Diaz - The Gas Station

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.

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.

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.

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, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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, but not too short 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.

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.

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.

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.

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!’

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.

Adam - Ben's House (pt.3)

(Part 2)

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.’

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.’

‘I can’t leave you like this. Come with me. Come with us. You’re my baby, I’ll keep you safe.’

‘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.’

‘It’s not safe, Shauna. Things are getting crazy out there! You don’t know what’s going on.’

‘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.’

‘You think so? Do you really think so? Shauna...if you think it’s smart to send your childr--’

‘Momma! ...just go.’

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.

‘--that woman. God, she’s as stubborn as her father. I swear. I can’t belie--’

‘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.

‘She’s waiting for your father. She wants to make sure he’s safe.’

‘He’s not even my real father! He’s just some stupid guy.’

‘Shut up Marcus!’ The little boy chimed in. ‘My dad is not stupid! Mom’s gonna keep him safe. She said so.’

‘Mom’s gonna die.’

‘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?’

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.’

‘Oh lord.’ The lady reacts in a joyous and surprised manner while attempting to mask any excitement. ‘You’re alive!’

‘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?’

‘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...’

‘Just what?’ I anxiously await the response.

‘Things are, well, it’s just. You know, sometimes.’ She stumbles over her words. ‘My job is to help you.’

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?’

‘We had to make a detour.’ Her voice carries justification with it.

‘These kids...’ I wince as I try to find a breath strong enough to hold words. ‘They are more important than my life?’

‘Probably not to you.’

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?’

‘Of course! I am taking you to the hospital aren’t I?’

‘Then...why did you stop?’ I am finding it harder to breath.

‘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.’

I feel consciousness trickling out of my reach.

‘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.

(Part 4)

Freddy - Stolen Car (pt. 1)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I began to panic myself. It was not a panic that was on the same wavelength as my mother. It was more like a how was I supposed to get to work now 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.

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.

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.

Dave looked upset. ‘Hey Dave. What’s going on?’

‘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.

‘Is something wrong, man?’

‘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.

‘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.’

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.’

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?’

‘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.’

‘Who?’
‘That fuck, Toni. And his punk-ass friends.’

‘Who?’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

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.

‘Get in,” Dave demanded. I got inside.

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?’

‘What do you mean, Dave?’

‘Are you with me?’ He looked at me for confirmation. ‘You know if shit goes down, are you with me?’

‘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.’

‘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.

‘Yeah, man. I trust you. I trust that you won’t do anything stupid.’ I was the one looking for confirmation now.

‘Alright. Then you’re with me?’

‘Yeah...If you don’t do anything stupid.’ The dumbest thing I had ever said.

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?’

‘Sure Dave. That’s not a problem. Just don’t get us killed, yeah?’

‘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?’

‘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.

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?’

‘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.

‘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.’

‘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?

‘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.’

‘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.

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.

‘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.

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.’

‘You know, Dave, we should really get out of here.’ I pleaded. ‘This isn’t going well, we should cut our losses.’

‘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.

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.

Adam - Ben's House (pt. 1)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!'

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.

'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.'

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.

'I-I'm...' Where is my voice. Man up. 'I'm here.'

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.

'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.

'Do you need help?' I pause. 'I can call 911?'

'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.

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.

'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.   

'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.

'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?’

'You're...' She swallows. 'too...late. I told you.'

I scramble for my cell. 'Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?'

'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.'

'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.

'They'll get you too.' Holding her insides in her hands with a sudden calm she whispers, 'run.'

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.’

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.

‘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.

‘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.

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.

‘Look, man, I’m just trying to get to my car.’

‘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?’

‘What do you mean? One of who?’

‘Shut up!’ Why does he keep telling me to shut up?

‘You asked a question, I was jus--’

‘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.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘I don’t care what you want. You are not eatin’ me. You hear? I will shoot you dead. Dead!’

‘Please...’

‘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.

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.

‘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.

(Part 2)

Tommy - Room 229 (pt. 1)

There was a knock at the door. Then there was a bit more than a knock. 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.

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: Why am I awake? 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.

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.

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.

At this moment my roommate asked in a courageous but curious tone, 'What? What do you see?'

'…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.

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.

'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, Kyle is gonna slice that dude’s arm off. 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.

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.

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.

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.'

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.

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.

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.

Kyle complacently looked over to me and stated, 'It’s busy.'

'What? 911 is busy?'

'Yea.'

'How many times did you try?'

Kyle sighed. 'That was the third…'

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?'

'Why would that make a difference?'

I didn’t have an answer. '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.

Kyle stood up and started changing out of his bedclothes. 'What are you doing,' I asked.

'Goin’ out.'

I thought he was nuts. 'What is this? Are you in a contest with the dude outside to see who is the craziest?'

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.'

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-'

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.'

I sat on the bed and slowly fell backward to stare blankly at the ceiling. 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.

'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.'

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.'

'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.'

'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-”

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.

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.

- Continue Reading (part 2)