Lynn's Cafe

Lynn's Cafe

They say eating at Lynn's Cafe will change your life.

I've never been much of a meat eater. Give me a nice salad and I'm in heaven any day. I normally make my own, because it's cheaper. One day I decided I wanted something different, so I stopped by Lynn's to see what all the fuss was about.

Everything changed with that one visit. Just stepping into that cafe opened up a world of scents and flavors. I could literally taste the air; the aromas.

None of my friends have ever been there. That will need to change.
When I came, there was a special going on: everything was cheap. Cheaper than usual. It was amazing! It lasted for what felt like forever. For days, weeks, I visited that place. Every day was a new experience, a new taste.

Surprisingly, my favorite dish was the steak and potatoes. There was something about the taste, the texture. It was perfect!
Of course, I also got my salad with it, but everyday it was as if I'd been lured back; tempted by the delicious taste of all those different foods. Especially that steak!

I've never been a big meat eater, but I think I'm definitely developing a taste for it. Nothing I bring home seems to make me feel the same way as when I eat at Lynn's. It doesn't taste the same. It doesn't feel the same. Nothing seems to work. I'm so hungry.

I've thrown out everything in my refrigerator. It all just tastes funny anymore.

I'm noticing my friends are beginning to avoid me. They're not returning my calls or even attempting to meet up with me. I think it's because they're getting the wrong idea. There's nothing wrong about Lynn's. It's so clean, there are no pests around, not even strays. Even the population of begging homeless is minimal at best. I love it. I love the food.

Nothing sees to satiate my hunger anymore. Nothing but Lynn's cooking. It's as if food has taken on a new flavor and I don't like it. I tried getting something different -- fast food. I'e never vomited so violently in my life. I needed to go back to Lynn's.

Lynn's was packed. The line stretched out to the street. More are coming to know the beauty that is this wonderful cafe. Unfortunately, I couldn't help but feel judged waiting in that line. Every time my stomach growled, it felt as if all eyes were on me. God, I was so hungry!
My friends still won't answer my calls.

I didn't think I'd make it through that line, but I did. And it was worth it! The specials had ended, there was now only meatloaf on special. It was glorious! There was the issue of the fingernail that showed up on my plate, but it was okay. They apologized profusely and gave me a to-go order to make up for it. It sat in the fridge as I came to feel it was time to lay down when I got home. It had been a long day.

Sadly, though, I couldn't sleep. The hunger kept me awake. It was as if Lynn's meatloaf was calling me. I figured I'd just have a nibble...

After eating, I felt wonderful. The meatloaf was even better this time! I felt invigorated! I felt...hungry. I needed more.

Lynn's was surprisingly closed the next time I visited. That didn't stop the crowds, though. That didn't stop the loyal horde of diners from gathering around in the cold, hoping perhaps Lynn would show up and open up to the clamoring masses. We all went home starving.

Lynn's was closed again. I didn't know what was going on, but it made no nevermind. I knew they'd open again for us. They had to!

It's now been several days and no change. I'm getting worried. I'm starving. Pete finally answered the phone, though. That was a plus. He's supposed to come over today. I hope he follows through like he said he would. Pete's always been a good friend. A good, plump friend.

Well, Pete came by. He brought some food, but like everything else, it was disgusting. I couldn't eat it. He said I looked pale and like I really need to eat something. I would have to agree. I was so hungry, I couldn't help myself. He didn't see it coming, the lamp. I didn't need it anyway. I can eat in the dark. There should be plenty here to last until Lynn's opens again.

I'd never been much of a meat eater, but they say eating at Lynn's Cafe will change your life. It's true, though. I love it now.

The Suicide Society

The Suicide Society

"One. Two. Three. Pull."

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

None of the revolvers went off this time. Neither Frank’s, Jeff’s, Kiev’s, Paula’s nor Jen’s.

"Meeting adjourned. I'll see you all next month then." Frank sighed. His face gave away that he was either jealous or disappointed.

Last meeting, there was only one report. Margaret ended her life with a smile on her face right there at the very table they all sat around. Nobody truly cared about the money up for grabs, they only wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. They were all drawn to the beauty of it all, that final moment when everything ended in a flash of heat and white.

Her body had been taken care of, but as per the rules, the aftermath still lie on the floor, a stinking spray of blood and bone and brain.

Once a month, they would meet and as the games continued, there would be more and more gore in the Proving Room until only one remained. The rules were they would all put in an undisclosed sum of money and the final member would get to keep it all. The only condition was that they must find a new secure place and recruit more members for the game. It was more "honor code" than real “rules”, but they trusted each other. They had no reason not to. They all played fairly.

This was the way of The Suicide Society.

They all kept in touch regularly. When one would want to “play the game” alone, they would talk each other out of it. The game was to be played properly.

Every player had a reason they wanted to play. They all had troubles and obsessions in their lives that they felt they couldn't handle. When the medicines and psychiatric help did nothing, they all found their way to the Society one way or another.

Paula was introduced to the club through the wonders of the internet. While perusing through various macabre chat rooms based around horror and murder and suicide, she’d met up with a random user. They became friends, regularly talking about how life sucked and joking about how they should set up a murder-suicide pact just to show them all.

Paula had always been the depraved sort who got a rush from cutting herself, letting the blood run until she became light headed. She’d done it since she was a young teen. She’d even been hospitalized for it several times when friends or family walked in on her unconscious and bleeding on the floor. Her near-death experiences became an obsession. A sexual obsession. “La petit mort” was to her the meaning of life and coming so close to death made it all that much more pleasurable. After every game she would be a little wet, her face flush. Every round got her closer. She masturbated the day Margaret died. She couldn't wait for her turn. She wondered if the moment the bullet passed through her skull she would have her final and most beautiful orgasm; her moment of infinite joy and pleasure.

Her online friend who brought the game to her attention, Kiev403, had a much more grounded view of the subject. He’d always wanted to die. The problem was, he was too chicken shit to do it himself. When he found Paula online, he’d found a friend he felt could help push him to finally end it proper. He’d made attempts, though half-assed. He’d swallowed pills. He’d slit his wrists several times, but never deep enough to result in anything but a small puddle of blood, a night full of sobbing and a morning full of mopping. He hoped and prayed that Paula’s love of death and dying would help him find the strength to end his own suffering.

He told her the very day he found out about The Suicide Society. He told her he’d overheard a couple girls talking about it. It was only a town or two over and it was a small gathering, but it was real. It existed. It took them a few weeks to sniff it out, but when they did, the last game had just ended and they were allowed to join rather easily. The two girls no longer played. They had lost. At the time, there was only Frank. And Frank welcomed them with open arms.

Jen had been a drug user for decades. She’d been through rehab enough times to have a room reserved for her at the facility. She’d tried many drugs: crack, pcp, copious amounts of alcohol, but her drug of choice was heroin. She was barely functional when she first began the “game”. Jen joined because she believed there was no other way for her to get off the junk. She had nothing to offer the world and her using was hurting as much as it made her feel good. She hated it. She hated herself. The game was the only thing that kept her sober. If she was going to end it, she wanted to feel what she could, not be fucked up when the barrel lit up.

