Alone In The Darkness (3 page)

Officer Conners walked up to the townhouse. Red and blue lights flashed behind him and cruiser headlights lit up the driveway illuminating the path to the front door. He approached an officer standing on the porch vigorously writing in his notepad.

“How long ago was the shooting?”

The cop looked up. “Evening Officer. It was called in 20 minutes ago by a neighbor who said she heard some yelling and then gun shots.”

Conners looked over the officer's shoulder and through the entry. He saw the state of the house. “Looks like a possible drug deal?”

“We found some weed and meth in the kitchen. Lots of pipes and a hazmat level of needles in the rooms. We are assuming right now it was some type of deal gone bad.” Officers walked out of the front entry, their hands gloved in latex and blood.

“How many dead?”

“Two bodies in the kitchen. One with multiple gunshots.”

“If you don’t mind I am going to take a look around.”

The officer pointed with his pen. “Not a problem, the bodies are in the kitchen. Do you need gloves?”

Conners shook his head as he rolled the gloves onto his hands. He walked up the porch and into the entry way. It was like a broken dam as he could smell the decay vigorously pouring out of the house. He rubbed his heel in the carpet observing the dust and dirt spraying in his wake. Conners looked up to see two officers rounding the corner. One held a blanket to his chest.

“I need you to call CPS and let them know we've got an infant here that is going to need immediate care.” He walked past Conners as the muffled whimpers floated by.

“Jesus.” Conners whispered as he shook his head wincing at the passing sight.

The officer from the porch stepped back into the room and tapped Conners on the shoulder. “We got an ID on the suspect’s car, late model Honda Civic. Either black or dark blue.”

Conners nodded and made his way into the living room and towards the lights and officers congregating in the kitchen. He stepped into the kitchen and observed the two bodies. On the cheap linoleum floor were scuff marks.

“Was there a struggle?”

“Yes sir, it looks like these two might have been pinning someone down, but ended up getting it in the end.”

Conners kneeled down, his legs cracked and groaned with age. His hand ran over the heel marks, he could feel the grooves cut into the flooring. He thought to himself that whoever was here was kicking awfully hard to do this. His eyes drifted to the plastic crumpled on the ground near the woman. He picked it up and carefully unfolded it to its original shape. "Looks like they were trying to strangle someone.” Conners could see the outlines of a face in the plastic. His fingers gently touched the depression where Steven's mouth struggled for air.

He glanced over to the man slumped against the wall, his eyes staring at the far wall blankly into space. The blood had pooled around the bodies forming an irregular outline on the white floor. The officers quieted down and looked at Conners. “So from the shoe marks it looks like we have a man, likely nearly died by plastic wrap, from these two meth heads. He got free from them, shot both of them and is now somewhere in a 20 mile radius of here in a dark colored Honda Civic. Have we put out a notice to patrols in the area?”

“Yes, sir. We sent the notice out moments ago.”

“I think we understand motive here. We need to know if there was anyone else in the house when this happened, other than the innocence that was carried out of here a few minutes ago.”             

“The neighbor says she only saw the one white male leave.”

“Looks like these guys didn't want to pay. I don’t care what the circumstances are I want this guy brought in tonight. He’s already shot two which tells me he is either out of control or desperate.”

The bar counter had a smooth wood finish with groves and worn creases from elbows and glasses. The finish was faded around the falling lip, pointing to the red topped swivel chairs lining the counter along the one side of the narrow room. Dart boards were occupied by focused drunks. Holes and loose darts lodged in the wall proved their skill. Large flat screens flickered with athletes, held a grip on the patron's eyes.

Behind the counter Jennifer worked to maintain the drink levels. Rows of bottles hung along the wall bathed in orange accent lighting. Her hair was pulled back in a tail and the blue and green ribbon told the attendees it was football season. Her hands glided washing shot and beer glasses in the sink. Her eyes drifted up to the man staring down at the empty glass, “Honey you want another Jack?”

The man arched his back, sucked in his lips, and let out a hiss, “It's early and a Friday and I spent the day putting bolt assemblies on fuselages, so I think I will.”

Jen smiled pulling a fresh glass from under the counter and swinging the bottle. She turned and the brown liquid fell out into the glass. She winked, “A little extra for your hard work today.”

