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.
Prologue
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.
I
- 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
Address: ____________
Insurance
No.: ____________
Phone:
_______________
DOB:
__/__/____
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.
-2-
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.”
-3-
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.
-4-
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment