“You okay?” a nearby woman asked.
I nodded. I didn’t dare speak, but instead just stood up.
“Need a drink?” the partier asked.
I nodded again. I sure as hell could use one. I should keep a level head, but this day was just getting too confusing.
“Here,” she said, handing me a drink.
I ventured a quick peek at her. She was attractive, probably a year younger than me. She had long hair and longer legs. The drink she handed me was clear, and tasted harsh. I didn’t mind and chugged the entire glass. I probably shouldn’t have as it might hinder what I was going to attempt to do.
“Soooo…” she started.
I handed the glass back to her and wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I wasn’t ordering another, but she must have thought I was. She held out a flask, intending for me to slush back a few more swallows. I declined with a wave and she shrugged, draining the rest of the container herself. The drink corrupted her balance, sending her to the ground. She landed firmly on her ass, and smiled with a foolish grin.
She twisted on the ground and laughed until something struck her fancy. I could tell she was squinting against the darkness, trying to mouth something out.
“Is that my sweatshirt?” she asked, fully aware.
I simply walked away, pretending not to hear, and left the girl on her knees crying thief. I should have never taken that damn drink. Eyes started following my movements, and the guitar strumming stopped abruptly. It was an unwritten law that we don’t steal on nights like tonight, after the turnings. This sweatshirt that now clung to my perspiring back may have just ended my run.
“Hey Buddy! You know the rules!” someone shouted.
“Hey, slow down! Get your ass back here!” another exclaimed.
My pace quickened as I careened towards the front entrance of the skyscraper where the timer was lit. The red color danced across the ground and enlightened my passing form. I started to run. Maybe not the smartest thing to do in that moment, but I needed to get out of there.
An arm caught my shoulder and hung on. They were strong, and weren’t going to let go.
“Just what in the hell are you doing?” my assailant asked. I looked up at a rather tall, and deeply intoxicated, individual fully capable of pounding me straight into the ground. “Who is this?” A hand reached up and brought down my hood.
“Holy fucking shit!” someone up ahead shouted. The hand holding on instantly let go, and my assailant took a few steps backwards, appalled by my appearance.
“What is it?” the girl from whom I had stolen the sweatshirt asked.
“Jackson?” someone else asked.
“It can’t be,” the girl stated.
Events were suddenly spiraling out of control. I was exposed in a society that desired blood. Screams and shouts flew into the air. Looks twisted to horror and frowns became diabolic grins full of spiteful anger.
“Get him!” someone shouted.
Chapter 9: The Climb
The crowd unfolded around me as I bolted around the furious, but slow-witted troop. A few hands reached out, but nothing held. Feet pulverized the ground behind me. Once more I was being chased, though this time at least I knew why.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I whispered. This wasn’t my domain. I didn’t know or even remember the corridors, alleyways, and whatever else was in this part of town. I wasn’t quick enough to keep out of reach forever. Eventually they would catch up, and then I’d be finished.
Those bright, bold numbers lit up the streets, illuminating the entrance from the main street like an arrow pointing right at the doors. No one was really in this part of the area as it was too close to the barrier to make it habitable. The only faces now were directly behind me, but the numbers were picking up in pursuit.
“Get back here you devil!” they shouted.
“Kill him, kill him, kill him…” more voices chanted.
The crowd hurled more like-minded obscenities at me. I prayed I didn’t trip. They would skin me alive if they caught me. It was almost a guarantee they would take it slow, my death coming long after I’d begged for it to end.
I burst through the front entrance of the building with the timer. It must have once been an office structure. I made a spilt-second decision and ran directly to the door on the right side, sliding the flashlight out of my pocket and gliding down the stairs as I moved through another doorway. Shouts above tried to unravel which way to go. The door above the stairway slammed open and feet took to the stairs, moving up and down in pursuit.
I had to hide. The flashlight revealed some kind of custodian’s room. Piping jutted out of the concrete, and there was enough room between the walls to slide through. The piping was old and caked in slime. I held my breath and squeezed into the corner, clicking off my light just before the crowd busted through the door.
Lanterns cut through the darkness as three men moved into the cramped corridor.
“Where is that bastard?” one of them asked.
“I doubt he came this way, there’s no way out,” another answered.
They looked for a few moments, quickly flashing their lights about as they tried to find some evidence of my arrival.
“Fuck it, he’s not here, let’s go,” the first one stated.
They flushed out of the door and I could hear them sprinting back upstairs. Sighing, I realized I was safe, or safer than I had been. I wasn’t going to leave yet, as others could come looking in the same place.
I leaned back and fell against the wall, sliding to the floor. It was tight back there, but I had enough room to not mind being stuck. It was completely black without the flashlight, and hauntingly quiet. Occasionally I reached out and touched the piping to make sure I was still exactly where I meant to be, fearing that I was somehow moving, lost to a nightmare becoming real.
After no one had returned for some time, I let myself step back out. I clicked the flashlight on and tried to wipe the black ooze that leaked from the rotting piping off my clothes but only managed to spread it further. The ooze was thick and disgusting, smelling almost worse than it looked.
Something about the old, broken pipes struck me as familiar. These were water pipes, and must have flowed up the rest of the skyscraper. A network of metal jutted out in all directions before burying itself into the walls and beyond. Control panels, if that was what they were, rested on the far side of the room, though they lacked power to operate.
I hovered close to the old instruments and wiped away years of grime and dust. Gauges and mechanisms that might have once worked all registered absolutely nothing. Some were dented and broken, like someone had taken a crowbar to the system.
“Tell me something,” I whispered, wishing the machines could talk. I moved towards the door, and rested an ear against the wood to listen for my pursuers. Wherever they were, they weren’t in the stairwell anymore.
Slowly, I pushed open the door, half thinking someone would be waiting. I squeezed through the door and switched off the light in mid process, reassuring myself that no one would be there. I strained my eyesight against the darkness, looking for a sign that someone was still around.
When I saw nothing, I hesitantly clicked the light back on and made my way up the stairs. I stopped at a half-opened door and ventured a glance out. A crowd was waiting in the building’s main lobby. Some searched while others argued. Their numbers had dwindled since initially forming, but there were still enough to not dare an escape.
There was no way of leaving out the front entrance now, but I wasn’t ready to leave anyway. What I came for waited probably thirty stories up. I turned back to the stairs and started the climb.
After ten floors I reassured myself that no one was up this high. During the next fifteen floors I was sweating through the sweatshirt that I just couldn’t convince myself to get rid of. Upon reaching floor forty-one, my feet were raw and maybe bleeding, but a whoosh of wind caught me by surprise as I looked down at quite a view.