Diiiing Doooong

He walks through the door and I cry inside as it slams closed, leaving me fumbling with the handle while my body is simultaneously being pushed into the door by the unknown, magnetic force. My feet seem to kick against it, wanting to follow their pied piper, as I struggle with the damn handle.

It’s always sticking at the worst times.

I finally get it open and fall through, bumping right into Stupid Boy.

The compelling force of it almost knocks him over. He sure notices that.

Took you long enough, you twit.

Pulling out his headphones he slowly turns around, a stupid expression on his face.

Surprise.

He actually has the gall to act surprised.

Oh, and his music was indeed loud, as I can hear it distinctly through the buds. Not that I can really call that music. Don’t shoot me if you’re a Kanye fan, okay? I just can’t with that guy. Especially not right now.

Now this idiot just looks confused. I’m fucking furious.

“You…what are you doing out here?”

You. Did. Not. Just-

“What…what do you mean ‘what are you doing out’- You made me come out here! You shifty freak!”

A look of realization hits his face, followed by anxiety. I guess he saw the trail of magazine and chip bag destruction behind me. “Oh. Oh, no…”

As soon as the idiot clues in I can breathe properly. Oh sweet, sweet oxygen how I missed thee!

My body is my own again. I look at my hands like they’re new. Oh thank god. But wait, what exactly happened to me?

“What did you do to me, you freak?”

“I didn’t mean-”

A trumpet horn or something sounds out of nowhere. Probably the cops? But it doesn’t sound like cops it sounds like a trumpet. Should I scream anyway? But what the fuck is a trumpet doing sounding out here?

“Crap, not now. Are you kidding me?”

Guess he heard the sound too. His face is panicked now. He’s really going through the whole roll of emotions today.

“I’m sorry, for now you have to go back inside.”

“No way, you need to tell me what the hell I’m doing outside first!”

“Just go back inside, please.” He’s backing away and looking up and down the alley, skittish as hell. Does this guy get in trouble with cops often or something? No that’s definitely not a siren. So this guy pissed off a marching band, then?

No, wait, I’m the one pissed off. Stop getting distracted, Kara!

“Are you kidding me? I just got…got hypnotized or something by your flashy…eye…whatever thing and you think I’m going to turn my back on you and go back in there? Like nothing’s happened? What you’ve done is a crime, you know that right? Article 104 of the Sapiens et Mutants Relations Accord clearly states that all types of mind and or body control are strictly-”

“What are you talking- Gah. Listen I’ll explain everything, I will, but can you please go back inside, just for a few minutes? This won’t take long-”

This fucker really wants to run away and get away with this? Fat chance! I take a step forward, fists clenched, and he lifts his hands up in front of him. Defensively. Like I’m the dangerous one. Seriously?

“Wait, are…are you the test?”

Now he’s back to confused. With a touch of fear.

The fuck is he scared of? The only person who should be afraid here is me. And when the fuck with that trumpeter stop? Don’t they need to breathe?

“What are you babbling on about? You’re testing my last nerve! What. The hell. Just happened?”

“Look, I can explain later, but you really need to get back inside.” He’s looking around like he thinks someone’s coming so I look around too.

I whisper, “what are you so scared of?”

And then my life ends with a snarl and a slash.

It feels like slow motion, yet it happens so quickly neither I nor Stupid Boy over there can stop it. When I looked down the alley I thought I heard a wolf growl behind me, which should be impossible, and by the time I turn back around there’s a ginger haired freak with Edward Scissor-hands in front of me mid jump.

My first thought is, of course, how awesome that looks. Not fear or anything reasonable. That comes a second after. A second too late.

It isn't until this moment, the moment where I know I am about to die, that I realize I watch way too much TV. Because I’m disappointed my entire life isn’t flashing before my eyes like it’s supposed to.

This isn’t cool. It would make a good scene in a movie, but this isn’t cool. Because this is real. The ginger kid has claws. And I mean legit claws growing out where his fucking fingernails should be. And his teeth aren’t human. Humans don’t have fangs.

