(Season 2, Episode 51)
Horrorwalker Horror From: The States Of Horror
ON COLD GROUND
(Washington, DC -- In The Darkness)
“I am bleeding from the knife wounds on my arms and back. I can see that I’ve left a trail of my blood from the train terminal to this this hiding spot. Damn it! He’ll probably follow the trail and find me. If only I could have stopped the flow of my blood.”
In almost delirious fashion, Jeff Patterson silently reflected on the words he had just uttered under the cloak of the darkness... listening to his own hushed whisperings. He threw his head back, opened his mouth in a silent mock scream and made his eyes roll up into their sockets -- revealing only the white of his eyeballs -- as a reaction to his debilitating pain. He held this weird pose for a few moments before shaking himself back to what is now passing as normalcy.
“Normalcy,” he whispered, speaking just under his breath. He almost choked on that word. His tongue was beginning to become swollen in his mouth.
In his mind, he might as well be screaming out loud as he thought these words. ‘How in the hell can I contemplate normal reality at this moment, when the bizarre has slapped me down to the cold ground. Here I am, sitting on this patch of cold grass. I’m cold, and hungry and probably slowly dying right here from blood loss. And... I’m waiting in fear in this moment because there is some crazy lunatic out there trying to kill me.’
A faint sound -- like the sound of a battleship cannon -- assaulted him from just over there on the left. No, it was not a cannon... it was the sound of footsteps. The thoughts racing through his slowly fading mind now was switching to the off position.
Quiet, now. He thought. Not a sound. Think small. Be a mouse. Be a mouse that turns into a tiger when stepped on. A tiger with teeth. Teeth! Or, a big stick... like the one in my hand right now.
“Come on around here, you bastard” Jeff whispered, before slowly standing upright. “I have got something for your ass!”
No one ominously walked around the corner.
No one walked down the cold sidewalk.
No one at all.
“My imagination is really fucking with my rationality.”
He examined the lacerations on his arms. The bleeding had stopped by now, but the lack of a flow of blood did not diminish the fact that the slashes were deep and long. He was troubled by the definite loss of feeling in his left arm and hand. He had trouble flexing his fingers, but he still could. So, he figured, the damage to his arm could not be THAT bad, could it?
He brushed at the dirt and grime covering his business suit. “Goddamn it,” he swore in another strained whisper. “I just paid three hundred dollars for this suit. Damn!”
The cold, but moist, black dirt from the initial attack had worked its way into the right pocket of his jacket... to stain his white shirt in spots from the collar down to his belt level. “And my shoes! Bloody hell! If I get out of this mess alive, just how in the hell am I going to attend the board meeting looking like a homeless person. Do I dare go in like this?”
He turned his attention back toward the train car. “I don’t know why in the hell I ran this way when that psychopath attacked me. Now I have to make my way back. And he could be hiding anywhere between here and the terminal.
There were twenty-three people inside the train car with me. The psycho would have to be a crazy monster to rush into the passenger car with all those people.
He took a deep breath, held his injured arm close to his shivering body and broke out in a dead run for the terminal. It seemed like an eternity passed as he ran toward the building, but he made it there safely.
No one attacked him this time as he jerked open the heavy glass door... much to his surprise.
The oblivious travelers, the oblivious terminal workers and the oblivious atmosphere inside the building made Jeff doubt the past few painful minutes. Then he looked down at the blood drops on the ground by his feet.
He was cleaned up by the staff. He was questioned and asked to make a written report. Five hours later, it was time for him to return back home to Richmond by way of another train. It was not possible to attend the meeting in New York City in this condition.
Another time...
***
The next train to Richmond had Jeff on it. He sat in the window seat for an observer’s eye view of the passing landscape. His briefcase was pressed close to his chest by a set of still nervous hands.
He closed his eyes to look, again, into the well lit face of his attacker. Oh, he had seen the face of his attacker... just like he had seen him twice while he was being tended to by law enforcement. He worked at the terminal... and Jeff know that his attacker knew he was identified by him.
“Can he get my address?” Jeff began to mull over some questions. “Will he come after me? Will he come after me before I gather some of my personal weapons to return for a little revenge? These are open ended questions that can’t be answered until I get home. I don’t even think I’ll even have time to let my stitches heal.”
“Let’s go!” He whispered to himself. “Next trip back, I’m creating the terror!”
JEP
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