“It’s not a very smart idea being alone on a dark street on a night like this.” A voice spoke from the drizzly darkness directly behind Wilson. He turned around slowly to try to see the source of the voice and in the shadows could make out a large menacing figure. A hefty man dressed in a leather jacket, black watch cap, and jeans over dark leather boots stood watching Wilson, his face obscured in shadows. The man appeared to be about six feet three inches and about two hundred and fifty solid pounds. As if through some primal instinct buried deep in his genes, Wilson understood that this man was not approaching as a friend. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Although Wilson was a big man perhaps equal in height to the mysterious stranger, he was not in the apparent superior shape that the man obviously was and therefore assumed that trying to physically confront the man or even attempt to run away would be a very bad idea. Wilson did not know what to do or say, so he simply stood with the ridiculous newly acquired cell phone grasped tightly in his left hand.
“What do you have for me?” the sinister figure inquired from the shadows.
For a brief moment of confusion, Wilson thought that perhaps the man was asking for the strange phone, and actually thought about holding it out to him. Although the idea seemed somewhat odd to Wilson, it was no more peculiar than any other events that occurred on this bizarre night. Charles was beginning to feel as if he might actually be dreaming all of this. He imagined for a moment that in reality, he might be at home in a coma, being the victim of some sort of stroke or something of that nature, and that all of these occurrences might actually be the result of a bad hallucination.
Wilson stammered to the man. “I don’t think I have… anything for you, I don’t know… I am not sure... what you want.”
The man replied in a condescending tone, “That’s not a real tough one, Einstein. How’s about we start with your wallet. How’s about you give me your wallet and we’ll see what transpires from there.”
It finally registered with Wilson that the man was not part of the strange happenings of this eventful evening, but was simply a robber, a mugger, a common hood hiding there in the shadows with a single intent; to take his money. Wilson found himself strangely relieved that this thug was just what he appeared to be, and that the man would not suddenly morph into some sort of demon or unnatural creature. The man was human, nothing more. Compared to what he believed he had been through earlier in the evening Wilson felt no fear whatsoever. He knew how to deal with people and this character was just that; a person, nothing more. He had spent a lifetime making deals and arbitrating negations and this would simply be another deal.
“Look.” Wilson suggested, “My wallet is of no use to you, neither are my credit cards. I have over three hundred dollars in cash in my wallet. You can have it, no strings attached. Please just let me keep my cards so I can get back home.”
With that, the stranger produced something from his pocket, which flipped open to reveal a large knife blade. “Look, friend. Maybe you do not quite comprehend the gravity of your situation. I am not what you might call your typical mugger. I am someone of shall we say a much higher intellect than your traditional street-thug. I carefully pick and study my subjects and am extremely careful about which of those aforementioned subjects I choose to do my business with. I am very good and what I do and take great pride in my work, so allow me to explain the rules of my trade to you in order that we can remove all confusion. See, you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t have. I, being the individual holding this razor sharp implement capable of rendering death and mayhem, get to tell you, the unarmed cowering victim, what you will or will not give me. Got that? Very well. Now be so kind as to give me your wallet... and give it to me now or else you are unfortunately going to end up lying in this wet stinking alley watching your own blood and guts run down the sewer until you slowly and painfully die. How is that for a clear and concise explanation?”
Wilson realized that the man standing before him was not some hyped up junkie or stupid criminal. The man was frighteningly articulate, which momentarily made Wilson wonder what convergence of unfortunate events could occur to take someone such as this man and turn him from a potential scholar to a common robber. Perhaps the man was simply one of those mentally bent or broken people who, although intelligent, ended up gravitating to the world of crime. With that in mind, Wilson decided it might be best for him to cut his losses and give the man what he wanted; but he would not do so without trying some type of defensive counter measure.
Wilson remembered the phone in his left hand and decided the perhaps he could distract the man long enough to dial 911. Then surely, the operator would hear what was going on and perhaps could triangulate his signal or track his phone using GPS as he had seen them do on his favorite television cop shows. Perhaps the operator would hear enough to discern what was transpiring and would send help. Either way, he had to try something.
He said to his attacker, “Ok. I understand what you are saying and I will not try to stop you. Please just don’t hurt me. See, I am reaching into my back pocket to get my wallet. I will go nice and slowly, ok?”
“Use two fingers, my friend… and please don’t even think about doing anything stupid,” The robber reminded. The man watched him with hawk-like eyes ready for the slightest wrong move. With the thug just a few feet away from him, face still hidden in shadows, Wilson knew that any attempt at counter attack on his part would prove futile and probably fatal. He was sure that the attacker would not hesitate to gut him as he had promised.
