It was 1978 and he could the warm summer breeze as he rode his Cafe Racer through the streets of the small towns along the 101. To be alone was the dream. To live on the road to love who he wanted, when he wanted.. that was his dream.
The racer was a Royal Enfield. It was old but it was fast.
It was August and the nights were always warm and as he rode onto a small beach near Bodega bay he never considered the next morning he we want a completely different life.
It was Close to 6pm when he unpacked his sack. He’d spend 7 hours on that glorious bike that day and he was tired.
He opened a Campbell’s tomato soup and warmed it over the small fire he had made.
The beach was empty and that’s why he chose it. It was in a cove and the road that lead to it was covered with trees and not easy to spot.
He liked being alone. He liked being tough. He liked being dirty and he liked living life on his own terms.
50 minutes later he had finished his soup and set out his sleeping sack and started to grabbed his old worm copy of Dharma Bums by Jack K.
For an hour he read and then he put the book down. The sun was setting over the waves and he though..This is the life. Alone. Silence. Peace.
He wrapped up in his sack and he fell asleep.
What was that? He thought. Something down the beach!
In the darkness he could hear things but he couldn’t see.
There was a muffled voice and two other silently arguing.
He silently got out of his bag and slid his pants on.
He focused and the voices felt like they were 500 to 600 feet away from him. At this point he could assume there were two men and someone who’s mouth was covered.
He searched for his knife but it was lost for now in the sand so he grabbed the spoon he’d used to eat soup with and quietly walked a little closer to get a better listen.
He kept low to the sand and as he crept closer he heard the men.
He could make out the words mid sentence.
“….. if we let her go.”
“Yeah but I don’t wanna live life knowing I killed an innocent.”
“If we don’t we are dead. It’s her or us.”
“Give her to me. If I gotta kill her I’m gonna have fun with her first. She’s too pretty to waste.”
The no man bowed his head. He had always been a weak man. He never stood up to anyone. He never stood up to anything. It was easy to hear it in his voice and in the darkness he could see how he stood. His head bowed. His frame was one of defeat. He wasn’t even a man. He’d never stopped being a boy.
The one who would kill took the girl, who He could see was gagged and crying, and grabbed her hair and began to drag her down towards the water.
The No man fell to his knees and started to cry.
He knew what was about to happen and he had two choices. The first was to walk away and never say a word. In the morning he would gather his stuff and get back on his motor cycle and leave and go about his life and that would be that.
“One man practicing kindness in the wilderness is worth all the temples this world pulls.”
— Jack Kerouac (The Dharma Bums)
The second choice was his decision.
From his knees he stood up and walked towards the No man. This man was easy. No man didn’t have a chance to stand up before he slammed his knee into the back if his head. No man fell face forward and He started to beat him hard and fast. He couldn’t risk No man getting back up and attacking before this had ended.
He hit and hit and hit.
No man was still.. passed out from a strong beating.
Next he headed for the ocean. He headed towards the screams. To surprise was the strategy. A fast attack! He held the spoon in his hand and to make it a little more like a weapon the bowl was in his palm.
He ran and as he approached he was a big man bent over the woman. Big man was ripping her clothes off. Her shirt was gone and so where her pants and panties. Big man was struggling with her bra and she was crying. His pants were half way down.
The cries from the woman and the extreme attention that Big man was giving to the bra made it easy to attack fast. He hit him hard in the head but where he hit him was the mistake.
Note: If you’re gonna hit someone hit them in the right place. Consider everything about them. If they have a beard you can grab it and pull. If they are big go for the knees. Always find soft spots in the body. Don’t hit bones. The back of the head is hard. He should have hit him in the neck.
Big man stood up.
This man was a giant! He easily stood over 6 foot 6. His reach was long.
Big man pushed the girls face in the sand and said, “You stay.”
He prepared. He could feel his blood rushing out of his arms and he felt cold and clammy.
Big man threw a fist and it landed in the side of his face. Blood rushed from the wound. The Spoon few from his hand.
He had never been hit so hard and before he could even hope to recover another fist slammed into his side. He fell. The pain was unreal and inside he feared for the first time in a long time that these would be the last moments of his life. He would be dead soon. The girl would raped and killed. They would be burried in the sand.
Then the thoughts happened so quickly.
I haven’t lived. What did I miss. I never feel in love. I never bought a house. I never spent a morning drinking coffee and laughing with a lover. I’ve never sacrificed anything for anyone and this is the only sacrifice I have to give?
He felt anger. He felt anger for himself and for his sad selfish life alone. He felt anger for his wasted life.
“Pain or love or danger makes you real again….”
— Jack Kerouac (The Dharma Bums)
Big man came over to finish him off and He lifted his foot and it landed perfectly on big mans nuts. Next he kicked both of big mans knees. He kicked so hard and so aggressive that both of them bent backwards and broke. Big man screamed in pain and He slid back and assessed his surrounding. He stood up and walked over to the girl. She looked at him and he saw relief fill her face. He picked her clothing from the sand and handed it to her. She dressed. He sat by the water. She came up next to him. “Thank you.” She whispered. He smiled. His life would never be the same. It could never be the same. He didn’t want it to be the same.
For hours they just sat. Silence.
The next morning they would find the police and look for the No man who had walked away sometime during the fight. It would be lots of noise and news stories and he wanted one more night of peace. She understood.
“The silence was an intense roar.”— Jack Kerouac (The Dharma Bums)
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Ikon Republik- I live and travel in a frickin van and I love my life! I founded a magazine, VEGA Magazine. My magazine is full of beautiful nude women and its based around the idea of respect and soon it will include amazing articles on how to improve your life! Out of the last 8 months, I have spent 4 of them living in the desert, under the stars and cooking over a campfire that was made with two sticks and a bow. I believe in self-sufficiency and integrity.