Revolver

Revolver
         “….Fuck?!” Caince uttered dumbfounded as he was thrust forward through the door, which abruptly shut with a creaky CLANK! All at once Caince’s vision began to blur and a flush of vibrant dots rushed past his mind, blinding him. The boy’s legs buckled and he tumbled to the floor as his ears echoed with an overwhelming incoherent babble of voices similar to the way adults used to speak in the old Peanuts cartoons. “WAW WA WAW WA, WAW WA WA WAW.” Then darkness.
         Caince awoke from the blackout sprawled on the cold, hard basement concrete. Bewildered and frightened, having no immediate recollection of what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet. The blood rushing back to his brain was nauseating. He leaned over and spewed a small amount of foamy phlegm and digestive acids from his empty stomach. Wiping his mouth on the bottom of his red shirt, the boy started gazing around at the dark musty smelling dwelling. There was nothing in sight except the closed heavy metallic door, by which he had so obviously entered. Another series of throbbing pulses radiated across his temples, this time so unbearable, he dropped down to his knees. “AGGHHHH GOD, IT’S CRUSHING MY BRAIN!!” expelled from his vocal chords in a blood curdling fashion.
         A moment or two passed and the migraine subsided. Heaving deeply, Caince grasped the sides of his enormous melon of a head and tried to make sense out of his current situation. Slowly but surely, his memory began to rekindle like an improperly extinguished campfire. Now sitting Indian style on the uncomfortable basement floor, he recalled the morning’s events and how he had come to be in this desolate room.
         The day had come into play with a usual “Caince” routine. He fumbled out of bed, already dressed, lurched towards the bathroom and did his business. When he was finished in the lavatory, he drudgingly descended the cluttered stair case. At the fourth step from the bottom, Caince tripped over a discarded beer bottle and flailed face first the rest of the way down, halting on the sordid living room carpet.
         “God Dammit!” he fumed.
         “Boy, if you don’t shut the fuck up, Ima shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll sneeze!!”
         Caince’s father rolled over on the sofa where he had passed out only an hour and a half earlier in a most inebriated state, tipping the opened pint of Captain Morgan tucked up next to his genitals.
         “Cock Suckers.” The man muttered, then fell back asleep.
         Caince raised a defensive fist towards his unconscious father, then retracted it realizing the act would be helpless and hopeless. He drew in a deep breath as a lonely tear trickled down his left cheek. He wiped the droplet away then peered at his father for another few seconds, shaking his head as we walked towards the kitchen as quietly as possible. For the second time this week, his mother was nowhere to be found, only a clinging remnant of her was tacked to the fridge. The note read, Lawn needs to be mowed. A lonely sigh crept out of the boy and he exited the house through the back door next to the refrigerator.
         The bus ride to school was short and silent. The blonde haired adolescent strolled into the junior high building after arriving at the school in the handicapped accessible yellow bus. This never made any sense to Caince as his route transported the most children, yet they where designated with the “short” bus. There wasn’t even any physically challenged individuals that rode this particular vehicle to school. Nevertheless, Caince headed straight for his eighth grade homeroom class on the first floor of the institution. As he entered, he saw his friend Gerald seated in the back row. Caince went over and claimed the desk on Gerald’s left, grimacing as he did so.
         “What’s your problem?” Gerald inquired.
         “Fuck you.” Caince proposed.
         “That’s not what you were saying last night when my dick was in your mouth.”
         “Shut up fag!” Caince snapped. “It’s my fucking parents again. Chuck’s drunk as shit and I don’t even know where Diane is, but get this, the bitch left me a note telling to mow the lawn. I swear to God that’s the only way she can tell if I even come home. Chores don’t get done, then she comes looking for me and shits small planets incapable of sustaining life. Fuck.”
         “Yeah. So, shit. I don’t know man. Did you hear about that guy over on Cadence AVE?” Gerald steers from his friend’s woes. “My brother was telling me about it earlier. I guess this dude was some kind of scientist at the university, maybe a fucking physicist or some shit, but I guess he brought this whacked out experiment before the board of approval and they called him a nut and canned his ass. But he’d been locked in his place for like two months working on it. Then some people from the university were looking for him and they brought the police with them. Now his house is all boarded up and they got the yellow tape wrapped around the bitch.”
         “So, why the fuck should I care about that?” Caince protested.
         “Because you asshole, do you have any idea how much some science equipment and shit could be worth at a pawn shop? Or what if he’s got some crazy chemicals that we can eat and trip goat balls!”  said Gerald.
         Caince pondered the idea briefly then bolted upright from his seat.
         “Fuck it, let’s go now!” he said
         “Can’t skip again. Truant Officer’s bout to put me in the J.D.C. see if I miss another day.”
         “Damn dawg, you smell that? Smells like a pussy to me! I’m out. Peace.”
         “Wait, stop, No.” Gerald lethargically precluded, imitating Gene Wilder from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory.
         With that being said, Caince slipped down the aisle and out the door before his teacher arrived. He pushed through the school exit and moved stealthily so as not to be seen ditching by a school official.
