The Basement

As I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a man’s face.  I jumped up off the dirt floor.  I was standing in the middle of a wooden staircase without any steps.  Also, it wasn’t just one but two bodies with me.  Both seemed dead.

I rubbed the back of my head.  It was throbbing and my clothes, for some reason, were damp.

I stood there and did a flashback in my mind.  CSI was on the TV.  I heard scratching at the door.  There was a dog but its collar said cat with a number.  While I stood in my doorway, I grabbed my mobile and dialed the number.  Someone answered and asked me if I found their dog.  I said “yes” and … pretty much that’s all I remember.

I examined the dark room.  There was a heater that must have been broken because I could smell fuel fumes.  There were no windows.  I figured I had to be in someone’s basement.  I looked at the top of the stairless case and saw a door, but it was shut.

I looked at the bodies around my feet.  Their faces seemed familiar but I couldn’t quite place them.  One was an older woman; the other, a young man in what looked like his early thirties.

Before I could investigate my surroundings further, I heard a creaking over my head.  The creaking seemed to be heading straight for the stairs.

I heard the sound of a deadbolt unlocking and a wave of grey light fanned into the basement.  A large man, at least 6’, stood in the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing alive?” he barked at me.

I couldn’t speak.  I stood there staring at the huge silhouette.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”  I noted sarcasm in his query.  I shook my head.

“Well,“ he said, “let me refresh your memory.”

He took out a cigarette and lit it up.

“Ten years ago, you served on a jury and convicted me of involuntary manslaughter, a crime I didn’t do.  I lost ten years of my life thanks to you.  So, with a few contacts I know, I found out who you guys were.  But I wouldn’t get even with all of you.  That would point all fingers right to me.  No, I figured killing off a quarter of the jury that took a quarter of my life was justice to me.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew smoke rings.

“Now, I’m not a heartless man.  I planned on making sure you were dead first before I ditched the evidence.”

He pulled out a large pack of matches and lit them with his cigarette.

“From what I hear, you’ll only feel pain for the first few minutes.”

I watched in horror as he threw the small fireball down towards me.  That’s when I realized the fumes I smelled weren’t coming from a faulty heater, but from me.