It’s always a little odd to suddenly find yourself in compromising situations. Being caught by anyone in the midst of an incriminating act or in a moment of perceived isolation – it breathes life into the response of having your “blood run cold”. We have all known the feeling at one point or another; the sudden awareness of an accompanying presence in an empty room, the clarity in realizing that there may be more to fear than fear itself. Just the recognition of a faulty perception can be enough to jar some. To claim that there are two basic responses to a threatening situation is bullshit. “Fight or flight” is a generic term that does not by any means cover the sorts of reactions that people have in extremely stressful situation. What about the lesser discussed, but equally well known “Freeze in the headlights” response? To be gripped in such a bizarre situation that one simply cannot make the decision of fighting or fleeing, it triggers the most primitive of responses in the system. I couldn’t tell you what they are, but the end result is a completely useless, non-responsive body to serve as an anchor, hindering the (hopefully) ultimate choice of action. Of course, the above is merely speculation – my personal conjecture. That’s nothing in the eyes of the audience, and even less in those of science. People all react differently, and to make a blanket statement, especially one pertaining to everyone (as a primitive function would) is to precariously balance all possible resulting theorems and beliefs on the top of a flag pole. But I digress. In my admittedly few years on this earth, I seem to have come into contact with more than my fair share of… strange occurrences. It seems a bit pretentious to label them as super-natural, and it’s certain that readers can find whatever means they wish to disprove or discredit these stories. But I assure you, the following material is completely true; though it may have a bias leaning the way of a teenager who was at the time scared shitless. Although I have a half brother, I’m an only child. When I was younger my folks had a grand falling out, and after a couple years of indecisive hand-offs and trades, my mother chose that I was to live with the pater. Having a son was not something that he had planned for, and my earliest recollections are of him raging about our apartment, in a mad rush to not only get himself up and ready to work, but also to prepare me for a school day. The prevailing moods in the house were easily recognizable: a lethargy brought on by exhaustion and panic. When I started growing outside of the limitations of being a small child, vast amounts of free time became available for exploration and discovery. Trees, parking lots, alley ways, and all other manners of locations became my personal stomping ground. Everything fun would get you in trouble, and trouble was nothing I was afraid of. But it was quite a hassle for my father. There were lots of days where I’d just avoid any and everybody. If I couldn’t be found, I wouldn’t have to listen to the same boring speech from my parent. Again. Through all of this personal conflict, the stupid, meaningless trials and tribulations, I came to find a close friend in my neighbor. Randy was always the one who took me under his wing, took the outside world and brought it to me. I trusted him more than anyone else I knew, and as we both got older, we started poking around beyond the confines of the neighborhood. Had I been alone, the small details and mysteries would have passed me by completely; He somehow picked up on the oddities that were strewn throughout our lives that I always missed. There was almost always trouble in our snooping though. Seeing a couple of urchins prowling through their backyard bothered some to the extent of alerting the authorities. I never knew about this until much later. Our constant need to be doing something new or different drew us away from the offending territory long before the police ever arrived. We always roamed, but one particular apartment building kept drawing us back day after day. It had a massive porch that wrapped crookedly around the immense complex, with all sorts of dangerously steep stairs and rotten floor boards. It couldn’t have been more of a death trap if it were designed to have been. Any and all angles in the place leaned crazily, and the chipped and worn paint gave it all a very run-down, abandoned feel. Adding to this was the fact that Randy and I had never seen anyone in or around the apartments. It became our haunted house. No, we knew better than to believe in ghosts and monsters and the stories whose truths lay only in fiction; the only things to be afraid of were disease and murderers and tidal waves and freak weather. It became our thrillhouse. The Magnus Porticus was full of dangers and threats – real dangers that we could see and feel. We each had our share of nasty splinters and tumbles down stairs, each had our share of tumbles through decayed floorboards and weakened handrails. But we loved it all the more for the blood and torn clothing. In this way the pair of us