Untitled Story

            I'm cold. I'm pretty cold. Could be it's cold outside today, not really sure, but I am very cold. It could be winter, maybe, possibly? I don't know. Could be April, May, February, August or January. Lost track of time, the hours, days. Seems like people are dressed for the Summer, as they head to their destinations. Homes. Jobs. Families. Bars. Kid's Soccer Games. Used to be me. Used to be my old life. This dirty wool overcoat, the worn out jacket and Donald Duck sweater I wear under my coat aren't keeping me warm. These clothes are all I have. Well I have a few other possessions I managed to keep but not much. There isn't too much of anything for me anymore. Not since. Not since.

            Sometimes, I see people around me with all their fancy things, things they don't even value, and it makes me angry. Can I get angry and blame them for my troubles? Blame the World? Yeah, sometimes I can, but it doesn't help anything, and it's not the truth. Can't put the blame on their shoulders. Can't do it. Sometimes I wonder how I got to this point, where my path veered so drastically. But then I realized, this was a path I took on my own. How many paths could there have been in front of me? Did I have a lot of choices? That's a simple question to answer, yes. Would things be different? Now that is somewhat of harder answer to find. I'm still very cold. Sweating even though I'm cold.

            Now I'm hungry. I could be starving, I don't know and I can't tell. What? Two days? Three days? Maybe a week? Since my last proper meal. Found little things here and there, small scraps of snacks I've picked up. Half eaten meals people threw away. Things to calm hunger, not satisfy it. There's the craving too, a horrible one. It's much worse than the hunger, sometimes it's worse than thirst. Not a good feeling. Not at all. But it's here. I have to deal with it. Makes me itch. Sometimes it's as if my skin is burning. Maybe this why my skin is filled with scabs. Got scratch marks all over too. Those could be from anything though. Nights I've forgotten. Bad. Harsh, it's so very harsh. Still makes me think about the things that happened. How I became part of one World and at the same time so disconnected from another. How this World brought me to my knees and refused to let me get back up. Or maybe and more likely my own devices are keeping me down, keeping me from getting back up. From being able to start again, fresh. Try to move on from this, forget the demons of my past. The high blocks it out, blocks it all out for a little while. The demons that inhabit the memories of my past life. Being high is all I have to soothe my constant pain. Maybe the high can help warm me up today.

            Don't have much money left. Won't be able to get much to calm the craving. Any is enough though, just a hit. Won't be that way forever. One day, I'll need more and more, just to ease all the pain. I'll need to get some more money today or tonight. Going too long without the fix, without the high, dealing with the craving, allowing my mind to focus on memories. Gotta get some more money. There's always a way to get or find money, enough for what I need, even in my despicable predicament. Most things I will forever regret, but I need to do them. It's hard to wake up or be lulled to sleep without the high. Too many memories and demons come in, crowd my mind. Weighing me down. The memories are the worst. Realizing where I came from, where I am now. How far have I fallen. This life I have lived. Wasn't the greatest person, had my problems but had a job. A good job and was successful. People counted on me, the functioning borderline addict. People knew and saw my potential. I was a risk but I was holding it together and my talent could never be denied. My family. The family I had. Wife. A beautiful wife. Loving, caring, thoughtful, a woman who would do anything for her husband. She would do anything for her stupid druggy husband. All the support I needed, in everything I did.

            A daughter. My lovely precious daughter. Precious daughter. Angel of mine. It feels colder. A lot colder. I love my daughter. So much. She's the only good memory I have in this World. The Park. The Pool. Her School Plays. Recitals. Picking her up from School. My heart. I hate that she recognizes me in this terrible conditions. How could she still love me?  How could something so beautiful and precious love me? She still believes her father is a good man, a good "Daddy." She always did. But one day. One day she'll. She'll. One day she will understand. Things I've done to provide for myself, foster my bad habits, but I wouldn't do to help them, help the wife and daughter I love. My wife she recognized this, she left. She loved me, to the end, she may still love me, but she knew I wasn't good. Put up with it longer than she should've. She knew I would be a danger to her and my daughter's well being. She knew. Left me. One day she told me, and just left me at the house by myself. Took our daughter to a better place. To be around people better than me. It had always been a problem, the drugs, but it wasn't always so major. But quick success, sudden failure, and pride will always make things much worse. I fell, fell so hard and my pride wouldn't allow anyone to help me get back up on my feet. Family tried. Friends tried. My loving wife tried so many times. No, I never accepted or listened to it. Not accepting any help, I became lost, swallowed up in the darkness. What was a fair weather habit, slowly became a critical dependency. Only took me a few months to use up everything I had. Trade it. Sell it. Whatever. Just to get my high.

