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For all you Demons out there. Who have ever felt powerless. This ones for you. |
| It was supposed to be simple. Steve thought to himself. As he crouched beside the lifeless body of Jameson Elm. Jameson had once been the proud proprietor of Jameson Liquor Store. Now the idiotic old bastard was nothing more was a Gory bag of Human Mulch. Wrapped in a shredded and blood soaked T-shirt. Stop off by the Liquor Store on your way home from work. Steve's Wife Gracie had texted. It had been around Closing time. When Steve received the text. Otherwise he might be home right now with his feet up. Wondering aloud to His Wife. The Universal question that plagues every household worldwide. What's for supper? Instead Steve was crouched down behind a Liquor store shelf. Praying the person at the front of the store wouldn't decide to stretch their legs and saunter over to the back of the store. Pick us up a couple of bottles of Enlightenment and I'll buy us some Steaks form that place you like. The text from his wife had actually read. Steve's mouth had practically been salivating the entirety of the drive home. Shillings was his favorite place to eat in the whole world. Had been ever sense he was a kid. Steve could still remember when Old Kurt himself had been running the joint. Standing behind that old giant wooden counter. chewing on one of those big cigars. Now Kurt's Sons were in Charge of Shillings. Man, Steve thought. What I wouldn’t give to be home right now, sitting on the couch next to Gracie. Speakig of Gracie. His wife was probably, already back to the house by now. Wearing those monogram silken Red Pajamas. That Steve had gotten her for Christmas. Two years ago. Steve could just envision, Gracie eating all the fries out of his takeout container in revenge for Steve taking his sweet ass time getting home. Wondering what the hell was taking that long winded, windbag of a husband of hers so damn long. She was probably placing bets with Arctic their three year old overactive Syberian Husky. On who Steve had run into at the Liquor Store and how long he would be talking to them. Ding-ding The bell above the Liquor Store door sounded indicating someone was entering or leaving the Store. Oh God Steve thought. Panic gripping him. If someone's coming in here that means. They don't know. They have no idea. Maybe I can warn them somehow. Give them a chance at least. Hello a Woman's voice spoke. Is anyone here? Before Steve could so much as move. The woman had her reply. KaBoom. Came the rocketing sound of a discharging Pump Action Twelve Guage Shotgun. The bottle on the shelves reverberated in a shimmering chours. As the sound filled the air itself. I'd say there's someone here. A soft spoken voice mockingly stated from somewhere around the front of the store. Rather unfortunate for you wouldn't you say? There was an insanely long pause of silence. Before the voice continued. Oh that's right. Your dead! You can't say anything. To anyone, ever. Steve could hear the distinctive chick-chicking. Sound of a Shotgun feeding a live shell into the firing chamber. Damn Steve thought how many shells does that thing hold. Steve knew most version of pump actions could hold between six to eight shells. However some people bought upgrades and refitted their firearms. Especially for hunting in Bear Country. And this was Grizzly territory. So this person's Shotgun could easily contain sixteen or more active shells. There was no reason to assume anything with this maniac. I can count! The soft spoken Voice said menacingly from the front of the store. So why don't you save me the trouble and come on out from behind there. Steve breath caught in his throat. Was the voice talking about him? You see there's seven cars in the parking lot. One of them is mine and there's only five bodies on the floor. So either you come out from back around there or I take this little P.Shooter Jameson kept behind the counter and start lacing bullets though the shelves until I hit something vital. Steve was frozen in place unsure of what to do next. When the door to the broom closet suddenly opened from behind that door came a young man wearing a red vest. Like the one Jameson normally wore. The young man wasted no time stepping forward. Behind the young man and still inside the confined space of the broom closet was an attractive blonde woman. The youth shut the door. Behind him. Before looking directly at Steve. Stay down. The young man seemed to mouth. Then putting his hands high above his head. He shouted. The car is mine. I work here now, just started today actually and I'm unarmed! Good. The voice said. About time Jameson hired someone with some sense. What is it I can do for you? The young man asked the soft spoken Voice. Do for me? I get it. Like this is some sort of negotiation. I like that. I like you kid. Sure you can do something for me.. The cash register. Open it! And no grief either. Like I got from Jameson back there. Understand? It only took a few seconds before the sound of an opening cash register could be heard. Followed by the sound of a paper sack. Being expertly flipped open on the frist try. The young man's voice came next. Here you go Sir that everthing we have in the register. I swear. There was a long pause before the Soft spoken voice spoke again. You've got to learn to negotiate better Kid. Came the reply. You see Negotiations are like playing Simon Say's. Now Simon said. Open the register. Which you did fantastically. Point for you. You should feel proud of yourself. Simon at no point however said. Give Simon a bag full of the register's money. Point against you. Which in any other game on