zoë siskos

I’m finishing up at work and a few of us are going out later for my going away party. Except I’m not a Social Media Analyst, I’m a cop of some sort. The work people, they are all the same.

On our way out we take out the recycling and as we’re fiddling to make sure that we have everything in the right bags one of us notices a foot. It leads us to the back where there are a bunch of bodies. Some alive, some dead. All of them in different contraptions, all of them in pain. Needles poking in them, some of them with parts cut off. It’s grotesque and scary. Needless to say, there will be no going away party.

I have to tell the rest of the crew what happened. Some of them ran off ahead to the bar so I run in the darkness to tell them. But when I get there, it’s as though they already knew or they’re mad at me for some reason. Either way, they are cold and leave me behind, to walk back to my car in the darkness with this murderer on the loose.

On my way back to the parking lot I cut across a grassy hill and stop immediately when I get blinded by headlights and hear the roar of an engine. It’s him. The killer. He guns for me and narrowly misses. Not an accident I’m sure. I try to see into the driver’s side window but the headlights have me blinded. I hear the roar of the engine again but this time it’s coming from the opposite side. I look up and see a familiar car. “My brother!” I think, and wonder how the hell he knew I was here.

It’s enough to scare the killer off but I worry that now he will be after my brother too.

The next day a bunch of us split up to look for the killer. We are lost in a marketplace. A maze of people and merchants outdoors; just like you see in the movies. I cut out a bit to check on my sister-in-law. She’s protected nicely and is safe. I continue on my hunt.

Along my way I caress my gun, which is tucked in my pants underneath my shirt and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to use this thing. I wouldn’t even know how to tell if the safety is off. “Maybe I shouldn’t even have it tucked in my pants, ” I think. “Isn’t this how people shoot their toes off?”

I’m distracted by a small group of young men, performing various rituals. The music is low but has a strong beat and it makes my hair shake. I watch as these men start to self-mutilate, cutting their skin, their hair and putting needles through different parts of their bodies.

“Needles!” I think and my mind flashes back to the night when we found those bodies. The same rituals these men are doing are the same that was done to those bodies. The killer must be here; he’s one of these men!

I’m deathly afraid; I can’t remember ever being this scared. I need help, I can’t handle this alone. I turn to run, to find a private place to make a call to get some back up and BAM! i smash into him. He has a clown face that has started to droop in the rain. Except it’s not raining so maybe it’s sweat. He reminds me of the Joker, the one played by Heath Ledger, but without hair. Or maybe he looks more like the clown from Spawn, except not fat. No, the killer is very fit and strong. And he smiles at me.

The next thing I know I am tied up and the killer is standing over me, ready to perform these rituals. The music is the same, only louder, and I’m still deathly afraid. But I’m certain, someone will save me, right? But how? No one knows where I am.

I rack my brain for a logical explanation. GPS perhaps? Yes, we were all implanted with GPS so they know where I am.

BAH! It’s so unbelievable it can’t happen. So, what now? The killer is jumping around, ready to attack me at any second. I am running out of time.

“Wake up, Zoe,” I say. “WAKE UP!”

And I did. I snuggled closer to James so that he could help me fall back asleep.