Dimensional Embrace part 2

Violently, my hand shakes; sweat beads down my face. This time it is not from the power of the gun, but from some power he possesses.
I can’t take any more of this inner turmoil. My body tenses as I pull back the trigger.
The hiss of the gun is heard. Like a shake vaulting to attack its foe. The gun again takes hold of the situation. Violently his body responds to the attack. With a quick jerk, he is thrown backward rolling over the desk behind him. Roughly, he hits the floor where death waits to take energy from his crumpled body.
I can’t take any more of this inner turmoil. My body tenses as I smoothly squeeze the trigger.
The hiss of the gun is heard
Like a snake vaulting to attack its foe, the gun again takes control of the situation. Violently, his body responds to the attack, the bullet’s venom taking horrific effect. He is thrown backward with a quick jerk rolling over the desk behind him. Roughly, he flops to the floor where death waits to take energy from his crumpled body.
My body spasms as the rush hits me. Never has such power claimed me. I feel unstoppable as the energy courses through my veins.
Instantly, my mind reels back to the dream from years ago. I never imagined by what the being said, that I could have this much power. I feel immortal.
Immortal… Can immortality be possible for a man?
It was then I blacked out.
It was then the dream turned into a nightmare.

“You’ve tasted blood many times my friend,” he spoke melodically. “But this time you tasted mine.”
Awareness pours into me, as I return to consciousness. But am I awake?
No. After three years, I have returned. Again the void, dark as pitch, surrounds me.
He smiles, flaunting his perfect teeth. The welcome sends a chill down my spine. His presence seems much changed since last we met. It appears we have both altered ourselves in the past couple of years.
He is still as powerful looking as ever, yet he seems weary. He has been trying hard to accomplish something without positive results. He straightens a little upon this speaking reunion seeming to give him a little satisfaction.
The authority in his voice still rings loud and clear though. “Power is fine, and seems harmless. But the power you touched was more than you could handle.”
Turning his back to me, he starts to walk away, “I’ve noticed how much you have enjoyed the rush, and thought you would get even a bigger thrill out of something a little more powerful than a mere pitiful creature.”
I want to walk to him, to stop him for an explanation of his confusing words. Unfortunately, that is not possible. Without a body, I cannot move. Again, I am but able to only watch the scene before me without action or words. The man holds a captive audience, as he acts out his role.
“Spilling blood gave you life. But spilling the blood of a holy man gave you two lives.”
I don’t understand. What is he talking about?
Reading my thoughts, he turns around to face me. Wisps of the black fog curl around him, slowly they take him from this place. Likewise his voice trails along with him. “In due time you will understand, my friend, all in due time.”

Light starts to overcome the darkness. Objects become focused, as my vision clears. A yawn escapes, as if I have just awaked from a long sleep. Looking around, the street is quiet. The daylight moves its way into a new morning, the rays of the sun hurt my eyes. Sitting in my car, realization strikes me. How could I have gotten here?
At first glance, I would have guessed that I fell asleep at the wheel. With the car already running, I wonder even more how I ended up in this predicament. The parsonage still sits undisturbed, only a short ways away. It doesn’t look any different than when I first gazed on it. It seems just as peaceful in the daytime as at night. A chill runs through me; I know something in there has changed.
Immediately my head pounds with a thousand more questions. How did I get to my car? Or, why did I blackout? Could I have dreamt all of the previous night?
As I reach for the wheel, the last question is answered for me. My gloves are replaced by the stain of blood. I stop and just stare at the sticky substance covering my bare hands.
Blood? Instinctively, I start to wipe the dark color on my pants. But like the rest of me, blood had already covered them.
My mouth gapes, as all I can do is stare at my hands. Each wrinkle is highlighted; their sharp creases are filled with dried blood. This contrasted with the loss of blood in them; the paleness mingles with each crusty layer of death.
How could all of this be possible? This whole thing is getting weirder by the minute. I know better than to return to the house. I had better get out of here instead. The best thing I can think of doing is to get home, take a shower, and think this through.

Taking as many quiet back roads as possible, I quickly make my way home before too many people are heading for work. I scraped dark, brownish red crust off my watch, seeing that it was still early. As I pulled into my driveway, the birds were already singing of the morning.
I could still hear the automatic door closing behind me, as I rushed into the house.