I brace myself. This is it. This is how Kara Lowe dies. Not by cougar, by Wolverine.

At least it’s not boring.

Before I can back away, or he can stop, or Stupid Boy can stop him, those claws are digging into and slashing across my throat.

I hit my head on the brick wall on my way down.

My ribs no longer hurt from crashing into the chips stand. Or rather, my throat kind of takes priority in that regard.

My arms fall to my sides at first, heavy like lead, but I manage to slowly lift one hand and reach my neck.

I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. Ssch ssch Ssch ssch. With every beat, more blood pours out between my fingers.

My instinct is to cover the wound, but it does no good. My arms get heavier, and I give up and instead trace the wounds. Three slashes. Two aren’t all that deep but the middle one… I almost lose my finger in it and choke myself.

I only let go when I begin coughing up blood.

Meanwhile, the ginger freak clamours off me and sounds like he’s having an asthma attack before backing into the opposite wall. I guess a panic attack would make more sense. I should be panicking too, but I’m not.

I think I knew it as soon as I hit the ground. I’m dead. No one can survive this. I should have gone back into the fucking store. There’s nothing to be done. It’s over. Everything is over.

Ssch ssch Ssch ssch.

In fact, if this movie was at all realistic, I would already be dead by now. But I’m not. It’s like everything has slowed down somehow. Yet nothing is in slow motion around me. I’m the only one who’s affected.

Something is coursing through me and it burns. My veins itch. I can feel every single vein in my body. My blood is on fire but I’m getting colder. The air outside is warm now, for October, but I’m shivering. Is this what dying is supposed to feel like?

“Oh shit, oh shit, what the bloody hell, what is she- you were supposed to be alone, why is she here? What kind of test is this?” Ginger Freak is freaking out across from me. He sounds Australian.

“I- I linked, accidentally.” And Stupid Boy is no longer hiding that accent of his. He’s full on Bri’ish.

“Accid…Accidentally? That doesn’t just- How in the hells did you manage that?” He squints at Stupid Boy, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I don’t know, okay! What the bloody hell kind of timing is this for a test, anyhow? Who authorized this? Why didn’t they cancel it? Where is the examiner?”

“Wh- I don’t decide these things!” Ginger Freak shoves a red piece of paper only slightly redder than his hair into Stupid Boy’s face.

“What kind of dodgy fuckin’ thing-”

They continue arguing while I’m still here, slumped against the brick wall of the stupid Stuff-Mart breathing in my own blood, breathing out my own blood. I’m gagging on this shit and those two idiots are standing there yelling at each other and pointing at me. Like this was my fault!

I am so not taking responsibility for this. Fuck that. I might have a habit of getting mixed up in dumb things, but the second that boy walked up to the counter asking for a pack of Pall Malls I was already dead.

This time something bad happened and it’s got nothing whatsoever to do with me.

Too bad I’m dying, or I would be totally psyched about that.

I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Only I would follow a strange boy into an alley and get my throat slashed open by some guy with claws instead of fingernails.

I can’t believe I’m dying only one hour into a three-hour shift. Wow. Couldn’t even make it halfway without something going wrong, could you Kara? Typical me.

How could this even happen? Even if this is an illegal town, it’s been so well maintained until now. There’s been nothing to suggest the ordinary citizens here are criminals, despite their choice of residency. Right out in the open… something like this… But even more importantly, why haven’t I died yet?

Ah… my vision is starting to fail now. The edges of my sight are darkening as the dim creeps steadily towards the center of my sight. My heartbeat isn’t so loud anymore. Soon I won’t see anything at all, and will have no heartbeat, and yet those two are still arguing over me.

I’d be flattered if this situation was completely and entirely different.

But it’s not.

My shirt is drenched and clinging to me and my body is shaking like I’m possessed, and I can feel my life draining out of me and onto the concrete. It’s uncomfortable. And cold. It is super cold. I hate being cold.

All the while they’re just standing there shouting at each other.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know. A cashier. I don’t know.”

