Mark Alan

Introduction:

Choking for air while gargling on his own blood. "Why?" he managed to spit out.
Maybe he was curious to why it was me that shot him and stuck around to hear his last words. Maybe he was about to ask; "why is the sky blue?" or "why did no one call the police?"
I'm never really going to know for sure but I will know that it was me that shot him, that killed him, that heard his last words (word in this case).
I tossed the gun in the nearby drainage ditch but not before wiping it clean of my fingerprints (force of habit I guess). Though I was wearing light blue sterile latex gloves this time. As soon as I heard the sirens I tucked away in some filthy alley that smelt of fresh rot.
I saw a shadow of an animal approaching me. As it neared closer, you could tell it was some kind of mutt. It looked like it had mange, part of its ear was missing, still bleeding and not to mention it had a limp. Maybe some cruel neighborhood kids idea of a joke or maybe it was just bad luck. I knew a thing or two about being dealt a shitty hand.

Chapter 1:

(Beep beep) (Beep beep) The annoying sound of cheap imported plastic buzzing on a Swedish nightstand I awoke to every morning. I roll over with a string a drool still attached to my lip, and hit the snooze. Get up, brush teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, leave. It was the same routine every day. But today, it wasn’t my bed I was laying in. In fact, I didn’t even own a king size. Where the hell was I? What happened to me? Whose bed was this? Questions most people don’t have to answer on a regular basis.
I don’t know why, but I believed I was in trouble so I grabbed my things and while passing the living room I stopped. I thought I had caught a glimpse of somebody on the couch but it must have been the way the pillows and blankets were arranged. I made it out the door and down the stairs into the busy city street. Again I thought to myself “Where the hell am I?” The first cab that rolled by I glanced at the license plate. New York? Great, I’m in an entirely different part of the country.
I frantically fished around my jacket pockets looking for my smokes and lighter. Once I find the pack I take out a loosey and rest it between my lips while I flip back the top of my zippo. I crank the wheel but all I get is sparks, smoke and frustration. “You’ve got to be shitting me” I muttered. I place the cigarette back in line with the rest of them and return the pack to my breast pocket. There I found a brown crumpled up napkin with writing on it. It was a map of New York City in my hand writing. Needless to say, I was shocked and didn’t have any recollection of drawing that map. I walked a few blocks in a complete daze of what had happened before this morning. I sat down on a frigid concrete bench, thoughts racing through my mind and already having nicotine withdrawals. But an eerie chill came over me and I remembered something. I remembered that I’ve been here before.

Chapter 2:

That smell, I know that smell and I know it well. It’s; hotdogs, popcorn, cheeseburgers, pretzels. It’s a carnival. I looked to my left: trees. I looked to my right: trees. I turned around and looked back the way I came and I saw a giant Ferris wheel. This massive metal structure the size of the sun was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I also realized that I had walked a lot further than I originally thought. Children’s laughter and screams echoed through my head like chainsaws ripping through rusted sheet metal. How did I get here? I kept asking myself. I pulled out my “mapkin” and looked to see if anything was familiar. I asked a passerby where I was exactly.
“Earth.” He snapped and continued walking.
Are assholes in every major city? I stood up and walked towards the carnival hoping something would just jump out at me and give me a clue as to how and why I was there. The crowds of people seemed so far away even though I was walking right by them. It was like they had no faces, no voices, nothing distinct about them at all. I reached into my jacket and started to pull out my pack of smokes again, not remembering that my lighter was on the fritz. But before I could even pull one out a woman tapped me on the left shoulder and said in a throaty tone “need a light, Red?”
I turned around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “Excuse me?” I said as my voice trembled.
“A light. Fire, you know what the cavemen used.” “Sure, but how’d you…” before I could finish she said,
“I know who you are, I’ve even tried to help you quit but I figured if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”
She took out a pack of her own; flipped the top back, slid one out and as if it was in slow motion, she placed it on her lips and grinned.
“You don’t remember me.” She said with such certainty as she lit me up.
I knew I’ve seen this woman before, but where? She stood at the height of my shoulders and had hair reaching all the way down the small of her back, its color that can only be described as blood red in moonlight. She was wearing nearly all black except for her bone white earrings of stick figures jumping through a hoop.
“I’m sorry… it’s kind of been a strange morning for me.” I said as brushed my hair to the side.
“No worries.” She said. “Just goes to show you, how much of a lasting impression I make on people. It’s Jess, by the way.”
Jess! That’s it! I thought. She was an old girlfriend from college back in Pittsburg. We went out for a few months but we just really didn’t click.
“Jess! Of course! How are you?! What are you doing here?! When did you move?!” I shot off question after question before she even had time to think. She raised her eyebrow and began to speak again,
“Well first off, hello.” She said in a sarcastic calming tone. “I’m just fine, and I’m only here visiting some friends for another week.”
“Ha ha, sorry.” I said embarrassingly. “It’s just I woke up this morning in a strangers apartment with no clue as to why the hell I’m in New York. It’s good to see a familiar face is all.”
She looked at me and gave a sincere smile that made me feel a little less astray.
“Geez” she exclaimed. “And I thought I was having a bad week.” A phone rang, it was hers. She took the cigarette out of her mouth and answered. “Who’s this?” There was a long pause and a look of terror came over her face. “Oh my God, ok I’m on my way, which one is it?”
She took off running through the sea of people as I yelled,
“Where are you going?!” She shouted back something that sounded like “Your hospital!” but I couldn’t be sure.