The man leaned back, pulled out his wallet, and dropped down a five, “That is all yours.” His arms curled around the glass and he raised it up and sipped.

“Thank you hon.” She pulled the five and placed it into the register pulling out two ones and placing them into the tip jar. “I've had a long one too.”

“Oh yeah, I'm sure this place was filled with the early shifters. They are grinding on us right now. Always wanting more planes pushed out the back”

“I hear you. This is my second job. Worked the coffee hut this morning on the south side and I finish the day here at the bar. The end of the day you can just feel it. I think I've served almost a thousand drinks today. Drink after drink after drink.”

He lifted his glass to Jennifer, “Cheers to you. I thank you for my drink. You power the city in the morning and calm us in the evening.”

The door opened and a figure walked in from the cold night. His shoulders were slack and his eyes were dark and empty. Shaking off the rain from his shoulders he let his jacket open up to the warmth. Steven walked up to the edge of the bar on the short side and sat down. Jennifer turned her head and began to walk down the length of the bar away from the noise.

“Hey sweetie, you look like you need a drink.”

Steven smirked, “You don't know the half of it.”

“Long day I know. What do you need?”

“Another day.”

Jen smiled, “I've got top shelf, locals, imports, but no time, sorry honey.”

Steven resigned that she would not grant him his wish, “I could go for a tall Manny’s right now.”             

“Alright, the 16 coming up” She reached out grabbing the small dusty bowl. “I’ll get you a fresh bowl of pretzels too.”

“Thanks,” his voice trailed off. He leaned and pulled out his fold of bills. She returned with the amber drink and dropped down a precarious tower of salty pretzels.

“Do you have change for a hundred?” He held out the bill with two fingers. He was distracted and missed the blood stain across the 1’s and 0’s.

“Oh, I'll check the register.” Jen walked down the bar and Steven's eyes followed behind watching the sway of her hips. She opened the register and thumbed a short stack of bills. She returned, “I'm sorry sweetie that would clean me out. I have an ATM in the back.”

Steven nodded and got up crossing the bar. He approached the small machine, removed his card and followed the instructions on the screen. Steven could see the blood stained freckles on his finger nails and jacket cuff. He'd spent the last half hour furiously rubbing the blood from his hands and face, but he must have missed some. The machine whirred to life and spit out the last of the money in his account. He walked back and placed the twenty on the counter.

“Thanks honey sorry about that. We’re just not allowed to keep that much cash in the till.”

“No issues.”

Jen walked back to make change. Steven looked down at the glass, lifted it, and took a long pull. The beer left cascading rings of foam down the glass side. He stared at his right hand rubbing his thumb studying a blood fleck in the wrinkle of his forefinger. A small faded soot mark was still viable in the webbing of his hand. His eyes drifted. He could feel a tightness in his chest and a pulling sensation from his lungs. His legs kicked slightly in the chair and he quivered. He took another drink trying to relax his nerves. He shuddered at the echoes of the shots in his mind. He could still see the smoke lifting from the man’s face and the blood pooling around his back and arms. He saw the tremor in the foot as the life passed. Steven was lost in his mind and did not see Jennifer bring his change back. He came out of his dream to see money sitting next to his drink. She had left and was talking to a drunk at the end of the bar.

“Shit always sucks, trust me I know.” An old man three seats down from him was staring across the bar to the wall.

“I'm sorry?”

“Distractions man. That is what separates what you have and what you need.”

Steven looked around and then up to the wall, “Are you talking to me?”

“You’re the only one here right?” The man turned his gaze to Steven.

“What are you talking about? Distractions? “

“You look distracted so I’m asking what that distraction is. Lemme guess, the normal, women... your job? Or my personal favorite, money. It's always about the money in your mind. Everything reduces to that. Right there on that bar table. Just when you think you got it you need to be bailed out by the lotto again.”

“Ok.” Steven tried to ignore the old man’s ravings. He took another sip of his drink.

“It’s always the lotto, that’s the key. Just get a ticket, and boom! Beach and sun.” The man smiled down into his drink. “You going to win me that lotto?”

“I could go for a lotto ticket. I don’t even mind winning. Tenth place would be just fine.” Steven drank.

