Untitled story - chapter two

Chapter two.

It hits me as I'm driving home, when I finally start to unwind and the adrenaline stops pumping.
How long have I been awake? 36, 37 hours? Maybe more.
The night's work is done, I can finally go home and get some sleep.
Home is a lousy one bedroom apartment at the edge of town, not exactly luxurious.
The front door makes a loud creaking noise when I open it.
They should really get that fixed.
My legs feel like led when I walk up the stairs.
Luckily, I only have to walk up one flight of stairs.
Apartment 2b, good to be home.
I throw off my coat and take off my shoes and pants.
I'm too exhausted to bother with the rest, I collapse in bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

The loud creaking noise from the front door wakes me up, I couldn't have slept for more than 10 minutes.
All I want is six hours of sleep, is that too much to ask for?
Could be nothing, but somehow I get the feeling something is wrong.
I get up and grab my .357 just in case, it could be burglars, maybe trying to get in here.
Whoever they are, they're not quiet. I can hear their footsteps echoing in the hallway.
It's at least two of them.
I look at the clock on the wall. 4:37.
A little late for a home invasion.
I hear them mumbling something I can't make out, their voices muffled by the walls.
They're going up the stairs. Could be nothing.
The familiar sound of a lock being picked open.
It's something. I press up against the bedroom wall next to the door, gun ready.
The door open and they enter.
A bad attempt at sneaking, these guys are not very good.

"You check the bedroom, I'll wait here." One of them whispers
He moves slowly towards me. I'm ready for him.

As soon as he's within range, I hit him in the face and grab hold of him.
He drops his gun on the floor.
I got him in a chokehold. He's a short, skinny guy.
The other guy, standing in the doorway, looks shocked, clearly not expecting opposition.
The man is squirming in my grip, like a fish caught in a net.
I close my grip tighter, pressing my Magnum against his temple.
Whoever sent them had overestimated them, and underestimated me.
He's sweating and trembling, this should be over soon.

A gunshot breaks the silence, and the guy in the doorway falls dead to the ground.
The shot came from behind, whoever shot him was standing in the hall.
I didn't hear him coming, he must have come with these guys though, I only heard the front door open once.
The shooter reveals himself.
He steps over the dead guy and into the apartment.
He's so dark, I can barely make him out.
Dark clothes, dark skin, dark hair, and he probably has dark eyes behind those dark shades.
It's almost too much.
I didn't hear him coming, whoever he is, he's in a different league than these guys.
The human shadow draws his gun before I can open my mouth and ask him who he is.
Gunshot.
The bullet goes trough both me and the guy I'm holding.
I pass out.



Everything is hazy.
Where am I? It looks like the red light district, but somehow different.
Everything looks weird, filled with a strange, gray light from...
I don't know what.
It's misty, and quiet.
I walk down the street. Weird. Nobody is here except for me.
Where is everyone?
Surreal. Must be a dream, it's too strange to be real.
An old man is standing in a street corner, looking at a pocket watch.
I don't stop and talk to him, I have a feeling I'm supposed to be somewhere.
I walk by a familiar location. I stop and look back.
It's the autoshop I go to sometimes.
The garage door is open, so I walk in.

There's my car, and judging by the legs sticking out from underneath it, someone is working on it.
I walk up to it and knock on the car's hood.
The mechanic, lying on one of those board things, rolls out from underneath the car.
The board makes a strange sound, like a train going over railroad tracks.
It's Michelle, my favorite mechanic.
She's wearing her regular blue jumpsuit, but it looks strangely gray.
She's covered with motor oil.
I ask her how it's going.

"Not great." She replies. She walks over next to me, as strange hazy trail is left behind her.
I decide not to ask her about it, I'll just go along with it.

"The oil tank is leaking, the radio will only play country music, and the motor has turned into a waffle iron."

"That's weird." I say, trying to wrap my head around it. "A waffle iron, you say?"

She opens the carhood and I look down.
There's a toaster where the motor should be.
I look up again.

"That's not a waffle iron", I say. "It's a toaster."
everything zooms in on her, and the room tilts slightly behind her.

"Why would you lie like that?" She asks, sounding offended.
I look down again, and this time it's a waffle iron.
I look up to apologize, but she's gone.

There's a note on the wall, so I walk over to it.
It's smudged with greasy fingerprints of what looks like motor oil.

"You're late. The peaches are all gone, and now everyone will die. Cheerio."

No signature, but judging by the motor oil, I'd say Michelle wrote it.
I look left and notice a mailman standing there.

"I have to check for prints" He says, and starts looking at the note trough a ridiculously large magnifying glass.

I turn to walk away, but there's someone blocking my way.
A guy in a suit is standing there, holding up a dripping wet handgun.

"Is this yours?" He asks.
I look at the gun. It's my Glock, the one I dumped after the last hit.
I open my mouth to answer him, but the I notice a name tag on his chest.
It looks ridiculous, like something a Burger King employee might have.

It says: "Hi, my name is agent Thompson FBI."

I lie and say It's not mine.

"Liar..." He whispers, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits.
I walk past him to get out. He pulls his gun and shoots.
Everything explodes and falls apart like broken glass.

Everything is dark. I look around and notice someone standing there.
I walk over and notice that it's the guy I killed in the suburbs.
He has a hole going right trough his head.
He stares at me.

"Who's gonna feed my cat now?" he says with a strange, echoing voice.

I shrug and walk away.
I keep walking, and then suddenly, a huge light appears, blinding me.
I cover my eyes and turn around. When I open my eyes again, I'm in a dimly lit pub.

I walk over to the bar and sit down, peering over at the other people sitting next to me.
There's Nick the rat, a pickpocket and smalltime thief, Fat Phil, a mid level mobster and Joe, a dealer.
Nothing but criminals here tonight, it seems.
The bartender is standing in front of me now, polishing a glass.

"What'll it be?" he asks.

I order a beer. He walks away and comes back with a can of peaches.
I stare at it, but decide to accept it.
I look around the room and notice Michelle sitting at a table in the back.
I pick up the can of peaches and walk over to her.
I put the can on the table and sit down.
She's clean now, and wearing a white wedding dress for some reason.
She looks up and stares at me with a blank face.

"You're late."

"I found some peaches." I tell her.
She just stares at me. The room tilts.
"I got shot." I inform her. "By a federal agent with a name tag.

"What did it say?" She asks. I'm confused.

"What did what say?"

"The name tag." She replies.

I think for a second, but I can't remember. The room starts spinning around us, our table staying stationary.

"I can't remember." I tell her.

The rooms starts spinning faster. a drop of blood runs down from her eye, like a red tear.

"Now everyone will die." She say, despair filling her voice.

"Why?" I ask, feeling panic. " I found the peaches!"

"It's not enough anymore." She says with a strange tone in her voice.

The rooms is spinning faster and faster and more and more blood is dripping from her eyes.
Within seconds The room is spinning so fast I can't make out anything and blood is gushing from Michelle's eyes, turning her dress red.
I close my eyes and get up, I don't want to see anymore.

I turn around and notice I'm back in the auto shop.
There's my car again. I walk up to it. I don't have to knock this time. Michelle rolls out.
She's wearing a bikini and she's covered with blood. I look down and notice blood dripping from my car.
She doesn't say anything. I hear a strange echo in the background.
It sounds like a hospital.
I focus to try and hear what they're saying.

"He lost a lot of blood..."

"Start the transfusion..."

"He's losing pressure..."

Suddenly, I realize they're talking about me.
Of course. I got shot. I'm in the hospital.
I listen to the sounds, then everything drifts away.
And then everything goes dark.