            Thinking about my daughter having to see the transformation makes me sick and hurts my heart. I need my fix. I need it. It should help me with the cold and block out these terrible thoughts and feelings, these demons. Never could I best them, I can only tune them out, and only for short periods of time. The thought of knowing that you've fallen is quite scary. It becomes even scarier when you realize you're content after the fall. In the darkness you're drowning yourself in. Do I know this life, the drugs, the things I've done are killing me? Yes. Has it occurred to me I am hurting the people I love the most, especially my precious angel, my little heart, my beautiful daughter? Of course I do. I know how much damage I've done to one so little, so precious, the damage I could do. Yet, I'm fine living this way. Will I get tired of it one day, possibly, who knows. It could kill me before that, I know this. Right now, I just want to figure out how to warm up. Warm up and drift away, drift away from this World, from those memories, from the demons.

Our Image

             "You’ve committed horrendous crimes, done terrible things. Unspeakable things. Atrocities of the highest nature, grave acts against humanity."
             A room with four brick walls, and a single metal door to enter or exit. Four cameras situated on all the corners of the room focused on a single point. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from a ceiling fan. Light was swallowed up by darkness, unable to penetrate certain parts of the room. So thick was the darkness it was as if it had taken a solid form. A tense atmosphere clogged the room. Not only did it make the air heavy, it also gave the darkness weight. Permeating within the heavy air was a stench. It was a combination of several very foul smells. This environment was not a pleasant one, and had to be close to unbearable. Yet it was occupied.
            Under the ceiling fan, where much of the light was located, sat a table. The long four-legged table was covered with stuff. Scattered across it was a badge, several folders, a few photographs stashed under papers, an ashtray filled with cigarette butts, and a handgun. The table’s width put a fair amount of space between the chairs on each side. One side completely covered by darkness. A silhouette, barely visible as it merged with the darkness and deep breathes were the only proof someone was there. On the opposite side where more light was able to shine sat a man. Much of him wrapped up by the darkness, only his chest, arms, and shoulders could be seen. His shoulders slouched, as if burdened by an unseen force. His face partially hidden, but a mouth covered by a scraggily, un-kept, and graying beard managed to elude the darkness. A cloud of smoke travelled over the table. The man reached out, tapping a cigarette lightly onto the ashtray. With his other hand he opened a folder. Searching through a small stack of papers inside, he then began to spread out a series of pictures.
            "The destruction left behind. This is only a tiny portion of the carnage," the man said. His tone grave, as he pushed a photograph toward the center of the table. A disturbing scene had been captured in the color photo, details brought out by high definition. Bodies completely ripped apart. There were so many different bodies it was hard to tell exactly where one began and the other ended. Heads, legs, arms, hands, intestines, hearts, eyes, and other body parts, organs lumped on top of each other by the dozens. The piles resembled a human garbage compost. "Misery, despair, suffering, chaos, all the many, many lives taken. Something of this nature hasn’t been seen for almost six years." More photographs were tossed to the center of the table. Each picture revealing a scene far more gruesome than the one before. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, the man emptied the ash of his cigarette. The smoke came with a deep sigh, an attempt to maintain composure as he trudged through these brutal scenes. He opened another folder, and pulled a photo from it. Raising the photo up, his lips pursed in disgust. After a few seconds, he sat the photo back down on the table. He filled his nose with air, taking a very deep and hearty breathe. His exhale was long, as if he was releasing pent up stress. Resting his hand on the table, he rhythmically tapped his fingers. Stopping right before he started to talk.
            "New York. What a mess. I’ve seen a lot in my time. Things that would have scarred and haunted most people for years. Yet it had been about five years since I had a nightmare, I’d probably become numb to it all. But what I saw in that warehouse shook me. Wasn’t able to sleep, and even when I did sleep the images bombarded my mind. It was bad enough, to almost cause me to relapse. Sixty whole bodies were found and identified, mutilated in some of the most extreme ways. Ways that didn’t seem possible. Then, the back room. Two of my guys, ten year vets, true tough guys, one had been in the army, couldn’t stomach what they saw in that room. Not even two steps in they vomited. A few people fainted, we had a rookie pass out and he hasn’t been the same since. Our forensic specialists are still having trouble figuring exactly how many people you killed in that room. Walls splattered with what we can assume are human remains. It’s hard to tell because they’re having to inspect a mural of blood, bones, organs and who knows what else. Did you kill your victims, carve them up and then smear their remains against the walls? Or, maybe somehow you were able to smash their bodies into the wall with enough force to do this?" Rummaging through the many photographs sitting on the table, it didn’t take long to find what he wanted. First he studied it intensely, his lips curled like he would throw up, again his mouth showed his disgust. He sucked deep from his cigarette, shaking his head, squeezing the smoke out from his mouth and nose. Slowly he turned the picture around. A grizzly scene displayed. The walls in a room covered in lumpy red stains. A pair of ribs hung on the wall, glued there by a clot of blood. Plastered on the wall like a hunter’s trophy were several human faces. Crimson blood bloomed over them, resembling their brains exploding. Though he couldn’t have been holding the picture up for long, the man’s hand started to tremble. He put it down like it was a heavy dumbbell.

