tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58426605144081922932024-03-13T03:36:57.602-04:00RG JenkinsThe literary works of RG Jenkins.RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-50949317762768393752016-11-07T18:02:00.000-05:002016-11-07T18:03:50.840-05:00Diaz - The Gas Station<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was finally able to get a hold of that putrid smell. Diaz squatted against a vent on the roof of the gas station. The smell reminded him of wet dog and spoiled milk. He wasn’t sure if he was actually that hungry or he just got used to the smell, but he was finally able to eat some peanuts that he snatched, along with a soda, from the convenience store below.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sitting up on the roof he was in thought about what to do next. How should Diaz Altez handle this situation? He tried to think about what his Grandfather would do, but that didn’t help. With a long exasperated sigh he remembered when he ducked into the abandoned gas station he had picked up keys that were on the counter. The keys had a keyless-entry remote on them. Diaz might get lucky.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He walked around the edge of the roof clicking the remote. He was not very hopeful. He remembered what his grandfather had always said, “hope is for the hollow, skill is for those lacking talent, faith is for the nonbelievers, and luck…luck is for the fallen.” Just off to the side, almost hidden by an eighteen-wheeler, a small amber light flickered. It was a compact, forest green pickup truck. Diaz smirked a bit and slid his thumbs down the outside of his jacket as if to straighten it.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He had a plan. Now all he had to do was wait out the creatures that wandered around the deserted gas station waiting to tear him apart. Those flesh eating assholes, he thought to himself, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">they’re jus’ waitin’ to grip their rotten hollow jaws into my abdomen. Those sick fucks. I saw what they do. I just have to wait ‘em out.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diaz reached into his back pocket and pulled out a decadently decorated silver sliver of a cigarette holder. It was embroidered with engraved designs tagging its ownership to that of someone who had some cash, but did not enjoy showing it off, unless, of course, they had to. Diaz pushed the button on the side and the case swung open showcasing the latent white strips of tobacco. He grabbed one, let it hang off his lips and reached into his front pocket and pulled out a book of matches.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Upon lighting his cigarette without once taking his eyes off the purplish-red horizon, he slowly sat on the roof against the dull, metal box that used to work as a vent. One leg perched up for balance; the other sprawled out along the ground. Tilting his head up to gaze at the fading sky, he let his mind wonder about his current situation some more. Since he began running this was his first chance to relax enough to rest his eyes.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diaz was a man in his late twenties, dressed in tattered dress clothes, all except the shoes on his feet. They were an expensive brand of decent looking athletic shoes; they clashed with his outfit. His clothes were torn and mostly soaked in blood. He looked like he had been through a lot. His tie was wrapped around his right leg, just above his knee drenched in dark, seeping blood from the wound beneath it. His pinstriped pants had tears in it. His black button-down shirt, still without wrinkles, lay un-tucked and unbuttoned revealing a ribbed, black tank-top underneath. However, Diaz’s jacket looked as if it just got picked up from the dry cleaner.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He sat there listening to the wind flow across the ambient streets below him, ignoring the moaning from the monsters. Diaz even rotated his head to let his short, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">but not too short</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> hair, flow messily with the wind. He took another drag from his cigarette and bulked up the muscle at the corner of his jaw, outlining his stubble. His dark eyes were still focused on the horizon. His metal, loop earrings were swaying in the wind, reflecting the few street lights that just flickered on.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diaz cleared his throat but not for the apparent reason of talking, more for the fact that he had realized he might be staying the night nestled up on this rooftop. He yawned and scratched his head letting his thick hair lay wherever it landed. His right leg began to ache. He had started to lightly massage it when screaming was draped through the wind.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He jumped to his feet to see a group of people making their way down the intersecting street. They were being chased by these evil entities and were running right toward the group that Diaz had led to the gas station. They were to be ambushed at the intersection. Diaz knew this was his chance to make it to that pickup truck behind the semi.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diaz jumped up, straightened his jacket, and watched the situation closely, as if he were a referee at a professional sporting event. With analyzing accuracy, he balanced the time that the monsters began to notice their creeping victims against the risk of him being noticed as well. He picked the perfect moment to begin his adrenaline fueled climb down the side of the building and making his way to the trucks.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Diaz reached the truck he peered one more time at the unsuspecting party catering their way toward definitive doom and pierced his lips together. He paused for a brief moment before entering the truck and inserting the keys in the ignition. Diaz then paused again. It just hit him like electricity racing throughout his body, from his fingertips to the very core of his body. His heart sank. He knew what he noticed, a few women. and a child, a little girl. Diaz slammed his fist into the steering wheel. ‘Shit!’</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-afed9ae5-4107-769a-6475-8c241ba95bd7"></span><br /></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diaz left the green, well-kept pickup and proceeded to the semi-trailer truck. It was a tanker, with flammable written all over it. Diaz knew what this thing could do. He smiled as the door to the cab was unlatched. He pulled himself into the truck and placed himself in the driver’s seat. The spring-loaded seat built for comfort quickly adjusted to his weight. He was not as lucky as convenience would allow for there were no keys in sight. He would have to jump it.</span></div>
RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-24979686197036710642016-11-07T17:15:00.000-05:002016-11-07T17:17:11.190-05:00Adam - Ben's House (pt.4)<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px;">(</span><a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2013/04/adam3.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Part </span></span>3</a><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px;">)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shaken awake. My somewhat still unconscious mind rippling with hope that previous events is fault of its own. Reality begs to differ. I am still in an ambulance. This one is different. It is moving at high speed. I’m actually in a bed this time. The cab is in front me this time but I can’t see much through the corridor to the front. There are no children. Instead, there are a couple large canvas bags taking up most of the floor space. I have an IV. I should be at the hospital. Confused. Where am I? Who’s driving? I want this nightmare to just end.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mind is beginning to come to terms with my demise. I feel a small part of me almost willing it. I haven’t made it to the hospital. I can feel my body being drained from fighting. I am weak. It takes everything but a conscious effort to even take a breath.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Ah. Adam, you awake back there?’ Her raspy voice is more matter of fact then the last person’s. From her tone she sounds more calm, more controlled.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘...yeah.’ I struggle to speak. I feel weaker than before. ‘I’m here.’ However, I have no sharp pain accompanying every syllable. ‘Are we almost to the hospital?’ </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘We’re not going to the hospital.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘But, I got shot. I need medical attention.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I understand. You’re stable.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Stable?’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yes, your wounds have been treated. I’ve begun an IV drip to replenish your fluids. You’re going to have a choice to make.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I let those words sink in for a few moments. The lady sounded older than the last. More assured. I wondered if it was possible to trust someone from the sound of their voice. I trusted this one. Why am I in a different ambulance? How did she know my name? If we are not heading to the hospital, where were we going? Why so fast? Did Anna get my voicemail? Are Ben and the guys alright? What decision was I going to have to make?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Why wouldn’t you take me to the hospital?’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘That’s where I got you.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What?’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeah, you were unconscious in the back of another ambulance with blood seeping through your bandages. I almost left you, but would have felt bad. Never one for leaving a man behind.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘That’s where I was supposed to be. That’s what you do with a gunshot victim, you take them to the hospital.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘The hospital is collapsing.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What do you mean? What in the hell is goin’ on?’ Panic. ‘Are you even a paramedic? How’d you know my name? What decision am I goin’ to have to make?’ </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Okay, now. Slow down. None of this is going to be easy to comprehend. Especially with all that you have going on.’</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My heart takes a few deep pumps in my chest. My wounds tremble with deep pain. ‘Am I going to die?’ </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘To be honest, Adam... I don’t know.’ I sense a tough sincerity in her voice. ‘I did my best Adam, I have seen people in worse conditions pull through in tough situations but…’ Her voice trails off. I feel the ambulance slow down. ‘What the hell?’ Her rhetoric aside is draped with an eerie curiosity. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What? What is going on?’ My own curiosity is encased with fear and confusion. I look through the small part of the windshield that I am able and all I see is orange light glowing brighter by each moment.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Don’t worry about it, hold on.’ The vehicle is ramping up as the engine starts to howl. A dull thud comes from the front of the ambulance followed by a series of lighter ones raking against the floor. ‘I have never seen anything like this. They don’t even flinch.’ Still speaking to herself, she sounds awestruck.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Hey, I’m really in need of some answers!’ I am trying to cut through my discomfort with assertiveness.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeah. You are right. Adam--’ How does she know my name? ‘--you need to trust me here. You were left at the hospital in the back of an ambulance. I’m guessing whoever tried to patch you up thought you were helpless without an ER.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What?’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Look Adam, I don’t really know what is happening right now but the entire city is out of sorts. I was called into work due to emergency conditions. Before I reported to shift, it all got out of hand. They were telling us to reroute patients to Westover. Something about an outbreak. I had just pulled into HMC when I got the call. The ambulance I found you in was in the parking lot. That’s as far as I got. If I didn’t spot you in the back, you would still be there, probably dead.’ </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I could tell that she was trying to piece together the fragments of her own reality. I felt as I was losing my own. Maybe I was dreaming? Maybe I was in the hospital, lying unconscious under the supervision of the medical staff. Or even, maybe none of this took place and I was having an outlandish vision wrapped in deep sleep, safe in my bed. I should wake any moment. Previous dreams where I realize I am asleep, I always wake up. That’s it, any moment. I chuckle in relief but the all-too-real pain jolts me to accept that this is authentic.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Whoever patched you up before did a sloppy job. I fixed it up and got you something for the pain.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Doesn’t feel like it.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Well, honey, you’ve been shot. The pain is going to be there for a while.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘How long will it take?’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Without surgery? Could be a couple weeks before you start feeling yourself. You got lucky as far as where the bullets went in. Your shoulder may not make a full recovery but, if you can find a safe place and fight off infection, I think you’ll be alright. You seem tough.’ The ambulance slowed to a roll, took a turn, and came to an easy stop. ‘So, Adam, it’s time for you to make a decision. I am leaving town. It doesn’t seem safe here. You are more than welcome to come with me. My Uncle has a cabin in the mountains about an hour and a half South. I’ll look after your wounds and we are good there until things settle down here.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anna. ‘I have to call Anna.’ Where is my phone? Is it in the other ambulance? Check my pockets. Nothing. My wallet is gone, too. That’s how she must know my name. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Well, cell service has been down for a few hours. Not much on the radio, either. Just a few looped recordings telling everyone to stay in their houses and not to leave under any circumstance.’</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What is happening? Where is my phone? Or my wallet? I don’t even know who you are or if I can trust you.’ I must be feeling better this is the first time I have felt anger since Anna and I last spoke.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘My name is Alice. My friends call me Al. I was a field medic and now I am a Paramedic. I did save your life, I think that qualifies me for trust but I understand if you are still uneasy. The world is turned upside down right now for you and me both. I have your wallet and don’t know where your cell is.’ She turned around and leaned her head into the corridor of the ambulance. I hardly make out her face. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. The dim light from outside lit up her silhouette enough to reveal her aged skin and from what I could see, she looked calm and pleasant. ‘Adam, before I lost service, I got a text from another medic, a friend; Westover is down, too.’ </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Al’s head dropped, facing the floor. ‘He said that people were eating each other.’ Her voice quivering in disbelief. ‘I’ve seen some terrible things, Adam. Some really, really bad things.’ Still not able to see her in explicit detail but I know she shifted her gaze to look me dead in the eye. ‘I don’t know if I can do this. I have to go. I have to get out. I’m not going back into the city but, if you don’t want to come with me, I take you somewhere safe close by.’</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-978cb1c4-40d8-c8a6-8e35-873770af2bb1"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That was the decision I had to make. </span></span>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-88402220909363659862013-05-07T18:54:00.000-04:002015-09-14T03:48:04.480-04:00Bren - Highway Horrors<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Inhale.