Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Alton One: Chapter Two

A sense of déjà vu ripped over Mike. Was it happening all over again? Memories of when the criminals from Alton that kidnapped him raced through his head.  It was easier to make up the story about the bearded guy with the black lab, than try to explain what really happened. This time it was Lance who was missing, so what lie would he make up about that?

After scrubbing the blood off the keyboard, and the floor and walls, and then cleaning the drains with Drano, scrubbing his hands and arms like a surgeon preparing for surgery, he stood looking at the couch.  For some reason it was blocking the patio door, covered by on the ends by Lance's ugly dark orange drapes.  The curtain on the right fluttered slightly by a breeze, a breeze that felt good on Lance's bare chest.  What in the world was Lance up to?

After closing the patio door and fixing the curtains, he stood looking at his shirtless self in the bathroom mirror.  He didn’t have the body Bill Philips said he would after finishing the Body-For-Life Program, yet he could see some tone in his upper arms. 

Over his right nipple was the scar.  Was it Geech or Mrove who discovered the chip?  It was so long ago.  He wished he had written about his experience.  He started writing his story many times, yet he couldn’t get past the first or second page.  It just never came out the way he wanted.  So he quit!  Damn, why did I quit?

He felt behind his left ear and could still feel that chip.  He wondered if they still listened.  He wondered if they still saw what he was seeing, or if they still knew what he was thinking.  Should I get a knife and start cutting where I suspected a chip was?  It wasn't so much the pain as the anticipation. So he left well enough alone, so long as they left him alone.  And until now they did, or so he though.

He slipped on his shirt, poured the remainder of the Drano into the sink, and returned to the living room.  The laptop was sleeping again and he woke it with a tap of the spacebar.  Lance’s blog was still up, and it was updated once again.  The new post had no header.  He started reading:

Oh my gosh, Mike! I don't know where to begin. So much has happened, I mean... I've missed you all so much, but WOW! I mean... WOW! You aren't going to believe THIS...Okay, here it goes. I promise to tell you EVERYTHING. I didn't plan it. REALLY! It just happened. Well, you know; you were the only one who REALLY showed interest in my machine, and you alone believed my story about it: that THEY planted the idea in my head. That THEY started what Sarah said was "just a silly hobby." NOW you and I BOTH know it was more than that. Right? Otherwise you wouldn't be reading this. You know I wasn't furtive with my hobby.  You know if I had the chance, or the ability, I would have let you in on this awesome opportunity. But the way things turned out, that was just not possible. Tsatso is risking everything letting me write this, so I know this has to be important to him too.  More later.”

There was a knock.  Mike jumped from his chair, and rushed into the kitchen to get rid of the bloody rags.  He opened the cupboard under the sink, frantically searching for a bag.  Then he had a better idea.  He tossed the rags into the cupboard and shut the door.  There was another knock.

He stood in the middle of the living room and scanned for any other things he should hide, and that was when he discovered the gun.  It was sitting on the floor of the closet, and as he stepped closer he could see more blood. What in the world went on in here, Lance?  

There were three loud bangs on the door.  "OPEN THE DOOR!  THIS IS OFFICER THOMAS!  OPEN THE DOOR!  Three more loud bangs!  Mike opened the door.

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