I felt like Macbeth from Shakespeare, as I tried washing the blood off me. I would definitely burn my clothes, which already lay in the garbage. I shampooed my hair three times before finally getting the crusty feeling out of it. My arms were sore, feeling like I did a million push ups, and my throat felt like I had just been to a loud music concert.
Upon leaving the shower, I stopped in front of the mirror. It is hard to believe I am the same man I was when I graduated from high school five years ago. I look as if I’m twenty-three going on forty. I looked extremely exhausted, as if I’ve lived life twice already.
Luckily, my bangs in front hang over my weary eyes, hiding their brown from view; the bloodshot red doesn’t seem to be an attractive trait. The sides of my dark brown hair are cropped short above the ears. Normally, they blend nicely with the back, but drying with a towel just brought on a jumbled mess.
The wet mass of snarls drapes halfway down my back, letting cold droplets of water prod me to stay awake. Slowly, the trickles lick my back, until they are consumed by the soft white towel around my waist.
My chest muscles are starting to form well. It is good to see all the time I spend at the gym is accomplishing some positive results. I can’t say I am truly proud of the few wisps of gray that fleck my pectoral area. I guess I’ll keep blaming it on the fact I don’t drink beer. I see having a clear brain as more important than chest hairs.
I consider shaving, but decide against it. I’ll sit here in my apartment for a few days to lay low, so no one will see me anyway. It’s one of Steel’s rules that I can see a lot of sense in; therefore I follow it.
Shaking my head back and forth quickly snaps some of the excess from my hair. With many splashes of water blotching the mirror, my image becomes a warped image of reality. With a snicker, I leave the bathroom.
My blood soaked clothes can wait until later, I decide; as my nicely made bed becomes an unavoidable prize. Exhaustion has quickly consumed my body, while it also reminds me of the gentle warmth the blankets will give me.
Climbing under the covers, my mind decides to struggle against my weariness. Quickly, my thoughts twist together like a roller coaster.
Why was this job so different than the rest? I’ve killed many times before, and never has anything gone wrong. I still can’t even remember what happened after I pulled the trigger. What a drastic difference this time was to the first kill. A vision slowly drifts back to me of the first night; it was almost as if it happened yesterday. Every thought is clear as a bell.

They gave me an easy job to start out with. The guy was in his fifties, and he owed Steel a large amount of money for gambling loans. All I had to do was follow him into an alley, and blow him away. They knew he would go home this way, following his daily routine.
He had already lived a full life, I reasoned, so it wouldn’t really be that bad of an act. In a way, I would just be putting him out of his misery. With my newly given weapon in hand, I nonchalantly entered the alley about ten feet behind him.
The alley was extremely dark, one that parents warned their children not to travel through. Trash littered it; the Dumpster at the other end seemed hardly used.
I called out to the old man, surprising him that an absolute stranger knew his name. As he spun around to face me, fear instantly crossed his face. Realization marked his last expression of life. I could see each wrinkle in his face tighten, as he anticipated the impact.
A momentary shock hit me, as blood exploded from his chest. I watched as a trail of red drew his path to the ground, slowly falling to the ground after him. A feeling of energy took control of me, one I had never experienced before. It felt so good that my soul begged for more.
One shot after another, I fire at the fallen body. Like a child with a handful of candy, I craved each barrage. I could not get enough to satisfy my hunger. Even experimenting with drugs in my teenage years never gave me such a high. That first night drove me insane, I had to get more. Continuing this lifestyle was the only way to get it.

The abrupt ringing of the telephone snapped me from my thoughts. Each shrill call edged me closer to reality, and the unsolved mysteries I had to face flooded over past memories. Getting up, I halted the rude awakening, and then gave the usual, “hello.”
A voice talked with little emotion, “fifteen minutes.” Then the line went dead. I knew immediately who it was. Steel wanted to see me.
He never called this fast before. I always laid low for at least a week after a hit. Something must be important for him to call so soon.
One thing was for sure; when Steel called, I came a running. Everything would have to wait, all the questions had to be put off; left unanswered.
Quickly, I put on my pants and shoes, then grabbed a shirt and tie. I almost forgot my keys and wallet on the rush to the door.