</span></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-dec046dd-cad2-11e2-f7e8-043624d76890" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Close your eyes. Behold the glory of the untold snapshot that is your dramatized perception. A requiem telling of a network centered with estranged empathy wrapped in a fortress of apathy and your trademark simplification of how this experience is defined. Yet, you pause in an exemplary settlement of gratification, spilled across your plane of existence, like milk on the kitchen table. You spend countless time trying to comprehend its meaning in an effort to justify your presence, but are you even here? Would you not know if you were not here? Your subsequent thought process is a figment of your imagination. You tend to believe this idealistic perception as if it were truth, you know nothing of what resides beyond yourself, or, in reality, where here is actually located.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">His words float into your mind. They seem muffled and hazy. You open your eyes to reveal the waking skyline of the city. The city lights are reflecting through the drenched windshield and every other second finishing in a blurry image before swept away to clarity in short intervals. His voice interjects subtly.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Hey, man. Hey, you with me?’ He nudges you. ‘Yea, hey. Man. That stuff must be really getting to you.’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">You respond with some half-wit form of affirmation that you’re coherent and in this moment with him. You are not. That was a lie. You want to get back to your epiphanic ponderings.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘It’s getting to me. I’m a little, well, I...’ You are annoyed. Not so much with him, but because your mind begs attention elsewhere. However, he insists. ‘I’m not feeling it, man.’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Take a deep breath. It is good for you. Reluctantly tell him to enjoy the ride. Focus his mind on something other than the Hale. Ask him about his wife, or maybe his kid. Do not make it too serious. Keep his mood light. You should calm down, too. He should not be killing your flight for long.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Yeah, my anchor. I’m just getting a little excited, you know.’ He looks to the sky, his eyes begin to gleam in the reflection of the lights. He begins to sport a goofy half-smile. You know its fake, but it is not you who he is trying to fool. ‘Man, I can’t wait.’ Good, he is forgetting his altitude and carrying on with something less entertaining than your mind.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">So, what is it that defines this mind of yours? Think of the vehicle you are in. Forget about everything outside of it. You focus your thoughts on the structure. Invision it. The metal cage that holds you. Sturdy and hovering. Do not think of the ground, there is nothing outside, remember? Stop it. You are focusing your thoughts on the inside. Like your mind, it is trapped inside a cage. Your brain knows nothing of the outside, just like you know nothing of the ground.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">His grown pierces through the dawning of a brilliant realization. You notice him twitching through the elusive haziness of your peripheral. It was almost a dance, a melodic rocking back and forth. You decide to brush it off with the dimming, grey undertone of the overcast dusk. You drift off, back to what is really happening. Your mind crossing from thought to idea, idea to belief, and belief to question. Thought stalls when you doubt your reality and justifying it with a roadblock only makes it worse. Existence is simply futile in self-thought. You have only memorized experiences, how you perceive them is irrelevant for the constant of perception actually varies.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Yo, man. Hey Bren!’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">You answer him with frustrated haste.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Man, I don’t feel so good, man.’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">He is reaching for comfort, but what kind of comfort can you be? Peers can only verify experience. The simple answer is mechanical, yet the complex side of the question is thought provoking. Is the human psyche that simple and, yet, convoluted at the same time? It is pretty much common knowledge that every life is different, but how different? You all just share experiences and put words to them, but all we can do is really empathize. Say you lose a pet, someone else could relate with you if they had lost a pet but there is no possible way to have the same connection between two different pets and two different people. Even if the pets are the same animal, those life experiences can only be compared to a degree. Your voice does not sound the same when recorded. How does that compare to looking at yourself in the mirror? Probably the biggest flaw in human existence is that we are alone in thought, exuberant in poise, desperately undignified and, yet, frequently lost in a whirl of disconnected retribution. It is a simple depiction of vision, once recognizable, instead of a display of ridiculous subtlety. It is more or less a dismembered déjà vu strung out amongst a silhouetted co-pilot of a day.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Bren, my head hurts. It hurts real bad, man!’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">His voice chisels through your thoughts like an icepick through a block of solidified water. You are frustrated. You explain to him that what he is feeling is normal and that he is getting excited. You tell him to calm down and to think about the blast of a night you both are about to have, which should be amazing. You are looking forward to it.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Yeah, Bren.’ He pauses for a few blinks. ‘I guess you’re right. Man, I guess I’m jus’ gettin’ inside my own head, you know? Sometimes, I’m all over the place, like, I mean, you ever think about what if you were, like, someone else, you know? Like if you weren’t you.’ He rambles on. You just nod on as if you were paying attention, but you aren’t. Are you? ‘And, then, like, it’s too much. It’s just too much!’ </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don’t even pretend. Thou shalt pay tribute to such falsified logic that acquiesces this reality. You will find your impediment of a humored, carnal and robotic method guiding you in this realm of being in absolute distaste. You will smite yourself. You will find yourself obsolete. You are incredulous and this you understand. Although, you must see what he sees. The perception must be mirrored. You must obey. This is all you have. This is the experience, no? This is what you came here for, is it not?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Hey! Bren! I can’t do this. Man, I’m pullin’ over...I’ve got to.’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">You try to reassure him. He doesn’t buy it. Explain to him why stopping on the freeway minutes away from the tunnel to the inner-city is dangerous, especially this time of day. Tell him. Order him. Defy your friendship, his and your life may depend on it. You realize that you have yet to analyze what it was that made you feel so comfortable with the idea of letting this lunatic drive. You drive at a high altitude just fine, but what if you had a sour flight? You feel a little panicked. Breath.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘No!’ His voice rains down. ‘Wait! Stop!’ It is deafening. You pause. You know good and well that if he freaks out right now, at this speed, you are both doomed. ‘Whoa! I can’t...I can’t. I can’t do this! Bren, man, take the wheel. I need you to take the wheel!’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">With uncertainty you grab the wheel from across the car. Despite your sweaty palms, you have a firm grip. You squint as you force your eyes to adjust on the road ahead. This is the worse time for this. He has got to get it together. His breathing is labored. Why is he being like this? You have heard of bad batches of Hale, but you both got it from the same place. Why aren’t you freaking out? Maybe you are. You have not paid the best attention to the road. You are about to just miss that car to your right. Your heart thumps a few hard beats as you feel a rush from your near-miss. ‘Bren!’ He saw it. He is even more afraid now. ‘Bren! This is crazy! We have to pull over.’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">He jerks the wheel from your grip, mashes down on the brakes and pulls the car over three lanes before you start to focus again. Where is your attention going? What does it do? Can you control it? Does it control you? Remember, pay attention. You are paying attention. Why is the car stopped? This lane is for emergencies only. You imagine another car not seeing you on the side of the road. You figure Pavlo is a dumbass anyway, and he would be one to forget about the hazards. The other car, the one that doesn’t see the one you are in, smashes into the rear bumper. Your head would snap. Lights out. Game over. That would be it. You would stop thinking. Your family would care less. It is a sad thought, but you know that they really do not care. Why would they?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">People live their lives. Whatever happens, happens. You just go with it. Life is a twisting river with inconsistent rapids of white disaster. Chaos. Distant memories that do or do not exist accordingly. Lost, that is all any of you are. Staring at the stars, hoping to map out the path to enlightenment. You know that is a joke. Enlightenment, what a fickle idea. It is like an afterlife, would it not just be life continued? Or, is it supposed to be different? Something new masking this life obsolete. What is the point then? Why bother? These are the bogus thoughts that only skim across the conscious, sober mind before being ruled as irrelevant and ultimately dismissed. They really are irrelevant. That is logical. Why are you always logical? What does it have to do with a solution? Something to solve.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">You turn to Pavlo. He is lost in some weird gaze. It makes you feel uncomfortable. He does not appear to even be looking at anything in particular. Fear begins to creep into the pit of your stomach. Is he dead, you wonder. No, that would be ridiculous. You call his name. No response. You call it again. You reach for his shoulder and shake him a bit. Call his name one more time, he will answer this time. He does not. Get louder, call his name and shake him. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Pavlo blinks a few times. You feel relief. It would have been crazy if he did die. You would have had to call the police. They would find out about the Hale. Then you would be taken to jail. Hale is an S-Class infraction. You would likely get a life sentence and become some prisoner’s slave. Cringing in disgust, you analyze the string of situations and circumstances your life would then become. Not to mention your family, who does not give even a figment of care for you, would shun your entire existence. The neighborhood you grew up in would rumor you as a druggy killer. You would receive hate mail. He can not be dead.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">You focus on Pavlo’s triumphant return to reality. His eyes are slightly crossed with a focal plane of negative space just feet in front of the car. You say his name again. His eyes come to a parallel focus. He turns to you. A few drops of blood drip from his right nostril. You become hopelessly intrigued. You ask him if he is all right. He does everything but acknowledge you. He sniffs a few times before grabbing his nose in minor hysteria. He makes eye contact. You feel fear for him. His brow shifts to an inquisitive shock. You feel the fear with him. Blood starts pouring from Pavlo’s nose underneath the grip of his hand.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘No! Wait!’ His words hasty and panicked. ‘Whoa. No! What? No! Stop! Make this stop! Help! Help me.’ </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Pavlo sniffles with a painful shudder. He starts with wordless whimpering before turning to display bouts of loud, obnoxious screaming. You clench your teeth in dismay behind an awkward wince. What can you do? How can you convince him that he is going to be okay?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">After a gut-wrenching howl, Pavlo falls silent for a moment. ‘I can not do this!’ </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">You ask him about what in which he cannot do.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">‘Stop! Too much pressure.’ His nasally voice forcing its way past clenched teeth and a blood-stained arm, ‘I need this to stop, man. Release the pressure.’</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Pavlo reaches for the door handle. He opens the door and steps out into traffic. Without smallest amount time to even connect what was happening, Pavlo was gone. Blood and chunks of fleshy tissue showered onto the windshield, the hood and the road ahead. The sounds of braking vehicles flood the atmosphere. Another car slams into the one that took Pavlo away. The one that ended him. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Car after car, a pile-up ensues. You do not know what to do. Searching for your next action, you to panic. Pavlo is dead. He is really dead. That just happened. Your biggest fear just manifested itself. You have to toss the Hale. It has to go.</span></span>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-45861583401761647772013-04-10T23:50:00.003-04:002016-11-07T17:17:43.651-05:00Adam - Ben's House (pt.3)<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(<a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2012/11/adam2.html" target="_blank">Part 2</a>)</span></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hear muffled voices. I lean up just enough for an explosive, yet, dull pain to shoot throughout my abdomen. My heart flexes in a few deep pumps as panic sets in. I remember being shot, phoning for help and leaving Anna a voicemail. How long have I been out? Where am I? </span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I take a moment to look around and realize I am alone stretched out in the back of a dark ambulance. The only light is from a far away streetlamp reaching through the windshield behind me. I still hear voices but can not make out what they are saying. They sound like an argument. My wounds have been wrapped up all around my stomach, but they are wet. Blood is seeping through the bandages. I feel weak. I hope I am at the hospital. I imagine a team of medical professionals assembling outside the vehicle. </span></b></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The voices outside are getting louder, I can almost make out what they are saying. The back door of the ambulance opens. Bright light floods in from a different streetlight. As my eyes adjust I see a few children are standing in the opening. I am not at the hospital. My heart sank. I hear a woman from behind the door tell the children to get inside. </span></b></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The children shuffle into the truck. They all look in a lost gaze. There are three, a little boy maybe around five or six, a young girl a few years older and a teenage boy. The youngest had stripes of tears running down both sides of his face. The girl is sitting against the wall tucking her head behind her knees. The oldest stood on the edge of the doorway with a defiant look about him. None of them seem abnormally affected by my presence. </span></b></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.07698835129849613" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The conversation outside the ambulance continues. ‘Shauna, come with us. You can not stay here.’ The tone sounded less like a suggestion and more like an order. ‘He’s not worth it and, from the little I know of what’s goin’ on, I doubt he’ll make it back to you anyways.’</span></b></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hear the other woman speak. She sounds much younger and her words are being sifted through tears. ‘He’ll come for me. I know he will.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I can’t leave you like this. Come with me. Come with us. You’re my baby, I’ll keep you safe.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Momma, those are my babies. I need you to keep them safe. I have to stay here. I’m sorry. I have to wait for Casey. I know he will come for me. He has to. He told me to stay here.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘It’s not safe, Shauna. Things are getting crazy out there! You don’t know what’s going on.