Jeff was an exception to the group. He may not have cared about the pot or had any real troubles in his life. He was ex-military and only wanted to prove he was tough, not afraid of shit. He hated Kiev and Paula’s perverse obsessions with the concept of death. He hated Jen as well, simply because she was a drug addict. He found all of the members of the group weak. Jeff was the only one who didn’t jump or flinch when Margaret died. Margaret. He actually didn’t hate her. She had lived a genuinely hard life. Jeff had, for a time, gotten somewhat close to her. Learned her story more than the rest of them.

She was a simple housewife for a time until she lost her family. Her husband cheated on her repeatedly and when she finally had the balls to try to turn the tables on him, he’d already hired a private investigator to keep tabs on her. She was caught in the act. He had pictures and plenty of them. Pictures of her driving into an apartment complex at night. Pictures of her kissing her man on the side. Pictures of his penis in her mouth. She was caught dead to rights.

Normally, Jeff would have detested such actions, but he had something of an understanding. While he was shipped off, his wife cheated on him as well. The only difference was they didn’t have children, luckily. He’d found out after he got out of the service. She called him a chicken shit, a coward. The irony was he’d spent the last six years fighting for his country, most of that time overseas. She’d spent that time hiding out and shacking up with another man almost as soon as he’d left.

He wanted to file for divorce, but she, being the coward she was, didn’t want to give up the income, the stability. So he did the next best thing and shot the both of them mid-coitous. He’d lucked out and followed them to an empty park. He made it look like a simple mugging gone awry. The cops never found out. The killing gave him a rush, much like when he was overseas, but it just didn’t feel the same. He didn’t have much of anything to worry about, even when the cops came banging on his door. He was quickly acquitted due to lack of evidence.

After that, he needed to keep the rush going, so he started hanging around dangerous areas at night. Ganglands, seedy night clubs, etc. Places your average person would not be caught after dark. Jeff learned about the game after a particularly gruesome bar fight. A well-dressed, but unshaven man approached him as he huffed and puffed, catching his breath after beating a man nearly to death with only his fists. At first, Jeff thought this man was questioning his actions, but soon learned he was giving him the ultimate test. He was giving him a chance to prove his lack of fear. He thanked Frank and they met up at the next gathering.

Finally, Frank. Frank was always cool and level-headed at these meetings. When Jeff would lambaste Kiev for sobbing before playing, he would calm him. When Paula got out of hand with her sexuality after each game, he would talk her down, though a few times after everyone had left, he’d fucked her right there on the table. He was the mastermind behind the last few rounds of games. There was always a look of seriousness in his eyes. A look that said I want to win. In a way, he did tend to win. He’d gotten the money before and threw some back into the pot for the next round of players. But like everyone else, he was there for a reason. Nobody quite knew his story, though.

Frank always gave the others time to let out their aggression and stress before the games began. He knew a shaking hand led to misfiring, which they wanted to avoid. At one time, a player, similar in spirit to Kiev, accidentally shot another when his gun went off. It was all they could do to not turn their guns on him and open fire themselves. Frank remembered it perfectly. It was his first round of the game.

As another month passed, things played out as per the norm. Kiev and Paula spent most of their time together. Kiev smoked pot to calm himself as he watched Paula cut. They would occasionally have sex or watch each other masturbate.

Jen did well to fight her urges to get high. She sat at home most days spinning the cylinder of her .38 Special. Watching the chambers pass like cels in a film reel. Sometimes she debated the relevancy of the group. Wondered if it was even worth it to wait. But she understood it wasn't just about her. Not anymore.

Jeff needed an outlet for his anger. He still frequented the bars. He still fought.

Nobody knew what Frank did with his time. They only knew he would contact them when it was time and they had to make sure they were ready, self-destructive habits or not.

When the next round of the game began, they each arrived shortly after the other. Jen was the first through the doors of the “Proving Room”. Frank, as usual, sat at the head of the table, his own .38 special sat in front of him. The lamp hanging overhead gave him an eerie look. He wore, as always, a nice, dark blue three piece suit. His short, but tousled brown hair shined in the light, but his face was darkened, shadowed. When he looked up at her, she was able to see more of his face, though his eyes and sharp features were still shadowed. “Glad you could make it,” was all he said. She pulled up a seat and drew her revolver from her pocket and sat it in front of her and waited patiently for the rest to show.

Jeff showed next. As always, he slammed the door upon entry. He looked rough. His days of fighting and hating seemed to be catching up with him, but there was no sign of slowing down. His firearm wasn't just a simple .38 Special like the rest. He carried a .44 Remington Magnum. He was a fan of Inspector Callahan.

Kiev and Paula showed last and loudest. Paula cackled her way up to and through the door as they entered. Kiev stank of marijuana smoke, red-eyed. Jen sneered at the sight of them. Every time she saw them, she liked them less and less. Not that it mattered. Everything would be done soon.

After a few moments of letting the giggling to die down, Frank finally spoke up, “So. We all made it back. That’s wonderful.” They all looked his way. Kiev seemed to barely be able to turn his head. His eyes were almost closed, he was so high. Paula still snickered. Jen suspected she was high as well. Or drunk.

“Do we really gotta listen to these dumb fucks over here?” Jeff slammed his palms on the table and shot up out of his seat. He was already becoming infuriated with their antics.

Frank calmly, but sternly responded, “Let them have their jollies. We’re not here to spite each other, we’re here to play the game. Besides, what’s more important: shutting them up or getting through this?”

Jeff bit his lip and slowly sat back down, “I’d just rather enjoy some peace of mind beforehand. Just in case, ya know?”

“Agreed,” Jen chimed in, looking back at Paula and Kiev, “I do my best to stay clean for this shit and these lowlifes come barging in reminding me of the past that brought me here in the first place. It just doesn’t seem fair.” She turned to Frank. His face was still shaded by the light. He hadn’t moved an inch since she got there. It freaked her out a little, “But I guess the quicker we finish this, the better.”

Finally, Frank’s face changed. He smiled. A toothy grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Even Paula became quiet at this point. Something about Frank just seemed to freak them all out. Maybe it was his experience with the game or perhaps it was just something else. Something more sinister.

Without another word, Frank produced a small satchel from beneath the table. Nobody had noticed it when they entered. It was dark underneath and they were more interested with their own affairs. He tossed it on the table. “Paula. Kiev.”

Paula grabbed the satchel and dumped the contents out in front of herself and her friend. two more .38 Specials and a handful of rounds. Whatever had put the giggles in her before, at that moment, was whisked away in that one motion. “Each of you take one.” They silently obeyed. Kiev didn't seem quite as stoned as before, but it was still obvious he wasn't sober.

Frank reached into the inner pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a single bullet. “Everybody take one from the table. Jeff, I’m assuming you brought your own, correct?”