Turning back to the door again, a weird feeling brushed over me. Somehow, I felt I should stay here. It was as if something was about to happen to make things even worse.

Within minutes, I was at his office. I tied my tie, and then met Pete at the door. He thought himself to be Steel’s second in command, but he’s merely another thug to me. I pretty much kept myself separate from the others, our reasons for this kind of employment very different. They were only in it for the money; that meant little to me.
Pete loved to flaunt his earnings, spending a lot on his attire. He tries to appear menacing, which highly contrasts his appearance.
He seems very short for his age, which I would guess to be about his early thirties. He is unusually skinny, which adds to his scrawny physique. His large nose almost points at you with conviction, as he scowls his pompous attitude.
I am used to his appearance, and ignore his expressions. I let him direct me, even though I know where I am going. Ushering me through the door, he follows close behind me.
Steel is sitting comfortably at his desk, looking straight at me as I enter; nothing is said.
Don and Louie sit on the front corners of his desk, looking like a couple of bookends. With Pete behind me, I feel like I am surrounded by the three stooges.
Not a movement is seen by the three of them, as I make my way to the hard oak desk. It is totally silent, so much so, that I can hear the breathing of Don and Louie on both sides of me panting in stereo. They are the only “decoration” on Steel’s desk, except for his telephone, and a few scattered papers.
Steel himself hasn’t changed much in the few short years I have known him. His shady black hair is greased back, and always perfectly groomed. His wardrobe puts Pete’s to shame, his impeccable taste for wealth showed in aspect of his presentation. His brown eyes stare holes through me as he stands, bringing him to the same height as me. Then, his expressionless face turns into a scowl matching that of the others.
“What do you think you are trying to pull Richard?” The name stings sharply; it was something I had always disliked my parents doing to me. I hated the name with a passion. I had pushed the abbreviated “Rick” allowing for the nickname to be my calling card.
Leaning closer, he wastes no time tearing into me. “You have never made a mistake before; and then you pull this stunt?”
“I got a call from my sources at the police station this morning,” he says picking up the receiver for added effect. “They couldn’t believe what they saw at the preacher’s house. Would you care to explain yourself?”
Bewilderment at this reaction to me made me stumble for words, “I have no idea what you are talking about, sir.”
“Don’t give me that crap! I ought to have you taken care of, but this time I’ll let you go. But…” He hesitates. “If I ever catch you pulling something so stupid and careless like that ever again, I’ll-“
Before he can finish, my hand around his throat cuts him off in mid-sentence. Quicker than I could even imagine myself doing what I did, my arm flashed into action. Anger flares in me, as I squeeze his Adam’s apple.
The others stare in amazement, their mouthpiece wide open. Don is the first to snap to life. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach for his gun.
Before he can place a finger on it, I spring to action. He stops instantly, the point of my gun rests against his temple. I haven’t seen it since the night before, so I have no idea where I produced it from. Blood oozes slowly from its soaked body. The once shiny silver weapon is now immersed in the wretched liquid of death.
With incredible strength, I pull Steel over the desk, and then continue his journey over my head. He lands in a heap on the floor, gasping for breath. Pete happened to be his landing pad, making him look less merry than his boss at the moment.
Backing out of the room, I keep my gun level, ready for any encounter. Once I make my way out of the doorway, I bolt for my car.
Fumbling for my keys to unlock my car, I chance a backward glance towards the office. They have already gained back their courage, and make their way out of the building. With much practiced aim, I fire, bringing Louie quickly to the ground. Not wanting to end up like his partner, Don dives back into the building. I figure he has had enough guns pointed at him for one day.
Quickly, and without trouble, I find the ignition. The vehicle responds nicely with a loud squeal of the tires, bringing a noisy leave of my employment with Arden Steel. After getting a great deal of distance away from them, I throw my gun in the seat next to me.
Where did I get it from?
My head pounds; my body screams for some rest. I know I can’t go home, that will be the first place they look. That means little sleep was coming in the near future. Quickly, I would have to ditch the car, find a place to hide, and figure out what to do. Steel doesn’t like to play games, and I pushed him to play this one.
What made me do what I did? It was insane to do what I did. Am I going insane? I can’t remember a whole night of my life, then I beat up my boss for no reason. What could possible happen next?
