize his mistake however, was that Alice was standing behind John,
a hand on his shoulder, and eyes that seemed like they were forged in
the pits of hell.

“John, hun, why don’t you go clean
the lobby real quick?” She said with a calm southern accent, which
only comes out when shes extremely mad.

“Gunnar and I have something to
discuss” She continued, poison in each word.

John scurried off, knowing the storm
that’s about to come. Alice grabbed Gunnar by the arm, digging her
nails into him. She led him into Arnold’s office, nearly throwing
him in, and slammed the door. Gunnar staggered, tripping on boxes of
the past few years of records, invoices, and sales reports, and
slamming into Arnold’s desk.

Gunnar expected a meltdown, a southern
ass whooping, some kind of explosion from this woman. However, she
just sighed deeply, turned toward Gunnar, and sat on a chair nearby,
leaned forward, and stared into his eyes for a moment. Gunnar
realizes that her eyes were green, and full of care.

“Gunnar what the hell is going on?”
she said calmly with no emotion. “You’ve been acting weird, more
so than usual. Something happened last night, and you’re going to
tell me what is is, because I’m not going to let you bully a poor
kid for checking on your ungrateful ass.”

Gunnar didn’t respond immediately. His
mind was racing, his mind was clouded, and his emotions ran wild.

“I got mugged,” he said, looking
away from Alice.

“You’re a bad liar, Gunnar,” she
said.

“You won’t believe me,” Gunnar
said, more truthfully.

“Try me, we live in Austin, the home
of the weird.”

“Would you believe me if I said I saw
magic?” Gunnar looked at her dead in the eyes. She stared at him
longer. He broke eye contact first. “See, you wouldn’t believe
me.”

“I believe you THINK you saw magic,”
she said.

“That’s exactly what I thought you