Bloodied Venom

Call mumbled rubbing an old wound on his thigh. Incredibly, fear in him subsided enough to function.

He managed to select clothes and dress for the day.

Your life will be different.

“Now I’m hearing shit.” But it was a hell of a thought. “Yeah, everything would be different if I wasn’t so damn lonely.”

Reaching the kitchen, he peered at the clock. Eleven thirty in the morning and he was starved. Rifling his fridge, he found nothing. Call planned to shop on the way home from work this evening. Didn’t want to risk shopping this close to noon as the possibility of chancing upon a coworker at the grocery store, which had an excellent salad bar many frequented, was too great. Jaunt to Apple Valley and grab a bite at his favorite Italian spot, try and forget just how hopeless life was for a few hours. No one from his office would ride that far out for lunch.

Could barely afford to but, he gathered slacks, shirt, and shoes from last night and carried them out in a bag to dispose of in the shared refuse bin. Exiting his building, Call noticed a pricey midnight blue European car parked across the road. Who over there knew someone driving such an expensive set of wheels? Dropping his bag in the receptacle, he climbed in his beater and drove off. Peering in his rearview, Call watched a big man get out the car and stride toward his duplex. Did he have a ponytail? A grunt blasted into air as he stymied hysterical laughter thinking the man’s physique resembled that of the beast from the alley. Like lasagna or anything else will ever erase the monster I saw. Thought of turning around but nixed the idea as a grumble from his stomach joined music he turned on.

Oddly, he forgot the man as his head became inundated with visions of cheese bubbling on top of broad noodles, red sauce full of hamburger, fresh baked rolls warm from the oven and slathered in butter. Damn if the smell didn’t invade his car. Call could barely contain himself when he reached the restaurant. He dashed in, was seated right away and, within minutes, placed his order. Even opted to have a glass of wine instead of beer he usually ordered. “What am I doing?”

“Excuse me, sir? Want to change something?”

“Sorry, no.” He peered at his server. “Will it be long?”

“Nope. Mama Rose just pulled a pan out the oven. You’re lucky enough to get the first piece.”

“Make it two.”

“Coming right up.”

Stuffed, Call, inexplicably, decided to visit the local mall and spent two hours shopping for slacks, a couple new shirts, and he bought a pair of shoes that would break his bank for the next two months. What the hell! Stopping at a local mart, he bought a few food items to get him through the weekend. Reaching his apartment, he saw two moving trucks being loaded by five or six burly men. Good Lord! He’d been absent all of four hours. Seeing Jim, he inquired, “What’s going on?”

“Guy in the house offered a shit load of cash if I got everyone but you out today. There ain’t nothing I give a shit about in there. Rex been paid off too. You’re on your own, buddy.” One truck pulled away and Jim hopped in his car and followed waving with a fuck you grin on his face. The other tenant, Rex, popped out, said hi and bye before he hit the road behind the second truck. How does something like this occur? Was it planned? How early this morning had movers been summoned? How do two apartments get cleared out so damn fast? Wasn’t until then Call noticed the mysterious car still occupied its space. Staring up at the porch, there he stood, the man from the alley. It was him Call spotted earlier. Tall, pale, and immaculately dressed, he was more imposing than remembered. Oh shit! He’s going to kill me because I saw him last night?

I have no intention of killing you.

The same voice entered his head earlier. Deep, hypnotic, it shoved into Call’s mind but lips never moved. Feet he no longer controlled carried him up steps but words remained locked in his throat. The closer he got, residual fear, as if a storm swollen river, raced from his mind; it leached from his soul the way impurity drips from an infected wound when lanced. God help me! “Who…what do you want with me?” His scent mesmerized Call. Clean, fresh as a breeze following a summer thunder shower. Eyes were blue. And so damn beautiful. Everything he thought was incongruous with Call’s memory of last night. He should be damn scared, should have been afraid from the moment he climbed from bed this morning. It was him; he did something. “What the fuck are you?”