One thing was for sure. The killing is getting out of control. I do things on my own without choosing my actions with my mind. It is as if my body has a mind of its own. The power I lusted after in killing people is taking control of me somehow.
Turning down a side street, I see a beautiful woman in about her early twenties unlocking her station wagon. A horrible thought flashes in my mind. The gun lying next to me echoes the thought in mocking horror. Whether I want it to happen or not, one more death must occur. One more life must end by my hands.
There is no anticipation drawing the breath from me. Only necessity beckons me to do this task. The price must be paid. To again take control of my life, blood must be spilled. That has been my solution the past three years; the solution for my entire life. To have power, others must lose theirs.
Screeching to a halt, my car stops inches from her. Jumping out, my gun finds home, resting in my hand, waiting to kill again. I can already see deaths door opening as I break the tension in the air, “I need your car, madam.”
Squeezing the trigger, surprise strikes me again, as she still stands before me. My gun, not responding to my actions, screams for the blood it loves to spill.
Covering my surprise, I act like nothing happened. I don’t think she noticed that I pulled the trigger, therefore, I play the charade.
“Get over here,” I command, as I head to the trunk of my car. Inserting the key, it opens to reveal a suitcase. I grab hold of it switching it with my keys, and the object of this whole mess. I no longer felt compelled to carry my gun. Without a second glance, I close the trunk.
No one else is to die; this whole thing could be figured rationally. I just wished something made sense.
Pushing her aside, I head to her car. “I could have killed you if I wanted to. But, all I want is your car.”
Gentleness wipes away the horror on her face, she seems as though she already knows what is going on. “No, if you need help, I’ll help you. You let me keep my life, now let me help you with yours. I’ll take you wherever you need to go, then we can go our separate ways.”
Taking a closer look at her vehicle, I ponder the situation. The piece of junk in front of me clashes with the beautiful owner. Rust seems to be the only thing holding it together. I guess it would be the perfect camouflage against Steel and his men, at least until I could get out of the city. It wasn’t like me to run, but right now it was the best solution I could think of.
I don’t know how she knew I needed help, but she hit the nail right on the head. Besides, she had guts for such a little woman. Reaching out my hand, I made the strangest decision of my life.
“The name is Rick.”
Wondering if I shouldn’t have told the truth, I direct her to our poor excuse for an escape vehicle. I’ve already lost everything else I had today, what else did I have to lose?
“Louise, I think I’m glad to meet you,” she smirked. Not wanting to waste any more time, I nudge her towards her death trap of a car.
“We need to get out of town as soon as possible.”
Slowly pulling away, I watch my car gradually get smaller, wondering if we’d make it to the end of the street. I hoped this was the start of the end of all the disasters.
Holding the briefcase tightly to my chest, my eyes start to grow heavy. The soothing motion of the moving car, mixed with my exhaustion, cause me to nod off. Fatigue causes me to ignore the sputtering of the engine, and the situation I was in. The only thing that sounded good was sleep, and sleep was what I did. Comfortingly, it conquered me, as I allowed dreams to once again fill my mind.
“It felt good to have your fingers wrapped around Steel’s throat, didn’t it?” he posed. “It’s too bad you let him live. Well, you’ll get another chance; this is far from over.”
The warrior stands towering over me, grinning slyly. “Let me give you this warning,” his expression changes from one of pleasure to anger. “Get away from that wench. She’ll be the end of you. Trust no one but me, Rick. Together we shall succeed.”

Waking with a start, my heart pounds. Looking around dazily, I wonder where I am. As if reading my mind, Louise answers me, “we are out of the city. Boy, that must have been some dream you were having. You were tossing and turning the whole time.”
Yea, some dream, I thought. Was it really a dream? A voice in my head interrupts me with a whisper. “You have to go back and finish what you started. You must again take control of your life; you have the power to do so.”
Then, just as quickly, the voice fades.
Boy is my imagination running wild. Voices telling me what to do, dreams feeling real, and forgetting a whole night of my life. I’m wondering if sanity took a vacation.
Real dream or not, I have to go back. Running away isn’t going to solve any of this.
“Turn around. There’s some unfinished business I have to take care of in the city.”
