mixster

Gunshots were fired. The body fell lifelessly to the floor, blood draining from the wound. Sirens blared and screeched as the cars skidded into the parking lot. Shadows dispersed around, guns raised at the unwelcome intruders - waiting. They took refuge with distance, as the patrol spread out and checked on the body.

Oh so little did they know. In an instant, bullets swam through the air, coming from all directions straight for the police. Several hit and screams of pain echoed throughout. Retaliation was quick, though they had no idea where exactly to shoot - the gloomy night wasn’t revealing anything.

An advert cut in between the movie. It wasn’t that good of a film, but what else was there to do on a dull winter night. So he sat there, mindlessly eating snacks as the adverts continued. It still wasn’t even late; it had only just gone eight. Still, it seemed so much later with the pitch black outside and dim lights for atmosphere.

His parents had left him alone for the weekend – some might say an unwise choice. Andrew was nearly seventeen though, so the only risk was them coming back to a wrecked house.

He wasn’t doing anything like that though – everyone else was busy with other things. Television was his last escape from boredom. Well, it was either this or homework.

Still, something seemed not quite right in his mind. It seemed like something was wrong, something that he should know by now, but doesn’t.

It was easily brushed aside when the movie continued.

That was until the phone rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone to call. So he answered it, unaware of what was awaiting.

“I’m nearly there,” crackled a static riddled voice. Who though?

Andrew was puzzled by this. No, he was scared by it.

“Erm, who? Who – are you?” he managed to request, but it went unanswered as the caller hung up.

He stood there, trying to make sense of it, but nothing seemed to fit. Who could they be? Maybe it was just a friend trying to scare him? He couldn’t think of anyone whom he had annoyed recently though, nor anyone who had done anything like this before.

Slowly, he put the phone down and returned to his seat. His mind kept going over all the horror films he had watched, which really wasn’t helping. Reaching over, he turned up the lights, hoping that the brightened room would help him think of a more positive outcome.

Nothing came to mind though. So, he decided to just try and forget it. What else could he do?

Well, one thing he could do was get something to eat. As talented as he was in the kitchen (he was widely known for his skill in following directions on cardboard sleeves and the like), based on what was in the cupboards, nothing would be better than a pizza. Picking up the kitchen phone, he made the call.

“It’ll be there in half an hour!” said the man on the other end of the phone in an overly excited voice. He made a note of the time and went back to the lounge.

So Andrew waited while watching the film. It wasn’t really getting any better. The criminals were now being chased around town in a quite boring car chase – something he didn’t think was possible.

Then in what seemed like no time at all the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock – it had only been seven or eight minutes. Surely it couldn’t be the pizza? But who else was he expecting?

His mind jumped back to the phone call. A shiver ran down his spine as his dark thoughts returned. He could only think that there must be some disfigured, ghastly axe-wielding maniac waiting for him behind the door.

Still, he had to check. Maybe it was his pizza and he just got the time he called wrong - just maybe.

He knew he should answer the door first, but he had to double check. Taking a slight detour, he went through the kitchen to check what time he called. It seemed he was right – it had only been eight minutes. So, who was it then?

He couldn’t put it off any more. Slowly, he dragged himself to the front door. Every second felt heavy and every step as though years had passed. It took every ounce of his courage to get to the door.

When he looked through to see who it was, nothing his imagination produced could have been as horrible as what was there. He fell back in disbelief and scrambled for the kitchen.

Surely they wouldn’t have. If his parents knew, they would have never left him there. Or would they?

He was now wishing it was some mutant or murderer. How this could have happened to him - not again – he thought. Grappling at the notes around, he thought that if this was true there would be some evidence left behind.

There were shopping lists, phone numbers and addresses - a lot of useless bits of data. That was until he looked up at the emergency contact note his parents left. Those fiends knew! What’s more is they flaunted it in his face without him knowing.

Right there at the bottom of that little bit of paper was what he dreaded most.

He read the end of the note slowly to himself.

 “P.S. Your great aunt Gertrude may come early for her yearly visit – be a dear and help her with her bags if she does.”

How could they.