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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #1928956
Entry for Tangent Universe contest


Archie!” screamed Mr. Tanner. “Get in here, now!”



I sighed. “Here we go again,” I thought. I work nights restocking shelves at one of the big box stores in town. Mr. Tanner is the afternoon manager. He loves to make sure I know he’s in charge, even when he’s not here to, as he puts it, ‘watch over me.’



I knock on the door to his glass encased office.



“You wanted to see me, sir?” I ask meekly. If I don’t argue or disagree with him, maybe he’ll just yell and let me get back to work.



“Those end caps that I told you to build yesterday were terrible. Not at all what I wanted or up to this stores standards! You’re lucky to still have a job here, Archie.”



“Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”



“You’re damn right it won’t! I’m keeping my eye on you, son! Remember, every time you screw up, it looks bad on the company, which in turn looks bad on me! Now, I have some new displays that I want you to work on tonight, after you’re done stocking. Make sure you get it all done. Its only three displays, so you should have no problems.”



I grimace inside. I rarely have any extra time to spare just from stocking. Three displays to build means no break, no lunch, and running the entire time. I look at the floor.



“I won’t disappoint you, Mr. Tanner.”



“See that you don’t, Archie. Now get out of my sight and go do some work.”



I gladly leave his office. He hunches over some trivial paperwork or something for the next hour. Then, thankfully, he leaves. The rest of the overnight employees stumble in slowly. I know all the faces. I have been working here for five years now.



She walks in and my breath catches. The long, curly red hair framing a round face, deep green eyes, and full, pouty lips. My memory flashes back to the huge fire that burned most of Chicago. I can see the same face pressed against a third story window, screaming in pain. I shake my head and come back to the present. “Abigail” I whisper

.

“Hi, my name is Archie, Archie Crumb. This your first night?” I ask feeling foolish for even asking.



“Yeah,” she says with a smile that melts my heart. “I’m Cheryl. Nice to meet you.”



“You too. Let me show where you can get an apron and we can get started.”



“Thanks, all this is a little overwhelming, and what’s the deal with Mr. Tanner? He always that nice to you?”



“Yeah. He’s pretty much a huge dick anytime he can be. I’m used to it, so don’t sweat it.”



“Wow. I’m sorry he’s so terrible to you,” she says with a shy smile as she pulls a stray hair behind her ear.



That look kills me. I know she’ll never be able to love me. The skeletons in my closet are the mother of all skeletons. No way would she understand.



The night passes quickly. Cheryl catches on quickly and is able to help me with the new displays. Our shift ends, and we walk out together, enjoying the easy back and forth banter. It feels like we’ve known each other for ages.



“Walk me home?” She asks. “I’m just a few blocks away, but I hate walking alone in the dark.”



“Sure.” I reply. I have time. There’s still at least an hour before dawn.



We walk at a leisurely pace down the sidewalk, sharing small talk and every now and then slipping in a little but important detail about us or our lives. I am elated and sad at the same time. Abigail, my lost love, has come back to me… but she has not, not really. It’s a little difficult to keep the two separate in my mind.



We’re engulfed in conversation. I don’t even hear the others until the leader speaks.



“Well, well, well. What have we here?” The sarcasm and disdain are very apparent in his voice. He is at least six feet tall, much taller than my five foot six. He looks like a linebacker from the NFL. Broad shoulders stretch his dark t-shirt across his well-muscled chest. He is wearing a leather motorcycle jacket like all the tough guys in the movies from the 50’s. There are six others with him. They’ve oozed out of the alley we were passing like a malevolent stream. They’re all wearing the same leather jacket and heavy motorcycle boots.



“Look,” I say, “we don’t want any trouble. We’re just heading home after a long night of work. I’ll gladly give you my cash. Just let us leave, okay?”



Leader guy lets out a low laugh. He knows we’re no threat to him and his gang. “What are you going to do about it, nerd? I haven’t seen red curly hair like that since I was a kid watching Bozo the clown! What do you weigh? I’m guessing about 95 pounds soaking wet? My grandma could kick your ass. You have no business with a babe like this.” He turns to Cheryl, “How about it baby? You want to hang out with some real men?”



Cheryl lifts her chin and stares daggers right back at him. “I think I’ll stay where I am, thanks. I have no desire to hang out with the T-Birds. I mean really, what kind of look is this? Are the Pink Ladies waiting for you at the malt shop? Do you have a big scary switch-comb in your pocket? No wait, I know you all are gonna give us a new rendition of Greased Lightning that we have never seen before? I’m all ready for it, slick.”



I watch as ‘slick’ gets angrier and angrier. I can see his face flushing and feel the heat from his skin. He’s nearly vibrating and the anger and malice is dripping from every word.



“You better watch what you say, lady. I have no problem hurting you just for some extra fun.”



It is hard to control myself. I can smell the anger from the gang, the fear from Cheryl; hear the blood pumping in the arteries of those close to me. I close my eyes to try and maintain control. I don’t want Cheryl to witness the beast.



‘Slick’ steps close to Cheryl, she doesn’t back down at all. In what seems like slow motion he raises his fist and punches her in the front of the head. Her head snaps back and she hits the ground hard.

“Not so tough are you now!” screams ‘slick’.



I feel my control slip. My fangs snap down with a soft “snick.” My body tenses. I rush ‘slick,’ hit him in the side and carry him into the alley. I go for his neck as we go down. I dig deep with my fangs, bite down hard, and yank my head back. I tear half of his neck out. Arterial blood is pumping high in the air painting the wall and cement crimson.



‘Slick’ is shaking and making some gurgling noises. He’s of no concern to me anymore. I roll off of him and charge into the rest of the gang. I pull one to me, catching his arm as he throws a lazy punch at me. I keep his momentum going and throw him into another. They both go down dazed. I turn in time to see number three going for a gun in his waistband. I’m on him lightning fast, wasting no time; simply break his neck with a twist of my hands. The rest begin to run down the alley away from me. I pick a piece of pipe up off of the ground and throw it as hard as I can. It hits number four in the back of the head and splatters brain matter and bloody gore over his friends.



I run down the alley, easily catching the last two before they’re out into the street. I plunge my fangs deep into the carotid artery of one while pulling the other to the ground, kicking him in the head and knocking him out. I drain them both dry. It’s been too long since I’ve last fed and I relish the warm, metallic blood.



When I’ve finished, I drop them where I stand. There’s no point in trying to hide the bodies. There has been too much noise. I run back and pick up the still unconscious Cheryl. I run as fast as I can to the apartment complex that she said she lived in. I set her gently on the floor and ring a door bell of the closest apartment. When I hear movement, I gather my power and transform.



My wings beat hard against the air currents, lifting me up and away from the apartments. I hear a gasp from below me and know that Cheryl will get the medical attention she needs. I turn and fly towards my loft a few blocks away. I’m glad that I’ve left a window open. I guess my secret is out; no way people won’t put this together. It’s time to move on again. It’s been a nice run, but as least I don’t have to see Mr. Tanner anymore. Maybe I’ll visit him tonight, before leaving town.

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