            "Ten faces, ten of them alone in this one section. Pushed on top of each other. Appears you may have killed a few by decapitating them, then pulverizing that head with another one. A few of the faces had a face squashed underneath it. They’ll be in that warehouse for a few weeks trying to piece together how many bodies are in there. To go unnoticed and be able to do all this, you’re something, something indeed." The man took a moment to check the watch on his right arm with his left he rubbed his goatee. The big hand was seconds away from hitting ten. Most of the time spent in the room he had done the talking. He took a minute to listen, but nothing came from the darkness. Slightly horsed breathing was all there was coming through.
           "I have a few theories on this whole thing. I’m positive a lot of the victims were homeless. Who knows exactly how many there are, it’s almost impossible to keep track of all of them. Promises of food, shelter, liquor or drugs may have enticed several to follow you. You probably ate them. With the other types of killings you’ve performed it makes sense. Did you eat them while they were alive? Tie other victims down to watch the fate awaiting them? Pretty horrible form of torture."
            "Detective LeRoi, do you believe in God?" The question was sudden. Low and cold was the voice that had come out of the darkness. No immediate answer, just silence.
            "What a strange question. Hm. Do I believe in God? There have been a few times when I believed and others when my faith faltered. All the terrible things I’ve witnessed often made me question, made me doubt. Asking myself and the greater powers why things happened the way they did. What would make you ask? You probably worship the devil or some other evil force." The man had placed an unlit cigarette between his lips, grinding his finished one into the ashtray. Not lighting the cigarette his fingers once again rapped the table as he waited for a response. Only a second of silence in the room, then it was filled with loud laughter. Just like the voice that spoke the laughter was cold, maniacal and sinister. A laugh of sheer insanity. The man cringed at the sound. From a laugh it transition into almost being a howl.
            "The devil, worship him," the voice said, the laughter starting to calm. "Detective LeRoi I know several who refer or have referred to themselves as the devil. Some haven’t done even half of what I have, some with far less power than me. No way could I worship something that may not even be greater than myself detective." The man leaned forwarded much of his face still hidden, but he was eagerly and intently listening to the voice. "Now God, that is different, a lot different. Won’t say I worship but I do believe there is one. Would you like to know where my belief stems from detective LeRoi?" A deep sigh then the man leaned completely forward into the light. Detective LeRoi was a muscular but out of shape middle aged man who been beaten down by tough living. His skin weathered and wrinkled. Heavy dark bags sat under his eyes, making him look not just old but tired. Grey stubble speckled his face. He rested his arms on the table close to the gun. Blue eyes stared into the darkness, he hadn’t said anything in response to the question asked. Again the crazed laughing started up.
            "It's pretty simple detective," the voice colder than before. "Adam and Eve were made in God's image, until they ate forbidden fruit and came to know of good and evil. Detective I believe that we were made in their image. A true image of humanity." From the darkness came two beastly hands. Though Detective LeRoi kept his eyes on the hands, he wasn’t shocked or surprised. The skin was gray scale, appearing more like steel or metallic armor. Several small spikes protruded from the knuckles, even smaller spikes lined each of the fingers on the hands. The hands were about three times bigger than a normal human's. At the wrist each hand was entrapped by a set of unique connected shackles. The shackles were made of a deep mahogany colored wood. An assortment of jewels and stones covered the shackles, with foreign symbols engraved into the wood. With the hands now resting on the table, Detective LeRoi’s hand inched closer to the gun.
            "We are what you have the potential to become. Mirror images of the dark side of human nature. A physical manifestation of human sins. Created from your grimmest intents and your evil actions." Detective LeRoi listened, his eyes no longer focusing on the hands. They were now fixed on the darkness. His gaze searched for what he could not see, but he knew and felt was there. Something that concerned him.
