Skepticlusion

What the fuck!?!

I haven't had any sleep. I'm exhausted. But work waits for no man. Or at least not here anyway. No one gets to miss work. Hell, they make us beg to take our vacation. Anyway, I gotta get this down while it's still fresh. Writing helps me keep it all straight in my head.

So I found her comment just after 2:00 or so and I freaked out. Normally, I see a message like that, I'm trying to get hold of the person right away. Use the phone, send an instant message, something with quick gratification. I must make contact rapidly to offset panic.

But I had nothing. I thought about writing a response, but... Screw it. I pulled on my bowling shoes, grabbed the Jeep keys and out the door I went. I got to the car before I realized I hadn't locked the front door, so I ran back and did that, then back to the car.

I don't remember the drive because I spent all the time rehearsing what I was going to do when I got there. Park the Jeep across the street or right in front? I opted for across the street and away from the bookstore because I didn't know if we'd need to leave in a hurry. I didn't know a damn thing.

I rolled past the store and watched the reflection of the Jeep in the windows. Far as I could tell, the shop was asleep. No lights shined from the windows of the apartments above the store. The steet looked creepy without cars and foot traffic, like a forgotten movie set. The trees stood dark and limp, spaced at even rows along the lane, branches hunched out over the pavement.

I parked the Jeep across the street, rolled down the window and killed the motor. I checked the storefront again in the mirrors. Still looked like no one was there, but she had to be, right? That's the only place I know her from and "come get me" without any other instructions doesn't leave a lot of options. I sucked in a breath and hopped out.

I crossed the street at the corner and walked the sidewalk, slowing as I passed in front of the store. I peeked into the windows, but the interior was so dark, I could only make out the shadowy forms of the bookcases and the beginnings of the narrow aisles.

I started to cup my hands around my eyes and lean in for a better look when I remembered what time it was. Some cop would drive by and think I was up to no good, standing there in the middle of the night peeking in shop windows.

"Mara, where are you?" Of course, she didn't answer. I walked up the street, then around the corner and back down the alley behind the shop. Every once in a bit, I'd call her name using one of those loud whispers that isn't a whisper at all. Like people couldn't hear me.

About then, the spotlight slid over me and into my eyes. I bolted. I turned and ran back down the alley, legs pumping, shoes slapping. I slid more than turned back onto the street. Behind me I could hear the car in the alley, so I cut back across the street toward the Jeep. I ran to the passenger side, the one away from the street, and tucked into the shadow, sucking air.

What the hell was I doing running from the cops? The car cruised past the storefronts, spot flashing the area. I slid down between the curb and the Jeep, watching, holding my breath. As it crept past my sidestreet, I read the words on the side and hissed. Goddamn security guards.

The rent-a-cops circled the area for half an hour. I lay in the gutter the whole time, because I knew as soon as I stood up, they'd creep out and bust me. Nevermind I hadn't done anything but walk an alley, I knew I'd be busted and hauled downtown.

I crawled out of the gutter, dusted myself off and walked back to the corner. I watched the front of the store for anything.

"You should leave," someone said.

I jumped, spun and swore all at the same time. A short man in a long black jacket and bowler hat stood there, his hands clasping a carved dark wood cane.

"Who the hell are you?"

"That does not matter. Mara will not be coming."

I turned my fear into anger. "Why not? She told me to pick her up."

He stepped closer to me and looked up. His eyes were orbs of black surrounded by yellow.

"You should leave."

"I'm not going anyw..." The cane caught me in the upper adbomen, blasting the air out of my lungs and dropping me to my knees. He grabbed my chin and tilted my head back, then nodded.

"Have a good evening," he said, then let go and walked off in the direction of the store.

I turned and watched him go to the store, unlock the door and vanish inside. I watched the building for lights to come on, but none did. I crawled back to the car and drove home.

Sleeping wasn't an option. I'm going back as soon as I get off work, while the store is still open. Something's not right. I'd call for help, but what do I tell them?

posted by Skept @ 8:47 AM