This is the first story I ever wrote, it is in seven parts, written during some crazy days back at IU.
It isn't very well written, but I still like the story
Apologies to Tears for Fears for ripping off the title. It just fit too well.
All I could think about was the SEARING pain surging from my shoulder and through my body as I fly face down onto the pavement. I couldn’t feel the pool of hot blood suffusing on the cold street. I couldn’t think about why my partner would sell me out. I couldn’t feel the cut on my head from when I hit the ground. I couldn’t worry about them killing Alexandra. BOOM Then a second bullet hit my back like a sledgehammer and everything went black. No sound, just a voice in my head. Time to die, Adam. Don’t want to keep the Devil waiting.
- 1 -
My eyes open wide and I jolt upright. I’m still alive and I’m in a hospital bed. Hell wouldn’t look like a hospital. I take a look around. Where are the cops? They must be curious about who put a bullet in my… wait, no pain… I feel my chest and stomach. Scars. How long have I been here? I start looking for a calendar. There isn’t one, so I lean forward and grab the chart from the front of my bed.
Date admitted: 01/19/2009
Name: John Doe
Insurance No.: ____________
So they don’t know who I am. I wonder if anyone knows I’m missing. Anyone who would have reported me is either dead or tried to kill me. With friends like these. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter either way. They should have finished the job, because NOW they’re ALL going to DIE.
“01/20/2009: Patient was admitted for multiple gunshot wounds to the torso. He was suffering severe internal bleeding of the stomach and kidneys and heavy external blood loss…”
Blah blah blah… How long have I been here, goddamnit!!! I flip the pages to get to the end. There were a lot of pages. Finally I get to the last one and read the last vitals report. August 26th. Seven months. Seven motherfucking months I’ve been in a coma. They all think I’m dead. Surprise, surprise, motherfuckers.
I pull the IV out of my arm, pull the catheter out (this might have been as bad as getting shot), and rip off all of the electrodes they have me hooked up to. It’s four in the morning. Graveyard shift. Perfect. I sway a little as I climb out of bed. There was another empty bed in the room. I peek my head out and see that the hallway is empty. It must be my lucky day. I pop out into the hallway. Nobody is around so I walk one direction. I find a fire-escape plan and study it. To the left, at the end of the hallway, down the stairs to the ground floor, through the side parking lot and onto freedom.
I make it to the parking lot with no trouble. Now, to get out of here and get out of this fucking gown. It’s a warm, quiet night but the breeze is blowing the hospital gown all over the place. I sneak around the corner to the side near the entrance. Two cars are in the patient lot for the ER. I sneak up to one of them, a red Mustang. Locked. I try the big black Navigator next to it. Jackpot. I climb in the back and look around. No keys, no wallet. SHIT. I look into the window for the waiting room and see two guys in there. Both dressed pretty well. I sit quietly behind the seat for at least an hour, then I see them shake hands and one of them heads toward the exit. Get in this one, you bastard, get in this one.
He passes the Mustang and goes toward the driver’s side of the Navigator. I duck behind the seat. He gets in and starts the car, and puts on some god-awful hip-hop music. The car starts backing out, Thanks for the ride. Get me the fuck out of here.
The drive doesn’t last long and he pulls into a parking lot. I have no idea where, but at least I’m not in the hospital anymore. He puts the car in park and turns the keys to shut off the engine. That’s when I spring up behind him and wrap my arm around his neck, cutting off the blood circulation to his head with my bicep and forearm. He has a look of absolute shock as he struggles hard, but a moment later he is slumped down on the seat, limp and unconscious. I keep the hold for an extra second or two to make sure he stays out.
“Wrong place, wrong time, buddy.” I say to him as I hop up to the front and start taking his clothes off, “Nothing personal.”
His clothes are a little baggy but I make them work. At least the shoes are my size. I get out of the car and take off. I’m about three blocks away before I realize where I am. It’s a Frat house, only a few blocks to downtown. Perfect. I slow my pace and pull the wallet out of the back pocket of my newly acquired blue jeans. Travis Candler is the name on the license. Inside I find a credit card, two pieces of paper with girls’ names and phone numbers written on them, a blockbuster card, and $183.00 cash. This I can deal with. I head toward the 24-hour waffle house and Travis treats me to a Denver Omelet with coffee, OJ and a big side of bacon. I grab a newspaper and read the headlines. Today, apparently is the first day of Student Welcome Week at the University. No classes and a week of wild partying. College students drinking all night. Perfect if you want to make someone disappear.
After breakfast I head toward campus. It’s after seven now. The sun is up, and the buses are running. I take a bus over to the mall and go into the sporting goods store. I make a bee-line to the hunting section and scan the knives. All I can think about is how I would do it with each knife. I pick out a small lockblade knife and a big hunting knife. I grab the pocket cases and head toward the counter. Down to $100.
I buy a black hooded sweatshirt, black skull cap, black sweatpants, black gloves and a cheap black gym-bag before I leave the mall. It felt strange. I didn’t really think about what I was doing. I just kept moving. I hardly even thought about what I needed. It was like I had been planning this for the entire seven months. Then I walk a few blocks to the hardware store. I buy a swiss army knife with a lockpick and a pair of sunglasses. I throw everything inside the backpack. $10.00 left.
Back on campus, I head to one of the dorms and walk through to the bathroom. I duck into one of the stalls and pull the knives out. I stick the lockblade in my shoe. The hunting knife I leave in the bag. Then I cross the street and buy coffee, a bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. And I’m down to $0.23.
I step back to the dorm, sit down at a picnic table and light one up. It is excellent, relaxing my whole body in the first drag. I sip on the coffee. It wakes my mind up and thoughts come flooding into my head. I close my eyes and think hard for the first time in seven months. She must be dead. If they killed me, she would have made them take her out. She would have been after them like I am. I could feel a pit forming in my stomach as I realized I would never see my fiancée again. We’ve lived together ever since we graduated. We should have been married that June. Sami. You mother-fucker. Best-man my ass. The sad thing was it didn’t surprise me. Sami was a good liar with a sociopath’s conscience. That’s what made him so good at scams and that’s why he was my partner. So I find Sami. Sami sold me out and he’ll tell me exactly who it was he sold me out to. I can always tell when Sami is lying. Almost always, can’t forget the time he had me killed.