Skidding off the road into a gas station, she shuts off the car. Looking me right in the eye, she states, “no farther. Not until I get some kind of an explanation. First, you wave a gun in my face, threatening to kill me unless I give you my car. Then, you want me to drive you for hours, listening to you while you sleep. And, to top it off, you expect me to just turn around and act like we were just going for a country ride?”
A few silent minutes pass, as I sit amazed at her boldness. Then, I open the briefcase on my lap. As I lift the lid, her breath gasps. Not from a weapon, but from the amount of money inside. I have always kept my payment handy in case of an emergency. Besides, putting it in a bank would be too obvious to the authorities.
Grabbing a couple of grand, I pass it in her direction. “Here, for your trouble. This is where we part.”
Pushing my hand back at me, she becomes angry, “I said I wanted an explanation. I didn’t do this for any money. Besides, that money reeks of filth. Probably drugs, or some other evil means.”
The use of the word “evil” strikes me funny, but I quickly brush it aside. My insides tell me to get rid of her, but something keeps me from it.
“Okay, but not here. I promise I’ll explain everything as soon as we get back to the city.”
This seems to subside her anger, while a sorry excuse for a gas station attendant finally comes to her window.
The expression ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ crosses my mind, as I head back to the recent troubles I have been trying to avoid. Other than that, my mind is blank as I watch the countryside slowly drift by. My mind relaxes, as I start to ponder what has transpired in the past twenty-four hours.
I can remember last night like it just happened seconds ago; that is until I pulled the trigger. What did I do when I blacked out? Or, did some of Steel’s thugs knock me unconscious and set me up?
That would make sense as to why the police called him so fast. Maybe he already knew what happened. But, why would he do that? I have never done anything to give him reason.
“What are you going to do when we get back?” she interrupts.
“Well, I thought first off I would have to find out what happened last night.”
She seems bewildered. “Last night? I don’t understand. Did it have anything to do with all of that money?”
“You were right, the money was earned by illegal means; but not drugs.” With much hesitation, I blurted, “I’m a hired hit man. I kill people for a living. That is, I used to. Something happened last night when I shot a preacher, that changed my life.”
“Dear God,” she whispered. “Forgive him, Lord.” A tear rolling down her cheek, as she whispered something else I couldn’t hear. I kept silent, until she asked me to continue.
“As soon as I pulled the trigger, I blacked out.” From that point, I confused her just as much as I was already confused. Trying to remember everything, I explained all I could up to the point we met, leaving out the dreams I have been having. I didn’t need her thinking I was totally loony. I also intentionally forgot to include the part about actually following through with trying to shoot her.
Again silence took over the scene. “Well, I do think the first thing we need to do is get something to eat.” She finally suggested.
“No, I think we need to go separate ways when we get to the city.”
Again, she puts me in my place by taking control of the conversation. “I’m the only one around to help you, and I do think you need help. Besides, I believe god brought us together for a reason.”
It was then that I noticed the cross around her neck. How ironic, I thought. Somehow killing the minister started this mess; and the only step I have to fixing everything, is with another religious person.
Why was I listening to this total stranger? She’s an innocent woman I was involving in a deadly game. At the moment, my stomach totally agreed with her. It had been a long time since I have had anything to eat.
The all too familiar buildings were rising before us, taunting me of the mission I was on. I missed the peacefulness of the country, and we weren’t even in the city yet.
Pulling up to a small diner, I started to get out of the car. As I started to open the door, a soft hand touched my shoulder. The feeling of a woman’s touch was not foreign to me. It was something I haven’t felt since Kristin.
“I think your appetite is effecting your brain, cowboy.” She said jokingly.
Turning back to her, I wait while she fumbles through her purse. After a lot of things get dumped onto the seat, she produces a rubber band.
“Here,” she says, handing it to me. “Put your hair in a pony tail, and lose the tie.”
I have to keep myself from gawking at her, as her slender young body reaches over the seat. Gracefully, she returns up front with a big, ugly green sweatshirt, and a Pittsburgh Steelers baseball cap.
“Put these on too. I realize they don’t match, but they could save your life.”
I feel like she just did a seat belt ad, as I do what she says.
She gets out of the car, as I unbutton my shirt. I’m almost offended, as I change my apparel, at least wishing she’d want to see my chest.
She tries to keep from outright laughing, as I step out of the car.
“Just don’t say any clown jokes,” I snap; irritation on my face.