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You don’t even know what’s going on out there, you said so yourself. But, I believe you. I believe that something bad is happening right now. That’s why you’re taking my kids, but I have to stay and wait for him. He’d wait for me.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You think so? Do you really think so? Shauna...if you think it’s smart to send your childr--’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Momma! ...just go.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The back doors shut. We are in darkness. I hear a few more muffled exchanges between the two women as the children around me start to realize that their mother was not coming with them. The two youngest are no longer sobbing in silence. The driver’s door opens and a woman gets in as she is talking quietly to herself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘--that woman. God, she’s as stubborn as her father. I swear. I can’t belie--’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You promised!’ The teenager’s voice bolted from the back of the ambulance. ‘You lied, Grandma! You said you’d get her to come. You said she’d come with us!’ His voice quickly went from fury to flailing sadness.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘She’s waiting for your father. She wants to make sure he’s safe.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘He’s not even my real father! He’s just some stupid guy.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Shut up Marcus!’ The little boy chimed in. ‘My dad is not stupid! Mom’s gonna keep him safe. She said so.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Mom’s gonna die.’ </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Marcus!’ The voice cut from the cab. ‘Everything is going to be okay. When we get to the hospital, we’ll be safe. Everyone just calm down. Edgar, your mommy and daddy will meet us at the hospital later, alright?’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Good, we are heading to the hospital. I clear my throat. The act sends ripples of pain across my body. I muster up some energy and quietly announce my presence. ‘Uh...hello.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Oh lord.’ The lady reacts in a joyous and surprised manner while attempting to mask any excitement. ‘You’re alive!’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You’re shocked?’ I feel myself sink into an emotional vat of hopelessness and despair. I suddenly feel lonely. ‘Was I supposed to be dead?’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Oh, god, no. I didn’t want that. I’m just a little shocked that you are conscious. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s just...’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Just what?’ I anxiously await the response.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Things are, well, it’s just. You know, sometimes.’ She stumbles over her words. ‘My job is to help you.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mind is still running laps trying to make sense of everything. I have so many questions. My eyes are heavy and my breathing is shallow. I might die back here, in this ambulance, in front of these strange children. I am finding it exhausting to speak. ‘Why are these kids here?’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘We had to make a detour.’ Her voice carries justification with it.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘These kids...’ I wince as I try to find a breath strong enough to hold words. ‘They are more important than my life?’ </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Probably not to you.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I attempt to speak normally but my words are as soft as a whisper and occur only between small breaths. ‘Do you even care if I live?’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Of course! I am taking you to the hospital aren’t I?’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Then...why did you stop?’ I am finding it harder to breath.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘The world is going batshit right now. I have my reasons. You should feel lucky I even responded to the call. A lot of people are abandoning their posts.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I feel consciousness trickling out of my reach.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Marcus, I need you to do exactly what I say.’ The overhead lights flicker on in an overwhelming brightness. Everything becomes blurry. The words of the medic fade away along with my thoughts.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;">(<a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2016/11/adam4.html" target="_blank">Part 4</a>)</b></div>
RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-64132880297576377632013-04-09T20:29:00.001-04:002015-08-12T20:33:05.760-04:00Anna - Night AloneThe door shut behind him. I am alone, again. I wanted him to stay, but I wanted him to want to stay. I want him to feel that way. I want him to realize that when we’re hanging with his friends, it is not us being together. I feel like an outcast around them. They haven’t accepted me. They probably never will. He thinks they have. I miss him every second he’s away. What am I thinking?<br />
<br />
Was that a fight? Over a night for us? What if he were to ever find out about Kyle and I, his trusted friend. It was a mistake and it takes everything in my power for things not be awkward when we all do hang out. I am not sure that Kyle even remembers that night. Would Adam ever forgive me? I doubt it. He still brings up that time I called him a girl in front of his friends. I had no idea he was so sensitive. <br />
<br />
I have been standing in the middle of the living room for almost ten minutes trying to talk myself into doing something productive and get over my frustration. I guess I will have a bath. So much for productive. I just need to take a minute to myself and collect my thoughts. I start to run the hot water. I need to rationalize my emotions. Maybe I was being too dramatic. Maybe a night with the boys would not be so bad, and, maybe, it would mean something to Adam if I did go. Not tonight. I just want to stay at home tonight and, if that is selfish, then I am selfish tonight. <br />
<br />
As the tub fills I grab the book I have been reading, some cheesy romance novel where guys act like men and not little boys. I decide make myself some chocolate milk. My mind snaps back to earlier events. Who leaves in the middle of a fight anyway? ‘Fuck you, Adam!’ I take another deep breath and head back to the bathroom with the sound of my solitaire outburst still resonating in my head.<br />
<br />
After undressing, I slid my leg into an almost unbearable, but relaxing, bath water. Well, he did do one thing right. These bath salts Adam had gotten me for a gift are already tingling throughout the one leg I have submerged in the water. This will hopefully be relaxing. I slowly sink into the bath and begin to chuckle at the irony of the same boy who frustrates me to no end is, somehow, actually making up for it with a present he had given me weeks ago. <br />
<br />
I do care about him. I remember the first time I saw him. He looked like a total nerd, a cute nerd. He was in his raincoat, a plaid button-down and he was wearing glasses. I did not usually find guys in glasses attractive but the way he was wearing them gave him an approachable charm. They had a way of accenting his soft, brown eyes. I remember staring into them for the minutes leading up to our first kiss. His eyes had a way of making me feel safe. I now know that if I had not gone up to him, our paths would have never crossed. He is not really the go-getter type. I like that about him. Most of the time Adam takes in all around him in an analytical daze. He gets the details. That is how he gets me unlike any other guy I have dated.<br />
<br />
The stress is already deteriorating into the shallow abyss of my bath tub. My anger transforming into how much I miss Adam already and how this night would have been better cuddled up on the couch watching television. I would have watched the game here with him, if that’s what he wanted. <br />
<br />
Normally it is frightening when my mother likes the guy I am seeing. This time, however, it is comforting. Adam met my parents a lot sooner in the relationship than most and there was good reason. I grew attached to him faster than anyone before. He is thoughtful. When my children upset me, he reminds me why I became a teacher. He tells me about how no one can teach them overnight and that if they never got on my nerves, I wasn’t doing my job. When my sister and I get into a fight, he has a way to explain why we are both wrong without upsetting me. Boyfriends of the past always try to tell me I am right. I know I am not right all the time. I wish he could do that when we fight. <br />
<br />
I know he cares about me. Why does he need to spend so much time with his friends? Sure, we spent the past couple nights together but he was at Ben’s every night last week. It would also be another thing if he didn’t drink to the point falling asleep on their couch more than he sleeps in my bed. I know he has his own place but if he can sleep there, he can sleep here with me. I feel like I am being irrational again, or am I? I think I will just read my book and try not to think about this anymore. RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-21535429563689635682013-03-30T17:20:00.000-04:002013-03-30T17:21:13.815-04:00Freddy - Stolen Car (pt. 3)<b id="internal-source-marker_0.056111920392140746" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.056111920392140746" style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2012/11/freddy2.html" target="_blank">(part 2)</a></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.056111920392140746" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.056111920392140746" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was surprised that Toni felt comfortable having me drive. Then again, I was only just starting to feel the stronger effects of Hale as he had me pull into a parking garage in the Doebi District. I had only been in that part of town on a few occasions. The last of which was the poker tournament that ruined my life. The parking garage was lit up with a glow set by hidden neon lights blasting luminance to a cascade of brightness, even visible in daylight. Although, not much sunlight even made it down to the Doebi District. I wanted to ask where we were going but I kept finding my mind wandering off to unrelated thoughts before I could conjure up a coherent statement.</span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.056111920392140746" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.056111920392140746" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We pulled into a parking space on the fifth floor. It was the first floor we came across where there was no other vehicle parked. Thoughts flooded my head, questioning our need for seclusion. Was this it? Was this where my road ended? As we got out of the car, I felt the first wave of Hale really grab hold. My attention focused on a dim plane of sunlight sneaking between the buildings across the street. My mind froze. I do not really know where my thoughts were residing at that moment. I was not in the past. I was not in the future. I was just in the moment, enjoying the cool, mid-morning breeze as it gently caressed my face. I know that I was somehow in a pleasant place because Tukeo’s latest antagonizing comment did little to affect me. </span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.056111920392140746" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Hey, amigo, you lose your piece of shit mind yet?’ Tukeo laughed as if he had forgotten how childish he was. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘...what? Did you say something?’ I was not being pompous. I was in too much bliss to care about consequences at that particular moment. I felt strong and untouchable. It was like I was hovering above Toni and his guys. I just wanted to stare at the little spot of sunlight that was gaining strength as the sun rose to its daily apex. Maybe I was enthralled because the Hale was making me feel parallel to my perception of the beacon that laid adjacent to the parking garage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The drug was definitely an oddity. It’s not like I had never done any substances for recreational purposes before that day, but that was a high I would not soon forget. Every Time I felt as though I was reaching the peak, it continued to rise.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Freddy?’ I wasn’t sure if was the Hale or if Toni’s child-like chuckle that actually allowed me to feel at ease with him. ‘You alright, man? I gotta be honest, you’re handling this buzz a lot better than I thought you would. You feelin’ it, yet?’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘If I were the sun, I’d set the world ablaze.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What the fuck?’ For the first time, I do believe that I saw Toni’s genuine smile. ‘You just might be ready to meet Don.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘The question is, Toni, is he ready to meet me?’ I felt a whole new pillar of confidence, the kind that lets you act without forethought. This is why I was initially afraid. I knew who Don was. It is not that he would ever get his hands dirty, but I knew that he could personally rip my heart from my chest in front of the entire world and no one would claim to remember even seeing him there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When one talks of being connected, this guy is the hub. He is the very center and I was about to meet him and without the slightest amount of angst? That was not a good thing. All I wanted was to lean against the garage’s fifth-floor ledge and lose myself in my thoughts. I wanted to overlook the deepest part of the most notorious criminal escape in all of the FID. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Well look, Freddy, if you want to live long enough to see your apartment-’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Your piece of shit apar-’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Enough!’ Toni turned to around, ‘Tukeo, if you interrupt me one more time, you will soon be talking through a wire. Understand?’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tukeo nodded.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Tukeo! Do you understand?’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tukeo looked at me before making eye contact with Toni. Bashfully, he looked down before he answered. ‘Yes, Toni. I understand.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I smirked at Tukeo as he was being reprimanded. I knew that Toni was not repositioning him because of his witless remarks only broadcasted to get a rise out of me or the childish promotion of dominance, but it was nice to see it. I knew where Tukeo was coming from. He was likely the last in command and probably the newest of all Toni’s followers. I did not know why he was so eager to champion his elevation over me.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘As I was saying, you might want to tone it down a bit.’ Toni halfway turned back towards me. ‘Just a little advice.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Why? Have I much say in my fate?’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Well, that’s entirely up to you, Freddy.’</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Up to me, really? My fate has had little to do with me since I was in debt to Mr. Chikko. Then a relative question took captive of my thoughts: What debt is payed by a dead man?</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toni pulled out his POD and looked at the screen before he barked his next set of orders. ‘Tukeo and Sheon with me. Hamilton, stay put, yeah?’ He waved them on. ‘Feddy, it is time.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I reluctantly followed.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