Jeff nodded. He then reached at the back of his trousers and pulled out his ever over-compensating .44 Remington Magnum. He popped open the cylinder and pushed the ejector rod. 6 sizable rounds fell onto the table in front of him. He laid the revolver on the table next to them.

“Good. I see we’re all ready to play, correct?” They all nodded solemnly. Even Kiev was at full attention. His eyes were still blood-shot. He still stunk. “Today we’re going to play a little bit differently. Today we are taking partners.” A confused, slightly agitated look washed over the group, “I take it there are some questions?”

Visibly most annoyed, Jeff spoke up, “Yeah, like what the fuck are you talking about? There’s only five of us!” The rest of the group looked around at each other nervously and then back to Jeff then to Frank who was grinning still. Kiev began to shake.

“I understand that, Jeff, but I also understand that there is some serious animosity going on between some of you. I know you won’t disagree with that. What I am offering is a chance to quell some of that hatred and return things to a more...amicable atmosphere.”

Jen immediately glanced at Paula, whose eyes were still glued on Frank. “So then who will your partner be?” Paula spake. Frank’s head tilted slightly as he turned towards her. “You. And Jen.” The two looked at each other with anger and disdain and Jen was the first to speak up, “What the fuck?! Are we gonna have a Mexican stand-off or something?”

Frank chuckled under his breath a little, “Something like that.” He turned to Jeff, “Do you have a problem working with Kiev?” Jeff stared down his nose at the stoned, scared little man that cowered in his chair across the table from him. “Nah, I’d love to shoot that little bitch in the head with ol’ Callahan here,” he patted his gun.

“Kiev? Problem?” Kiev had begun to tear up, “Fuck yeah! Why do I get that meat head?? Why can’t I have Paula? I need Paula!” Jeff shook his head at him, “What a little bitch.”

Paula and Jen began to squabble about their “partnership” as well, each trying to argue over the other. “I don’t wanna work with this cunt!” “Fuck you!” “Fuck your mother!” It seemed as though things were going to come to blows had it not been for the single gunshot that startled everyone, shutting them all up at once. Frank had stood without anyone noticing and fired a shot into the ceiling.

“If we’re all done bickering, I’d like to get this over with. I would have thought we could be a more...adult about it, but seems I may have been wrong.” Jen and Paula looked down at their hands. Kiev wiped his eyes. Jeff still stared down his nose at Kiev. Frank sat back down. His grin returned. “Now, everyone load one round into your gun and spin.”

As the rest of the group loaded their one round, Frank unloaded his revolver. He tossed the spent shell onto the floor. The hollow brass tinkling resonated throughout the dimly lit room. He then set it back onto the table and then reached back into the other side of his sport coat. Paula and Jeff were the first to finish with their revolvers, so they patiently watched, expecting Frank to pull another round, only to watch him brandish another .38 revolver. He set it on the table and reached back into his inner pocket, pulling two rounds this time. He placed the bullets gently on the table, standing them on their primers. He then picked up his first gun and reloaded it with one of the bullets.

He put the round back into his .38 Special and spun the chamber, slamming it into place after a couple seconds. He did the same for his second gun. Both then laid nose-to-nose on the table. Kiev had just finished shakily loading his. “Now. Are we ready?” Frank looked around the table. The group was mostly steel-eyed. Kiev’s eyes were glossy and sad.

They were ready.

Frank as ready to get the proceedings moving forward. He instucted Kiev and Jeff to bring their chairs closer together. They would put a gun to each other’s head and wait.

He instructed Paula and Jen to stay where they were and point their firearms at his head. With a grin, he donned his two .38’s and trained them back at each woman. “I know this is a bit unconventional, but admit it, it’s thrillling, isn’t it?” Frank spat as each of the members shakily trained their guns.

“One.”

Kiev sniffled.

“Two.”

Jeff cracked his neck.

“Three.”

Paula giggled nervously.

“Pull.”

Three of the six guns exploded in unison. Jeff’s was the loudest. Blood, brain and hair sprayed around the room. Jeff, Kiev and Paula each fell to the floor at almost the exact same time. The expressions on their faces differed greatly.

Kiev held a sad, surprised look on what was left of his face. Jeff, though now dead, looked as angry as ever. Paula stiffened as she fell, as if she’d experienced the feeling she’d hoped for -- that final erotic release as she died.

As the bodies simultaneously slammed into the floor, Frank and Jen still had their respective guns pressed to each other’s head. Jen’s hand shook violently. Frank stayed trained on her, still calm. He lay the spent revolver on the table. “We’re the only ones left now. How do you feel?” He grinned.

“I--I…” Jen tried to reply, but the words clotted in her throat. Her once steel resolve had in that instant, flashed away with the report of the primer, the drop of the corpses. Suddenly, she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted anymore. Perhaps this wasn't the way she wanted to go. But she was in too deep now, there was no turning back.

Both she and Frank finally lowered their weapons at the same time.

“I know what you’re thinking…” he stared directly into her eyes, “I was there once, too.  I was scared and wasn't sure what to expect. Wasn't sure what I wanted. I was afraid this wasn't the way I wanted to die, like I was due for something different. Then something changed.”

Jen’s shakiness began to calm, “What was it?” Frank reached into his coat pocket and once again produced a single bullet. Holding the single round in the light, he began to twist it between his fingers, as if he were examining it, “I thought about all those who’d lost the game, or won, depending on how you look at it. I thought about all those who’d laid at my feet oozing with blood and gore. Jen, what changed was I was the last one. I was the sole survivor of that game and then it hit me: what if this really was it?  What if at this point, there wasn't anything else? Could you live with that if it were true?”

“That’s why you continue on?” Her voice was a combination of fear and intrigue with a touch of pity. “Yes,” Frank replied, “I do this because a part of me, a strong part of me, doesn't want to stop until it’s over. Do you understand?”

Jen nodded. She then slowly reached for a round from the table. Frank still seemed entranced by the bullet at his fingertips. “Are you ready for the final dance?”

Jen loaded the bullet into her revolver. “Yes.” Her eyes were focused on Frank. Her inner strength found its way to the surface once again. Frank loaded his round into his own revolver. His eyes met Jen’s. Almost as if rehearsed, they spun their respective chambers at the same moment and slowly brought their guns to each other’s head.

“One,” Frank spoke.

“Two.” A bead of sweat rolled down Jen’s temple to her chin.

“Three.” They both pulled the trigger.

Disclaimer: Suicide is not a joke and this story is not meant to glorify it in any way. If you or someone you know suffers from depression and has shown signs of suicidal tendencies, please have them call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline @ 1 800 273 8255

The Moaners

Amber's shift had just ended at the Magic Burger a few blocks from her home. As usual it was a late exodus, as her relief, Kody, had a habit of not making it to work on time. A part of her wished he would finally get fired for it, but secretly she thought he was just cute enough to get away with it.

