Here's a ditty I wrote this past March. Enjoy!
WIPED
James had to admit it…
he was being followed. As to why and by
who he had no idea. He was just a twenty
year old nobody attending community college who hadn’t broken any laws or slept
with anyone’s wife. But since noticing
the white sedan behind him around dusk he had back tracked, driven circles around
blocks, blown through orange lights, and generally bent enough driving laws
through erratic maneuvers to convince himself that he, Mr. Nobody, was in fact being
followed. It was full night by now and
much too dark with the overcast skies filtering out any moonlight but those
headlights remained behind him.
Not being able to shake
his relentless pursuer, James considered returning to his apartment. If either of his two roommates were there
then… well, what could they do? And why
would he lead this guy right to his home?
It was then that he saw the full parking lot of a local high school,
packed for a basketball game, probably a basketball game. Lots don’t fill up like this for plays or
band performances. “Elementary,” he
thought, allowing himself a brief tension relieving smile. Not sure of what he would be able to do about
his pursuer but at least there’d be safety in a large crowd. He raced through a deep orange light, leaving
his stalker momentarily held in check, and turned in to the parking lot, heading
towards the front doors, one eye on his rear view mirror. There!
An empty spot in the third row, vacated by someone who received a sick
child call from the baby sitter and left the event early. James saw the white car just pulling into the
parking lot and he cut his engine, turned off his lights. Briefly considering and rejecting hunkering
down in his car, James instead hurried for the front door, hunched low and finding
cover behind a small group of adult smokers outside the door, surely breaking
some law meant to protect the children.
Inside he found the
ticket stand was unmanned so he followed the sounds of the crowd and squeaking
shoes to the gymnasium. Basketball it
was and well into the third quarter, according to the scoreboard. He quickly made for the far side of the
court, wishing he had a hat or something to obscure his face. Fortunately the gym was packed so he might be
able to hide in the crowd.
Positioned on the wall
farthest away from the door he had entered James tried to blend in with the
hooting attendees while keeping a vigilant eye on the door. Although he had no idea of what his pursuer
looked like it wasn’t long before someone entered and started scanning the
auditorium. James quickly stepped back
toward the corner, putting the packed bleachers between himself and the
man. He hadn’t been spotted but likewise
James hadn’t gotten a clear view of the man’s face, catching only curly dark
hair and a closely cut beard, average height and build, no older than thirty.
James suddenly felt very
vulnerable. And trapped. There were no hallways or doors in this
corner of the gym. Just painted cinderblock. All that guy had to do was to walk over here
and blammo, game over. Ditto for if he
tried to walk across the gym for an exit, drawing attention to himself. What a stupid move, he berated himself,
literally backing himself into a corner.
Looking around he noticed that the bleachers were the kind that pull out
from the wall. Could he possibly hide
underneath? The opening was covered by a
kind of blue and gold vinyl tarp, what he assumed to be the school colors, that
was attached in some way to the wall and the bleachers themselves. He took a few steps over to where the tarp
met the wall for a closer look. Velcro. This far back you couldn’t see the game so
the closest people were ten feet away with their eyes courtward. He quickly pulled a corner of the tarp away,
the trademark Velcro sound lost in the sea of noise, and entered into the
darkness, reattaching the Velcro as best he could behind him.
The contrast of the
bright lights of the gym and the darkness under the bleachers, plus the muffled
quiet made possible by the tarp, made it seem almost like he was
underwater. His eyes soon adjusted and
he could make out knives of light from where the tarp failed to meet the floor
and the accordion scaffolding that stretched out along the entire length of the
bleachers. Inspiration struck and he
carefully worked his way to the other side, working slowly to avoid bumping
into the greasy supports. He knelt down
to peel away a bit of the tarp so he could check for a nearby door or if the
coast was clear of people enough that he wouldn’t draw attention to himself in
leaving. There was a pair of shoes,
presumable attached to legs, directly in front of him. He froze at what he heard next. The words were difficult to make out through
the ebb and flow of the crowd noise but he most clearly heard “What do you
mean, ‘He got away?’”
“He got a lucky break
and ditched me by coming into this building.”
There were two guys following him?
“I walked through the
entire gym, scanned all the crowd. He
isn’t here. Maybe he’s in the school
somewhere but it seems pretty well locked up.
I dunno.”
“Is his car still
outside?”
“Dunno. I’ve been in here. Why aren’t you outside watching his car?”
“I thought you might
need help with…” and here the crowd erupted as the home team scored. “…losing control… afraid he might know…”
“…want to keep looking
for him? I can stay here while you go
search the lot for his car.”
“Let’s call it off. It’s blown for tonight anyway. I’ll call Bill.”