</b>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-21076618397076857012012-11-08T00:29:00.002-05:002012-11-08T11:32:34.852-05:00Freddy - Stolen Car (pt. 2)<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(<a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2012/10/freddy1.html" target="_blank">part 1</a>)</span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></b><b id="internal-source-marker_0.9702118162531406" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">White flash. Vibration. White Flash. Reverberation. Cold air and ringing, stinging pain. Bright light. ‘Ay bitch.’ White flash. ‘Look at me, eh?’ Head pounding. ‘Ay! Wake the fuck up!’ White flash. ‘Wake up!’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dry mouth. I went to speak, nothing. ‘Well, you didn’t kill ‘em.’ I looked to my right to see just the midsection of a man in a leather jacket. I heard a muffled reply from Toni. I was in the car next to a dead Dave. The man outside turned back to me and leaned down. ‘Nah, I don’t think he’s hurt. Ay, you ok?’ He leaned in a slapped me across the face. White flash. He crouched down and grabbed my leg. Pain shot up my body. ‘I think he’s alright.’ He turned back to Toni.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Good, I have work for him,’ Toni stated as his voice faded from a dampened mumble to appearing just in earshot. He was now right outside the car. My body was still constantly reminding me of the accident. I felt sick, I remember that; In pain all over, but also just sick, nauseous, my whole body.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I look back on it now. Maybe I felt sick because it was where all this had started. Maybe it was because somehow I knew the path my life would take from there on out. Toni quietly took place of the other guy standing outside the passenger-side of Dave’s wrecked car. ‘Ay, my man! What’s your name, son?’ White flash. ‘I’m talkin’ to you!’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I know who you’re talkin’ to.’ My voice rumbled through my throat like I had just been asleep for days. ‘Stop hitting me, please.’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Oh, look...kid has manners. Well, my amigo, how’s about doing a little work for your homie?’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Do I have any choice?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Well--’ Toni chuckled to himself a little. He looked over to one of his guys and smirked with his tongue in cheek. He raised his eyebrows as he looked back at me. He was such a self-proclaimed genius. ‘You can always spend some more time with your buddy over there.’ I’m sure it is easy to to feel smart when the people you surround yourself are given little chance to think for themselves, when you are the one calling every single shot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I guess I’ll go with option A, since you’re leaving me little choice.’ I guess I should have been glad I was given the option to live. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Oh, man, there is a lot of choice. It’s a tough decision. You sure you want to answer so quick? I mean, your best friend, well, he might still have that same stupid grin on his face, but who could really tell with his, ah, you know his head and how most of it’s missing and all.’ He leaned in real close, like an intimidation move. ‘Maybe you’d want that to happen to you?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember being paralyzed with more anger than fear, I am sure it went over Toni all the same. ‘I just want to go home.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toni smiled big. ‘Good, seems as though we have ourselves a understandin’, eh?’ He gently smacked my face a few times. ‘Now get up.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was horror. I felt like I was trapped. I had to do whatever this criminal wanted me to do until he was done doing whatever it was he needed to do. I needed to go to my job and make money. I needed to pay off my debts. Three of Toni’s men came with us. We walked across the complex, every step left my leg throbbing until we got to my car. Toni tossed me the keys. ‘Get in.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘This is my car!’ I pointed at the car and stared down Toni and his guys.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toni took a fast, half step toward me and pulled out his gun. ‘Excuse me? I believe that this is Tukeo’s car. Am I incorrect?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Tukeo has good taste.’ I backed down. I was not in the best position to argue possession at that time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘It’s a piece of shit.’ One of the three henchmen spoke up. It was the same guy in the leather jacket from moments before. ‘The car, it’s a piece of shit.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That was a challenge. How I played my next move would affect how this journey went. I was guessing it was Tukeo who was speaking. ‘I was just being polite.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘About the shitty car?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeh. About the car.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘The shitty car?’ He was definitely trying to get a rise out of me, I wasn’t going to let him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I nodded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He leaned his head toward me. ‘You can’t admit it’s a shitty car? It’s a shitty car.’ It was my shitty car. He was getting to me a little. I had to keep my cool. I had to stay calm. Maybe it was a test.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I had one like this before.’ I relaxed my posture and started to walk toward the driver’s door. I called Tukeo out. ‘I got rid of it. I sold it to some jackass for a blowjob from his mother.’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I stole it.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I still collected.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toni’s laugh was a relief. I remember thinking about how much harder it would be to kill someone that made you laugh. Even the other two guys started in on Tukeo as he let out a defiant ‘fuck you’ before biting his bottom lip in distaste. My nervousness slipped away for a moment. I was able to humor the idea that I may be able to see the next day when all that was over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I started driving to Toni’s command. He didn’t tell me where I was going. He just guided me turn by turn. Toni sat in the passenger seat and the other three squeezed in the back. I had to run the wipers but only on the lowest setting. The sun was just barely beginning to light the city. The radio was on but I couldn’t really hear what was playing. We came to an old abandoned industrial park. The rust-covered skeletons of old machinery really played into my mood that morning. We came up to a bridge where a luxurious car sat setting off an odd tone as the one object to stand out amongst the withered-away backdrop. Toni got out and instructed everyone to stay in the car. He walked over to the other car. The window rolled down. Toni said a few things and the window rolled back up. Toni opened the door and got in the car. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">About five minutes had passed before one of the three in the back of the car got out and smoked a cigarette. Tukeo started at me again. ‘Hey. Hey! Hey you, funny guy.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘...what?’ I was really hoping that he was going to keep his mouth shut.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You’re a dead man. You know that? You’re gonna die. Toni’s gonna kill you.’ He was mocking me through the rearview mirror.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Why didn’t he then?’ I made eye contact with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What? He’s going to.’ I could tell he was trying to convince himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Well, why didn’t he before?’ I felt like I was entertaining a child in traffic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘He didn’t want to.’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘So, why do you think he is later?’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You’re a piece of shit. Just like your car.’ It was ridiculous how obvious he was trying to anger me. What bothered me more was how he wasn’t even trying very hard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Oh great, back to this piece of shit thing. Don’t you have anything else in your vocabulary?’ I was getting more annoyed than upset. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I have plenty in my vocabulary. That’s just how much peices of shit I think you and your car are.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Tukeo!’ The last passenger interjected. ‘Would you just shut the fuck up? You’re not funny, you’re not clever and we all know you aren’t that much of a badass. Just shut the fuck up?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tukeo pouted. He looked up at me through the mirror as the last sentence echoed in all our heads. Toni emerged from the other car with a small brown package and made his way back to mine. Toni got in and the guy smoking the cigarette right after. Though I had little faith in possessing my car again, I did appreciate that guy for not smoking in it. Toni then guided me out of the industrial park. He explained that we had a few jobs to do and that he needed me to stay calm. He then proceeded to threaten my life again. I just continued to drive where he lead me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were coasting downtown when he pulled out the package. He slowly opened it. He pulled out a clear vial with two square foil ends. In it looked to be a pink substance. ‘Do you know what this is?’ Toni’s voice boomed as he asked the question. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember being at a stoplight as I answered. ‘No.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘It is the newest thing. This is God. Life and death. Good, evil. Happy...sad? This is awakening in a tube. What is your name anyway?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Freddy.’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Freddy is a piece of shit name.’ Tukeo had to chime in and I didn’t care that he was jabbing at me again. I was intrigued. The substance seemed to be lighter than liquid but more dense than air. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. My thoughts were interrupted as the car behind us reminded me that the light had turned green.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toni looked at me like he knew me. ‘Freddy, let me ask you, when was the last time you believed in heaven?’ He was leveling with me. The question caught me off guard. He wasn’t looking at me like one would look at another that is beneath them. He was giving me a little respect. He really wanted to know that answer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thought back. It was her, that charming whore. The one who destroyed me. She made me believe in heaven and in hell. ‘Her name was Kayla.’ I wasn’t going to get into it. No one needed to know my relationship history. They didn’t need to know even the littlest thing about me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Heh, we all have one, don’t we, Freddy?’ Toni’s eyes lit up. He looked at me and testified with pristine righteousness. ‘Kayla ain’t got shit on Hale. Nothing has got anything on Hale. Feel me?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I didn’t know what to say. I have heard of Hale. I never thought I’d ever come across it. The government was really focusing on containing the substance. It was all over the news. People were killing for it. Hale was the new super drug and people were dying. All the same stuff you hear about any new thing. I thought it was some pop-news fad like everything else, you’d hear about it all day for a couple weeks and it would be back to what celebrity was doing what when whatever happened at the time of them doing it normal bullshit. I never thought I’d be in the same car with Hale, let alone my car or like this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Freddy, listen to me.’ Toni’s voice became calm. ‘Today. Freddy, today, in just a couple of moments, you are going to do Hale.’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was terrified. I never had done anything like that before. I was a little excited but that feeling was marginal in comparison to the amount of fear that the idea of Hale, the super-psychedelic, pumping my through my body destroying my mind and melting my brain. I gathered up as much courage as I could when I pulled my eyes off the road to vocally stand up to Toni. He had his gun pointed at me already.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Freddy, I will shoot you.’ Toni smiled. It was one of those smiles that could get you out of trouble when you were a kid. ‘Look man, you cool? I need to know you’re cool before we continue our little adventure, you know?’ Toni shrugged his shoulders as he pulled the sights of his gun away from me. ‘It won’t hurt you. You might actually have a little fun. So, pull over.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I pulled to side of the road. Toni handed me the vial. My heart was racing. My hands were trembling. I was afraid of freaking out. My mind jumped from possibility to circumstance, from any situation to the ends of my imagination until it ran through the darkest scenarios that resulted in my death. The more frightening of which were the ones where I went so crazy that I saw it coming and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The ones where I perpetuated the outcome and cared little to put an end resulting in the end of myself. The vial felt cool in my hand. ‘I don’t want to do this.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Well, you don’t really have a choice. You do know what option B is.’ Toni pointed the gun at me again. He pushed it all the way to my throat. I felt the cold barrel burrow itself into me neck. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘There’s alway option C. You know, Freddy, where we all get out of your piece of shit car and leave you piece of shit life alone. How’s that sound?’ Tukeo mocked me from the back of the car. In that moment, I really began to hate him. I wanted option C so bad. I would have done anything for them to all just get out and leave me alone. I wanted to snatch the gun out of Toni’s hand and shoot Tukeo in the head. I wouldn’t care if I got blood over my car, that would show Toni. He’d piss himself and everyone would get out. I would drive home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toni pressed the gun into my neck even harder. It hurt. It grabbed my attention. ‘Freddy, I’m gonna tell you exactly how to do this. You are gonna want to listen very closely, if you do this wrong you can die. Whatever you do, do not swallow the dose. It is very important that you only inhale.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Get it, that’s why it’s called Hale, bitch!’ Tukeo was getting excited. He reminded me so much of a child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Don’t listen to him. Listen to me, Freddy.’ Without moving the gun off me, Toni motioned with his other hand, ‘now, pull off the top piece of foil. Place the open end in your mouth. Freddy, I do what I’m asking.’ I was hesitant. I was stalling in hope of some miracle. Nothing happened. I did what he asked. ‘This is where is gets very important for you to specifically do what I say. Out your nose, breathe. Breathe out your nose.’ I did. ‘Breathe in through your mouth. Now you should have created a vacuum. As you continue breathe in, pull off the bottom piece of foil. Take a deep breath through your mouth.’ I felt cold air fill my lungs. ‘Hold your breath. Hold it in. Don’t cough.’ My chest felt heavy. I felt sharp, tiny pricks consuming my lungs as they felt to expand. I wanted to cough. My eyes began to water. My throat burned, my stomach turned and my mouth went numb. ‘You can breath out now.’ I did, my mouth tasted like vinegar. I took a few short breaths to catch normal pace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You ever do this stuff before?’ I looked to Toni for reassurance since I had no idea of what to expect next.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Hell no!’ Toni’s reply shot through me like electricity. ‘You ever see anyone on that shit? They ain’t right.’</span></b>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-75602019542340270542012-11-08T00:26:00.000-05:002012-11-08T11:33:01.746-05:00Freddy - Stolen Car (pt. 1)<b id="internal-source-marker_0.0399073192384094" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The sound of my mother yelling at me in a frantic sort of panic woke me from my sleep. Her screaming became an audible tone of necessity. She kept repeating that we had to leave this place. We had to move. I asked her why but she just kept reiterating the effect and not the cause. She had just moved in with me after getting laid off. She hated it, however, it was no picnic for anyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Times were hard. I was barely affording rent. It was a bad place. The kind of place that the landlord only appeared when rent was due. Jabbaar would show up with his knock-off, name-brand sunglasses and greying chest hair poking through his button-down, sweat-stained shirt, talking with his middle-eastern accent about how I owed him his money. I could always buy a day or two by mentioning how my freezer didn’t freeze or the tap water wouldn’t stay clear for longer than thirty seconds at a time. Nothing ever got repaired, he’d just show up within the next couple of days with his mentally handicapped nephew. My small-time tyrannical landlord took advantage of his unknowing nephew by using him as muscle. I once saw the kid dent the quarter panel of a sedan with his fist for a lowly pat on the back. Jabbaar would point and his nephew would destroy. He didn’t know any better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was the kind of neighborhood that when walking though, you wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. The kind of place that you wore cheap headphones that connected to nothing but your pocket so you wouldn’t get beat up for ignoring anyone. Drug abusers and dealers lived side by side. Gang members would hang out in the parking lot looking for trouble. It was what one would call a bad neighborhood.