Although cautious and fearful of his attacker, Wilson found a hatred for the man boiling up inside of him. He had never known that he could feel such utter loathing for another human being. However, no one had ever made him feel so useless, so helpless and violated as this man had. He understood in the deepest and darkest recesses of his soul that if he got the upper hand on this criminal, he would not hesitate to slice the man from stem to stern; happily watching his entrails fall from his body and slither down the sewer drain like so much refuse.
As he started to reach into his right back pocket to get his wallet, keeping the robber’s eyes trained on that activity, he used his left hand, which was now down along his side to press what he hoped was the ‘nine’ key on the cell phone. He squeezed the button surreptitiously yet angrily as if letting all of his fury flow into that single act.
Wilson, felt something move eerily just under the flesh-like skin of the phone, and imagined the motion of a parasitic worm as it burrowed and slithered just under the outermost layer of his own flesh. Once again, he felt like throwing the phone as far away as possible, but he knew that it might be his only hope for reaching help.
“Lets move it genius, I don’t have all night,” the robber demanded.
Wilson slowly removed his wallet from his right pants pocket with two fingers and started to move it into view swinging a long and slow arc to his right, while simultaneously attempting to feel for what he hoped would be the ‘one’ numeric key on the cell phone. However, before he had the opportunity to press the second button, he heard what sounded like a violent ripping sound coming from behind his would-be assailant.
Chapter 5
The large mugger heard the sound as well, and while keeping the knife trained on Wilson, he turned slightly trying with peripheral vision to look behind him with the hopes of seeing what had made the strange noise. What he saw made him forget completely about Wilson and his wallet, because what was happening defied anything any sane person could ever hope to comprehend.
From a point about nine feet above the street stretching downward to the ground, a large rip seemed to have formed in the world. It was as if someone was showing a full size movie of the view looking back down the alley and using a scorching blade to cut a large rip down the center of the screen. The rip was about a foot wide in the middle, black as pitch inside, and tapered off to nothing at the top and bottom. The edges of the slash were glowing with whit
e-hot embers like molten steel in a boiling cauldron. The most peculiar thing about it was that Wilson could see cars moving about on the main street far down the alley behind the huge black rip, oblivious to what was happening on this dark side street. It was as if a gash had opened in the very fabric of reality.
“What the hell,” the robber shouted in bewilderment.
Wilson was likewise staring in astonishment. He was so shocked that he had forgotten completely about dialing for help and simply stood transfixed with his wallet in his right hand suspended by two trembling fingers, and the strange cell phone in his left. Then he noticed a foul and familiar unpleasant odor. He had smelled the same nauseating stench inside the mysterious store emanating from the old man.
Wilson watched the mugger look back and forth between him and the unearthly split in the world as if trying to determine which posed the biggest threat, but Wilson instinctively understood where the real danger came from. He heard distant moaning, howling and screaming coming from deep inside the giant wound in the world as if hundreds of thousands of creatures were simultaneously crying out in pain, and Wilson knew that the thug was in more trouble than the unfortunate soul could have ever imagined.
From behind the robber, Wilson heard a scraping sound as from the bottom of the dark slit, several long slime covered tentacles began to emerge and flop about the street as if blindly searching for something. Their texture and color appeared to be almost reptilian; or perhaps some human/reptile hybrid with slimy greens blended with flesh tones and browns. As the tentacles groped along the wet street, steam rose in plumes from their apparently flaming hot flesh, which simultaneously evaporated the puddles of rainwater.
Wilson noticed that the ends of the tentacles were sprouting miniature human-like hands with long gleaming claws. Before the robber had time to react, several of the hand/tentacles grabbed him around his ankles pulling quickly, knocking the man off balance, landing him sharply on his back, splashing water droplets upward to join the growing plumes of forming steam. The once deadly blade flew from his hand and clattered harmlessly to the street. The thug screamed in pain as the incredible hand/tentacles burned away his pant legs melting the flesh off of his ankles, instantly cauterizing the man’s wounds, stopping blood flow. Then grasping firmly on the now exposed anklebones, the tentacles began to pull.
In the distance beyond the night-black gash, Wilson could see people walking along the pavement completely oblivious to the ear-splitting screaming coming from the downed man as he struggled in vain to free himself from the torturous grasp. It was as if the horrors that were occurring in the alley were happening a million miles away in some unknown dimension and no one was aware of them.
Slowly the tentacles began to withdraw backward into the white-hot crevice, pulling the screaming, kicking robber along with them. As the man’s body got closer to the opening, Wilson heard the screaming and howling from within the darkness opening getting even louder and more chaotic. He imagined thousands of demons, or whatever it was that waited just beyond the unearthly portal, celebrating the man’s capture and anticipating his arrival with a hunger beyond satisfaction.
The scorching fingers began dragging the wailing thief into the slit, but his body was much too large to fit. As he was dragged forcibly through the opening, the glowing white-hot sides of the fracture began to blaze even brighter. The man’s clothing burned instantly and the outer layers of his flesh peeled away from his bones, exposing hipbones then the sides of his rib cage; all of his flesh vaporizing, his blood steaming away to a sickening pink mist, as he was dragged howling into the void.
