When Your Heart Stops Beating
Chapter Seven
Fear struck Keri, as she dragged Melody out of the burning building. She had never been in this kind of situation before, and did not know how to handle it. Melody was heavy, although she did not look a pound over 110.
Keri looked around at all the frantic people running about. She had to call an ambulance, but did not have her cell phone. She figured she must have left it in her apartment. Keri had a habit of doing that. Looking around for any sign of Bob, she saw people huddling together to keep warm and safe - but no Bob. Hoping someone had already called an emergency team, she knelt next to Melody, who was lying motionless on the ground and cradled her head. And waited.
****
Bob was running around, trying to help everyone he could. No one seemed to be seriously injured - just shaken and wet from the sprinklers. Sitting on a nearby curb, he cradled his face in his hands. His head was throbbing. Something hit him on the top of the head as he was exiting the burning building. Bob hoped it was someone's hand or elbow that hit him, and not a flying chair.
Hearing someone scream his name, Bob's head shot up from its cradle. Standing up, he looked around to see who it was. Keri was seated on the ground 50 feet away, he didn't waste any time going to help her. He felt compelled.
Kneeling next to Keri, Bob looked down and Melody laying on the ground. Bob watched them both closely, heart aching. He hated seeing anyone in a rough state, even if it was a stranger.
Bob stared at Keri, but she did not notice. He needed to talk to her in private. There was so much that Bob needed to tell her about her past. Bob knew why she didn't remember him, but now was not the time nor the place for any personal conversation.
"Bob, your head is bleeding," Keri said with concern. Snapping out of his thoughts, Bob reached up and touched his head. It felt wet. The warm, red liquid stained his hand.
"Fuck," he exclaimed, looking at the blood. Maybe he did get hit with a flying chair. He decided that Melody's condition was more important than his measly cut head. "It's fine. What happened to your friend?" he asked Keri.
Keri felt a lump in her throat, she found it difficult to swallow. Worry was getting the best of her. "I don't know. She has really bad asthma, so it might have been the smoke. I hope the ambulance gets here soon." Keri looked down at Melody and stroked her soft, blonde hair. She felt like Melody's older sister sometimes, always getting her out of trouble, looking out for her health. That was the kind of friendship they had.
Bob nodded and smiled sincerely. Looking away, he sighed inwardly. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
**
I was still sitting in this grungy basement alone, and had yet to figure out how I got there. Another man had brought me a tall glass of cold water. He was kind. He spoke nice words, and secretly apologized for what was happening but had no other choice in the matter. I asked him to let me go, but he said it was no use. The man was a servant, and had just as much rule as I did. The only difference was, I was a hostage.
The kind man visited me many times during the day and night - mostly when his boss wasn't home. I enjoyed his presence. We discussed many things, family, friends, dreams. The man had a brother whom he had not seen in a very long time. He missed his family. I wondered why he was not with them, but I figured it was not my place to probe. Maybe one day. I figured I would be there for quite sometime. There was nothing I could do about it.
Sitting alone with my thoughts, I wondered what was going on with the outside world. Since I had awoken, I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like something terrible had happened. Until I could get out of here, there was no way of knowing. I really wanted to leave. To get back to my normal life.
I heard loud voices coming from outside, they were yelling about money. At least, I think they were. I couldn't hear very well. My feet were still bound, which did not allow me to move around. I could not investigate, and I don't think it would have been a good idea to try.
Thumping was heard from above. How I hoped, it wasn't the crazy man coming to gut me like a fish. I wasn't a fish, therefore, I should not be treated like one. The door to the basement creaked open again. This house sure did creak a lot. A sense of uneasiness flowed through my veins as the heavy feet descended the hallow steps.
I felt my body shiver as the crazy man rounded the corner to where I was sitting. The aroma of alcohol wasn't as bad this time, but the smell was still there. He had not drunk since he had returned home.
He did not kneel down to my level. Instead, he pulled out a gun. Fear struck me as I looked into his menacing eyes. He reminded me of the devil. The crazy man seemed so full of anger and spite. I almost felt sorry for him.
"What is your name?" he asked me maliciously. The sense of fear came back full force. This was how I was going to die. I was going to be shot in the head. Not buried alive. How silly of me.
I did not answer, as I didn't think I could. The ability to use my voice had been lost. "What is your name?" the man bellowed, and cocked his gun. This was it. Death.