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had to live there because I had a gambling problem, well, not so much a problem, more a situation that one could explain as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was a brilliant poker player. I made a lot of money. However, when you’re staring down a barrel of a gun you can’t really keep accusing people of cheating, which they were, but I kept my mouth shut. I lost all my money and acquired quite the debt with the wrong people. The kind of debt where you skipped meals just to ensure your ability to walk.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mom never knew what kind of trouble I was in. How were I to tell her what happened? She would just tell me I should not of been playing poker with those kind of people anyway and she would be right. Not to mention, she would have more fuel for her campaign to leave this place. The poker tournament was a scam and I fell for every part of it. My mother didn’t ask too many questions as to why I lived where I lived or where all my money went. She was not a stupid woman by any means and definitely knew I made at least minimum wage and worked, most of the time, sixty to eighty hours a week between two jobs. Maybe she just kept my business as such. However, she did not like the situation that I had lived in and, now that she was living with me, became much more vocal about it than ever. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I really think about it that day was different. She was really upset, more than usual. It was as if someone had done something to her. We usually were able to stay in the background. She never left the house and I would only venture out in the moonlight as little as possible. Still, she was thoroughly upset. She was stomping back and forth throughout the apartment grabbing things and attempting to pack them in boxes or sort them in piles. I was finally able to get a response out of her as she walked me to the window, pointed at parking lot and she asked me what was missing. It was my car.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I began to panic myself. It was not a panic that was on the same wavelength as my mother. It was more like a </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">how was I supposed to get to work now</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> panic. Either job would fire me if I didn’t have transportation. I wouldn’t be able to pay Mr. Chikko and I would then be lucky keep my life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can’t really explain why I left. Maybe I thought that if I went to where my car was I would find answers. Maybe I thought someone was playing a joke on me. Maybe I don’t know what I was thinking but I took off. I went out the door and down the stairs with nothing on my mind except my ride to work. One job I could have used a few sick days. I didn’t know about the other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As my thoughts started to consider options for my night job, I ran into Dave who was a shift supervisor there and who I could probably talk into giving me a lift when we have the same shift. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dave looked upset. ‘Hey Dave. What’s going on?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Shit, just shit.’ Dave grumbled without looking at me as he stood against the railing, staring off into the early morning sky while smoking a cigarette heavily.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Is something wrong, man?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeh! Isn’t it fucking obvious?’ Dave brought his trembling hand to his mouth and, as he took a long drag, he turned to me. ‘It’s all gone,’ he paused. ‘Everything. All I have been saving. Everything I had.’ You could hear the anger and frustration booming in his voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I hear yah.’ My words were cut off with a glare from Dave, implying that I had better relate. ‘Dave, my piece of shit car is missing too and you know better than anyone that I can’t miss another shift at the plant and I can’t miss another bill and, well, I’m tired of this shit too! Man.’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dave took one last hit of his cigarette and flicked it off the balcony before he exhaled into the cool winter air. He stuck his tongue to his cheek and squinted as if he was searching for something profound to say. He turned back towards me. ‘Okay.’ Dave nodded. ‘Let’s go.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stood there, confused. ‘Okay? Okay what?’ I cocked my head to the side with a puzzled look on my face. ‘Where are we going?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘To look for clues.’ Dave began to walk to the stairs. ‘I have a feeling that your car and my stuff has been jacked by the same dead man. I have an idea who it might be.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Who?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘That fuck, Toni. And his punk-ass friends.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Who?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Don’t worry about it.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We took off down the rest of the stairs and made our way to the parking lot. Dave was walking at a fast pace. I wondered what motivated him so much. He didn’t say another word until we reached his car.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Get in,” Dave demanded. I got inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we made our way to the other side of the apartment complex Dave started to act a little odd. He started to ask questions about who I have seen around lately and if I have noticed movement between the gangs. Before I had a chance to explain that I keep to myself, Dave asked me something that caught me off guard. ‘You’re with me, right?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘What do you mean, Dave?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Are you with me?’ He looked at me for confirmation. ‘You know if shit goes down, are you with me?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I don’t know what you’re asking me. Is shit gonna go down? Look, I didn’t come out looking for trouble. I just want to get to work. I just want to make a paycheck.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Shut up! You know exactly what I am asking. Freddy, man. You got this. I believe in you. Do you believe in me?’ He sounded like he was bargaining. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeah, man. I trust you. I trust that you won’t do anything stupid.’ I was the one looking for confirmation now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Alright. Then you’re with me?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeah...If you don’t do anything stupid.’ The dumbest thing I had ever said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dave began to slow his sedan to a neutral roll as we approached a group of people. They ranged from early teens to mid-twenties. Dave rolled down his window. I slumped down in my seat. This was not my kind of situation. I was a non-confrontational sort of guy, but Dave was not. ‘Ay. Let me do the talking, ‘k?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Sure Dave. That’s not a problem. Just don’t get us killed, yeah?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Hey! Punks!’ Dave leaned out the window as we came to a stop. Half of the group turned around. ‘Which one of you assholes is Toni?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Dave,’ I whispered. ‘you don’t even know who this guy is? How do you know--’ Dave motioned for me to be quiet. This is when my heart started to thump in my chest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One guy stepped out of the group. ‘I am.’ He replied as he made way to the driver’s side window. ‘Who the fuck are you?’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I’m a customer. I heard you’re the kind of guy that can get things?’ Dave nudged me as if celebrate a small victory. He must have thought he was being clever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeah. I do, but I’m all out of candy for little boys.’ Toni licked his lips. Half of his posse laughed. ‘Maybe you should bark up some other tree.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Look man, I got credit.’ Dave pulled a wad of money out of his pocket. It was neatly organized and looked to be a lot. I wondered, if this was the amount of money Dave carried with him, how much did he have stolen?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Nice.’ Toni leaned in. ‘What are you looking for? Chemicals? Grass? Hale? I got Hale, man, but it goes fast, you know? It’s when everybody be diggin’ on nowadays. It ain’t cheap.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I was looking more for merchandise. You know, like, an antique dish set? Some jewelry? Or, maybe, I don’t know, a fucking shoe-box full of my kid’s college fund! Eh? You know anything about that, Toni?’ Dave really did a good job publishing a tone of dominance even though his efforts were likely to be squashed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember my heart pumping so hard and fast that I’m sure Toni and his gang could hear it through the metal cage of the car. I felt it shaking my entire chest. I felt a cold chill meet halfway with the bead of sweat that ran down my forehead, off the tip of my nose and onto my chest. What was Dave doing? I thought he knew what he was doing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I see.’ Toni pulled down his sunglasses just enough to look Dave dead in the eyes. ‘You thought that you and your renegade friend were just going to come up in here and ask for your stuff back, maybe, I don’t know, act like you were cool at first and I would just be all about being a homie and, and, just, maybe, give it back?’ Toni reached into his coat. ‘Look man, that stuff is mine now. As for your kid, if he wants, he can go to Toni’s College. I can teach him a few things. You know, a few things that his bitch-ass dad wouldn’t know a thing about. Whadda say about that, hmm? That sound like a plan?’ Toni bit his bottom lip to hold back a smug grin while holding out his empty hand to seal a deal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You could feel the blood boiling within Dave. I could see him clenching his jaw as hard as he was the steering wheel. This plan of Dave’s wasn’t going very well. Toni turned halfway around to address his group. ‘Well, boys, doesn’t that sound just fine and dandy? I’m not a total asshole. I have compassion for the kids. Man, for the kids!’ He turned back to face Dave. ‘After all, they are our future.’</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You know, Dave, we should really get out of here.’ I pleaded. ‘This isn’t going well, we should cut our losses.’ </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Yeah, Dave.’ Toni mocked his name. ‘You should really...’ Toni paused, ‘bounce! Before things go bad.’ As Toni finished his sentence, I heard a loud bang and another followed. My ears were ringing. I felt Dave’s hand grab my arm. I looked over to him as he turned to meet eyes with me. Dave tried to say something but, blood streamed from his mouth instead of words. I looked down at his chest and saw a dark, red shape begin to appear from the two holes in his shirt. I felt Dave’s grip tighten over my arm. He again tried to tell me something but all I could hear was Toni muttering something to his group as I peered into Dave’s eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember hearing the engine power to a rolling rumble before I was sprayed all over with what felt like hot, sticky pancake batter. I felt the car take off. Dave must have slammed the gas down to the floor. I looked over to see Dave slumped toward the center of the dashboard. I remember the agony of sudden reality piercing through my heart as it sank in my chest. The top of Dave’s head was missing and, though it wasn’t clear in the moment, it was brain matter, blood and Dave’s face that was all over me. I remember shock consuming me as the car sped toward a brick wall. Dave’s lifeless leg must have been on the gas petal. I vaguely recall bracing as the wall approached.</span></b>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-2105597065086223902012-11-05T21:25:00.002-05:002015-08-12T20:33:20.444-04:00Adam - Ben's House (pt. 2)<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(<a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2012/10/adam1.html" target="_blank">Part 1</a>)</span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9421016816049814" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m trying to analyze what had just happened. I am down on one knee, struggling to find strength. My phone is face up on the pavement in front of me. I can feel a surge of adrenaline, greater than anytime I can recall, pumping throughout my body. There is a dull pain radiating from my stomach. Due to a sudden weakness, I am lacking the ability to stand. I fall into a sitting position and brace myself against a car. I look down to my stomach and realize I have frightening amount of blood seeping through my sweater. Suddenly sharp agony consumes my entire body as I become aware that I have, in fact, been shot. I count two wounds. The worser of the two is located next to my right hipbone just above my jeans. The other is on my left side just below my ribs. I try to apply pressure to both. I begin to become extremely worried. I need to call an ambulance.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reaching for my phone, Anna crosses my mind. I can hear her justifying why I should have stayed with her tonight. I should have. As I unlock my screen, I see the nine and one I had previously dialed. I should have finished dialing and hit send as that man had the gun pointed at me. They would have heard the gunshots and probably already had sent someone out. That could be the difference between my life and death in this dismal situation. I hope it isn’t. I finish dialing. Send.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The phone is mid-ring as I hastily struggle the phone to my ear. They pick up. ‘Sampson County 911, how can I direct your emergency.’ Her voice sounds angelic.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I have been shot.’ My level of calmness catches me by surprise. I have been shot, how could I not panic? ‘I’m in the parking lot of the “Sunny Glen” Apartments. Right off of Hawthorne Avenue.’</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘We will send an ambulance immediately. Stay on the line.’ I feel a level of relief drape over me. I feel light headed. ‘Where were you shot?’</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘In my stomach, twice.’ Anna. Oh, god. I need to talk to her. ‘Do you have an ambulance on the way?’</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Sir, someone will be there shortly. How much blood have you lost?’</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I don’t know. I’m getting pretty light headed. Dizzy.’ I realize that I may save time if I move to the main road. I have to call Anna. ‘I am going to be on the side of Hawthorne Avenue. Tell the ambulance. I have to call Anna.’</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Sir! I need you to stay--’ I hang up. Please, relay my message. I need to talk to Anna; It might be my last chance.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I feel as though I am about to nod off. I have to stay awake. I have to stay conscious and make it to Hawthorne. It takes everything I have, every ounce of strength, every fiber of muscle and all the will I possess to pull myself to my feet. My stomach throbs in a deep, dull ache as I push my weight onto my feet. I clench my teeth and let out a low, throaty groan. Time seems to stand still and I balance myself off the car. I hear a few drops of blood hit the cold, dry concrete. A deep breath turns to a long, exasperated sigh before I focus my gaze across the parking lot to my destination. I tell myself if I can make it, I will be safe. I have to call Anna. I am too weak to multitask. I’ll call her when I get there. I will call her when I am safe. