It's Only the Beginning

 by Jason Genego

The radio seems to pulse to my heartbeat, my fingers follow the beat of my brain waves; I think all of this without even losing concentration. All I hear is the sound of my work, various beats that seem to flow as a couple making love. Damn it, was that a knock at the door? What would someone want at four in the morning? Guess I'll find out soon. Unless I was imagining things. Maybe my brain's trying to tell me something. Oh, well, screw it. All right, what do you want at. . . it's a tight package, literally a brunette, five eight or so, legs that didn't know how to quit. But it didn't stay at the hourglass figure in the onyx, black leather one piece motif. Her face seemed softer than silk, her brown eyes warmer than the sun, lips red as a rose,and deep brown hair that curled around as if she had some un-human control over it.

Just as I was about to make a move on her, she pulls the biggest hand cannon out from nowhere. It has to be at least a fifty caliber magnum, and it gleams in the glow of my desk lamp like a knight's shining armor. Diving to the right just as the first shot went off, the shot just misses my left shoulder. Who is this crazy bitch? And what does she want from me, besides me being dead, obviously.

I spring up from the floor like a cat with its hair on end, grabbing the butt of the gun with my right hand and uppercutting her with my left. She was fast, but not fast enough. She is out cold on the floor, half in and half out of my apartment. The music is still going, but now my heartbeat is the conductor of the orchestra. I stand poised, ready to fight, but my mind is wandering like a runaway train. Just then I hear footsteps coming up the hall. I dash into my room and grab the disk out of my zip drive. Maybe I am surfing in too-dangerous waters, and have finally stepped over the line. I grab my leather jacket that fits like a second skin, and head for the steps to go down.

Too late - someone's coming up already. I'm getting boxed in. Wait, the fire escape from my apartment! Reaching the ground as eagerly as a lost sailor finding land, my feet take off before I can think what to do. Running, the alley seems to go on forever. The walls of the black-pitted city engulf me like wildfire. Trash is everywhere; it seems like a disease that lives on humans. Maybe we are parasites, no different than ticks that suck blood to survive.We suck the life out of our habitat,
then move on to start "fresh."

As I reach the end of the alley, I feel my eyes adjust to the bright city lights that surround the disease. The concrete jungle, as they say. I turn to see a man coming from where I was, coming after me. These guys don't give up, I guess. There is a girl at the end of the alley; she looks decent enough, one you would bring home to meet the family. Her hair is neatly tied back; she is wearing a somewhat formal Ferrari-red gown. She is my best choice - I know i can seek refuge with her. As I greet her, she only nods and smiles. The man in the black in the black suit is within twenty feet now. He suddenly stops and smiles, the same smile the lady in red just gave me. I turn to see the lady, but all I see is. . . .

The dagger enters through my stomach, the cold steel unlike any winter, the pain unlike any other. Was she waiting for me? Were those men simply leading me to her like live bait? Looking back at the lady in red, I could see that this was nothing at all to even blink at. You could see in her eyes that there was no remorse.

Now I find my mind wondering: is there a heaven or hell? Or does life just fade away like the ringing of a bell?