“You're young man. What I would give to know then, what I know now! Oh, what I would tell my dumbass self 30 years ago. I'm not talking about that whole time traveling thing. Goin’ back in time talking to myself. I talk to myself enough to know my younger self would've just kicked my ass. I would need something more subtle. Hell, I’d take a sticky note telling me to
Watch yo ass boy, love me
. “

“A sticky note? How would the younger you know that the sticky note would be from your future self?”

“It’s not about analyzing the note or knowing who it's from. It's where the note would be placed, time and place. I only need to see it once and maybe things will turn out differently. It’s like a lotto ticket. It’s a loser most of the time but the right time and place it is a winner.”

“Alright man, if you think it would be that easy. Just put a sticky note on the fridge?”

“Yeah man I can see it, I would slip into the house. My dumbass drunk self wouldn't know I came in. I would place that sticky note right here on my forehead. I would wake up, walk into the bathroom and see my future self’s sagely wisdom cross my forehead and I would know.” He snapped his fingers catching the edge of his glass. The beer sloshed as he fumbled catching the glass before it spilled.

“So that is your wisdom,
Watch your ass
?”

“Time and place my friend.” The man pointed at Steven. “It’s all about the context. You do it any other time and it means nothing. But at that moment, it is like a punch in the gut.”

The old man stood up and leaned back stretching. He pulled the beer up to his mouth and finished the last drops. He put his jacket on and started slowly limping to the front door. From the other side of the bar Jennifer called out, “Have a good walk home, Harold.” He waved blindly and left.

Steven could feel a buzz in his pocket. He reached down and pulled his phone out.
Juan. Tick Tock my friend.
Steven's hand shook pulling the beer to his lips.

He swiped into his phone and selected the open message with this brother.

You need to get out of the house.
The message moved from delivered to read.

Ok. I'm leaving now. Should I tell mom?

No. Just go.

Ok. What's going on?

I'll tell you tomorrow.

Fine. I'm leaving.

His mind raced through the day, pawn stores, begging friends for money, dealing the last of his product, gunshots, and the blood. He could feel a sickness welling up in him. His stomach felt the knots. He was losing control.

Steven looked up and found the sign at the back of the bar. He shot up and quickly walked down to the bathroom. He dipped his head into the sink. Water splashed on his face dripping off into the cracked white porcelain. He looked to the mirror and saw his face for the first time that day. He looked old. Eyes worn and cheeks sagging. There were blood veins wandering in the whites of his eyes. His pupils were dilated. Drops of blood still on the edge of his hairline. He wetted a paper towel in the sink and began to rub, the red drops running down his face. He rubbed again. He could feel the hourglass leaving behind the last of the grains.

There was a pulse in his stomach, he turned and fell to the stall. Dirt and matter collected around the edge of the bowl. He heaved and let loose the beer. His mouth open and eyes wide. He stood slowly from the stall dusting off his pants and kicking the stall flush. The splashing of water brought him back to the moment. He could hear the bar outside the door, people cheering loudly. He placed his hands back onto the sink and bowed his head seeking guidance. His eyes released tears onto his cheek and his voice cracked, “Please get me out of this.”

Outside the bathroom door a man yelled, “You said you would take me on your trip! Just think about it Alaska, glaciers, with this body carved out of granite.”

“You wouldn't be able to keep up and granite is not built with beer.”

“You just give me a chance Jenny, I'd show you the world,” The words slurred.

“Just put some money in the fund and I'll pour you another drink. That's about all you're going to get sweetie.”

“Alright here's a few more for you.”

“Look at that everyone, I've even melted the coldest heart. All I know is that I'm going to sleep well, eat well, and have someone else serve me drinks.”

Cheers, whistles, and claps came through the door. Steven's head was turned to the voices and sound.

“Aw, you deserve it sweetie,” a soft voice said.

“And that lovely voice means my evening is through. The beautiful Amy here will close you guys out. Thank you.”

Steven stood up and wiped the remaining water from his face. He gave himself a look in the mirror. He was resolved to take action, this was his message. He opened the door and walked out into the noise. He crossed the length of the room, grabbed the change off the counter and left into the night.