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Following the contour of the car for balance, I begin to walk. Each step costing the consequence of rippling misery as I shift my weight to each foot. I take a quick deep breath and whisper to myself. ‘I can do this.’ Breath in, ‘Adam, you can do this.’ Breath out, ‘You are stronger than this.’ Clenching my jaw, I focus on the goal. ‘Your father didn’t raise a quitter, Adam. Move.’ I imagine my father watching over me, cheering me on, like he did at every sporting event I ever tried. He was always there, every game, until he physically could not. I will remain strong.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A hundred feet might as well be a mile in this condition. I am almost there; one more row of the lot, about ten to fifteen feet of grass and I should be at the sidewalk. I stop to lean against a cherry-red sedan. My gut is throbbing, and all I can think about is the woman I had left behind. If I find this almost unbearable, then how must have she felt? I just left her. Karma, I suppose. But, I’m a fighter. I will make this. Without lifting my hand off my wound, I push myself from the car with my elbow. I drop my head and, looking up to the road, I really start pushing. I have almost a steady stride now. I’ve reached the grass. I just have to break the line of well-maintained shrubbery and I’m golden. I will be my own personal hero. I will call Anna. I am through. I drop to my knees. I catch my breath and pull out my phone. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Looking up and down the road I realize that there is absolutely no traffic. I find that extremely odd. Hawthorne is a major road in our city. Most days you cannot even cross without a stop light and everyone knows to stay away during rush hour. Where’s my ambulance? If there is no traffic, they should be here by now. I uncontrollably roll off my knees onto my left hip. Calling the feeling that cut through my body a shock of discomfort would be a large understatement. It just about stopped me from breathing all together.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I pull the phone to my blurry line of sight as I lay on the chilly pavement. Time to call Anna. Keeping my eyes open long enough to find her number becomes a difficult task. Finally, I get it to connect. It goes straight to voicemail. I bet she turned it off after I left. Why does she do that? She always does that, then she’ll turn it long enough to send a text just pissy enough to infuriate me but with nothing victimizing enough to complain about. I guess I’ll have to leave a voicemail. ‘...please leave me a message after the beep. ‘K, thanks!’ </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Beep. ‘Anna? Uh, hey, it’s Adam. Listen, well, tonight hasn’t really, um...’ I take a deep breath trying to let out some of the pain twisting throughout my voice as well as to buy time to find out how to say what I need. ‘Anna, tonight...it hasn’t really gone to, uh...Anna, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t want your last memory of me--’ Damn it. I’m making this sound like I am going to die. My fleeting alertness and the fact that I have seen no sign of rescue are really starting to tug at my optimism. ‘Anna...I just need you to know that I really care about you. Be careful. Something is off tonight. Stay home. I...love you.’ I hang up.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My last sentence left a fleeting imprint in my mind. That was the first time I had ever told Anna, let alone any other girl, that I loved her. I don’t know if it’s the lack of blood, the overwhelming fear or the very real possibility that I may actually die, but I do care about this girl. I may never see her again. There is no sign of an ambulance. I am barely keeping one eye open. Don’t fall asleep. Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay...</span></b><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(<a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2013/04/adam3.html" target="_blank">Part 3</a>)</span></b>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-8154839501069985122012-11-05T21:25:00.000-05:002015-08-12T20:42:00.751-04:00Adam - Ben's House (pt. 1)<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hate fighting with my girlfriend. It wasn’t much of a fight. It never is, really. We just stop talking until it is forgotten. We never resolve anything even though we communicate better than most of the other couples I know. Man, I hate red lights. They are never timed correctly. Doesn’t matter, I’m almost to Ben and Kyle’s place. I know there is a cold beer waiting for me in a stress-free environment loaded with good friends. Also, the game tonight should be very entertaining. It’s bound to be a pleasant night, despite the passive-aggressive text message I’m bound to get from Anna at some point. Hopefully it will be after the second half when I’m equipped with a nice buzz.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What do you know, no visitor parking at Ben’s. That’s so frustrating. Guess I’ll head to the apartment complex down the street to find a spot. Good thing my fantasy team is doing well. I could really use a win this week.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Funny how there is an amazing amount of extra parking spaces in this part of the development. I guess apartment renters have more visitors than people in townhomes. Whatever. Line it up. Neutral. Handbrake. Park. Turn the car off. Grab the keys. Wallet, check. Cell Phone, check. Coat, check. Lip balm, can’t forget the lip balm; it’s been too dry lately. Deep breath. Brave the cold. Lock the car. Head to Ben’s.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Man, is she really upset? She’s not that upset, is she? I mean, she doesn’t even like football. We hung out last night and the night before. I met her parents last week. I’m really in to her, I think. I am. Why is she so upset? I asked her if she wanted to come. She, of course, didn’t. She never does. I hope it’s not my friends. I hope they aren’t the problem. Ben is my best friend, she has to like him. I know Kyle can be a bit of a tool at times, but, in small doses, he is an alright guy. I do wish they would fix this parking problem. Send an email or something. Why are there so few visitor spots? It doesn’t make sense. It’s too cold to walk this far. Walk faster.</span></div>
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</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Screeching tires. I hope that dude wrecks. I hate it when people just peel out for no reason. Show offs. That was loud. Holy shit, he actually wrecked? That sounded bad. That sounded like it was right in front of the gas station, only a block or so away. Oh, god, I hope he’s alright. I hope he’s not dead or killed someone else. I would feel bad. Sirens? That was fast. Good, they are on top of it. They sound like they're moving fast. They went right by. Weird. They are moving fast.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That is a horrible scream. It came from the other direction. It ripped through the air like cold with the wind. She needs help. I don’t know who she is but I'm coming. I can help. I can feel the frigid sidewalk trembling through my sneakers. With my legs pumping toward her, I call out. 'I’m on my way. I'm coming!'</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She's screaming again. The screams trailed with hints of utter pain and dissolved into a weeping conclusion. I hope I can help her. It sounds like she may be in more trouble than an energetic twenty-something with little background in first aid can help with. I rounded the corner of her block. Not too fast. She is calling for help. It sounds like she's only halfway down the street. I feel I may outrun my own feet.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Run away!' Wait. I stop. My heart is racing. Run away? I'm waiting. Taking deep breaths, I’m listening. 'Run away! It's too late.'</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Run? I'm standing three driveways away. You are serious. I feel like I should say something, but I can't find the words. Something about this situation, the air. Something seems off. I look back. I think of the accident, briefly. She screams. 'No!' It echoes through the air. I pause.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'I-I'm...' Where is my voice. Man up. 'I'm here.'</span></div>
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</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I begin to walk toward her voice. I am moving very slow. One foot over the other. Quietly. Toe. I'm leading with my right ear. Heal. In position. Toe. Ready for anything. Heal.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'It's too late.' I can hear her sobbing. Sniffling. Cringing in pain. I'm close enough to hear it, too far to know why.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Do you need help?' I pause. 'I can call 911?'</span></div>
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</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'No!' The command came from between clenched teeth, without a pause. It bolted throughout the houses and echoed down the street. It was centered with supreme affirmation. Then, there was silence.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I do not know what to do. I feel conflicted. What if she were getting raped? What if it was twenty-five feet from me? What if the rapist had a gun to her head? What if he is directing everything for her to say? What if she ends up dead? It would be because of me. I'd see it on the news. What would Anna think? No one else would know. I would know. I can't. I won't. I have to see. I have to see if she is alright.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Run! Away!' It almost sounded as if she were pleading. As if she was looking out for me. I can't. Please, let me just make sure. I begin to move toward her. Staying focused on where I heard her. I don't want to give my location away, but I do not want to surprise anyone either. I can hear her in pain, uttering quiet moans and silent grunts. She is not far. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'I told you to run.' Her speech was juggling between dialog and panting. It came from the carport. I can almost see her. Her Silhouette. It is just her. I missed him.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Are you alright?' I approach her. She is sitting up against her car just out of the glow of the streetlight. The ground is wet beneath her. I can hear her breathing in small intervals of short, shallow breaths. She says nothing. I'll ask again. 'Hey, are you okay? Is everything okay?’</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'You're...' She swallows. 'too...late. I told you.'</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I scramble for my cell. 'Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?'</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'They...they already got me. You.' She begins to cough. I got my phone but in need of a flashlight. Turn the screen on. '...too late.'</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Who? Who got you? I'm not too late. You're still alive, you are okay.' I have the screen lit up. 'I'll call an ambulance, they're not far. I heard...' I pause as I feel my bones shudder. My gut turns as I point the light toward her. So much blood. I could feel the horror grip my worst thoughts and squeeze the pulp out of my darkest imagination. This can not be real. I feel a stinging sickness take hold of my skin. I now know why the slick concrete lay wet.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'They'll get you too.' Holding her insides in her hands with a sudden calm she whispers, 'run.'</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I go to make an argument but I hear a dreadful moan from the other side of the house; or, was it a growl? It doesn’t matter. I activate my internal chicken shit and choose flight. I go to release a soft apology but she interrupts. ‘Just go. Run. Save...yourself.’</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her words trail off with the distance as I start heading back to where I came from. I begin to run, even faster than before. I don’t know what is going on, or why. I do not care. Poor lady. Getting somewhere safe becomes the predominant thought in my head. Ben’s house or my car? I’m standing at the crossroads. I’m halfway between. With a light jog, I start to head toward Ben’s and I hear another scream slice through the air.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Noooooo!’ It radiated from just past Ben’s place. It was more of a horrified realization than a plea. My gut tells me to drive. Get to my car. Get away. I turn around. Heading to my car, I decide to call Ben. Panicking. It goes to voicemail.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Ben. Ben! Lock your doors, some crazy shit is going down. Listen. Call me as soon as you get this. Don’t wait. I saw a lady, with...with her intestines...they, she, in, uh...’ I struggle with the words. I have to actually analyze what I had seen. ‘Ben...they were in her hands. She was holding them.’ The image flooded my brain. I could see it. They were darker than I had ever thought, purple and veiny. I can’t believe they once all fit inside of her. Poor lady. ‘Ben, I heard another scream close to your place. Make sure...just call me!’ I hang up.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am almost to my car. I decide to call the police. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. Why did I call Ben first? I should call Anna, too. I’m pretty sure all I have is ninety-one dialed as I hear a strong voice boom towards me. ‘Stop.’ I stop. Easy now. I scan my eyes from my phone to the pavement in front of me. From the pavement, I find a shadow and, from that, I find boots attached to a small, older gentleman. I gaze up his figure to see outstretched hands, pointing a handgun. ‘You just stay right there.’ I can hear his southern drawl quiver in his voice. He is not from here.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Look, man, I’m just trying to get to my car.’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Shut up!’ I stand like a statue. What does he want? I await another command. His hands are shaking. He is scared. ‘How do I know you isn’t one of them?’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘You asked a question, I was jus--’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Shut! Up!’ I put my hands up. I don’t know why. I try to look him in the eyes, but all I can focus on is that cannon being tightly held in his grasp. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I don’t care what you want. You are not eatin’ me. You hear? I will shoot you dead. Dead!’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Please...’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I won’t ask you again.’ I can feel my breathing accelerate. I close my eyes as my jaw staggers. He won’t even let me make a case. ‘Now.’ I await instruction. He doesn’t know what to do. Can I make this easier for him. I open my eyes to a blank stare at his feet. Maybe I should kneel on the ground. Please don’t shoot me, please don’t. Please, please. All I can focus on is getting shot. I should have gone to Ben’s. I should have called Anna. ‘I’m gonna count to...three.’ What? ‘And when I get to three, you...’ He pauses. Oh, god, he doesn’t know what he is doing. Oh, no. Don’t. Just don’t shoot me. For god’s sake.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A loud sound cuts the air sounding like a heavy construction site. It comes from behind the gunman. He twists around, turns back and frantically fires his gun, quickly squeezing out a few rounds. The shots blended together;; it was thunderous. I can still hear the echo cracking through the air around me. It reverberates on every surface around.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I’m sorry.’ He backpedals away in remorse. ‘Please, forgive me...’ He turns away and mumbles to himself before trotting away. I watch his portrait fade in the distance as I unwillingly drop to one knee. I’m sorry too. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(<a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2012/11/adam2.html" target="_blank">Part 2</a>)</span></div>
RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-90917200106234143772012-10-24T14:47:00.000-04:002012-10-24T14:47:06.816-04:00Tommy - Room 229 (pt. 1)<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">There was a knock at the door. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Then there was a bit more than a knock. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">The door pounded as if someone was trying to kick a hole in it. My eyes widened as I pounced up out of bed. A few quick blows shot to the top part of the door right before a voice ripped through it. 'Let me in!' screamed what sounded like a middle-aged man through the thick wood. His demanding voice was trembling itself around fear with a hint of plea. The latter was better heard in his next, and, as far as I know, his last string of words. A 'please' slid down the door. I imagined a bony, leather-skinned old man, sitting on a street corner with his elbows on his knees, as his back and spirit slouched in a parallel unison. I perceived him looking up at me, begging me in desperation for change to buy some food.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I took a few quick steps toward the door before my roommate stopped me. He was sitting up slightly in bed with an annoyed expression that read: <i>Why am I awake?</i> He simply stated in a just-kinda-woke-up mumble 'It’s prolly jus’ Joe.' My mind changed, it wasn’t a helpless spirit, per se, he was just our co-worker and drunk, like usual.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">However, nothing, no logical thought process could have enabled me to explain the next sound. I still have trouble with it. The sound grabbed me from inside, twisted my stomach as my nerves turned to goose bumps and stood the hair on the back of my neck straight up. The noise radiated from the bottom of the door. It sounded like someone kicked a soggy laundry bag against the door, kicked it a few more times and, suddenly, started clawing on the door. Very odd, I thought, as a slowly stumbled to the door. The sound continued. I looked out the peephole and saw nothing but the door to Room 231.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I was trying my best to look down both sides of the hallway to get a good glimpse. Suddenly, at the bottom of the convex image, I saw a quick movement. I heard a dragging sound and this is where the proverbial cat died. I stepped to the side, pressed my right foot about two feet from the door, turned the handle and slowly opened the door. I slid toward the gap and peered to the right as my eyes made their movement toward where the alleged laundry sack would have been. I gasped as I realized there was about a liter of blood all over the floor. Shocked, I slowly followed the trail to the left side of the hallway.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">At this moment my roommate asked in a courageous but curious tone, 'What? What do you see?' </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'…blood.' I quickly noticed a movement from my right. I pulled back into the room and planted my foot as someone slammed into the door at high speed. I painfully stopped the door with my foot. Though I was knocked slightly off balance, the door did not go any further than where my foot stood. The person in the hallway stabbed their arm in the room toward me. I leaned away and against the refrigerator. My chest was pounding. I kept pushing the door further closed and wedging it at every opportunity the flailing arm lent. This crazy person wasn’t stopping, slowing down, or showing any exhaustion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">This person had to be insane. He was hissing, mumbling grunting noises, and frantically swinging his arm at me. My mind raced as the adrenaline pumped through me. What if this were the killer? What if he was after me because he thought I saw it? Why did the blood trail run to the left when he came from the right? My thoughts were interrupted.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Watch out!' I glanced between the door and Kyle, a few times, until I figured out what he was planning. He stood across the room, crouched like a runner before a race, swinging his arms slightly, and staring at the door almost to look through it. He huffed and puffed a couple of times and took off sprinting toward the door. As he built up speed and I thought to myself, <i>Kyle is gonna slice that dude’s arm off</i>. I turned my head away as Kyle slammed his shoulder and all his weight into the door. The hissing and mumbling had not stopped. It didn’t even pause or change tone. Yet, the arm stopped moving. It swung lifelessly down to this psychopath’s side.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I quickly tried to take advantage and push the crazy man away and shut the door. As I put my hand toward him I saw it's face lunging at me. It’s jaw was clicking as it constantly opened and shut. It’s skin was grey and shaded with a pus color and peeling all over. His eyes were glazed like marbles; however, his eyes, minus the bloodshot, were a jaundicing yellow. It was clothed in business attire and covered in blood. Its smell was engulfing. It smelled like rotten eggs. It bared its teeth quickly as I pushed the psychopath away, far enough to clear the door.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I slammed the door shut. Locked the latch up top the door and secured the dead bolt. Had there been thirty other locks on that door, I would have locked them as well. Kyle sat on his back against the wall across from me. He was rubbing his shoulder. My jaw was still hanging from the events in the past five minutes. He looked up at me and said, 'Well, my shoulder prolly ain’t as bad as that other guys.' Happy go lucky Kyle. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I swallowed my sigh as I nervously stuttered back, 'I-I th-hink you, um…he’s, ha, not gonna be using it…I think you, uh, severed his, ah, what-do-you, um, t-tendons…' I was still puzzled. I looked down at my hands and realized I had blood on them. I went to wash them. I stopped and turned to Kyle, 'It was a business man.' </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Kyle looked back as he stood up. '…so?' Kyle never thought things through. That thought probably went right through his head, never stopping at logic.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Kyle was about my age, a couple months younger. He was shorter than me, though, bigger. He weighed approximately "one-hundred-and-ninety-seven pounds." That was that day. He said it every day. He was one of those fit freaks. He ate the same thing everyday. Did alternating workouts depending on what the fitness magazine he was currently reading featured. How could you eat the same thing every night? Chicken Breast, whole grain rice, beans and a salad. He was always doing sit-ups, push-ups, planks, squats and whatever other workout he would come across. He even bought a pull-up bar. I mean, we only spend a couple weeks on the road at a time for work. It was such a big deal for him and, yeah, he was pretty fit. He could probably hold his own in a fight, but there was something eerie about this situation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I stepped out of the bathroom to see Kyle on the phone. 'Are you calling the police?' He hung the phone up without saying a word. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Kyle complacently looked over to me and stated, 'It’s busy.'</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'What? 911 is busy?' </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Yea.' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'How many times did you try?' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Kyle sighed. 'That was the third…'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I walked cautiously to the center of the room. As I scratched my head, I peered at the generic hotel phone and solicited a response from Kyle, 'Did you try on your cell?' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Why would that make a difference?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I didn’t have an answer. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Why? Well...How could the emergency hotline service be busy?!' He just shrugged his shoulders. His body read how am I supposed to know but his face posed an oxymoronic expression broadcasting: I don’t care.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Kyle stood up and started changing out of his bedclothes. 'What are you doing,' I asked.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Goin’ out.' </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I thought he was nuts. 'What is this? Are you in a contest with the dude outside to see who is the craziest?' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Half way through pulling up his jeans, without stopping, Kyle looked up at me and said the stupidest thing I had heard in weeks, 'We can’t properly assess the situation from inside our hotel room.' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I felt my eyebrows drop in concern. 'I have assessed all I’ve needed to. It’s not safe outside the hotel room and there ain’t no way, in hell, I’m going there until I have some sign to show me otherwise! And I suggest you do the sa-' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">My safety speech was interrupted by Kyle. 'You don’t have to go! But…I am going. Don’t try and talk me out of it, I’m not staying here.' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I sat on the bed and slowly fell backward to stare blankly at the ceiling. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">My soon to be ex-roommate gathered his essentials, keys, phone, wallet, and the two knives he kept with him. 'Those are goin’ to do a lot considering what had just happened,' not directing my speech to anyone in particular. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Dude! You don't have to come along. Not like I asked you anyway. I’m not leaving for good, either. I’m gonna go see what’s up, and gather some info. That’s it. The cops should be here already. Maybe my statement could be of some use.' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">That bothered me. The cops would knock on our door if they needed our statement and they surely would when you take into count that there is blood all over the hallway in front of our room. I looked over at Kyle without moving my head, 'Whatever, the cops would come to us. There’s only about a half gallon of blood all over in front of our door.' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Look, I’m doing what I want! You’re not my daddy. And, I’m not gonna sit in here waiting because I’m too scared to leave my safe little room.' </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">'Whatever! You weren't holding th-th-that thing back! You don’t know how relentless and strong he was. Jus’ because you’re .Mister Strongman-Hero doesn’t mean-” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">Kyle interrupted me 'Shut the fuck up! There are a lot of unknowns and, frankly, I don’t like unknowns. And, I do not appreciate you summing me up to some hero that blindly...you know what, I’m not gonna sit here and explain myself to you. People may need some help, or, this could be a sickness, a disease and I don’t wanna be quarantined, or…dude, you can stay here. You are a big boy that can handle yourself, right? I’ll be gone for a little while. If you’re here when I get back…Three knocks and a slap. Do what you want.' Kyle got up, walked to the door, and preceded to unlock it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 18px;">I leaned up and prepared myself for what might happen next. Kyle took a quick peek through the peephole and slowly opened the door, peered out, and leaned back in. He said the last words I would ever hear him say, 'Peace brah.' Then, Silence.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17.981481552124023px;">- <a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2012/10/tommy2.html" target="_blank">Continue Reading (part 2)</a></span></span></div>
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RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-30747326339615750392012-10-23T15:42:00.000-04:002012-10-24T14:46:57.163-04:00Tommy - Room 229 (pt. 2)<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">- <a href="http://rgjenkins.blogspot.com/2012/10/tommy1.html">Part 1</a></span></span><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8195369078312069" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Three and a half hours passed and there was no sign of Kyle. I moved back and forth from the bed to the peephole to the floor against the door and back again. I’m not a patient person by nature and this was no exception. I knew that with limited food supply and a growing curiosity, if nothing were to change, I would be venturing out myself. I kept trying 911 and flipping channels on the Television. The line was busy and the picture was snow. I tried calling a few people from my cell phone. No answers and the long distances numbers presented: </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’re sorry the number you have dialed blah blah blah</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> messages.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt confused, like I was late to a horror movie and no one in the audience would fill me it. Soon, I supposed, I would be a part of that horror film. I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and had the last glass of milk while plotting my next step, or steps. I walked to the window to take a look at nothing. The hotel was nestled just outside civilization on the edge of a heavily wooded area. The view outside my room reflected such.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I laid on my bed and let my mind wonder. What happened to Kyle? Why haven’t I heard any noises? From anywhere? Why is 911 busy? What is happening? Am I going to die in this hotel? A noise broke my concentration. It sounded like someone running down the hallway at full speed. I rolled out of bed and zoomed to the door. My eye closed in on the peephole, again, nothing. I was surrounded by nothing. Nothing outside and nothing inside. Yet, I was still afraid to leave my room.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had fallen asleep. I’m not very clear as to when, but it was around 7:30 a.m. when I woke up. It only took a matter of moments for the memories of the previous night to flood my mind. The rancid smell, which had grown stronger, had helped. I had to leave. I walked over to the window again to get a look at nothing in the daylight. All I saw were trees. However, as I started to turn away, something caught my eye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My car was scraped up on the passenger side. Even though my car was a piece of junk, it wasn’t green. Between the blemishes of missing paint and dents, there were obvious markings of green paint. Kyle’s green pickup was parked next to me if I remembered correctly. He must have left in an extreme hurry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I walked into the bathroom to relieve myself but, when I flicked the light switch I didn’t receive the known response. The power was out. The little bit of food in the refrigerator was on its way to spoiling. The hotel phone was not working and my phone only had about a half a day’s charge. I knew I only had one option, to leave.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The thought of anything outside my safe hotel room seemed less frightening in the daylight and after some time had passed. I got dressed. I gathered my essentials and grabbed a granola bar. As I walked to the door, I remembered how Kyle snatched his knives up. I didn’t own any weapons. I toyed with the thought of how Kyle’s probably didn’t serve him much considering that bastard slammed into my car in a hurry to escape.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My trembling hands unlocked the door. I grasped the handle with my sweaty palm and turned it. I felt my heart thump like a heavy bass drum. I clenched my teeth and swallowed my fear. I opened the door about two inches and slammed it back. My breathing was elevated and my hand was slightly trembling. I started again. I made it outside my door. It was eerily silent. I heard the door close behind me. I paused for a moment, and then headed down the hallway to the stairwell.</span></b>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5842660514408192293.post-54582370926310034422012-10-19T02:27:00.000-04:002012-10-21T19:01:30.188-04:00Neil - The Superstore<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5753672299906611" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was an overcast day. I found myself power-walking with a programmed sense of urgency through a superstore parking lot. There was a pillar of smoke off in the distance signaling a fire. There were people screaming, close by and from afar, but, like most by that time, I had learned to ignore it. The parking lot was full of cars by only a third and only half of those seemed to be recently attended. Some were still running, some were blocked in and some were damaged, mangled or stripped completely. Lifeless bodies inhabited a few vehicles, but even a partially devoured corpse in that landscape had become normality at this point.