“Rubbish! What are you even doing out here, then? It’s ain’t right.”

“Nothing! My da just… might’ve… said something, and I wanted to- but I don’t know her, alright! She’s nobody.”

“Well, she’s still breathing, so she’s someone.”

“I know, I noticed… before.”

What’s all that supposed to mean?

“Not enough of someone though, she’s about gone now.”

The ginger stands up. He sat down again at some point and he’s unsteady on his feet. I guess I’d be shaky too if I’d killed someone.

I try to get a better look at him. This guy is different from the other one, his face is more angled…sharper, and he has bold dark red eyebrows. And a deep tan, which looks a little weird with the red hair. You can’t call him pretty, but he is quite handsome in an eccentric sort of way.

He’s still one of them.

He’s also a piece of shit.

“We have to get out of here.” Then he whispers, “we shouldn’t even be here.”

“Shouldn’t we try to-”

“Oi, just what in the hells kinda bullshit are you trying to get me into now?”

The ginger walks up to the blondie, grabs his jacket and shakes him almost off his feet. They’re the same height but Ginger Freak is stockier. Stupid Boy almost looks thin in comparison.

“This isn’t even a question. You have to kill her. Now. She’s dead either way.” He looks at me for a moment. He looks scared, and dare I call that a hint of guilt? “Look at her. Have some mercy, mate.”

Please don’t, actually. Don’t look at me. That’s what started all this crap. And what’s he going on about…mercy. They’re going to end up really killing me, aren’t they? I can’t even move much less run.

“Why do I have to do it, you’re the one who-”

“Because you brought her into this, and we both know I wasn’t aiming for some cashier chick, now get over there and finish it.”

“If you had better aim…”

Stupid Boy shoves Ginger Freak out of his face. He doesn’t look all that tough, but he almost topples him over. I guess neither should be underestimated.

His blue gaze locks onto me. “What if she wants to choose?”

Choose? Choose what?

“Oh my god, Owens will kill us! K-I-L-L. That’s forbidden. You do know what that word means, don’t you? She hasn’t been trained. There are protocols. An order to things. You can’t just go around…” Ginger Freak sighs. “She’s weak. It won’t even work.”

“This whole situation is dodgy as all hell, what’s one more thing?”

“Oh gods have mercy. You fucking wanker. You’re gonna- do you even know how? Your dad is gonna- oh gods... my dad is gonna-”

Stupid Boy walks over while Ginger Freak has a mental break. He only stops when he’s standing over me, his shadow only adding to the growing darkness. My instinct is to get away from him but trying to move at all just sends bolts of pain through my limbs.

All I can do is glare up at him. He has an unreadable expression.

I hate you. I really really hate you.

Now, I’m not a violent person. Okay, that was a lie. I’m not an excessively violent person. But I’m lying here staring into the eyes that helped cause my death and if I could move my arms, I would wring his neck. I’m not exaggerating this time. I’d bring him down with me. That’s how much I hate you.

I’m forced to fight back tears as this idiot kneels beside me. I don’t want to die. Not here, not like this, and certainly not now. I’m fifteen. I have friends, sort of- people to apologize to. I have an exam I actually studied for on Monday. And what’s Nana gonna say? I wasn’t supposed to go first.

I have a mother…and all she has is me.

I just want to scream at his face: do you understand what you’ve taken?

The way he’s looking at me makes me think he might.

He leans in close. My vision is almost gone. All I can see are those stupid blue eyes.

“Your spirit is leaving, but I can still save you.”

You what? I blink, confused. How…?

“I can try to activate what’s in you. I don’t know what it is, and this isn’t even the proper way of doing it, so it might not work, but…”

He smiles awkwardly at me and he’s got fangs too. They’re different, his are thinner and instead of four canines he has twelve, in set of three, with two shorter and one longer center tooth. Different, but in the same spot, both these freaks have got freaking fangs. The other also has claws. Monsters are really among us, walking right beside you.

“In the end, your survival will be up to you.”