         The walk to Cadence avenue was a more blissful trip than the bus ride to school even though Caince had to trek through the woods as to not be seen by patrolling officers looking for perpetrators.
         In about twenty minutes he was making his way across the backyard of the abandoned house after protruding from the trees. The house was a luxurious two story work of art. The top story came to a conical point that made the roof resemble a steeple. As Gerald had informed him, the domicile of Dr. Quackenstein, (as Caince had labeled the owner on the jaunt over) was wrapped around several times with the yellow “caution police line: do not cross” tape synonymous with scenes of criminal investigation.
         Caince scaled the chain link fence that encased the church like house and plopped on the back patio. Also as Gerald had promised, the windows and doors were laced with pieces of plywood to exemplify the fact that admittance to the home was futile.
         The boy approached a window and tugged at the piece of ply. To his surprise the nails came loose with the utmost ease. “Maybe somebody beat me to the punch,” he thought aloud.
         He reached to pull open the window and found it locked in place without so much as a budge. Caince inspected the patio deck for an “entrance” tool and decided on a metal folding chair resting next to the cornered picnic table. He picked up the chair and closed it to a flat, traveling position. He swung it at the window’s glass. The glass exploded in the hypnotizing chatter sound of which Caince had become so fond. He waited a moment to see if anyone was aware of what he had done, and when the deafness of the warm October morning continued, he gave a grinning smile of achievement for the feat he had just performed. If there was one thing his father taught him well, it was that a “B and E” should always be conducted during the daylight as most of  a neighborhood’s inhabitants are either working or at school.
         Caince cleared the large pieces of glass carefully then removed his wrinkled, dirty red shirt and placed it over the jutting shards still intact. He meticulously crawled through the crevice, making sure not to cut himself. When he was safely inside the kitchen of the house, Caince put his red shirt back on and started to wander around and explore the premises.
         The interior was an atrocious mess with books, papers, furniture, half eaten meals, and the like scattered all over the place. To the untrained eye, it would appear that a scuffle or some sort of foul play had occurred but Caince knew a slovenly lifestyle when he saw one. The scientist was clearly a man that cared not for cleanliness.
         The boy moved through the dining room which reeked of spoiled food and an unpleasant odor of masculine pheromones. As he meandered around, he approached a door marked “LAB.”
         “Strange.” Caince thought.
         He twisted the knob attached to the door and found it to turn. The door opened to a long flight of stairs leading to a basement. Caince descended the steps and was in an unfurnished, vacant area. He felt along the wall and rested his hand on a switch and flicked it. The room illuminated with a buzz of fluorescent lights. Directly across the stairs, at the other end of the room was another door. Caince dashed over and reached for its knob, hoping to find something of value on the other side. This handle would not turn.
         Caince retrieved a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and plucked out the plastic tooth pick. He jammed the pick into the keyhole and tinkered around with it until he felt the spring pallet that would pop the lock. There was a CLICK sound as Caince turned the knob and pressed the pallet with the pick. The door opened outward and with a heavy swing and to Caince’s amazement, the passageway was completely enveloped in a black goop that neither rushed in, nor rushed out. It stood with a complete conservation of motion, glistening under the light with no translucence.   
         Slightly startled Caince took a step backwards. He stared at the unidentifiable substance the doorway had been hiding. He swallowed the trepid lump that had developed in his throat, approached the abomination and erected his arm outward to touch the oily material that was standing at attention like a British Guard.
         The substance was cold and felt like very thick Jell-o. That was all Caince had time to deduce. “What the…,” As he touched the strange composition, his hand got stuck, and the mess started to draw him into it with a sucking sound.
         “Fuck!!!” Caince was violently spat out on the other side, a mirror image of the room he had just been extracted from with the exception that it lacked a staircase exit, the only way out, was the way he had come. The door slammed shut when Caince was hurled to the floor. A euphoric sense of déjà vu filled the boy, then his ears reverberated with WA WAW WA WAW WA WA WA WAW. A flutter of colorful lapse invaded the boy‘s consciousness. When the daze receded Caince found his mind blank. He could not remember who he was, where he was, how he had come to be here, or any other basic answer to a question of awareness. He lay on the basement floor as his head began to pound. The pain was immense. He vomited on the floor and cried out in anguish.
         When the excruciating pain diminished, his cognition started to return. He once more opened the door, and as he lay his hand on the goop engulfing the doorway, he was once more embroiled. “What the…,” As he was ejected through to the other side. The door slammed shut. The word Fuck ejected from Caince’s mouth. His head was filled with a brilliant exhibit of colors, WA WAW WA WAW WA WA WAW, then the wretched throbbing. The boy threw up and screamed in pain. Then, finally, blankness.
         His memory began to return and Caince stood up. He turned around in the empty cave and saw the only thing to be seen, the vile beast of a door. Placing his hand on the doorknob, Caince once more rotated the device and opened the door, exposing the non-flowing substance that swamped its space. Caince began to panic as he studied the black pudding of doom. He reached his hand out to touch the stuff, and as he felt the callous gel, he remembered everything that had happened. But it was too late. The abhorrent black resin like abomination consumed him once more.
         “What the….”