Machinery, Take Thy Dream

The high pitched buzzing noise of the heart monitor still hummed its tune of death as I unplugged it and I looked down on poor Mr. Simmons. His face was twisted into a face that I had seen before; a face of pain, discomfort, regrets; all emotions I had seen before. I glance at the screen which is a black as night, the images that I had seen before still float around in my mind. It was almost like the pictures were playing games with me; taunting me with what I might have missed while I was with Isabelle.

I squat down on my haunches, the one solitude light bulb swinging above my head. I had to think about the death of yet another innocent victim. I could get caught, maybe people would notice that the village idiot was missing and they would look to the new comer for answers then my quest would be over.

“No.” I said to myself, in a lame attempt to reassure myself that I had the situation under control. I would simply drag Mr. Simmons out the back door and bury him back in the woods. I nodded in silent agreement; unplug all the equipment and stand to cover him up. Then I hear the basement door open.

“Conner? Are you alright?” Isabelle’s frightened voice calls out and I freeze with the white sheet in my hand and my heart leaped so high up in my throat, I began to doubt whether or not I still possessed the ability to speak, “It sounded like you had a nasty fall, are you still okay?”

I hold my breath as I reach above my head and turn off the light. The divider blocking her view of the lab would hopefully hide her innocent eyes from the horrific scene located in the midst of the room. Now that the light was completely off, the place was pitch black.

“Conner? Answer me!” She was beginning to panic, but I could tell that she was too afraid to venture down the stairs. This bought me some time.

I think quickly before I start unwrapping the bandage which I wrapped around my hand and, without thinking, dig my nails deep into the palm of my hand where I had accidently cut myself earlier. I could not help but let a cry of pain escape through my lips.

“Conner!” She slowly descends down the stairs, “Are you hurt?”

I quietly throw myself down not too far away from the bottom of the stairs and say in the most painful voice I could muster, “Isabelle?”

She then reaches the bottom of the stairs, and she kicks me as she blindly wanders into the dark, “Oh, my God! What happened?!?”

“I fell down the stairs after trying to fix the heat.” I moan and struggle to sit up, acting was one of my strong points, “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

“Let me find the light so we can see how bad it is.” The fearlessness inside Isabelle begins to emerge as she steps away from me and towards Mr. Simmons.

I let out a scream which should have made Mr. Simmons rise up from the dead. I know, screaming isn’t a manly thing to do, but I had to save myself. It wasn’t her time yet. As expected she rushes back to my side and I mutter under my breath as I ‘struggle’ to breathe, “Help me upstairs and then you have to drive me to the hospital.”

“In this weather? We’re on the verge of hurricane!” Isabelle obediently helps me and we begin to move away from Mr. Simmons finally allowing me to start breathing easily again.

“Isabelle, I’m bleeding to death.” This I do not lie about and as we reach the top of the stairs, she sees all the blood gushing from my hand, running down my arm, and leaving drops on the linoleum floor.

The color drains from her face and she says with new found determination, “Let’s go.”