Chapter 3:

Ah perfect, alone again. The million to one shot I see somebody I know they take off running as if I was a ghost. Now I’m back to solving the mystery as to why I am here. I flicked the cigarette to the ground and stepped it out. The stench of all the popcorn and hotdogs was overwhelming so I decided to take a stroll in the direction Jess ran off to.
“Think, you idiot!” I cursed myself so loudly people made a conscious effort to keep at least five feet away.
Ok, I’m in New York and I have a napkin with a map on it. I grabbed the makeshift map out of my pocket like it was going to make sense this time. I prop myself up against a wall near a bus stop and bakery then study it. I turned it every which way probably a dozen times to see if maybe I was looking at it wrong. But it was like a three year olds drawing of outer space, I didn’t know what the hell it was and I certainly wouldn’t put on my fridge. The only thing I kind of recognized was the capital letter “I” in the center of it. I didn’t know what it stood for but maybe it was a location.
“I.” “I.” What starts with an “I” that would be so important it would be the center point on my map?
I was getting a little hungry due to the smell of the muffins and cakes wafting out of the bakery door. I took a look around for some place to eat, but then I thought to myself, “Do I even have any money?” I immediately reached for my back pocket to see if I had my wallet on me. There was nothing there. That feeling of instant sickness and nausea sent shock through me. I frantically began searching all through my pockets and jacket. I felt an awkward metallic lump in my left side jacket pocket.
My voice trembled, “Please be money, please be money.”
I pulled out a respectable wad of cash along with my ID and insurance cards all neatly folded and aligned into a metal tear drop shaped money clip.
“Oh, hell yeah!” I thought as a smile came over me. “Four hundred, four fifty, five hundred!” I could barely keep a whisper.
“Oh hell yeah!” I shouted out this time. Man, why am I carrying this much around with me? Don’t ask, don’t tell I figured as I slid it back into my jacket cautiously looking around.
Almost skipping my way into the bakery due to my financial gain I approached the counter and said, “A dozen glazed, and that strawberry milk” (as I pointed to the small see through refrigerator behind the cashier).
“$8.36.” She mumbled while bowing her head.
I reached into my pocket, and had to cock my upper body away from her so I wasn’t to reveal my entire bank roll. I managed to pull out a crisp, clean ten dollar bill and said she could keep the change. I exited the bakery with my strawberry milk standing guard on top of my box of doughnuts.
“Ahhh.” I let out an exhale as I planted myself on the frigid bus bench right outside. “Dinner.”

Chapter 4:

The sun was beginning to hide behind the horizon and it was getting colder. I shook my left arm and a black on black leather banded watch came sliding down to my wrist. I hit the tiny chrome button right above the dial to activate the beacon of light it puts off. Seven thirty already? Just then I had reached and epiphany and a calmness came over me; Instead of running I wanted to find out why I was here, what that map was, and how all this happened. I’m going to tough it out at least another night before heading back home, plus it’s the weekend and I’m an optimist.
I suddenly touched the crown of my head with my fingertips because it felt like a pigeon just dropped a load on me. I looked up to see who the possible culprit was, which could have been a mistake. But after taking inventory of those rats with wings I saw nothing on my hand but a water droplet. I started walking and realized it was time to get a motel anyway because after a day like this, I needed to get some…
“Lou’s tavern!” I proclaimed. “I’m not tired enough yet anyway.” I conned myself into reasoning.
Before I could reach the door, a man; covered in filth, with his sun dried decrepit face and silver lining his mouth and nostrils cackles and spits out.
“Spare some change?”
You could instantly smell the toxic stench of spray paint and white out. It was obvious he hadn’t showered in weeks, and you could almost taste his odor. I had to pity him, he had a multi colored silver, black, and gold beard from huffing the spray paint. No shirt, only pieces of clothing and rags that hung on him and sewn together with whatever he could get a hold of; fishing line, dental floss, computer wire.
“Here.” I said as I handed him a ten and continued into the bar.
As the door swung shut behind me, I gazed around the room before taking my seat at the bar. It was poorly lit and could hardly see anything with the amount of smoke billowing into the air. I only counted a dozen people including the bartender.
“Two shots of Black Death vodka and a lighter if you got it...eh, you know what? Gimmie a bourbon with ice too.”
He slid me a lit candle in a red stained glass jar as my lighter. I stopped it with my hand and looked at him.
“Yeah, thanks.” I said while I brought it up to my mouth to light the cigarette.
He planted the drinks in front of me and said “That’ll be ten.”
I placed ten bucks on the bar and sarcastically asked, “So how’s your day been?”
He wiped my section of the bar clean and walked away.
While I sipped on my bourbon, I stared out the window into the street where it began to rain. You could only make out shadows of people as they ran by in a flash. I could see a dark figure standing at the bus stop across from the bar. A small red glow burned for a couple seconds then disappeared. I thought to myself,
“Smoking in the rain, now that’s a dedication to death.”
I threw back the shots of Black Death that burnt all the way down, and then gritted my teeth. “Ahh.”
-“The massive pile up on the I-95 happening late last night has a total of twelve confirmed deaths.”
I turned around on my stool and saw the wreckage on the T.V.
“Hey guy, can you turn that up?!” I yelled at the bartender.
He gave me that original glare he used when I first sat down. But he must have been in a cheery mood because he turned the volume up.
-“We now go live to Terry McDowell for more on this terrible tragedy.”
-”Thank you Stacy. Nearly twenty four hours ago right here on I-95, a catastrophe of a wreck causing twelve deaths and numerous injuries occurred. Police officials have not yet released information about what happened but witnesses are saying that they saw a crazed man leap over the side barrier and began firing a gun into the air right in the middle of oncoming traffic. More details to come on this tragic event that has taken a toll on us all.”
The T.V. fades out as I replay the newscast through my mind. I-95? Twelve people dead? I take that road all the time to work and to my buddy’s house. Jesus, that could have been me in that wreck.

Chapter 5:

I threw the hood up and over my head as I made my way down the street to the first motel I found. Slightly buzzed, I tripped over the roll in the rug at the front desk. Catching myself and slamming my hands onto the counter for balance I say, “I need a room.”
“Forty-five dollars, you’re thirteen.” He handed me the key.
Aggressively I snatched the key from him and made my way to the room. Walking down the dimly lit hallway with the flickering fluorescent light I thought to myself, This place looks like something out of a horror movie. A puke colored; olive green paint peeling off the walls was offset by brightly colored children’s drawings of animals and trees. Carpet stains that looked like somebody changed their oil and then was murdered. All topped off with the smell of wet dog and spoiled meat.
I finally make my way to my room, number 13. The “3” had fallen off, so you could only see the dirt outline of where it used to be. I let out a sigh before sliding my key in to the loose deadbolt and turning it. I was waiting for the door to give out a long squeak as I opened it, but to my surprise there wasn’t a single sound. At least they keep the hinges in good shape. I flicked on the lights and surveyed the room before locking myself in. The walls were paper thin so if I were to get mugged and raped at least one person could hear me. I threw my sopping wet coat onto the cardboard brown vinyl chair next to the bed and sat down. What a shit hole.
I made my way over to the shower and started peeling off my wet clothing. Seeing something etched into the wall I cocked my head to read it, “I’d rather fight and die than beg and live.” Crushing irony for a bum, inspiring nonetheless. I torqued the rusted shower knob to get the water going. After a few seconds of spewing what looked and smelled like sewage the water began to run opaque. Good enough. As I stood there staring at my feet in the letting the “water” flow down my back and over my head I dared not to get any of it in my mouth.
Once toweled off, I wrapped it around my waist and plopped down onto the bed.