The feet walked away and
took James’ energy with them. He started
to shake and shifted from kneeling, sitting back against the wall and pulling
his knees to his chest, feeling drained now that the immediate threat was
gone. Why were two guys following
him? He was just a regular guy, a
sophomore at the local college with a part time job at a pizza place and no
enemies. If it weren’t for what he just
heard he might have been able to convince himself that he was just being
paranoid, that he had imagined being followed and overreacted. But there was no denying that now.
“Well, what have we
here?”
Disoriented, James
looked up to see the kindly face of an old man looking at him, surrounded by
light from the recently removed tarp.
“Must have snuck a flask in to fall asleep like that…. Got any left?”
He had fallen
asleep. He had fallen asleep? Had the clutter of fear and emotions so sapped
him that he fell asleep in the muffled quiet under the bleachers? Embarrassed, James crawled out from under the
bleachers and stiffly stood up, knocking his head on a support beam, lending even
more support to the janitor’s hypothesis.
“Uh, no, uh, just tired,
or something.” He absently rubbed his
head, blinking at the rows of bright fluorescents at an empty gym occupied only
by himself and two custodians. “I’d
better go,” he stammered as he went quickly towards the exit.
“Next time bring some to
share, kid,” he heard the man chuckle behind him.
He could see through the
doors that it was still dark outside so he must have only been asleep for a few
hours. Making an excellent target against
the light behind him, James scanned the parking lot, finding only his car. It’s a good thing they didn’t decide to wait
for him, or maybe they did. He went out
into the cool night and quickly stepped beside the door. No other cars were present and there was very
little traffic on the road that ran by the school. He nearly tiptoed to his car, as if he was
afraid he would wake it, and checked the back seat for ghoulies and jackbooted
thugs. Empty. So they were true to their word and called
“it” off for the night, whatever that was.
His mind raced with crazy thoughts fueled by movies, with him gritting
his teeth as he started his car in case it was wired to explode. Driving home was an exercise in paranoia but no
one was following him home, his wheels didn’t fall off and he wasn’t surrounded
at a red light by a SWAT team.
According to his car
clock it was nearly midnight when he pulled up in front of the apartment
building three away from his. Things
were as uneventful as they could be at this time of night on a Friday at an
apartment complex near a college so he made his way through couples whispering
together on benches and mixed groups drinking or smoking in front of the
buildings. No one paid him any
attention, making him feel a bit foolish for imagining himself to a ninja
stealthily closing in on his prey, apartment 1704. There were no live hand grenades rigged to
blow him to smithereens as he opened the door.
Just his apartment.
He entered the front
hall, rounded the corner to the kitchenette and his heart stopped. There, in his apartment, sat the dark haired
guy who was looking for him at the game, eating pizza. As the jolt of adrenaline faded from his
system he realized that it was only Donald, one of his roommates.
“Nice beard, Don.”
“Thanks. Claudia’s been asking me to grow one for
weeks so I thought I’d give it a grow.”
“It doesn’t quite look
like you, older, maybe.”
“That’s what Rich
said.” Rich was the other roommate. All three worked at the pizza place near
campus. Rich and Don were both seniors
and needed a new roommate about the time James decided that living in the dorms
was for kids and removed their “roommate wanted” ad off the pizzeria bulletin
board minutes after Rich pierced it with a thumbtack.
“There’s pizza if you
want it,” an inside joke. There was
always pizza, either one not picked up by a student or “accidentally” made with
the wrong ingredients. James realized
that he was famished and sat down at the table, taking a slice from the box
open in front of him, a supreme with extra black olives if ever he saw
one. It was still warm.
Why was he asleep again? Why couldn’t he wake up?
“He came out of it way
too early this time.” It was Don
speaking. James tried and failed to
speak, to move his arms, open his eyes, anything.
“You can say that
again. Never even made it to his
destination. Bill’s not happy.” That was Rich speaking though James had no
idea who Bill was.
“I wish Bill would let
us cut him free and start on someone else.
Something just isn’t working with this one.”
“We’re the last
installation and Bill needs this operation to go forward,” said Rich.
“So we wipe him
again? Geez, I hate that part, when he
screams. How many times do they think we
can wipe a guy before he’s a vegetable?
Before he never comes back?”
“You’re not losing your
stomach, are you?”
“Of course not, Rich,
just that the last time the neighbors called the apartment manager.”
“And he bought our
story. Problem solved.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re
right. So how far back this time?”
“Not much. Twelve hours should be enough for him to
forget us tracking him down. Let’s cause
as little damage as possible so we can start to prep him to try again tomorrow
night. I may even double the dose tomorrow
if the wipe is clean. That should take
care of him coming out to early again. We’d
better get started.”
“Tomorrow? Bill must be in a hurry.” A pause.
“The poor schmuck won’t even know what he’s doing in that theater until
he comes to with a hot gun in his hands.”
If James could open his
eyes he would have seen Rich give Don a hard look. Showing compassion for the subject could mean
that he was losing his stomach and
would have to be handled. Later. “Make sure the door is locked and then get me
the kit from my room. It’s time to wipe.”