I took a sharp breath. There was nothing else I could do, but answer. I opened my mouth and squeaked. "Derrick."
Keri looked around at all the frantic people running about. She had to call an ambulance, but did not have her cell phone. She figured she must have left it in her apartment. Keri had a habit of doing that. Looking around for any sign of Bob, she saw people huddling together to keep warm and safe - but no Bob. Hoping someone had already called an emergency team, she knelt next to Melody, who was lying motionless on the ground and cradled her head. And waited.
****
Bob was running around, trying to help everyone he could. No one seemed to be seriously injured - just shaken and wet from the sprinklers. Sitting on a nearby curb, he cradled his face in his hands. His head was throbbing. Something hit him on the top of the head as he was exiting the burning building. Bob hoped it was someone's hand or elbow that hit him, and not a flying chair.
Hearing someone scream his name, Bob's head shot up from its cradle. Standing up, he looked around to see who it was. Keri was seated on the ground 50 feet away, he didn't waste any time going to help her. He felt compelled.
Kneeling next to Keri, Bob looked down and Melody laying on the ground. Bob watched them both closely, heart aching. He hated seeing anyone in a rough state, even if it was a stranger.
Bob stared at Keri, but she did not notice. He needed to talk to her in private. There was so much that Bob needed to tell her about her past. Bob knew why she didn't remember him, but now was not the time nor the place for any personal conversation.
"Bob, your head is bleeding," Keri said with concern. Snapping out of his thoughts, Bob reached up and touched his head. It felt wet. The warm, red liquid stained his hand.
"Fuck," he exclaimed, looking at the blood. Maybe he did get hit with a flying chair. He decided that Melody's condition was more important than his measly cut head. "It's fine. What happened to your friend?" he asked Keri.
Keri felt a lump in her throat, she found it difficult to swallow. Worry was getting the best of her. "I don't know. She has really bad asthma, so it might have been the smoke. I hope the ambulance gets here soon." Keri looked down at Melody and stroked her soft, blonde hair. She felt like Melody's older sister sometimes, always getting her out of trouble, looking out for her health. That was the kind of friendship they had.
Bob nodded and smiled sincerely. Looking away, he sighed inwardly. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
**
I was still sitting in this grungy basement alone, and had yet to figure out how I got there. Another man had brought me a tall glass of cold water. He was kind. He spoke nice words, and secretly apologized for what was happening but had no other choice in the matter. I asked him to let me go, but he said it was no use. The man was a servant, and had just as much rule as I did. The only difference was, I was a hostage.
The kind man visited me many times during the day and night - mostly when his boss wasn't home. I enjoyed his presence. We discussed many things, family, friends, dreams. The man had a brother whom he had not seen in a very long time. He missed his family. I wondered why he was not with them, but I figured it was not my place to probe. Maybe one day. I figured I would be there for quite sometime. There was nothing I could do about it.
Sitting alone with my thoughts, I wondered what was going on with the outside world. Since I had awoken, I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like something terrible had happened. Until I could get out of here, there was no way of knowing. I really wanted to leave. To get back to my normal life.
I heard loud voices coming from outside, they were yelling about money. At least, I think they were. I couldn't hear very well. My feet were still bound, which did not allow me to move around. I could not investigate, and I don't think it would have been a good idea to try.
Thumping was heard from above. How I hoped, it wasn't the crazy man coming to gut me like a fish. I wasn't a fish, therefore, I should not be treated like one. The door to the basement creaked open again. This house sure did creak a lot. A sense of uneasiness flowed through my veins as the heavy feet descended the hallow steps.
I felt my body shiver as the crazy man rounded the corner to where I was sitting. The aroma of alcohol wasn't as bad this time, but the smell was still there. He had not drunk since he had returned home.
He did not kneel down to my level. Instead, he pulled out a gun. Fear struck me as I looked into his menacing eyes. He reminded me of the devil. The crazy man seemed so full of anger and spite. I almost felt sorry for him.
"What is your name?" he asked me maliciously. The sense of fear came back full force. This was how I was going to die. I was going to be shot in the head. Not buried alive. How silly of me.
I did not answer, as I didn't think I could. The ability to use my voice had been lost. "What is your name?" the man bellowed, and cocked his gun. This was it. Death.
I took a sharp breath. There was nothing else I could do, but answer. I opened my mouth and squeaked. "Derrick."