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a small amount of the living moving about the parking lot. To list a few, there was a mother with her children linked together with her hands, frantically stirring around; a man perched on his car with his head in his hands, lost in his own thoughts, perhaps from an event that had recently taken place; and a small girl standing between cars, misplaced and adrift, pungently hardened by this world and past the point of tears. She just stared straight into my eyes with lifeless intensity like she was not even there. People were begging for help from anyone walking by but, by that time, you viewed it much like you would someone flagging you down on a busy freeway for a ride. I had a mission.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I began to approach the doorway into the store, a spot of sunlight commenced to break through the clouds and flooded the desolate parking lot with a mocking brightness. The doors were broken and jammed open. Shattered glass from the windows decorated the floor. The mega-store appeared to operate almost regularly, however there was no staff, no electricity, and no order. People were coming and going, arguing, acting as though no one else existed and foraging for food and supplies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stood in an open section of the store, between aisles and panned around for a moment or two. I was in search for a pair of cargo pants, some heavy boots and a backpack as well as a weapon or two. I would have found my direction by the sign lying on the floor although I was unsure as to which way the arrow meant to face. I resigned myself to believe that the clothing section was toward the left side of the store and the hunting section towards the back right. Naturally one would start with the weapons, yet, since the grocery section of the store was on my immediate right, I would go left and make my way to the back. Survival in this situation would state to stay clear of the masses and the majority of the people in the store were centered around the grocery portion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One must always lend an open eye and an open ear. Too many fall victim to the fallacies of misconstrued security. It is the moment that one feels safe that I attribute as the contestant to survival. I have yet to hear a tale of one’s focus, standing in affirmation, portraying a contributing factor of a life-ending event, less, of course, the infamous dumb luck. Sometimes, it is just not in the cards. Keep focus, plan for escape at any moment and keep mindful of your goal. Always have a goal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was letting my mind run adrift as I made way past the register aisles to the far side of the massive shop. Though my mind was being set on the important topics of safety, I was lacking cautiousness. Thankfully a sound struck me before it was too late. It reminded me of what I would once discount as innocent as a man’s best friend passing time by gnawing on leftovers but this previously harmless sound became a staple of recognizing danger in present life. If you have yet to adapt to this sound as a signal for becoming stealthy, then you probably have be eliminated already. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The sound was emanating from one of the uninhabited register aisles. Teeth on bone, this is when you must take notice. One false move and you are prey. Everyone alive has become accustom to running, though it leaves distaste for even the most undignified. There is, however, always the option of fight. Still, fighting seems to bring hordes. We do not know why. We just know this to be true. Sometimes the hordes take days to amass but, for some reason, they come. If you dispose of one of the creatures, you must move, unless you incinerate it immediately. As always, your best bet is to go unseen, unheard and undetected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We do believe that they can smell us. Some theorize that it is the unnatural smell that draws them such as soap, perfume, deodorant and detergent, amongst other things. Some consider it is just the life force that the demons seek to end. Radicals seek faith in the idea that they are here to take this essence of life from us due to envy. No matter the cause, steer clear.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I peered around the counter and to my relief it was actually a random canine chewing on a bone, what luck. I called to it quietly. The dog lifted its head and turned to look at me. It showed its teeth, picked up its bone and trotted off. Animals seemed to have changed. They never act the same anymore. It is almost as if they do not trust humans, even though they can sense a clear difference between us and the turned. Some dogs have stayed loyal to their owners, even in some cases after a transformation, but most had a personality change when the world went to shit. It is as if some sort of survival mode kicked in and took over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I continued and crossed through the pharmacy area remembering to keep an open eye for any medicine that may still be lying about. I was not very optimistic because medicine, any kind, had become almost as much a currency as advanced weaponry. I may easily find a hunting knife, an axe or even a handgun, but I would be lucky to find a rifle or a shotgun in this store.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I finally made my way to the clothing department. There was hardly any organization left in the heap of linen. After some rummaging, I found a pair of cargo pants in my size. I slowly rose to perch atop a shelving unit for a moment to scope out the area around me for I knew that I may be temporarily putting my safety to inconvenience while I changed my clothes. I heard people faintly across the store and there seemed to be a commotion coming from the grocery side of the superstore but I could not see what it was about. However, I was now fueled by a sudden level of concern. I began to remove my shoes and take off my jeans. When I had gotten one leg off I, thankfully for some reason, looked up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I found myself staring into the glossy eyes of one of the walkers. For a moment, I could not believe it. Out of all the people in this store and even the disturbance that lay across the building with obnoxious screams echoing from afar, I was the one looking at this creature. It stood about twenty paces away. I gulped as I fixated on its chest pumping up and down as if it were a living, breathing person. My heart started to race. I felt my hands trembling. The cargo pants that were primed to be slipped over my right foot slid from my hands and onto the floor. My eyes felt as if they were deceiving me. I was frozen in place. I was even unable to let out a gasp. It stood arched over, its arms dangling in front, feet a little more than shoulder width apart and mouth hanging wide open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time seemed to stand still. The monster was dressed in tattered clothing and poised like a lion ready to pounce but not for the moment. It looked like it used to be a middle-aged man. Short hair, light complexion and even looked to of had a pleasant face. It was positioned to gorge itself on my tender flesh. I was not about to let that happen. I tried to remind myself that it was just one, but focus seemingly slipped out of my current situation, I was down to my boxers, socks, an undershirt and with one foot still wrapped with my jeans. I was not in position to fight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The rogue being started to click its jaw as if to taunt me. That sound, though heard before, sent shivers down my spine. I rather find myself against ten of these things in an open environment then in my current situation. I felt trapped. I had no escape route. This was one of those situations that you hear about; stories told in refuge, lessons taught through others’ mistakes. I was frightened. I would have to run.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After this monster was finished with its frightful pre-feeding ritual it rolled its shoulders back to a stance of attack. As it lifted its leading foot off the ground, I lifted mine and shook the remainder of my jeans off my foot. It darted toward me, I darted right, the direction that I had first entered the area. Unfortunately, any weapon or supplies I had were left laying on the floor behind me along with my jeans. With the pharmacy, again, in front of me, I took a sharp left.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I might as well of been ice skating. My sharp turn left, on a dusty tile floor, swept my feet right out from underneath me. I slid right into metal shelving at the end of the aisle. The corner met with my hipbone and I felt it tear into my skin however the adrenaline masked the pain pretty well but not well enough. In a flashing-sharp sting I hit the ground, on my knees and wincing in pain. My mind running laps about how I needed to get up and keep moving, but I was momentary paralysed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The demon quickly decreased the gap between us by about half. Without any further hesitation, I leaped back onto my feet and began my slippery acceleration. I was lacking traction and moving very little compared to the amount of effort being supplied. I felt the presence of impending doom nipping at my feet, and I decided to make a daring maneuver. It had seemed to be my only option since this monster was at full acceleration, and I was lacking heavily on grip. I spun around and grabbed the shirt of the creature right about the center of its chest; then, twisting all my weight through the air and pivoting on my right heel, I used its momentum to swing the creature past me. In that moment I was far closer than anyone would ever wish to be. I was in shorter proximity than I had ever been to one of these vile renditions of man without a proper weapon. I was close enough to see the dim light from the skylights above reflecting off its cloudy eyes. I could even peer at the detail of its receding gum line as it decayed in its mouth. Its arms were waving frantically as if were one mere movement away from the salvation of its starvation, and it was, but to my dismay, the stunt worked out pretty well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is worth noting that these creatures have horrible motor functions, but, what they lack in balance and logic, most make it up with endurance, speed and strength. They can keep going and going, at full speed and strength. They never tire, never.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The monster tripped over its own feet and tumbled to the floor about ten paces away from me and slid a good five more feet while the whole time not seeming to notice how close it had been to its goal. As it quickly pulled itself off the ground, I took a moment to rip my socks off. I felt a thin stream of liquid run down my side from my hip to my knee, drop to the floor and splash on the side of my bare foot. It was blood, and I had just been reminded of the throbbing laceration on my hip. My senses were at an all-time high as fear had really began to seep past the overwhelming surge of adrenaline. I was engulfed with fantastic hope that the monster would get distracted by another victim, or that I could outrun it long enough to find a weapon or, at least, some sort of advantage. I took off with all force.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt my feet pounding the hard floor step after step as I made my way toward where I thought the hunting department to be. I heard stomping footsteps behind me. It drove me harder; I was afraid to look back. I kept going, pushing and striving. I felt my heart thumping in my chest, my breath in and out with every other stride. I sprinted through the toy section, past the kitchen and bedroom areas. As I passed through the hardware portion of the store, I thought about grabbing a hammer, but, one, I did not know how close my pursuer was and, two, you really do not want to get that close to those things. I believe I had already stretched my luck with my previous ploy. One bite is all it takes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My guess was correct, and I finally reached the hunting department. I saw the glass, semi-circular display counter where they kept firearms. It still seemed so far away, like viewing a mirage from across a desert. I did not have enough time to stop or even to look and see if there was anything left. I decided to make a loop around the closest aisle. Keeping my speed as much as I could through the turn as I passed through the sporting goods section. I took a tight turn and started to make my way back to the display case. As I made my one-hundred and eighty degree turn, I heard a crashing behind me. My attacker probably lost control trying to take the turn at full speed. I imagined an indycar taking a turn too fast and slamming into a wall. Although, this time it would not burst into flames, the driver would just slam the gas pedal and keep going. However, I remember remaining pleased as that should buy me time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I refocused on my goal. I sprinted to the display case and attempted a lunge over it. I landed on top, and my body weight cracked the glass on impact. I slid off into the area between, slamming violently shoulder first on the floor. My body was in no regard for injury at the moment. Rolling onto my side and then a knee, I punched my fist into the case reaching for first gun I saw. I was not only happy to find one but to grab ahold of it before I heard my predator approaching again. I darted out through the opening between the counter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Again, I began to make my loop around one of the aisles bordering between the hunting department and sporting goods section. Once more, the monster took the turn too fast, and I gained some distance. Through my current lap I was able to identify that the weapon I was wielding looked to be a 9mm. When I approached the counter again, I only had time to see where the ammunition was kept.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Darting around the aisle for the third time I decided to make another daring feat for I was beginning to tire. I grabbed a baseball bat with my right hand and turned around in such a way to swing straight through the head of my pursuer. I connected with full force and the monster changed direction as it plummeted into the shelving, knocking various soccer balls, volleyballs, and basketballs all over. I fell on my back a slid a bit, watching the spectacle. Due to the fall, I had dropped my gun. Without hesitation, I jumped to my feet and made my way back toward the display case.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This time I was able to grab a box of ammo that seemed fit for my newly acquired handgun. This is when I realized that I helped slow down the monster, and it was able to make the turn faster than it had before, thus allowing it to accelerate out of it faster. I started my fourth lap around the aisle while trying to locate the weapon that I haphazardly dropped. After spotting it, I made a headfirst baseball slide; I grabbed the gun and jumped to my feet. I started running again. Only this time I had ran toward my attacker, evading with a quick side-step around it and darting straight through to the automotive department. The monster had to turn around, and this would buy me some more time to try to load the gun with ammunition. I was dropping most of the bullets on the floor, but I managed to load three or four. I slammed the magazine into the gun, stopped and turned around. At this point the monster was about twenty-five or so paces away from me. I grasped the gun with both hands and raised it to shoulder level in front of me. I gazed down the barrel with definitive accuracy and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I pulled it again. I pressed the safety and tried again, nothing. The monster was almost at ten paces. I closed my eyes and I pulled the trigger again, again and again. Then I heard a deafening sound. My ears were ringing and the corpse was lying at my feet with a puddle of blood forming around its head. I finally had a moment to breathe. The moment struck me with a feeling of relief. Then I heard a voice behind me simply state, ‘you forgot to pull the slide.’</span></b>RG Jenkinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02714238395634208663noreply@blogger.com