Pumpkin Spice, стр. 10

SELF-WAIT

He opened his eyes.

Darkness.

Where was he? Why was he there? The last thing he could remember was… his mind drew a blank. He did his best to recall a memory, but nothing. No thoughts. Not even a name.

Who was he?

The lights turned on.

The man’s eyes adjusted to the light. He was in a room, some sort of lab, his hands and legs tied to the arms of the chair. The people entering were both wearing white lab coats. The first was a female with green scrubs underneath, the other a male in his late forties wearing a collared shirt.

“Mr. McKoul, you’re up. Good to see you.” The doctor with the collared shirt said as he looked at a paper on his clipboard.

My name’s McKoul? He thought to himself. “Where… where am I?” McKoul asked. The doctor looked to his associate and nodded. Immediately the woman prepped a needle. Liquid squirted from the tip. Terrified, McKoul struggled in his chair. Suddenly, blood hit the wall. McKoul looked over and watched as the doctor fell dead on the floor. Thud! Blood draining from his head and staining his pristine collared shirt.

He had been shot.

The other doctor looked over at McKoul in shock, but she quickly fell to the floor dead. At the door stood a woman in her twenties, her hair was a luscious red. “McKoul!” She called out before running over to the man and untying him. “You’re alive. That’s a relief.”

“Who are you?”

“Call me Red. We don’t have much time.” She untied the last rope releasing McKould from the chair.

Red slid the door open slightly, she looked out then waved at McKoul to follow her. He did as she asked. “Two men, one fifty, one sixty, both with stellar aim, both instructed to shoot to kill. You ever use a gun before?” Truth be told he had no idea if he had ever used a gun before, the last thing he could remember was waking up in the dark, but he felt it unwise to tell Red this information, so he nodded. “Great.” She pulled a gun out of her shoe and tossed it to McKoul. “Let’s get a move on it.”

She kicked the door wide open, and almost as if in slow motion she fired her gun, shooting the sixty-year-old square between the eyes. The fifty-year-old raised his gun, Red looked over at McKoul as if it was his turn to shoot. He looked at his gun and pulled down on the trigger.

Nothing.

Nothing happened. The fifty-year-old fired his gun at Red, she ducked below the bullet, raised herself up and fired at the man, hitting him in the chest. Blood squirted out of his mouth as his body ricocheted against the wall, he slid do to the ground and raised his gun to shoot Red, but before he had a chance, she let off another shot, hitting him in the mouth. The fifty-year-old was dead. McKoul was breathing heavily, he looked over at Red. “That was...” he caught his breath, “that was intense.”

“It would be less intense if you told me the truth.” Red walked over, grabbed McKoul’s gun, “Safety off is a good way to start. Another good way to start is to be honest with me. If you’re honest with me I can get you out of here alive. Got that?” McKoul nodded, “Yeah, got it.”

The sound of a dozen footsteps were heard from the south corridor. “The Mangolds.” Red hissed. “Let me see your cufflinks.”

The Mangolds? What are Mangolds? Why on earth does she want to see my cufflinks?

Without hesitation she grabbed McKoul’s cufflinks. She pressed down on his left arm, “Smoke gas” then his right, “hydrogen bomb.”

“In my cufflinks?”

“Yes. The Mangold’s will be coming for you. If they catch you, use the hydrogen bomb. Don’t let them take you alive again.”

“Again?”

Red slapped McKoul across the face and then ran off. McKoul tried to catch up with her. The lights in the hallway went dark.

“Darkness, again! This is not my day.” He made his way in the direction he believed Red went. The door opened; a flash of yellow light was suddenly visible. McKoul aimed his gun and fired. He waited a moment, and then…

“Did I get you?”

Silence.

He slowly made his way towards the door. As he was about to turn the knob and open it three loud bangs were heard on the other side. McKoul was unsure how to respond. Three more loud bangs. Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Who… Who’s there?” His voice lifted to a heavy bravado in the hopes whoever was on the other side would be intimidated. McKoul, not knowing who he was or where he came from, had no idea what his physical appearance was, but he was beginning to suspect he was not intimidating. “We are the Mangolds, Mr. McKoul. We only want to help you.” Red said they were the Mangold’s, but who were the Mangolds? “Help me how?” McKoul figured he should get as much information out of them as he could. “You’re quite sick, Mr. McKoul. We are the ones who found you, who cared for you. You need immediate medical attention.”

“What kind…” he stopped; his bravado wasn’t up to snuff. He cleared his throat, upped his bravado, and continued, “What kind of illness do I have?” There was a long pause before he received an answer, this time from a different voice. A softer voice, a strangely familiar voice. “A bad one.”

A bad one? What does that mean? His thoughts shifted from his supposed illness to the voice behind the door.

I know that voice…

“Red?”

Silence for a moment before a response. “Yes, it’s me.”

“You told me not to trust the Mangolds.”

“I said they’d be coming for you.”

“And if they caught me, I should