           "First time I’ve heard that. Always heard you guys existed, have always existed from the very beginning," Detective LeRoi said.
            "Could be true," the voice responded.
            "You speak as though God created you as more punishment for humanity. But you represent evil and darkness, wouldn’t that make you an enemy of God?"
            "Human evil and darkness. We do not represent it, we are creations of it."
            "So every time a human kills, steals or whatever one of you is born?"
            "Not quite, if that was the case our numbers would be greater than humans. It takes a lot to create one of us. Or at least when it comes to a creature like myself. Why do you think humans throughout history have sacrificed other humans? They fear us but also desire the power that we have. What gives birth to us is also what strengthens us. The death, destruction, and chaos I was able to cause, was because of the death, destruction and chaos humans caused."
            "Again, it’s strange to hear." Detective LeRoi’s eyes widened after they happened upon a photo. His expression turned grim, what he had seen did not sit well with him. Keeping one hand near the gun he reached down, grabbed a photo. In a swift motion he tossed the photo across the table. The photo was snatched out of the air, and clutched by two large fingers. It was kept in the light. "I know you remember that. Of everything you’ve done, what happened there is probably the worst. A lot of people were surprised you were able to do it. Many of us were under the assumption Churches weren’t a place your kind could easily enter. Sacred grounds should be unreachable to you. Stepping into a church for only a second should be able to destroy you. Heard several stories and reports of your kind exploding on the steps of churches."
            "Maybe a lower class. Those of us with power can come and go within the walls of a church as we please. There are in fact places that hold sacred powers over us, places we cannot trespass upon. But it’s rare a church is such a place."
            "How is that possible? Churches are supposed to be Houses of God. Places with light and goodness." The cold maniacal laughter filled the room. A shiver travelled from Detective LeRoi’s head, through his spine. Boisterous cackling bounced off the walls bombarding LeRoi’s ears.
             "Houses of God? Some of them can be. Others are merely houses of men. I’ll tell you exactly why I was able to wreak complete havoc in that church. This may not be something you were privy to detective, or maybe it hadn’t reached you yet. This wasn’t the first time, there have been many others. There will be more to come as well." A pause. Detective LeRoi’s hand now rested on the handle of the gun. Fingers inching towards the trigger. Only a little poised, with tremble, he would have been ready to pick up the gun at any moment. As much as he tried to steady himself, he couldn’t focus on the darkness. "Power. Inside of churches, so much power is at my disposal. Remember when I told you what gave birth to us, is what gives us strength. Whenever I set foot into a church, the feeling I get is like no other. A rush of bloodlust. My senses heighten, the sweet smell of blood that is about to be spilled. Being home for us, nothing can compare to it."
            "Wait, being home? You’re talking about a Church." His immediate skepticism caused LeRoi to ease up on the gun. However his hand remained close to its handle.
            "I’ve told you, we’re at our strongest when we’re at the place or places like where we were born. Don’t forget human thoughts, intentions, and actions shape our form. Churches can be strange places. So many different feelings and beliefs are found. Beliefs and feelings that would be considered wrong by humans outside of the church. Self appointed Prophet claiming to deliver the words of God, while only bringing their own false words. The corruption of minds through teachings of greedy men, rather than the lessons of God. Prayers for the destructions of others. Harboring feelings of hatred. One of the easiest places to hide hatred is inside the walls of a church. People within the church either fear or glorify the power of their pastor. These pastors, preachers or bishops turn into the false idols they are supposed to keep people away from. Humans willing to do anything to get in the good graces of their pastor and the pastor accepting what they’re being