became thrill seekers. Every few months we would find something new and exciting to hold our interest, be it a steep dirt hill covered in debris from the construction above it, or throwing clay from the yard at passing cars. Definitely nothing too smart or safe, but then if it had been there wouldn’t have been the adrenaline rush we came to love. Years passed, and everyone I had once known slowly slipped out and away from the neighborhood. Myself too. My old man packed up shop and we moved right along on our merry way. School became the focus of everything for me, followed by girls as I moved into the teenaged years. In all honesty, the memory of years spent wandering about town with Randy grew dim and faded as they were pushed to the back of mind, almost to the point of being entombed there. There was no point in reminiscing, we had been young and had no idea how anything worked. Of course we were amazed by any and everything, of course we were friends; despite the age gap of a few years we were still the youngest in the ‘hood. We were always pushed out of whatever the older kids had taken to, and the two of us slowly gravitated together – think of a pair of marbles circling round in a funnel. They may start on opposite sides as far away from the other as possible, but as time progresses they spin down to almost a converging point in the bottom of the funnel. It was just how our universe played itself out. Friends by default, you might say. The summer between my Junior and Senior year of high school was something hectic. There were part time jobs to keep track of, the family heaping on the pressure to succeed academically, paperwork out the ass, and it seemed as though friends all planned their free time on the exact same days. Scheduling anything with anyone was a mistake. Plans changed at the drop of a hat, and no one ever knew where anyone else was. General chaos prevailed. But through this all there was a shining beacon of hope: cell phones. With everyone just a push of a button away, we somehow managed to make sense of the intricate web that was times and dates. One afternoon in late July, as I was laying in the wake of yet another obliterated plan, my phone rang. It was hot, I was tired, and there was not a chance in hell I was going to get up off of the floor for the sake of hearing another story explaining why someone couldn’t be somewhere at some time, and why I should pile myself into the car and just sit around their place. Been there, done that. But. I was thirsty… Grudgingly I pull myself out of my repose, and shuffled to the fridge, nabbing the ringing nuisance in the process. As my luck would have it, the second I lay my hand upon it, it went still. With a shrug to the repealed urgency, I found myself a drink and as I was returning to my previous position on the floor, I answered the call. What I heard would’ve floored me, but that was already done*. Crackling into my ear was a vaguely familiar voice. “Done anything stupid I should hear about in the last oh, 11 years?” “Well son of a bitch! How’d you find my number buddy?” “Truck stop shitter. How’ve them big-rig dudes been treatin’ ya? I’ll bet things get pretty gnarly eh?” “Aw shove it. How you been man? It’s been ages since we broke anything or got in trouble… we’ve gotta hang or chill or hell, even kick it. Anything – what’re you up to these days?” “Well, my old man was right. Going to jail will rightfully Fuck-UP your life. I got picked up when my girlfriend’s padre called the cops on my ass for stabbing her. That was a charade, I will tell you. The chick fell onto a fork! And MY ass lands in jail for 3 months. The world is full of bullshit pal. Don’t ever let yourself get charged with assault or battery. That’s where the shit hits the fan.” I cracked open my eyes with the realization that disbelief wouldn’t help me. Anything was possible in Randy’s world. That’s just how it had always been. “So then… What’re you doing now?” “Getting back in touch with a close friend. Can you meet me at the little park where they used to have the Block Party in two hours? We need to go find something to do.” “I’ll meet you under the gazebo bud. Look for the blond kid who looks clueless.” “Hahah, alright then. Peace compadre” “Till then.” I hung up the phone, hardly daring to believe what had just happened. But if I was going to make my pilgrimage back to the motherland, I had to peel myself back up off the floor and get ready. On my way out the door I stopped to scrawl a quick note on the fridge, even though I’d be back before dad. -Continued in second post