“You’re a bit more muscular than I thought, “Bozo.” She says with a wink, leaving me debating if food was worth the humiliation. Well, at least she did look at me.
The diner was a bit more crowded than I expected it to be, all of the little tables cluttered with the usual city people just getting off work. That reminded me, “Did you have to work today?” I questioned.
Sitting down at a small table, she responded, “Yeah, but I guess this has been a lot more interesting than cashiering at “your friendly neighborhood grocery store.” Well, on a more cheerful note. At least we have money to eat. That is if you’re buying.”
“You’re just a real comedian” I smirked. “Actually I thought I’ just do a juggling act to entertain them for our meal.”
We both laugh enjoying a fun moment in this crazy day. I can’t remember the last time I laughed. It felt good to actually enjoy life.
It’s weird, even in a horrible time of life, I can actually be happy. I share my thoughts with Louise, as the waitress takes out order.
“I guess it wasn’t a bad idea to kidnap you after all,” I joke after the waitress is out of earshot.
“Who said it was you who kidnapped me?” She returns with a sly grin.
We both giggle, as we discuss what to do next.
“I think we need to get you some new clothes, those are too formal. You need to look relaxed if you are going to lay low.”
“I want a pair of jeans.” I state. “It’s been years since I wore any. I always had to dress like a mobster for Steel. Of course, that’s what I was, so I guess I fit the part.”
Our conversation was halted, as the waitress brought our burgers and fries. I made sure to order extras to take with us. After she walked away, we started to get to know each other more.
The beautiful stranger from hours ago transforms into a friend in no time. Her long blonde curls seem to flow freely, announcing to all around of the vision of loveliness they belong to. Her soft blue eyes suggest a gentle girl who lives in harmony with Mother Nature. Her tender lips remind me of…
Of a woman I once loved. Someone whom I try to forget everyday. Every time I close my eyes I see the passion we held together. But I threw it all away; she moved on. I don’t remember how we broke up; I’ve buried that successfully. But still, Kristin remains.
“I’m studying to be a social worker, but in the meantime I work… I mean worked as a cashier trying to make ends meet. I’m twenty-three, with a small, one bedroom apartment, and a piece of junk car, in case you didn’t know.
“If you call that making ends meet, then I’m doing okay. I’m leaving everything in God’s hands to provide for me. I guess that includes a husband too.”
Confused, I try to understand. “So, you expect God to pay your bills, and drop a man in your lap?”
“Well, not exactly.”
As she goes on a long explanation, my eyes gaze upon a man watching us intently from a couple of tables away. He looks down at his meal, when he realizes I’m watching him. He seems vaguely familiar, but then again, everyone in the city seems like someone you know.
Turning my attention back to Louise, I watch her hungrily take a bite out of her hamburger. Quickly, she chases it down with a swig of soda, helping to soften its descent sown her throat. I was so intent on the other man, that I didn’t hear her stop her explanation.
Annoyed at his intrusion, my thoughts quickly go back to him again. Glancing over, I see him reaching into his jacket. Instantly realization strikes me.
Bolting out of my chair, I push a passer-by into his direction; then I grab for Louise, bringing her eating frenzy to a quick halt.
Chancing a backward glance, I see the passer-by taking another dive as our foe pushes him again. Shoving Louise for the door, I explain the sudden rush.
“That man is an undercover cop. He’s also a crooked one working for Steel.”
Once we hit the street, I look for an escape route. My briefcase is locked in the car, which would take too long to get into. I spot an alley just down the sidewalk, and lead Louise in that direction.
As soon as we round the corner, I see that he’s not far behind. Grabbing Louise by the waist, I lift her into the air. Rather toughly, I throw her into a Dumpster, at the same time warning her to keep quiet. I wonder if the faint scent of “Liz Clayborn” will hold up against the lovely odor of “Ode to City Dumpster”.
Brushing her from my mind, I head for a door just ahead. I hesitate, making sure to bring his attention to me. Sure enough, he takes the bait, rushing to where he last saw me enter the old building.
All is dark inside, as I look for a means of self- defense. Only a few thin trails of light enter through the small cracks in the boarded windows. Apparently, this is some sort of abandoned building.
As my eyes adjust to my surroundings, I duck behind a couple of large boxes, hoping they will be good cover.