offered. All this swirls and comes together after being contained in one area for so long. Energy builds up, no one notices the darkness that gathers and hovers around. Humans turn a blind eye to the negative energy they’re constantly releasing in Churches. It’s like kudzu grass, only when it has outgrown you do you realize it’s there. Luckily I was born in a church filled with hatred, violent thoughts, murderous intent, and greed for quite some time. It only took fifty years for this physical form of mine to come into existence. Creatures weaker than me may take up to one hundred years just to gain the ability to maintain a physical shape. But when an abundance of bad energy clumps together in a church, it’s power doubles or triples. Becoming much greater than it would have been elsewhere. Even a small amount of hatred or greed can unconsciously seep out of human and start to fill a church. That small amount of energy can amplify my power. Feeding off of it is an exhilarating experience."
            "So you go to churches to feed on negative energy and kill?" LeRoi asked when there was a pause. No immediate answer came, which made Detective LeRoi nervous, as he sat staring into the dark. The mere seconds he waited for a response seemed to last for hours.
            "A reminder."
            "What?" Detective LeRoi had not been expecting the answer he got.
            "Feeding on negative energy, then killing humans to build more negative energy is part of it. It also serves as a reminder to what humans could be." Detective LeRoi’s face twisted into a confused yet intrigued expression. "No," the voice said slightly laughing. "You’re monsters. More dangerous than something like me. Creatures who have no problem destroying the most sacred aspects of life. Being capable of committing the most heinous acts in places of good. As much havoc I have caused, I will never be your greatest threat. You are your own. This is beneficial to me. A twenty second human interaction can give me all the energy I need to kill more than twenty of you. Monsters that harm and destroy their own kind, help create other monsters, and give those monsters great power. Amazingly frightening, once you think about it. Huh, detective LeRoi?" The sinister tone of the voice made Detective LeRoi’s skin crawl and his heart beat faster. The situation had gotten much tenser in a matter of moments. Having remained relatively calm, there was something in the tone of the voices last statement/question. Even in simple words there had been severe and intense murderous intent. The cigarette he had never lit fell out of his mouth. Intuition and a bad feeling made Detective LeRoi rise to his feet, snatching the gun off the table. Aiming the gun, he had become involved in a standoff with the darkness ahead of him. Hard as he tried he could not keep the gun steady. Large beads of sweat started to form at the top of his hand. Nothing but dark. Subtle creaks, squeaks, breaths and other small noises didn’t help give him a single idea of where he would shoot.
            "Don’t do anything or make any sudden moves," Detective LeRoi said, his voice cracking.
            "How much of what I’ve told you have been listening to and thought about enough to understand." Hearing each word Detective LeRoi tried to follow the voice so he could have somewhere to fire if he needed. "Obviously, no. Churches do give me a great deal of power but the same negative energy exists everywhere. I have been brought to the perfect place, almost as good as a church. Feelings that cannot be contained and are travelling in strong surges. Try as they might they aren’t suppressing them. Cops who want to kill the criminals they have captured and criminals who want to kill their captors. Not many but it’s enough. And then detective LeRoi, there is you." Detective LeRoi flinched, pointing his gun at a single spot of darkness. Still extremely uncertain his eyes searched through what he could not see.
            "Shut up. Don’t even start," he shouted angrily. Now he was visibly shaking, and could not calm his nerves.
            "Afraid I am trying to get in your head?"
            "Shut up. You’re not," Detective LeRoi stated firmly.
            "Exactly because there is no need." The sound of a metal chair scratching the floor startled Detective LeRoi. "I could try to get into your head by saying I let you capture me or I wanted to come. None of that is true. I was overpowered. Took a lot for them to bring me down, alive, but they were able to. But thankfully I was brought here and I’m glad you are the one sitting across from me."