An uneventful trip brought me into the heart of Biddeford, where a small repose of greenery stood out amongst the mills and storefronts. I unfolded myself from the truck and slowly sauntered over to the gazebo in the middle of the small oasis – a crazily crooked centerpiece befitting of the misplaced park. Looking down at the Saco River, I really only then considered the magnitude of what was about to happen. My good friend, no, my first real friend was about to stroll back into my life. What was that going to be like? Will anything be familiar? And really, why – “Hey Asshole!” Someone grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around. A half foot shorter than me, but with at least 40 pounds of muscle on my own weight, looking mean as hell was unmistakably Randy. “Funny, I remember you being taller than me.” “Let’s not get into that. I’d hate to have to pound you.” “That’s fair” We spoke for a few minutes, before wandering back to his car, where I was under the impression a large pepperoni pizza would be waiting. Grinning, Randy threw open the door to the backseat, and a grinning figure tumbled out. It wasn’t until he stood and brushed himself off that I recognized him. Tyler was Randy’s younger brother, and frequently would tag along in our shadow. But now he was at least as tall as I was, and apparently hadn’t grown out of his pudgy childhood. He offered me the last slice of pizza. “We haven’t seen your face around here for a few years man!” “You knew I moved. But what the hell happened to you? You’re huge! What are you? 15? “ “I know right? I started as the skinny little runt too!” “It’s good to see you Tyler. Sorry about…abandoning you all those times…” “No sweat. I was a pain in the ass. I get it now, even if I didn’t then” “Well, Alright then.” Randy had ushered us into the car and hopped into the drivers seat. With a slap on the dashboard he jabbed his finger out towards the river. “84 and a quarter miles that way. That’s where we’re going. Trust me, this is some badass shit.” “Wait buddy, this isn’t gonna be a cocaine orgy is it?” Tyler piped up in the backseat. “Do you really think we’d invite you if it was?” It didn’t need a response, I decided. I didn’t really need to know where we were going. I had a full stomach, friends, and a place to go. That was enough for me. The sun was going down, but it was still hot. Leaning back in my seat, I stuck a foot out the window, and started the long process of catching up. A full five hours later found the three of us lost in the backwoods of Franklin County. Tempers were beginning to wear thin, and there was no moon that night. The only light in the car was the occasional reflection of the headlights off of a speed limit sign. There were no streetlights, hell there weren’t even utility poles. And other drivers on the road? That’s a negative. We had gone a full two hours without seeing anyone, or for that matter anything. “Rug, where the hell are we trying to go?” “Just give me some time, I’ll find it. “ “You said it was eighty miles! That’s only an hour and a half!” “Look, are you gonna trust me on this, or are you gonna let the last few hours go to waste by turning around?” “I’m starting to get hungry Randy. We’re going to have to turn around soon unless we find a town or something.” “Cool it Ty, I’m not gonna be taking shit from you too.” Another sign informed us in it’s breezing past that the speed limit had dropped to 30 miles and hour. My interest was waning. “Well man, if you won’t tell either of us where we’re going, and you can’t find it, can you tell us what to look for?” “Alright fine. There’s this abandoned house somewhere out here, and one of the guys who comes into the garage frequently told me about it. I guess it’s haunted. Haunted enough that kids haven’t smashed the place or burned it down yet. Like, they don’t want to be anywhere near it. So we’re looking for a big field cut out of a thick forest area. On one side of the field there’s a dirt road with two big trees on either side. We go down that road, and we’re there. I figured you assholes wouldn’t have time to worry about it if I didn’t tell you. There’s lights and shit in the trunk, so we could look around after dark.” The only sound was the humming of the tires on pavement. Tyler was the first to break the silence. “I think we’re alongside a big field on the left side here.” I don’t know to this day how the kid could see anything. The headlights illuminated the heavy fog for a distance of about 20 feet directly in front of us, but the black around the car was total. Randy slowed the car so we could get a good look at the approaching wood line. “There! I see two big-ass trees on the left! With a dirt road!” “Good eyes, Ty.” I looked at Randy. Moments before he looked ready to kill a man. Now he was grinning in the most disarming way possible. I realized then and there just how dangerous he really was. I wouldn’t be pushing my negotiating skills until I knew him better. Randy flipped down to low beams and smoothly pulled onto the gravel road. It was immediately evident that no one had cared for the road in ages. I checked my watch – it was 1:09 am. Leaning forwards, I could see there was no moon. There were no stars. The road (more of a path now) cut through the dips on the edge the field, and wherever it did the fog was impossible to see through. The woods to our right loomed ominously; refusing to begrudge what may lie in the shadows beyond our sight. We followed the road for at least ten minutes, crawling through the suffocating fog, and speeding up the hills out of the mist as soon as visibility permitted.