So, what's the excuse this time? she wondered to herself. He normally had some reason to justify his lateness, though sometimes he would spin a tall tale just to lighten the mood.

It had been almost two hours before Kody showed up. The restaurant wasn't normally too busy late at night, so Amber spent a lot of her time cleaning tables and wiping down the registers. Kody could handle cleaning the burners as far as she was concerned.

There were no cars in the drive-through, so Amber was already sitting near the main doors and watching the parking lot when she saw the tell-tale vertical black stripe down the right side of the baby blue Camaro chassis. She noticed one of his headlights was out as he sped in. The tires of Kody's vehicle screeched briefly as he skid into his parking spot. He barely hesitated to jump out of the vehicle and quickly make his way to the locked doors of the burger joint. Like a cat ready to pounce, Amber was ready to let loose on Kody as soon as he walked through the doors. She jumped up from her chair to unlock the door. As she placed her hand on the cold steel of the locking mechanism, she suddenly felt a chill. An unnatural jolt ran shooting up her spine as at that very moment she looked up to see a look on Kody's face she had never seen before. A look of fear; terror. He was pale. A layer of sweat coated his forehead, glistening in broken puddles in the combined light of the moon and the street lamps.

As soon as Kody saw Amber, he picked up his pace from a fast walk to a full on sprint. Amber jumped back from the doors just in time for Kody to bust into the building, slamming and locking the door behind him.

"Whoa!" Amber yelped as she stumbled over a wet floor sign that had been placed earlier. Catching herself on a table, she screamed at Kody, "What's your problem?!" He paid her no mind and ran behind the counter. Since Magic Burger was owned by a self-proclaimed "old-school" manager, the employees were allowed to keep protection near the registers. They had been trained to only use them in a situation that was 100% justified. Kody produced a baseball bat from underneath a register. The look of fear still hadn't left his face, his eyes. It was then Amber noticed he was still breathing hard, almost hyperventilating. His normally well groomed, shoulder length blond hair looked as if he had recently been rolling in dirt and leaves.

"K-Kody?" her voice trembled, slightly. "Is everything okay? What's going on?"

He was visibly shaking.

"I th-think, I-I th-think they f-f-followed me. I-I was att-attacked and, and I th-think they foll-followed m-m-me." He trembled with tears in his eyes. At that moment Amber also noticed the cuts on his face, the dirt, the scratches. Where the hell had he been?

"Kody? What happened? Who attacked you?"

He clutched the bat, ready to swing at a moment's notice, staring out those glass double doors. "I-I-"

"Take a deep breath first" she interjected. He complied, shutting his eyes for a moment, then breathing deep through his nose, letting it out slow. He was still shaking, but after a few breaths, he was able to talk. "I, I don't know who or...what they are. It was h-hard to see. I just know I hit one. On the way here. It was in the road and I was speeding. There wasn't enough time to slow down." Amber remembered the missing light.

"Your headlight...?"

He nodded his head, his gaze still hadn't left the doors.

"It was an accident. I didn't mean to. I mean, I was runnin' late and I didn't want to make anyone mad, ya know?"

Amber was growing just as confused as scared by the moment. "How long ago was this?"

"About ten -- fifteen minutes ago. It's been about fifteen minutes since I hit that...thing. I mean, I don't know what it was."

"What?" Amber found herself slowly backing away from the double doors, staring into the darkness beyond the street lamps. She wondered just what kind of horrors Kody had been through.

"Well...it was like a dog at first. Ya know? Like, it was on all fours. But when I was speeding at it, it stood up. Then I clipped it." He began to edge from behind the counter. He never took his eyes off the door.

"The worst part..."

Kody shuddered.

"...I stopped for just a sec. Wanted to see what I hit, ya know? I barely had enough time to check the rear-view. Barely got to see it...or the others. But I got a look. They looked like people, sorta, but I don't know. I just don't know."

"Hold up! Wait, wait, wait." Amber held up her hands in protest. Kody finally broke gaze with the doors to see Amber had turned to face him, an disapproving look smeared across her face. She had had enough. "Look, I was buying it at first, I'll admit. But if you're about to tell me you ran into some kinda monster, you've got the wrong chump."

Kody was taken aback, "I'm not--"

Amber cut him off, "Save it! I've been here waiting for you to finally show up for almost two hours and you get here looking like you're on speed or you just slept off a twelve-pack in the park! And then you start up some ridiculous story about running over shadow bums or something! Look, you're cute, but at least treat me with some respect and tell me the truth!"

Kody's mouth sat agape, he now wore a mask of confusion. His grip on the bat had loosened some. It slowly wilted to a relaxed droop just above his shins.

"You know what? Never mind, actually. I'm tired, I feel really dumb now and I want to go home." Amber grabbed her purse from the table which it still lay. "And you know what else? I hope you get fired this time! Maybe Mr. Reed'll replace you with someone else who has a sense of responsibility!" And with that, Amber stormed to the double doors, threw the locking mechanism open and broke through the threshold with an angered flair. Kody, without letting go of the bat, bolted to the doors after her, grabbing one just before it shut.
Behind Amber, he shouted, "Look, I'm sorry!! Just get back here! It's not safe!" She continued down the sidewalk toward her house without looking back. Kody sighed. "Shit. What am I gonna do?" Just then, as he stood at the doors, something close to his car, but just outside the parking lot shifted in the shadows. He couldn't see what was there. He wasn't even sure if he had actually noticed something, but nonetheless, he clenched the bat again and slowly began to make his way to the back of the restaurant to shut off the overhead lights Just as a Jeep pulled into the drive-through. Without hesitating, the driver pulled up to the window and began honking. "COME THE FUCK ON!!" Kody could hear him scream. The Jeep honked several more times and more profanities were thrown into the air before finally peeling off out of the parking lot and into the night, back the way it had come. Kody sighed again. Just then the main doors of the Magic Burger began to rattle. Something out there wanted in.

As Amber trudged into the balmy night down the road from the Magic Burger back to the bed she at this point dearly missed, she couldn't help but reflect on Kody's odd behavior. He had come in drunk before. He had been high before. But he never came in so fucked up he didn't make sense. He wasn't the most reliable person in the world, but a part of her, deep inside felt as though something was seriously off. She wanted to shake the feeling, but it dug at her just enough for her to finally stop for a moment and look back towards the store. The tell-tale glow of the giant top hat on top of the building wasn't present as usual. Okay, so now the lights aren't even on. I'm just over-thinking this. He's done this before. He's closed for a couple hours just to hang out. I bet he's having a damn good laugh about all this right now! She turned back towards her home in a huff. There was still about a block and a half to go. Point of no return anyway. She checked her watch. 11:42 pm. Amber picked up her pace a little. She wanted to make it home as quickly as possible.