            "Shut up. Shut up. Sit down, shut up. Sit….." Detective LeRoi waved his gun up and down.
            "You see detective LeRoi." There was a hint of anger in the voice this time, it sounded commanding and ominous. Detective LeRoi was shaking so violently he could barely hold his gun. Sweat drenched his forehead and slowly buttered his palms, making his grip dangerously loose. "Detective LeRoi there is no need for me to get inside your heard. There never was. You had already been betrayed. It was your own human nature that betrayed you. Fear and survival instincts that have been in place for thousands of years. Instincts only few can control, unfortunately detective LeRoi consider yourself not to be one of them. Doomed as soon you were put in this room with me."
           "Now you’re going to tell me you could’ve killed me at any time, huh," Detective LeRoi said. He tried to sound amused, but it was a poor attempt to disguise his trepidation and growing concern. Each passing moment doubled the weight of the gun in his hand. He thought he could make out shapes in the darkness, but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t fire recklessly.
           "The pictures before you are proof of what I am capable of. I enjoy a good conversation, but it has run its course." There was a loud snap and cracking noise. Detective LeRoi believed he had been struck or his neck had been broken. Realizing he was unharmed and semi ok, he tried to muster up and regain the little composure he had. Speaking again the voice was low, almost a whisper. "Useless instruments, with useless words and charms."
           "You…you….yu…realize..we are on camera and there are about twenty five armed, armed officers on this floor alone," Detective LeRoi said. Almost every word was stuttered and he could barely get them off his tongue. The table before him was thrown to the side. An echo banged through the room, several items crashed to the floor. The sound of something moving towards him, made Detective LeRoi take a cautious step back.
            "True. I am outnumbered in this situation. But why has no one stepped in yet? You’ve been in danger ever since you picked the gun up. Shouldn’t they have stormed the room to back you up, once I broke free of my shackles. Those cameras still watching us?" Skeptically Detective LeRoi turned his head around. Nothing. Where there had once been a door and a wall was pitch-blackness. He searched for the cameras that had been in the corners of the room. Nothing. He was surrounded. Confined. Trapped in the darkness and his despair. "As your desire to kill me grew, so did my strength and the darkness around you." The voice much closer to Detective LeRoi, could’ve been a whisper in his ear. Twisting back around there was nothing in front of him. The light coming from the ceiling fan was being engulfed, barely any remained. No longer thinking clearly, he fired one shot wildly. He heard it blast into a wall. Sounds of a footstep followed. Another wild shot was fired. Then again. Two more. This time he didn’t even hear the bullet connect with anything. It was as if the bullets had been sucked into the darkness. Detective LeRoi could hardly breathe, each one a labored pant. His heart racing, his lungs trying to catch air as panic and madness set in. He felt weak and limp. There was a presence all around, an attack could come from anywhere, at any time. No "Fight or Flight" adrenaline kicked in to give super human strength, vision, or speed. Only fear.
            The hand closed around his neck before he could think to react. Lifting him easily off the ground. The massive hand around his neck squeezed with enough force to make him lose feeling in most of his lower body. The gun smacking against the floor was his only indication he had dropped it. Veins rippled and beat in his forehead and his eyes bulged from lack of oxygen. These were slowly becoming his last moments. No images of his rough childhood, the hard work he did as a teenager and young adult, failed relationships and marriages, time he should’ve spent with his children, or the people he had saved flashed before his eyes. Instead Detective LeRoi thought of what had been said to him. About the close relationship between humans and demons. About the demon he could’ve been or the ones he may have created. His face deformed from a mixture of sorrow, fear, and being choked.
            "Finally." The voice strangely reassuring. Detective LeRoi was hoisted a little higher, and then with a tug he was pulled into the darkness, disappearing.