He enters the room, his gun ready for action. Slowly, he makes his way closer, looking for any indication of my whereabouts.
Dust catches my nose, making me want to sneeze. I try to hold it back, to keep from being spotted. My chest heaves, a sneeze approaches with every silent gasp. Then, just as quickly, the feeling subsides.
Relief washes over me, as anger takes over. My fists clench, as my body tenses for conflict. The work “power” crosses my lips, over and over, as if in a silent chant.
Fearlessly, and without control, I step from my hiding place. I grin, menacingly, as I walk slowly towards him. Too late, he warns me to freeze, already after I have hold of his wrist.
“Funny thing meeting you at the diner,” I smirk. “You shouldn’t eat there, you know. They say it is bad for your health.”
To bring my point home, I give his arm a quick thrust. With great force, his gun enters his stomach, bringing him to a gurgling demise.
Time drags by, as I sit amazed at what I’ve done. Even with all of the blood, I didn’t get even a single drop on me. Even more amazingly, I can’t understand how I keep losing control of myself. I couldn’t stop my actions, and another life pays the price.

Slowly, I rise and head to find Louise. The feeling of death stalks this place, more so than the death of the man I just killed. A musty decay fliers with my nostrils, causing me to breathe as often as my lungs will allow. The dark shadows remind me of sitting alone in my bed at night when I was a young boy. The feeling of monsters waiting for me, to consume my frail little body returns as if I returned to my childhood.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear their tiny voices called to each other now, making sure my presence is known among all.
Out of the corner of my eye, something moves. Spinning to meet whatever it is, the thought of the officer’s return to life crosses my mind. But only my fears remain before me, my imagination fools me once again.
Not wanting anymore of this place, I make my way back outdoors. The first thing I do is check the dumpster. Nothing but trash remains. Louise must have headed back to the car to meet me.
Looking back, I want to remember where I just was, so as to never return there again. Where the door was, stands a solid wall. Edging closer, I feel the need to touch the rough, cold brick. Its edges catch my hand, the reality of its touch tells me my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.
Did I dream all of this too?
“There you are,” Louise exclaims as she enters the alley. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ve been looking for you for hours.”
Hours? I was only in there about twenty-five minutes. Could I have actually lost track of time somehow?
“Let’s get out of here, before that cop shows back up,” she warns.
I stop myself from telling her my thoughts. She wouldn’t believe me, especially when I didn’t believe it myself!

We decide to go to her apartment, doubting that they knew her, or where she lived. I sat quietly on the way there, sorting out the day’s events. It didn’t seem like anything was making sense at all. We chanced running into a corner store, to grab a few groceries. I still had to get come food and rest.
As soon as we pulled up to her apartment, I regretted the idea of hiding there already. The shabby siding seemed to want to fall off; the peeling patched of dark green paint looked to be the only thing holding them on.

The steps to the front hall creaked as we walked up to the large oaken door. Peering into one of the little side windows that bordered the door, a small handing bulb illuminated the hallway to the rest of the apartments. The hall was practically bare except for a row of tenants’ mailboxes and a door on the opposite side of the hall. I didn’t ask Louise, but assumed that was where the landlord lived.
Entering, I took her grocery bags from her, allowing her to grab her mail. As she pawed through the few envelopes, it seemed to be the ever-popular bills, and other assorted non-wanted junk that everyone hates.
A look of embarrassment set on her face as she noticed my taking in of the surroundings.
I semi-smiled the best approval I could muster, hoping it would make her feel better. It didn’t change her expression, but it did give her the courage to lead me up the stairs to her apartment.
In a well-rehearsed motion, she unlocks the door, and opens it with little effort. I’m immediately amazed at how well decorated her “shabby place” was. The sadly kept walls and rug were disguised well by the way she placed her belongings.
Pictures and other strange décor partially covered some of the tears in the well-worn wallpaper. The old white color that probably highlighted the room a long time ago, now looked a drab shade of gray. She explains also that the couch and easy chair of her half-sized living room, not only covered stain on the floor, but also took up almost all of the space she had.
Pastel colored knick-knacks covered every available shelf, countertop, or any other flat surface; doing a decent job hiding the otherwise dreary home. Only one picture hung on the wall. It showed a beach with a sunset, and a poem called “footsteps” was written over the scene.