Just as we had become comfortable with the field, convinced that it posed no real threat to us, safe and warm in the car, the road dove to the right. Directly into the woods. I heard Tyler gasp in the backseat as the last visage of the field vanished through the trees, but I didn’t call him on it. Randy looked about as stressed as I felt. His knuckles were white on the wheel, his eyes focused straight ahead. Immersing himself so fully in driving that there was no brain capacity left to be afraid. In the gentle glow the cigarette clamped in his teeth made when he inhaled, I could see his knife laying open in his lap. He slowed the car down further, slower than a crawl, now we were inching our way along. The woods on our sides were thick, so thick. It was hard to believe that the driveway or road we were on was able to wind through the trees at all. The headlights caught a glimmer of something just ahead of the car. As we slid by, I noted that it was a glass jar embedded in the tree bark, roughly ten feet up. This small thing made the hair on my neck stand on end. Another quarter mile down the drive and the headlights play onto the crooked, beaten frame of a house. Randy was right though, there were no signs of vandalism at all. A bit of overgrowth had attempted and appeared to be succeeding in reclaiming the small house as its own, but most of the windows were unbroken, and there wasn’t the radius of debris that comes from adventurers throwing everything they can lay hands on from the house. If not for the bare, split shingle siding, leering at us hungrily, the crazy angle that the window frames hung, the battered and mossy door hanging slightly ajar as if inviting us in, if not for the harsh glare of the headlights, the place might have just been another abandoned home. But it was evident that this house controlled the area around it. The assuredness that something knew we were there, knew we weren’t supposed to be there, it made my skin crawl. “Here’s for old times Mike. Here’s to teamwork Ty. We’re home.” Whispered softly, Tyler and I turned our attention to Randy’s hand on the ignition. With the slightest tremor, he clicked the key back; once into accessory mode, the headlights still beaming, taunting the shadows before them, and a final deliberate click into ‘Off’. The car fell silent, and the woods darker. We looked at each other. “Who’s going to be the first one out?” I couldn’t resist asking it while giving Tyler my best shit-eating grin. “Wha..? Wait, You want ME to get out first? What for?!” “We need someone to get the gear out of the trunk so we can make sure it works in the comfort of our bucket seats.” “Aw DAMNIT!” Then in the most resolute action I have ever had the privilege of seeing performed by a human being, Tyler flung open the door, scrambled out, and shit it behind him to keep out bugs. *SCRAAAAEEEEECH* As the door latched, a deafening screech filled our ears, at the exact moment our eyes were flooded with the brightest light possible. Randy swore. “What in the FUCKING HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK is HAPPENING?!!” I lifted my eyes out of my hands and forced them to focus on the house. Vision was not a luxury I was in full command of, but I saw enough. Our car was casting a horrible, elongated shadow on the front of the house. That meant the light was behind us. The two of use twisted in our seats, desperately looking for Tyler’s silhouette. He was leaning over the trunk of the car with his hands over his head. Randy just about shattered my eardrum with his roaring. “Tyler you get your ass back in the car NOW! IN! IN! IN! TYLER!” He must’ve heard us. He started fumbling his way back towards the rear door, and was scrabbling for the mechanism to open it, when a massive shadow appeared behind him and slammed him against the car. I started screaming bloody murder, but Randy must have seen the glint of a badge before I did. He clamped his hand over my mouth and silenced me. Outside of the car we could see Tyler on the verge of tears. He was forced up against the rear window, and a man in a uniform had his arms pinned behind his back. “That’s a cop!” Randy hissed. “Where the fuck did he come from?! There’s no way he followed us