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As I was returning home from a sunny afternoon of wasting time, I happened upon a strange man that insisted I escort him to one of the nearby parks. Before I’d left home, I’d packed a sharp knife and a flask of 12.39 Molar hydrochloric acid in my satchel, so I wasn’t at all afraid. When we got to the park, he told me to sit with him on one of the benches and to listen closely. I complied, happy to have an actual story to share at the dinner table whenever I was to get home.
He leaned over so that his pink lips were moving just far enough away from my ear to not be touching. He said the following:
“To remain on one’s feet, one must accept the ground below them.”
He pulled back to laugh hysterically at this and informed me that that was true wisdom. We sat together from then on in silence.
About an hour passed and my hands were busy fiddling with the handle on my bag, wishing I’d brought a book and a flashlight with me. The sun was slipping ever lower behind the nearby mountains. The stranger, roughly thirty minutes ago, had fallen asleep against my shoulder.
Another five minutes passed, the sun had gone down, and clouds gathered to block out the stars. Peals of thunder awoke my companion and he said that we should get out from under the trees. I stood and helped him to his feet so we could both drowsily walk to my house which was only a few blocks away.
The house was dark and empty of people. I had to hide my confusion when I noticed this, because it was well past 8:00 and my roommates all returned roughly at 6:00 on weekdays. I didn’t tell this to the stranger, but instead told him to take off his coat and shoes and leave them by the front door. He said he was happy to be invited into such a nice place.
I lead him to the kitchen and turned on the light over the table. While he sat down and began into the newspaper, I emptied my belonging from my bag onto the kitchen counter, stowed the bag in the pantry, and began preparing a meal of turkey sandwiches and tomato soup.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the plate and steaming bowl from my hands. “Are you expecting anyone else tonight?”
I sat beside him. “I thought I was. I think I’ll have to make a few phone calls.” I stuffed a spoonful of red-orange into my mouth.
He watched me closely. “My name is Ron.”
I stuck out my hand in his general direction and he shook it. “My name is Carrie. It’s nice to meet you. How’s the soup?”
“I haven’t tried it yet.”
I nodded.
He helped me put away the clean dishes and load the dirty ones into the dishwasher. He asked what was in the flask. I told him it was nothing and that he shouldn’t touch it.
I slowly climbed the stairs to my bedroom, undoing the tight bun my hair had been folded into. Fatigue was beginning to claim my mind and my thoughts shrunk until they were only basic commands. I don’t remember ever feeling so tired, and it hadn’t been a very strenuous day.
I changed into a long tee shirt and pajama bottoms, and lit a rose-scented candle in the adjoining bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I was about to slip under the warm comforter and cozy into my bed when I remembered the stranger… Ron. A panic rose in my chest so swiftly that I felt dizzy. I rushed to the bedroom door, tripped down the stairs, and burst into the kitchen just in time to see him un-stopper the flask and dump its contents onto…
I wanted to scream, “Who are you people?” because there were two other men I didn’t know standing beside my microwave. But all I could manage was silence and a pointing index finger.
The two men had their own screams as the I-can’t-believe-how-acidic-this-is acid hit their faces. Ron threw the flask to their feet which clunked on the tiles, unscathed. He dashed over to me, grabbed my arm, and we both went to my front door and out onto the driveway.
By then, I was assuming the other two to be resolutely immobile and I refused to go any further.
“How much danger could two men be with 12.39M HCl streaming down their fronts?”
“Why did you have that anyway?” Ron snapped back, nearly clipping off my question mark.
“One of my roommates is a big shot chemist. I stole it from her.” I turned to face him instead of the house. “Do you have a phone I can borrow? They’re probably really hurt in there.”
“They aren’t hurt. They’ve been stalled, is all. So, why call the police? Besides, you’ll be arrested for stealing that acid.”
I shook my head, “No, my roommate was the one who stole it, originally, from her lab.” My feet were already leading me back inside. I would just use the home phone. I slammed the door behind me and locked it securely before walking to the communal office.
The lack of noise from the kitchen, though, turned out to be too much of a distraction for me to make the phone call. Instead, I picked up the phone from its cradle, crossed my arms, and went to check on my two new invalids.
To my mild surprise, what I saw were two men sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against my fridge and gingerly touching their severely burnt faces and necks. Even with the burns, though, they looked pretty good. If it had been me, I at least would have been crying.
Both jumped to their feet and seized hold of me, like pop tarts from the toaster. I had time enough to pluck my knife from the counter and bury it into the side of the one to my right. The other man held fast as his companion doubled over. I kneed him with relish and was able to escape to the basement.
At the end of the staircase, I flicked on a light, but I stopped running as soon as I saw four of my roommates scattered across the floor.
The shock I felt paralyzed me and the two men were able to pick me up and carry me right on out to their waiting car.
Ron sat with his head in his hands on the lawn and watched as I was driven away. He felt pretty bad, I was sure, because it was all his fault. I was wondering whether my roommates were really dead and whether Ron could be relied on for contacting the police. In fact, I rolled down my window and told him, “Do something, stupid!”
We merged onto the highway and began heading west. Since I lived in the area, I knew exactly where my captors went and how to get there. I assumed that I would be killed, then, or that, maybe, I wasn’t in any danger at all. Maybe they were saving me from that one guy… Ron… and, maybe, Ron had been the one to kill my roommates. I couldn’t see how that would have been possible, but…
“Use your legs, girl,” said the taller of the two men. Their burns and their scars had all but disappeared by now. I was being dragged up a sidewalk to a large, nondenominational church. When I realized I could use my feet, I did, and it was a far pleasanter experience.
To be continued...
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'Wuh?' Is Right...
Posted Jun 30, 2009
You've got some funny bits here and there; I liked the quote by the complete stranger at the beginning, gives him much more character than just being a stranger. It's also tickling that your MC has no idea what's going on most of the time; thus the ambiguous title then, right? That's where there ... (
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