A woman yelled out to me in perfect English. “We’re here to help.”
Yeah, fuck you all, I thought. Either they thought I was deaf or stupid, because I could hear what was happening over at the Commons. The bastards were not there to help.
“We know you’re in here,” came a third voice.
The woman spoke several curt words in whatever language they spoke, apparently not directed at me. There was a squawk from a radio, followed by a quick and efficient reply. Then there was nothing but silence for what seemed like a solid five minutes. I was sweating it bad. My entire body shook.
I had a lot of other things on my mind, like not dying, but there was a terrible smell coming from somewhere. It filled the lean-to. I sniffed my coat sleeve. I fought back a gag. My sleeve had this nasty, mucusy film covering it. It was so bad I feared they might smell it through the wall.
There were two quick shots into what I thought was the bathroom, then the mirror fell to the ground with a crash. The bathroom door flung open hard; the sound it made when it slammed against the fake wall of the dope room sounded hollower than it should have because there was no actual framing behind the fake wall, just a thick sheet of corrugated aluminum.
I heard what sounded like hundreds of footsteps coming from the direction of what I thought was the Commons. There was another shot into the bathroom. Sensing that there were going to be more shots fired, I slowly got down on my belly. I figured the racket being made outside would obscure any noise I might’ve made moving to the floor. Like clockwork, someone opened fire all along the wall of the bathroom and dope room. I could see the rays of lamplight now shining through the newly created holes in the wall.
The sounds that replaced the gunfire were nightmarish. It will suffice to say that what I heard didn’t sound human, not to me anyway. There was sniffing and snorting with the occasional grunt thrown in for ambiance. I shook even more violently.
“Friend, if you’re in there, we’ll find you,” the woman said, now outside the building. The sniffs and snorts ramped up as she spoke. I heard a disturbance outside, followed by the sickening sound of a bone crushing blow from something heavy. Something or someone fell to the ground with a thud. She then picked back up with the conversation like nothing happened. “If you’re in there, you’ll want to let me know. You don’t want those terrible things you hear to find you. I’ll make it quick and painless. They won’t,” she said, with a hint of glee in her voice.
At least she was being honest, I thought.
The radio squawked again. “I’ll be right there—” the woman started in English, then caught herself and switched to the other language. The woman then barked orders to those who were with her. There was the twang of a couple metal objects hitting the floor, followed by the Sniffers becoming highly agitated.
The lantern light diminished as the woman and her human entourage moved away. Regrettably, the Sniffers and their nightmare-inducing bellows remained.
In just a matter of moments, I heard the violent jostling of bodies maybe thirty feet away from the lean-to. Thanks to the light from the multiple lanterns having been setup around the spectacle and a favorable bullet hole, I had a front-row seat to the unfolding events.
Several people from the Patch were made to get down on their knees. Sobbing and begging filled the dark night. One man spoke up, uttering a single word: “Why?” A man walked up to him and without hesitation slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s gut. His name was John. He was one hell of a cook. He fell over on his side and was still for several moments before finally sucking in a long breath.
The woman told John to get back on his knees. “I’m going to begin killing your friends if you don’t give back my property. This is your only warning,” the woman yelled.
If I’m being honest, up until that point in my life, I had pretty much shirked away from any and all responsibilities. I left my mom and dad’s business because they expected too much from me. I was too chill to be a suit and tie guy, anyway. I wanted to live on my own terms, not be a snotty suit-wearing shill who sipped wine and talked about bullshit that didn’t amount to anything. I moved to Texas and got hooked up with Miley and with William. I got to see the world, do cool things, and got my fingernails dirty. All the while, by doing whatever the hell I wanted.
One way or another, I guess, things end up coming full circle. The yen and yang of life. My shirking days were over. I had to make a decision and live with it. Granted, this decision had a hell of a lot more hanging in the balance than balance sheets and hobnobbing with other knob-gobblers.
I had to know what they wanted. In my mind, the contents of the bag I had taken had to be important as hell for them to be willing to execute people for them. I quietly unzipped the dead man’s bag: a few clips for the rifle in there, several small, metallic cube looking things, three or four tubes of what looked like tooth paste but I was sure wasn’t, and a weird black box.
I jumped as the leader began to talk again. “Apparently, you think you can keep our property without consequences. You can’t.” There was a loud pop, and a thud from a body falling over. There were screams and loud crying. Some of the Sniffers who were outside the lean-to took off running towards the shots. Several more shots rang out, and more bodies fell to the ground.
“Let’s try this again. You have one minute, and then I’m going to shoot two of your friends.”
Part of me wanted it all over. I wanted to just run over there and give them the bag. I knew what would happen, though. They would’ve killed me, gotten their bag back, and then they would’ve killed everyone on the Patch. You didn’t smother the life out of one of your own if you didn’t mean business. I couldn’t. I knew what was going to happen. Those bastards were going to pay for what they did to my friends. Not then, but they would later.
She kept her word. There were two quick pops followed by, well, you know, followed by more Sniffers running towards the shooting, followed by them also being mowed down. Tears ran down my face. I don’t know why I did what I did, but I punched myself in the jaw. I needed to feel something, but I was numb. I was letting people die, but I didn’t have a choice.
“What is your name?”
“Oliv… Olivia,” she said, crying.
“You think you know who has my things?”
“Yes…” She said, crying. “It’s either – It’s either Jack or Aadesh. They were the only ones outside the Commons… when you people showed up.”
“Tell them how afraid you are.”
Olivia pleaded with us to bring them their things. That’s probably all that is needed to be said about that. She can’t be held accountable for what all she was forced to say.
“If they haven’t brought me my things by the time you count to thirty, I am going to kill you. Okay?”
“No… please,” Olivia begged.
“COUNT!”
Olivia reached thirty. The woman was good for her word. She shot Olivia. I fell to the floor, unable to watch any longer.
I don’t remember much after that. There was yelling, and maybe more gunshots. There might’ve even been more executions. I didn’t really think about anything else. I just remember staring into the darkness. There wasn’t much effort needed for that. Just look. Accept it. Move on.
I settled into a quiet meditation. In it all, I lost track of time. An hour might’ve passed. It could’ve been a week for all I knew. I just remember things being quiet after a time. No snorts, sniffs, cries, or other things fortunate people never hear. Just me and the dark silence of being alone.
Snapping to attention, I heard footsteps outside the lean-to. Quiet footsteps. They were the kind of steps someone took when he was hiding from something. The footsteps stopped directly in front of me. I heard fingers probing the same places mine did earlier. Someone knew about the fake wall. Maybe someone told them about it. I slowly raised the gun up to fire.