Earth. That would be alright. The points would cancel each other out and you'd still be golden. Except here's the problem. Your not playing any other game on Earth your playing Simon Say's. It's a rigged game to be sure. No matter how many points one accumulates while playing. The only point that matters. Is the negative one. Subtracted from your score for disobeying Simon. And at No point did Simon say give Simon the money. Understand? I think I do. Came the young man's reply. I can put the money back if it pleases Simon. The Shotgun roared stressing Simons displeasure. And eliminating another contestent from the game. Apperantly you don't get it. The soft spokenk voice uttered. You see if you got it you'd understand. That the games is not about pleasing Simon. Its about obeying Simon. Now if simons were to tell these bottles of liquor to fall to the floor and shatter. Then he'd have to do something like this and tip them over. Becaue their an inadament object and they need help to obey. One by one Steve heard the sounds of several bottles falling to the tile floor and busting. Then the soft spoken Voice said. Something that sent Steve's heart to racing. And if Simon told this lighter to light on the frist try so Simon could drop it into the the spilt Liquor settings this place ablaze. Then thats what that lighter would have to do. Fith. The sound of a lighter being struck was instantly the loudest sound Steve had ever heard in his entire life. Followed by the sound of VOOM. As the fire spwed in all direction. Ding-ding. The bell above the door rang out the only indicating sound that the Mad man had left Smoke had already begun to fill the room. Steve turned and bolted for the broom closet door. Nearly ripping the door off its hinges as he got to it. The suprised Blonde shrieked in terror as the door flew open. Wasting no time to explain and knowing he had none Steve struck her hard across the face silencing the panicking Woman with one blow. Out. Steve roared. The woman just stood there blankly staring at him. Steve didn't have time for stupid. He grabbed her wrist and turned to flee. Then he found himself staring at the thing she had been staring at. Jameson Elm was clambering unsteady to his feet a lifeless and cold look stretch across his face his intestines spilling out from the whole in his stomach. Steve didn't have time for this. They had to get out now. Steve went to the left trying to go around the shelf only to find it blocked by another patron who had been gunned down. Somehow the bastard. Was standing up. Half their body on fire. Steve turned to go the other way. Looking towards Mr. Jameson who moaned and then lunged for them. Steve shoved the blonde woman towards the wall as Mr. Jameson fell between them. Knowing there was no time left Steve vaulted over Mr. Jameson. Grabbing the blonde woman once more. We have to go! Steve screamed. Now! The shelf Steve had used for cover toppled towards him crushing Jameson Elm beneath it. Two humanoid figures crawled over the top of the metal shelf. Towards them. The blonde woman must have come to her senses for She shot past Steve like a track star. Dissapering into the wall of smoke. Steve followed suit taking a running leap off the corner of the metal shelf. He lashed out with his right foot knocking the over a metal revolving basket of booze found his footing and raced towards the exit. The woman was standing stock still at the counter presumably staring at the body of the young man. Who had been in the closet with her. Steve was a big boy. He had played football in Highschool. Worked four years in his uncles grade after that taking engine blocks out of old stock cars. So to him it was nothing to wrap one arm around her waste her waist while on the run and never once brake stride. Steve's Grandfather had been a firefighter and would have been able to explain the reason the reason that Steve and the woman needed to go through that door together. He would have been able to brakedown whatever chemical reaction would occur when all that heat mixes with all that fresh cool air. Steve on the other hand was not his grandfather he wasn't going to be able to find the words to explain what was about to happen or how to avoid it he just knew it was going to hurt. Steve's shoulders barreled into the door flinging it open the Bell had time to ding once and the next thing Steve knew they were airborne. The two landed fifteen feet away in the parking lot. Steve crawled over to the blonde woman. Gravel digging into his arms. Are you ok he asked. Realizing he couldn't hear his own voice. Using the bumper of a car Steve helped himself to his feet. Stay here Steve said I'm going to get my cellphone and call for help. Steve walked to his car a Tan and Green Nineteen Sixty-nine Marco Wrath Savoy. Fumbled for his keys. Then realized the door was unlocked the whole time. Sliding behind the wheel of the car Steve reached into the passenger seat and grabbed his cellphone. He pushed in the numbers 911 hit the speaker button turning up the volume to full blast, Steve then held the phone Close to his ear and waited. The phone rang once, rang twice, and then a mechanical voice said. The nine one one emergency call center. Would like to inform you they cannot take your call at the moment. Seeing as we are over flooded with a high volume of in traffic calls. We hope you'll stay on the line and one of our dispatcher should be with you shortly. Your call is number one hundred and thirteen. And it is important to us. Steve started to climb out of the car just as something swooped out of the sky and flew off with the woman. What the Hell is going on. |
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