As she neared the corner, she heard the hum of a car engine behind her growing louder at a decent clip. There was a stop sign where she was, so she decided to cross onto her side of the road at that point just to make the trip easier. It wasn't anything new for the jackasses out driving to speed into stop signs and red lights. She was in no mood to wait patiently to see some ass hat in his new car grin at her as he came to a screeching stop. No, this time, the pedestrian would have the right of way and he could patiently wait for her to cross. She had barely made it to the center of the crossing when the Jeep that was coming up the road behind her just barreled through the stop, honking at her. "GET THE FUCK OUT THE WAY!!" a cocky driver screamed back towards her.

Amber jumped, nearly dropping her purse, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" She felt her night couldn't get any worse. She was getting the raw deal left and right. First Kody's shenanigans and now she couldn't even cross the road without worrying if the next fuck-ass would forget what the hell traffic laws were for. There were no more vehicles on the dark road, so she finished crossing in a hurry and made sure to look both ways at the corner before crossing again to continue home. She just wanted to go home. About halfway through the block, she decided to look back again, just to see if the lights were back on. They weren't. Figures, she thought, just as something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Something she couldn't quite make out slid between a couple of houses on the block she had just been on. CRASH! The sound of a trashcan falling over rang through the night just as a flood light triggered just below the roof of one of  the houses. She presumed at that point it was just a cat until an odd howl came from the spot the light shown. It wasn't like any cat she had ever heard, but it definitely wasn't a normal people sound, either. The familiar chill from back at the Magic Burger worked its way up her spine again. Another shift in the shadows caught her eye, just past the house with the flood light, just that much closer to her. Amber felt it would be in her best interest to just make it home and be done with the day. Nothing good ever happens this late at night. She turned back to her home and didn't stop until she made it to the front door. She'd check the mail tomorrow.

Amber didn't feel any better about being home until she had closed the door behind her and engaged the deadbolt and door chain. She ran her hand through her hair and let out a deep sigh. From the table in the living room, she traded her purse for the television remote. After all the drama of the day, she needed to unwind. Hopefully a funny show was on so she could forget just how much she hated her life sometimes. She pressed the power button on the clicker and dropped it on the couch. He stomach had begun to rumble on the way home, so she decided to get herself some comfort food. A small bowl of ice cream and some whipped cream. She decided to leave the chocolate drizzle off this time, opting for caramel. On her way back to the living room, a note on the microwave caught her eye.

"Amber, your father and I went to a conference just out of town. We decided to stay the night at the Wellington. If you need us, we're in room #240. The hotel number is in the book. Dinner's in the fridge if you're hungry."

Thanks a lot mom. You couldn't just write that down, too? She hated when her parents left her notes neglecting useful information. But at least she would have the house to herself for a while.

She returned to the living room just in time to catch a funny commercial about candy coated chocolates. Amber dipped her spoon into the whipped cream and twirled it, collecting sweet cream and caramel like cotton candy, then brought it to her mouth. With her other hand she flipped through the channels. The time on the television showed 12:12 am. Something good had to be on.

As the television screen flicked from channel to channel, Amber came across a commercial for Magic Burger. In it Mr. Reed was performing "tricks" for customers; making food appear from thin air and drinks flow from his "magic" wand. He had always been a showman. Kody. The thought came scratching at the back of her head again. She wondered if he was okay. Maybe the power had gone out at the Magic Burger. Maybe he really had hit something. Maybe he was just really fucked up and didn't know what was going on. She hated when she worried about things.

The spoon made a muffled "tok--tink" as it landed in the remaining ice cream and subsequently fell to the rim of the bowl. Amber had already gotten up and was heading for the phone. She figured it couldn't hurt to at least see what was up over there. The phone rang and rang. She hung up then dialed again. Still, it rang and rang. "He's probably passed out. Get ahold of yourself, girl. He'll be alright." She told herself. A huge yawn took over, she stretched and went back to the living room. It had been 30 minutes and so far nothing interesting was on. Amber took her bowl to the kitchen and rinsed the remaining ice cream and whipped topping out. She watched the milky swirl of white water flow almost rhythmically down the drain. She hadn't the appetite to finish all that sugar, not with the night she'd had so far. She poured a small cup of water and downed it almost as quickly. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she went around the house and double checked the doors and the windows.  All locked and secure. She couldn't see anything out beyond the light of the street lamps at the road. There was nothing to worry about.

Each step to her room felt like she was slogging through peanut butter. She didn't even make an effort to change into night clothes, just dropped face first into her overly comfortable comforter. She barely bounced, more landed and shifted in the soft down, her eyes closed, her mind already wavering off into whimsy.

chucka-chucka...

She heard something coming from the living room at the door; something playing on the handle.

chucka-chacka-chucka...

Her heart began to race. The rattling of the handle was quickly joined by pounding, chucka-chacka-chucka--Thump! Thump! Thump!

There had been nothing outside when she looked earlier. The trashcans... she thought to herself. What if whatever that was was here? No, it was just a cat, I'm sure. Then what the hell is at my door??

chucka-chacka-chucka...

The pounding at the door to her home sent Amber's pulse into overdrive. She was just as much confused as she was scared. She slid off her bed, trying to keep any indication that there was someone stirring inside to a minimum. Creeping back towards the living room--to the raucous at the front door--she detoured back into the kitchen to find something to protect herself with, just in case. Her parents didn't believe in firearms, so she only had forks and knives to protect herself with. Her mother's favorite kitchen knife still lay on the cutting board on the counter, still coated with residue of onions and carrots from the dinner she had prepared earlier. Amber gripped the handle, her hand shaking with fear and adrenaline, and she slowly crept back into the darkened living room.

By this time, the beating at the door had increased in intensity, volume, severity. Both the jiggling handle and the thumping were going at the same time as if the increased fervor would somehow grant this unknown visitor entry. As she closed in on the door, knife still somewhat shaking in hand, the banging suddenly stopped. Before she had a chance to feel anything--calm, terror--a shadow quickly passed the living room window. Amber jumped as the tall figure bolted past. She'd hoped who or whatever it was was gone now so she could finally stop worrying.

Within a minute, the banging had resumed, only this time at the back door in the kitchen. Amber lost her breath. Lost her ability to scream. She didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it was scaring the shit out of her.

"AMBER!!", a familiar voice screamed from behind the door. "Amber hurry up! They're coming!!"
It took a moment for her to snap back into reality, to recognize the voice. It was Kody from work! She ran for the door, too scared to worry about pranks and gags, and opened it immediately. Kody spilled into the kitchen a broken, sweaty, bloody mess. Amber gasped at the sight.

"Oh, my god!! What hap--"
"CLOSE THE DOOR!!" Kody interrupted, screaming with both authority and pain. Amber peeked out the open portal. Something just within the yard stirred. Something darker than the night that surrounded it. She could hear a low moan coming its direction. She slammed the door shut, locking the handle and the deadbolt.

"What the hell is going on?! What's out there, Kody??", she pleaded. Kody still lay on the floor in a heap. She noticed he was still bleeding from a wound on his side.

"That...thing I tried to tell you about. Those creatures, they followed me to the store. They were there when you left, but I couldn't stop you from leaving, you were too mad at me. I'm sorry I've been such a dick to you all this time! I'm so sorry!" Kody began to sob on the floor as blood trickled from his shirt to the linoleum. Amber kneeled down and tried to help him up, but he was mostly dead weight to her. His adrenaline had run out, he could barely move. "I tried to shut off the lights so they couldn't find me, but it only made it worse. These things move through the darkness. It was too late for me when I tried to turn the lights back on, they were already inside."

The moaning outside had become louder.

Amber stood to look through the window on the back door. The creature had gotten closer, but was still outside the edge of the back porch. "You gotta turn on the lights before it's too late!" Kody gasped. Blood and sputum coughed up from his throat.

Amber didn't want to leave Kody there on the floor by himself, but there was nothing else to do. "Here, take this. Just in case." She gave him the knife she was holding and began running through the house flipping switches and turning knobs. The rooms of her home began to light up like a switchboard. By the time she finished her objective, Kody was finally pulling himself to his feet. He clutched his side delicately, grimacing all the way. "Don't worry," Amber said, "I've got the lights on, they won't hurt us. We need to call the cops!"

"I tried at the Magic Burger, but the lines were down. It's like we're living in a goddamn shitty horror or something!" Amber was already to the phone and dialing.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?", the operator picked up almost immediately.

"We need help! Send help! These monsters are--" The operator interjected, "Slow down, ma'am! Monsters? Look, it's not Halloween or even a full moon! What do you mean by monsters??"

"For fuck's sake! I'm not playing a game with you! There really are--" click. The line had gone dead mid-sentence. "Hello? HELLO!? FUCK!!" She tried pressing buttons on the phone, but nothing would bring a dial tone, nothing would get an open line. "Oh my god, the line's down here now!" Amber began to panic, "What are we gonna do??" Kody had hobbled to the living room and was now sitting on the couch with his head down. "Kody? Kody!" She ran to him.

"I'm still here..." His voice was trailing. She was losing him as each moment went by. "I don't know what to do, I don't think I'm even gonna make it." Tears were running down Amber's cheeks, diluting the blood from her attempt to help Kody into a dark red wash of streaks on her face, like a crimson running blush.

"No...!" She sobbed. She didn't know what to do anymore. Her hands cupped her face as she cried.

"You...you gotta hide somewhere. I can barely move, but you can hide." Kody said. Just then the lights, all at once, went out. Amber shrieked with terror. "Go! I'll stay here, I can at least do that for you!" Amber nodded, still tearful and sobbing. She slowly began to back away from the living room, looking for somewhere where she would be safe from what was to come. There was just enough light from outside for her to see bits and pieces of the hallway and bathroom. None of these rooms would provide more than a locked door and that did Kody no good back at the Magic Burger.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." she repeated to herself as she tried finding different rooms to hide in. Then it hit her. Her dad was a nut for "As seen on TV" merchandise! She ducked into a hallway closet and began tapping battery powered LED lights. There were 8 in all, some stuck to the inside wall, others just ready for use. Bathed in bright luminescence, she cowered as low as she could, tucking her knees up to her chin and holding herself. Outside the closet, she could hear the tell-tale signs of the door breaking in. Multiple creatures droning and moaning on. Kody began screaming, shrieking at the top of his lungs. She knew the knife did nothing to help him. He couldn't help himself anyway. He had given himself up as a decoy for her benefit. She sobbed harder now as one of the lights flickered behind her.

When the morning finally came, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan arrived home in their blue sedan. The front door lay wide open, as if greeting them, beckoning them to the horrors inside. When they walked through the door, Mrs. Sullivan shrieked at the top of her lungs. Kody lay on the living room floor completely eviscerated. His entrails pulled and spread about the room like sticky, red tinsel decorations for the most horrific party they had ever attended. He still clutched the knife as well as a piece of what seemed to be a black hide. Mr. Sullivan began stomping through the house, "AMBER!!!", he screamed.

At that moment, they were able to notice a trail of gore leading from the front room to a closet down the hall. Pieces of skin, flesh, sinew and so much blood led them just outside the door where they could hear mumbling. Mr. Sullivan gingerly opened the door, afraid of what could be in there. He didn't know what to expect. Inside, they found Amber with only two lights remaining. She was coated in blood and gore, rocking herself back and forth and mumbling about shadows. Moving shadows. Evil shadows.

Evil, moaning shadows.

Chocolates

     The glow of the television was comforting. Or maybe it was the soft crunch of the Styrofoam stuffed velvety bean bag. Regardless, Edmund was relaxed.

"You guys can see, too, right?" he asked without so much as a glance behind him. Nothing was heard beyond the droning of the nagging wife of his favorite sitcom. "Whatever. I'm not moving, then." He said, matter-of-factly.

Almost immediately, as if to contradict himself, he felt a slight pinch in his old and worn boxer shorts. In one quick movement, he tried to shift himself on the bag to settle his lower affairs. Unfortunately, the sudden jerk caused the material of his boxers to split loudly. Edmund felt the smoothness of the bean bag on his left hip; the seam had torn significantly. "Shit!", he exclaimed. "Hey, Tiff, can you fix this?" He glanced back at the couch where the silhouette of a young woman could barely be made out in the darkness of Edmund's shadow. He always sat too close to the television. "C'mon! This is my favorite pair!" His face contorted into a grimace of impatience. A few moments passed, the credits had begun to roll on his show. "Yes! Thank you! I knew I could count on you!" Edmund leaned back and pulled his shorts off then threw them back at the figure on the couch. Still no movement.

Now naked and carefree, Edmund rolled around on the bean bag. His television set bathed him in a dull blue swath of moving images. Shadows danced across the walls, accentuated with every movement he made. He looked back and felt like a giant in the room. He covered everything. He controlled everything. The windows were painted black to further his indulgence.

Finally nestled back into his throne, he reached out to his side for the small Ferrero-Rochier box he had pulled from the freezer recently. After a few moments of tapping around the carpeted floor, he was able to claim his prize. "Ahh, there we go. Chocolate, anyone?" His voice echoed over the television. No response. "Fine, more for me."

Edmund held the bottom of the box as he opened his confectionery treasure chest. It was still cold with a noticeable film of condensation. He wiped his hand on the bottom side of the bean bag and set the box in his nude lap. Opening the box released into the room a pungent bouquet he so adored. The dark lumps within provided him the light arousal he had been waiting for. "Last chance, are you guys sure you don't want any?" This time turning more than glancing, he was able to see more of the furniture behind him in the living room of his tiny house. The couch with the motionless woman. A high chair with another figure drenched in the shadows of Edmund's body. He could see a tuft of blonde hair flowing off the arm of the chair. A feminine hand with long nails and a ring that gleamed in the brightness of the commercial that had just begun to play in the background.

Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the television and the open box of treats. He reached into the box, his fingers mushing into his snack, and pulled out one medium sized lump. Greedily, he bit into his flavorful prize, noting this must have been one with nuts and a hint of something else. The smacking of his lips almost beat the television in volume.

