Ancient Evil (The First Genocide Book 1) by Brent J. Griffiths

thing happened.”
    “Oh, do tell.”
    “Well this titchy little Scot got into a
fight with a big German.”
    “Ha, fucking ha. See what happens when I
try to be normal?”
    “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
    They paid for their food and put it on a
nearby table. Their trays barely fit on the small round table that could double
as a checker or chess board if required. This was rarely required. The only
games played at the tables were drinking games or occasionally some longhairs
would play Magic before the bar got too busy. Finn said, “Want a pint?” Jonni
tilted his head to the side, puzzled, wondering why Finn was even asking. Finn
sighed and went to the bar to get a couple of drinks.
    He put the pints of Youngers No. 3 on the
table. He jerked his chin at a girl on the other side of the room, “What’s her
story?”
    “She’s crying.”
    “I can see that,” said Finn. “Let’s try this
again. Do you know why that girl over there is crying? Did she just hear about
Kurt Cobain or something? Tragic.”
    “Aye, tragic.” They both sat in silence for
a second or two, then Jonni continued, “It wasn’t that though.” Jonni leaned
forward over his greasy plate of food and said, “Her boyfriend disappeared.” He
then leant back and continued eating.
    “What? What do you mean by disappeared?
Like in a magic show?”
    “No. Not like a fucking magic show. Jesus.
It was at the beach party a few days ago. He went for a piss and never came
back. They think he went into the water. They’ll probably find him up the coast
in a few weeks.”
    “Tragic,” he paused, “Anyone I know?”
    “I think so. It was that guy from
Manchester, you know, the one that always seemed to have a cold.”
    “Nope, I don’t know who you are talking
about,” said Finn.
    “Andy, I think his name was Andy.”
    “Oh you mean Madchester Andy?”
    “Have you got a cold or something, too?”
    “Huh? Oh, I see. You didn’t get it. He
didn’t have a cold, he deliberately called Manchester, Madchester, suggesting
things are mad there,” said Finn.
    “Well, that’s just stupid. Maybe it isn’t
such a tragedy that he went missing after all.” Jonni seemed miffed that he had
missed the opportunity to mock Madchester Andy before he had gone missing.
    “Any idea why she is crying at the Union,
rather than at home?”
    “Haven’t the foggiest.”
    “Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Rebecca is a
cool chick. I like her. She even reads sci-fi,” Finn said.
    “Alternative Fiction,” said Jonni
    “What?”
    “I think we should call it Alternative
Fiction, not sci-fi; sounds less nerdy. I’m sure other girls read sci-fi. They
just don’t admit it. They might if it was called Alternative Fiction.”
    “Alternative Fiction? Are you serious?”
    “Uh huh, have you ever been on a bus or a
train and seen someone reading a book with a slip-on cover, so you can’t see
what they are reading? Sci-fi, ninety-nine percent of the time.”
    “Ninety-nine percent of the time? How do
you know, did you do a study or something?”
    “Informally, yes. Whenever I see one of
those covers, I go out of my way to see the top of the page that is being read.
You know, where they often print the title of the book or the chapter, or the
author. Once it was smut, once it was romance and all the other times it was…”
    “Sci-fi.”
    “Al-ter-na-tive Fic-tion,” Jonni sounded
out each syllable slowly as if pronouncing a difficult word for a child or
someone not fluent in English. “I tell you, it’s lower on the rung of
respectability than fucking Romance. So, let’s change the genre name and see if
people will admit their love of it.”
    “See, that is what I am talking about. Bex
just pulls out this Julian May book out of her bag and asked if I read it.”
    “Had you?”
    “Well, yes, but that’s not the point. The
point is, she didn’t claim she had found it on a park bench or that her brother
had given it to her or that normally she read the