Shadows

Shadows





         I stared out the foggy window of my hotel room, the moon a large crescent. Why was I here? I couldn’t exactly remember, all I knew is this is the place I needed to be. I knew I was looking for someone, I’m not sure who but I know I need to find them. I seem to barely remember my name…all I can recall is John, no surname.

         Memories. No memories of anything but pure, perverse violence, blood and bone. All I can see is images of a dead infant and a dead woman, the mother, both drenched in buckets of crimson, bullet holes between the eyes. Gun wounds to the chest as well, so much red it would give people headaches. I see other people dying; all races and genders, just death. With all these gruesome pictures in my brain’s theatre, I almost missed the phone call. That white, secretary-looking phone all hotel rooms have. I slowly lifted the ear piece off the base.

         “Hello?” I whispered. The line was silent for a second then I heard a female voice, “Honey, I need you to unlock the motel room door, I misplaced my key.”

         Honey? I had no idea who I was speaking too, I only complied. My brain said both ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ I put the ear piece down and went to unlock the door. Click. In walked a gorgeous young woman. Black hair, curvy build.

         “Morning dear,” she kissed my cheek

         I had no idea of what was happening. Some woman walks into a motel room, of which I had no idea why or even why I was in a motel room.

         “Why am I here?”

The girl seemed to be taken aback by my question.

         “Oh. Well um, haha, this is weird. I think you need a drink then we’ll talk.”

         I was skeptical, those red flags in your mind that go up when you have a gut feeling about something, yeah, mine was practically standing at a military type ‘attention.’ The words killers and drugged shouted in my mind. Momentarily I said, “No. no drink.”

         The woman walked back with a quizzical look, “What?”

         “I’m not thirsty, I don’t want a drink.”

         I stood up, I was much taller than her. She gave me a look similar to the kind a mother gives to her child when he doesn’t listen.

         “Come on now, Antonio, have a drink. It’ll loosen you up.”

         Antonio? What the hell is going on? That isn’t my name. This isn’t right, none of this. I began to feel anxious and a slight tickle of fear crawls up my spine. She tries to sit me down but I resist.

         “If my name is Antonio then how come I can’t remember it? How come I only remember ‘John’?”

         My “friend” developed a small look of shock, with a twist of displeasure. I breathed heard, my heart beats slowly increasing. I attempted to move past her, I needed to get outside. She tried to block my escape, with anger rising in her voice she hissed, “Trust me handsome, you don’t want to do that.”

         I grunted and tried to shove past her, I was a few feet from the door to freedom until I heard that distinct sound, click. Gun. I turned around and saw a compact, black Glock 18 pointed straight at my face. A lump formed in the back of my throat and a massive wave of terror struck me like a bucket of water. A smirk on the harpie’s face told me I didn’t know what I was messing with.

         “Now, you’re going to sit on the bed like a good little dog and not make a sound. I need to make a phone call.”

         I sat, feeling greats amount of fear and anger, I needed to get my hands on that gun and get out. The only thing that prevented me from trampling that little whore was the handgun. I didn’t even know where I was or even which state I was in (Hell, even what country I was in.) I heard a call being made on a cell phone, Adrenaline racing through my body, my nerves were being dragged across barbed wire.

         “Yeah, it’s me,” She said into the phone, “He’s starting to snap back into it, I need you to get here ASAP.”

         She lowered her fire arm, taking a momentary break. I pounced, without hesitation or mercy. Those images of dead women and children poisoned my brain, fueling my deadly football tackle and sent the woman flying into a wall. The Glock went flying into the kitchen, with my adversary laying on the floor in a daze, I scrambled to grab the handgun. I marched over to her, still spread onto the floor.

         “Get up, slowly and steadily.”

She moved sluggishly, the fear was broadly posted on her face. The gun felt cool, it felt as if it was a part of my body; an extension of my arm, gunpowder for blood, steel for bone.

         I heard a car roll up, a smirk appeared on the bitch’s face. A car door slammed, I quickly grabbed the woman and forced her into a choke hold, the barrel of the gun grazing the flesh of her temple. In walked a tall, dark skinned man. He seemed to be quite calm for a man who walked in on a woman who was about to have her brains splattered all over the wall.

         The man stared for a second then said in an annoyed tone, ‘Damn it Antoinette, how could you let yourself get stuck?”

         Antoinette tired to choke out an answer but I tightened my grip, the redness of her face quickly spreading.

         “I don’t even know who you are, or even who I am for that matter. What is this?! Who are you people?!”

         The Tall Man scoffed a bit, part of him seemed perplexed while the other part seemed to be laughing its ass off.

         “Heh…you’re starting to remember? Well shit…I guess it’s a bad day for you.”

         “What do you mean? What do you know about me? I won’t hesitate to put a fucking bullet in each of your skulls!”

         The fear and anger pulsating through my body, my finger rests on the trigger. The Tall Man smiles with an evil grin, “you getting’ memories? Gruesome images of a wasted broad and her dead kid? Pictures of groups of stiffs? Man…those fucking drugs were supposed to be stronger…”

         My breathing was heavy, all of the gruesome images expanded, I remember seeing myself kill those people, including the mother and the child. Antoinette and the Tall Man were there, they watched me murder all those people. When I pulled the trigger to execute the mother and child, I remember seeing a gold flash…a wedding ring.

         “The ring…”

         “Yeah…you did our work for us. The drugs and my witty ideas…you killed for us.”

         Tears well up, anger pounding the ceiling of my brain. The last thing I heard before firing that gun, “John! No!”

         Nothing. I have nothing anymore, only this gun. Before the man was able to pull out his Uzi, I fired a round into his arm, then the kneecap, then one in the right side of his chest. Blood spurted and cartilage leaked out. Antoinette screamed but a bullet silenced that, brain matter and blood splattering on me. Killing didn’t phase me, the blood didn’t cause a gag. I died as soon as I pulled the trigger.

         Twitching and crawling on the floor, my tall friend was bleeding to death. I shot him a fourth time, the bullet ripped through his stomach. A pool of blood was forming around his body. I looked him in the eye, blank and cold, with anger in my voice, “The killing stops when all the killers are gone.”

         The last thing this dying man saw before his soul ventured to Hell was me placing the barrel of the gun into my mouth…





                                                 The End