"Marcy, these are the best chocolates ever! What all do you put in them?

Nothing.

"Oh well, I'll just have Emily make me her batch later. It's fine, I understand. Family secrets, right?" By this point, his mouth was half full. His chewing slowed proportionately. A new show had just begun. A cartoon he found himself watching on occasion about a boy and his talking dog. His arousal still hadn't ceased.

Moments into the show, he heard a creaking behind him. A sharp turn revealed nothing but the shadows he had known before. Must be my imagination, he thought to himself. None of his friends were there that he hadn't invited. A few seconds later, he heard the creaking.from behind him again. This time, it was accompanied by a light thump. At this point, he had realized it was coming from the kitchen area. Growing annoyed, he decided to get up this time. He hated missing his favorite programs and this one had begun to grow on him.

Laying his box to the side, Edmund took a few steps to disappear around the corner and into the kitchen. The glow of the television set was now upon the entirety of the room. Behind him, the silent figures became more clear and visible. The body in the chair was that of a young blonde woman. She was bound to the seat via duct tape and gagged with the same. Her long hair flowed down towards her midriff, which was visibly splayed open. A bucket to catch the gore sat below the chair--filth and viscera clung to the rim. The blood on her clothes had long since dried up. The body on the couch lay naked and unbound, facing the television. Another female body, this time with long dark hair just brushing the floor from the spot where she lie.

"Well, speak of the Devil!" As Edmund flicked on the kitchen light, he was greeted with the sight of the naked, emaciated body of a young woman. Her hair was dirty and disheveled. She barely had the strength to crawl along the floor, supporting herself with a single butcher's knife she had pulled down from a counter by the other entrance to the kitchen. "You're supposed to be in bed. You had a bad accident. Don't you remember?"

Behind the woman was a trail of dirt and blood. Her feet gaped open at the soles. Her "accident" was Edmund using razor blades to slice them while she was still under the effects of the tranquilizer. With what little to no blood or strength left, all she could feel was the cold linoleum floor beneath her and the open, burning gashes pulling behind her. As she made her way to the edge of the kitchen, she weakly lifted her head to see Edmund grinning down at her, still chewing some of his treat.

Mustering up every last ounce of strength she had in her body, Emily began to crawl across the floor with a new found perseverance. Her muscles were weak and wobbly, but nevertheless, she increased her pace on the floor. Tears of rage began to stream down her face; mascara trails washing further down and across her cheeks. All the pain she had missed while unconscious began to catch up to her in that moment. All the fear and hate that had condensed inside of her gut now fueled her one and only chance for escape. Bearing down on Edmund, still standing in the doorway, Emily closed in and reared the knife overhead. Her back muscles tightened and burned. Clenching her teeth, she stabbed down at Edmund's leg as hard as she could. It was all or nothing. She hoped to hit a vein and be done with it. She hoped to maim him and put him out of her misery.

All of her hopes were dashed as she heard the thuck of the blade piercing kitchen floor. Edmund's leg had shot up just in time to dodge the blow. Her eyes widened in horror. Her head instinctively began to turn in the direction of his foot, which was already coming back down. With a loud grunt, he stomped as hard as he could. Emily's face smashed back into the cold linoleum floor. Vessels ruptured and bones cracked--Emily was knocked almost immediately unconscious from the blow. She laid still on the floor, a pool of blood began to form from her mouth and nose. Her face immediately began to swell. Her cheek was broken. Through blood and mucus, she gurgled and moaned.

Edmund took a few steps back. Peeking out of the kitchen, he could see his show was going to a commercial. "I'm missing my show." His face grew stern. He really hated being distracted.

Turning back to the kitchen, Emily was just beginning to squirm on the ground. No longer grasping for the knife now stuck in the floor, she struggled to pick herself up from the still-growing crimson pool. Her head throbbed and she was woozier than before. To contrast her swollen face, her body had become completely stark pale. She couldn't feel her legs anymore. Edmund surmised he didn't have much time until he needed to be back on his throne. "Look, it's been fun, but I'm going to need more snacks soon."

He took a deep breath and picked his foot up above her still spinning head.

...

Edmund made it back to his bean bag chair just as his cartoon came back on. The boy and his dog had already begun with their crazy antics. He grinned widely. He bathed again in the blue glow of the moving picture box he adored so much. As he got comfortable, he leaned back and wriggled his toes. They were still  slick and sticky with blood and brain matter. Bits of skull and hair clung to his ankles. The mess he left in the kitchen still lay drying on the floor. He hadn't the time to deal with it yet. At least not until he'd finished his chocolates.

Deadline

     "SHIT!!" Peter slammed his cell phone down onto the restaurant table, instantly cracking the casing. His blood boiled, fury coursing through his beet-red face as he tried to process this irritating turn of events. For the second time Mr. Taggart, a wealthy prospect, had agreed to a business meeting and subsequently flaked. He hadn't bothered to say anything until he was an hour and a half late. His excuse was a "prior engagement". What kind of engagement could be more important than brokering a two million dollar deal with a potential of at least a twenty percent gain? What sort of man would turn something like that down? Twice, no less! The thought only increased Peter's aggravation. He's had so much riding on this deal and it was coming down to the wire. He needed this deal. He needed Taggart.

     The restaurant was light on business today, which was convenient for two reasons: First, only a few people had the opportunity to witness Peter's tantrum; by now, their attention was already back to their own meals and lives. Secondly, if not for the extra light chatter and plate scraping, Peter would not have been able to hear the now feeble attempt his phone made at a generic chime. The vibration was now non-existent. "...hello?" His greeting was hesitant. The screen still mostly worked and he recognized the number. The name read INDIGO. His palms began to sweat. In a matter of moments, his anger was quickly replaced with a feeling he was all too familiar with.
"I know you know why I'm calling, Peter." The voice on the other end was cold and slightly distorted, but as it was before, oddly familiar. A chill shot immediately down Peter's back. "Yeah. Yeah, I know," he began to tremble, sweat beading on his forehead, "Look, I'll get it done on time, I swear."
"Your three days are almost up, Mr. Stevenson. You had so much confidence when we made this deal. I'm beginning to think you might not be able to hold up your end of the bargain. Perhaps I should add a little interest to motivate you, hm?" A bolt of fear shot down his spine. He wanted to say something. Something simple, a reassuring statement; anything!
"I'll...I'll get it done," he leaked through dry, pale lips, "just don't change the deal, it wouldn't be fair and you know it." The line was silent. He wondered if it disconnected, but quickly shook the idea as he'd heard neither a click nor a tone. He glanced at the damaged device to be sure. It still showed as connected.
"Peter, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were telling me how to run my business. Much is at stake for you already, so it would be in poor taste to do so, don't you think?"