I try to take it all in, but I don’t understand what he’s talking about.

“What the fuck are you talking about, David? Are you actually serious? You’ve gone bonkers, you’re taking the shit! Fuck.”

The other one grabs his shoulder. When did he get so close? Why are they so close? I don’t want them here…

“Don’t be stupid, mate. We should just get out of here before the examiner comes! You’re getting us into such deep shiiiit.” His hands are over his head and he’s practically hyperventilating.

And I’m the weak one?

“You got us into this when you cut her fucking throat open, you dick.” His voice is shaky. “If you don’t want to be a witness, then bugger off. I’m doing it.”

It starts to make some semblance of sense. He’s talking about making me…like him? He said there was something inside already… And that can save me? That kind of thing…it can’t be possible, can it? Then again, the whole claws and fangs thing has me seriously rethinking a bunch of stuff.

Until a few moments ago I thought fingernails were fingernails, and they couldn’t somehow be gigantic wolverine-esque throat slicer machines. I also thought Santa was a hallmark character and the tooth fairy was cheap, and fake, and that closets were empty.

So much for that worldview. It’s all on the table now.

I mean, I know this kind of shit exists but… it’s not supposed to exist around people like me… and until you see it for yourself it’s hard to understand just how bizarre it all is.

“I can’t just…Oh man, we are so dead.”

No, I’m dead. You idiot.

Stupid Boy, or David I guess, ignores him. He’s focused on me, turning his face and studying me like my freaking pores could answer him. “I need consent.”

I’m afraid. I’m standing on the edge of my life and I don’t know where I’m going. I have no idea. I want to live. If I must join their little freak club, then so be it. If he thinks he can save me then no matter what that means, I need to talk. I don’t know if I can, but I have to try.

And I guess this is the moment my whole death changed. I don’t always make the best decisions, but hey, if you’re ever lying in an ally with maybe half a pint of blood left in you, then you can judge me. Because despite hating this guy, not trusting this guy, and having no idea what ‘saving me’ even means, I say yes.

Or I try to, anyway.

“P-please.” I open my mouth to speak but no sound comes out because hellooo…hole in my neck. Kinda forgot for a second there what with all the weird going on. Just trying to talk sends shocks of pain up and down my neck and into my brain, and a fresh bubble of blood erupts in my mouth. I almost black out right there. I can’t even tell if anything was audible. I doubt it.

My ears are pounding, and my mouth is full of blood again, but not as much as there was earlier. Also, it was warm before but now it’s cold too, cold like everything is becoming. And it has the consistency of syrup. Is that normal? I’ll never be able to eat pancakes again.

I wonder if maybe I should have tried crawling away. Tried calling for help. Tried anything but lie here and watch two morons argue about what to do after killing me. But it doesn’t matter. Those blue eyes are looking at me again and I can’t move.

I don’t know if it’s his stare or if rigor mortis is settling in or something. That’s what they call it on T.V, right? Rigor Mortis?

I don’t know how else to tell him I want to be saved. ‘I hate you, please save me. And tell your friend to drop dead.’ I want to say all these things. I want to shout them. But all I can do is nod through the pain and beg in my mind. Please.

“Shit shit shitty shitcakes.” The ginger backs away and covers his face. “We’re dead. We’re all dead.”

David bites his lip until it bleeds then lifts my hand and brings my wrist to his mouth. I don’t even freak out at how creepy that is because I remember he has fangs. Before I can try to pull away there is a stinging sensation, way worse than the bee sting I got in grade four, and pain fires up my arm and through my whole body.

I wasn’t allergic to bees, but I guess I’m allergic to monsters.

My empty veins burn again, like they did right after the attack when I still had blood, while David slobbers all over my wrist.

Then everything gets blurry and there’s a wolf growling in my face. Where the heck did a wolf come from?

But there’s no time to wonder, to guess, because finally I’m released. I breathe out, and I don’t breathe back in.

I feel nothing. I see nothing. I think…

I hate you. Please save me…

Ssch ssch Sss…