in, there was nobody on the main road! How did he get through the fog and the trees without using his lights? Why the Fuck is there a cop out here at 2 in the fucking morning?! Shit! Shit! What’s he doing now?” I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t think. The light was freezing my mind. The cop – the cop… He wasn’t wearing any uniform I had ever seen. It was a black leather jacket with the badge sewn onto the breast, the epaulettes were embroidered with… something unreadable. He had Tyler’s arms both pinned with one hand, and with the other he was holding Tyler’s head down by the neck, with his face down by his ear. And he was talking, and the longer the spoke, the more distressed Tyler was becoming and he was growing paler with every word and the shadows still hid the cop’s face entirely. Tears were now streaming down Tyler’s face, and he was starting to lose the ability to stand; he was beginning to slide down the window, his face leaving a trail of tears and spit. Beside me Randy was panicking. We both were. Were did this guy come from? Why didn’t he look like any other officer? And what, for God’s sake what was he saying that was so awful? There was a crack as the cop broke Tyler’s nose on the window, before throwing him onto the ground. Just as he appeared, he vanished from the light. Randy was outside of the car before I knew what was going on, bundling Tyler into the backseat. Scrambling back into the driver’s seat, as he slammed his door shut, the blinding light snapped off, leaving us equally stunned by the darkness. Tyler, clutching his fountain of a nose began wailing in the backseat: “We need to go! We’re going home now!” “What the FUCK is going on here?! Ty, let him fix your nose!” Randy spun the car around in the driveway, gravel flying, and wheels spinning. We were alone save for the house. No other cars, nothing. With something of a primal scream, Rugs floored it. We tore through the woods infinitely faster than we had come in, and turning into the field, we just went faster. The main road loomed into sight, across the field. “Just cut across! Across!” Randy did just that. The 20 minute trip in took no more than five on our return to the main road. And once we got that far, we didn’t slow down. There were still no other people on the road, but that was as positive thing, if anything. We rode in complete silence, until we saw the first streetlight. Pulling off the road, we took account of Tyler. Rugs had broken his nose a few times before, and knew how to pop his brother’s back into place. The poor kid’s nose would be fine, but his shirt was toast. And so were his nerves. He refused to tell us what the cop had said to him. We couldn’t bribe him with money or booze or anything else we had handy. He was resolved to not tell us. But then, I’m sure he had his reasons. This bothers me to this day. How did this guy appear out of thin air to bust us? He couldn’t have driven without light – the night was inky black. He couldn’t have been waiting, the police can’t afford to station an officer in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night. It just doesn’t work that way. So how was he there right then? I’m almost positive Tyler knows. But to this day, he won’t say a thing about what he was told that night. I still see the two of them occasionally upon occasion, but we’ve all changed. What we can agree on though, is this: Don’t ever take anything for granted. You never know who (or what) may decide to show up behind you.
Pretty good writing style, but these aren't characters I can identify with or feel good about. Also, as you more or less point out, cops don't operate that way. If a cop is going to break someone's nose, he's usually going to follow up with an arrest, not just disappear. The motive for the cop's assault is also not clear. Cops are human, for the most part, and their actions are almost always motivated, whether you happen to like them or not.
The working title for the piece is "ghost cop", if that helps to explain the inhuman feel. As for the characters, i'll take another shot at their personalities. Make them a bit more familiar. Thanks for the feedback though. As you can see, yours is the only response i've gotten so far =P