The entire process reminded Wilson of a laser surgery show he had watched on one of the educational channels. As chunks of skin separated, severed from the man’s body, some fell to the street. As if on queue, small flesh-covered eyeless worm-like creatures slithered out of the opening heading directly toward the flesh as if guided by the burning aroma. They clutched the flesh chunks in their mouths, filled with thousands of needle-like teeth, and began dragging the remnants back into the hole. Steam rose from the surface of their writhing bodies as the rain splashed down on them. The dying man screamed and begged for mercy as his flayed body disappeared into the blackness.
Wilson continued to stare helplessly at the horrors unfolding before him. Then as mysteriously as it had appeared, the burning sides of the opening began to move closer together, fusing as Wilson watched the alley before him return to normal. Before the opening had completely sealed, Wilson heard a voice in his mind that sounded like the horrible old man from the store saying, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
Although Wilson had not been a regular at church of late, he had attended enough Sunday school in his youth to recognize that as an expression from the bible. “Well done my good and faithful servant,” he repeated to himself. He also knew however, that the bible, Jesus, God or Heaven had nothing whatsoever to do with the unholy events of this evening. Something purely evil was behind what had just unfolded before his astonished eyes.
Dumbfounded, Wilson slowly staggered toward the spot where the rip had occurred and with his right hand still holding his wallet, tried to reach out to find the former chasm in the world, only to feel nothing but the cool rainy night air. There was not a single sign of any blood or bits of flesh mixed with the rain puddles on the ground. The worm-like creatures must have collected everything that remained of his unknown assailant. He did however see the attacker’s switchblade lying on the ground glistening in the moonlight.
For a moment, the world seemed to fade in and out and Wilson thought perhaps he might pass out, go insane or both. He bent down and placed his hands on his knees to allow blood to flow back to his head. He then noticed that he still had the wallet in his right hand, and slowly returned it to his back pocket. He took several deep breaths, and then unable to control himself any longer, he vomited.
Once finished, standing carefully, wiping the vomit residue from his lips with the sleeve of his left arm Wilson saw the red cell phone still clutched tightly in his hand. He thought to himself, “Did this ghastly cell phone cause all of this to happen?” Wilson deliberated for a moment about finding a dumpster or sewer opening and throwing the accursed phone away. But, somehow, he knew deep inside that this futile action would do no good. He knew that no matter what he did to this phone, whenever he reached his hand into his coat pocket, it would somehow always be there. Even if he succeeded in smashing the phone into a thousand pieces and discarded each individual part at completely different locations, he understood that the phone would return. He did not know how he knew this but he instinctively did. The old man in the store had said that the phone was ‘meant’ for him.
Wilson did the only thing he could think of and tucked the phone back into his trench coat pocket, bent down and picked up the dead robber’s switchblade, returned the blade to its closed position and tucked it into his right pocket. He did not ever intend to press even one of the buttons on that cell phone again for as long as he lived. Unfortunately, somehow Wilson also knew that this would not be true, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Because there was a strange, almost magnetic attraction with this phone that he knew would return to tempt him, would lure him back, would slowly try to change him. Maybe it would try to tap into that darker side of Wilson that he believed existed in every human; that ancient and primal survival side of him. He understood that there was a power within the phone that could possibly prove very useful to a man with the cunning business sense of someone like himself. Although on the surface he wanted to deny any attraction and think only of the revulsion he felt for the phone, deep inside his subconscious accepted and acknowledged the attraction.
Like the reformed junkie who never got over the need for that elusive next fix, Wilson somehow needed to learn more about this phone, the attraction was too great, too incredible. What this all meant and why he had been thrust in the middle of the situation he did not yet understand, but believed that he would find ou
t very soon.
Chapter 6
Charles Wilson sat nervously on the edge of his bed staring across the room at the strange cell phone lying on the hotel dresser, a glass of half consumed whiskey from the mini bar in his hand. Upon returning to his room, he had poured himself a glass of Seagram’s’ Crown Royal to calm his nerves, downed it in one gulp then poured himself another. He had been trying to find a way to relax, to stop his voice from quivering and to stop his hands from shaking. He needed to call his wife to let her know he arrived and knew that she would notice the anxiety in his voice instantly, so he had to try to find a way to keep her from sensing that something was wrong; which of course, it most certainly was.
Once he had finished his second drink and started on a third, Charles felt that perhaps he was comfortable enough to talk. He called, using the hotel room phone; keeping his eye trained on the ‘other phone’. In addition to reminding her about shipping his cell phone, he had an overpowering premonition that he had to make sure that everything was all right at home. After what he had been through tonight, at least after what he believed he had been through, learning that nothing was wrong at home would go a long way to making him feel much better.
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