     He's playing with me, Peter thought. He knows time's running out, so he's playing with me! He could feel the anger seeping back in, swinging his mood in yet another 180. He grit his teeth. He knew another outburst could be detrimental; fatal. "Yes, you're right. That wasn't my inten--" His groveling was quickly cut off. "I expect you here tomorrow at noon, sharp. 1326 Tyler Avenue."
"I--" Click. This time he was sure. He stuffed the phone into his breast pocket. How dare he toy with someone like this!

     Almost immediately, he was greeted with another barely audible ring. He froze for a moment. Was he calling back? Peter wondered if he wanted to fuck with him just a little more. This all seemed to be a game to him after all. Looking at the spider webbed screen, he recognized the number, but this time it was different. It was Taggart! "Talk to me." His confidence came flooding back. Taggart replied almost immediately. He sounded apprehensive. Almost...scared. "Peter. I apologize for having to cut out on you again, I really do. Things have been rather...difficult in the past week or so." In the time he'd known him, Peter had already come to hate the sound of Jules Taggart's voice. A high, whiney drone that grated at his ears with every syllable. He'd known him from the office for the better part of a year. He was a balding, portly man and a regular client for the firm. He seemed to always have an odd odor about him. Aside from his propensity to smell, why Indigo wanted him dead was beyond Peter, but it didn't matter. He'd made the deal and was committed to it.  "Are you still at the restaurant?" Taggart continued. Peter's free hand had made its way to the front pocket of his blue sport coat. He fingered the surface of a heavy metal object. "Yeah, I was just about to leave, actually. Should I wait up?" He slid his hand back out and checked his watch. It read four thirty-seven. "No, no, it's okay, I still can't make it there, but I'll be on that side of town in the morning. I promise this time you won't miss me."
     Peter bit his tongue. You'd better not skip out again, you fat fuck! he wanted to scream, but the better part of him knew you don't lure flies with vinegar. You kill them with it. "See you then. I'll call you in the morning."
"Agreed." Peter disconnected.

     This time he sat his phone gently on the table and spun it with his index finger. Why had Taggart sounded so scared. Did he know and was trying to avoid meeting with him? Or had he just lost his nerve? No, there was no way. Nobody knew about this but himself and Indigo. And Allison! She was the only other person who even knew about Indigo. But why would she say anything to Taggart? Did she even know him? It's possible as he came around every couple of weeks. The thought puzzled him enough to not notice the woman walking up to his table.
"Hey, you!" He jumped a little and looked up. A grinning brunette stared back at him as she pulled up a seat. Allison was the receptionist at the office. She was a rotund, albeit gorgeous woman. Her wavy brown hair brushed just above her shoulders -- it had recently been styled. Occasionally she would wear too much makeup to hide the bags under her eyes from her "parties". Her skirts were normally short and tops displaying cleavage to help hide this. It worked as most of the office was male. Today her skirt was exceptionally short. She had a thin white crust just on the edge of her nostril again. Peter made a subtle gesture to inform her as he nervously greeted her. He wondered what she was doing there. She rubbed her nose. "Fancy meeting you here. You waiting for someone or something?" Maybe she does have something to do with this. The question caught him off guard. "Why do you ask?" He came off a bit more defensive than he wanted to.
"I was just curious. This is a nice restaurant so I just figured you wouldn't be eating alone. Is there something wrong?" Peter didn't want to give too much away if she didn't know, but he still wanted to be sure.
"No, I'm fine. I'm fine. It's just been a long day." Allison signaled a waiter.
"Okay then, so what are we eating today?" Her brown, glassy-eyed stare hung on Peter as did her grin. He had always found her beautiful despite her self-destructive habits.

     Peter was tense throughout the meal. He had little to no interest in chit-chatting, but he knew he needed to find out what she knew; time was too short. As the evening wound down, Allison took her last bite of ravioli, Peter placed his fork and knife. He had hardly eaten his salmon. He didn't want it anyway. He didn't need food, he needed information. He needed to get this job done. "Let's get out of here, huh?" She looked at him, an eyebrow cocked, "What did you have in mind? I mean, my place isn't far from here, if that's okay." Peter glanced at his watch again. It was now six-thirty. Time had flown. "That's fine. I have plans tomorrow morning so I can't be too late anyway." He signaled the waiter for the check. Allison began going through her purse for her pocket book, "Let me know how much my part was."
"Don't worry, I got it," he slapped a few bills onto the table.
"What about the tip?" Peter waved her inquiry away. The waiter was taking too long and he knew the money he left was enough to cover it all. "Don't worry about it. Let's get going." Allison shrugged and put her money away.

     The ride to Allison's apartment was tense -- quiet. Allison fidgeted in her seat for the majority of the ride. Peter didn't think much of it. He only thought of what Taggart was thinking and what Allison may know about it. He was becoming more paranoid as the minutes passed. He worried what would happen if he couldn't make his end of the bargain. Indigo had never fully explained that part. Peter could kick himself for not thinking further into this. He was blinded by need. No, greed. His greed had gotten the best of him. He had spent little time asking questions and only worried about digging himself out of the hole that a handful of deals and bad decisions had left him in.

     They came to a large blue building, too nice for the side of town it was located on. The hedges outside had been recently trimmed. Perhaps two weeks or so. The lighting posts leap frogged up the sidewalk, alternating between a box style and a box style topped with an eagle made of bronze. It was gorgeous to behold. But Peter knew better. This was just the outside. "We're here." He put the car in park and began to unbuckle. "Seriously, what's going on?" Allison sounded concerned. She knew something was up, but to Peter, it felt more like she was the one grilling him for information. "Like I told you before, nothing. You still have that bottle of scotch, right?" She nodded. "Then let's go." They began up the sidewalk, keeping sure to stay near each other. A few distant pops could be heard. Gunshots, most likely. Allison's pace increased from a stroll to a brisk walk. Peter kept up with her for appearances. He wasn't the least bit worried. He didn't have time to be worried.

     When they reached the front doors, Allison put in her code. She had to try more than once as her hand was shaking from a combination of drugs and fear. BEEP! - CLICK! They entered the beautiful building. As the doors opened, Peter was hit with a familiar dank odor. The inside of the building was nothing like the outside. The halls were dusty and barren, apart from various doors and hallways. The carpet was a drab, worn red. It didn't seem to have been vacuumed any time recently. A light scent of mold wafted up. Allison led the way down one of the halls towards an elevator. She hated taking the stairs and avoided it when possible. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, Henry glanced at his watch again. Seven fifteen. Allison noticed and cocked her head to the side. "Why do you keep checking your watch, huh? Something important coming up?"

"Well, I did say I'm not planning on staying out too late. I have an appointment I have to make. A big deal for the office." Allison looked disinterested. She didn't care for that place at all, but she put up with it. The pay allowed her to do what she wanted while keeping a roof over her head. At the least, it sure beat the alternatives. The elevator dinged, moments later the doors slid open. They rode two floors up. Peter stared at the lighted numbers the whole time, lost in thought. He was distracted moments before they arrived at Allison's floor when he glanced out the corner of his eye, catching what seemed like her lightly rubbing her nipple over her blouse. He knew what she was expecting.