Hemophobia

            "It’s been a long time for me." It had been a long time, a very long time for him as well. All the nervousness and jitters were pent up in his stomach like demons trying to possess him. Demons he needed exorcised. He stared at the woman across from him, searching for the right words. Things came to him, but he didn’t say them. Afraid to trip over his own words and thoughts. She had been talking for quite some time, filling in those awkward silences with her own voice.
            "Excuse me, what did you say?" he asked, speaking up to remind her of his presence.           

            "Sorry, was I talking too much?"

            "No, no. I kinda spaced out for a moment." She smiled, blushing, possibly misunderstanding his words.
            "You asked me about my last relationship and my dating life. I started rambling."
            "So it’s been awhile for you too then?" She looked at him momentarily puzzled but proceeded to answer.
            "You really did space out. But it has been quite some time. I decided to take some time to focus on school. I’m sure you know about that, since you’re in Med School. Grad school got pretty rough. Dating or relationships weren’t the right thing to be concerning myself with. It’s taken me a while but I feel like I finally got everything together. So….At first I thought you were going to turn me down. Rachel and Ted told me you’re usually busy with school work. They said you’ll be locked away in your room for hours, even the entire day. I was wondering how you would find time." He laughed nervously.
            "A very busy life, it’s a real busy life but I still have to make time for other things. Especially a beautiful woman." The last few words fumbled out of his mouth. She didn’t mind. Laughing and blushing she accepted his sheepish compliment. He caught himself getting lost in her memorizing blue eyes, it was her words that brought him back.
            "Did you always want to be a doctor?"
            "Not sure?" he responded, taking a slight pause to think. "Sort of a created destiny for me. All my life, well most of it, I’ve only known the goal of becoming a doctor. Only a few other things have mattered."
            "Your parents pushed you?"
            "Yes. My father. In India he was a doctor. I’m not sure of all the details, but we had to move to America. Before we were getting ready to leave there were rumors, whispers, and stories from family and friends of how even though he was a respected doctor in India it may not matter in America. Fear started to build, he thought he may have to do some meager job so he could support and provide for his family. He felt like he would be stuck working at a family owned business and never be able practice medicine again. That’s when he started reflecting his dreams onto me. Once I had the ability to comprehend, he slowly drilled me on everything he knew. It was pretty relentless, which is probably how my hermit like study habits developed."
            "Did you miss a lot during your childhood?" she said abruptly.
            "What do you mean?" he asked in return.
            "Was your childhood not really a childhood because of your father, and him pushing you?" There was no immediate answer, he simply stared her, contemplating. "If I am being intrusive, please let me know. I have a bad tendency of trying to pry a lot from people I’ve just met."
            "No," he responded. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. "I had a good childhood, a regular one I guess. Most of the things a typical child does growing up, I did. Played soccer, had friends, went to birthday parties, played video games, that sort of stuff. Studying turned into priority but I still got my chances to have fun. My father eventually got to practice medicine here in America. This allowed him to let up on me, but it was only a bit. Part of me didn’t want him to. The seeds had already been planted. It was the smallest thought but it frightened me to death, it pushed me further."
            "What is that?" Before he answered, he took a long sip of his beer. This acted as a reminder she had a drink of her own right in front of her. She took a gulp, managing to consume a larger amount of her drink than he had of his. Feeling the drink she let off a giddy shiver.
            "You’re enjoying the drink?" She nodded and he continued. "The thought of letting my father down, disappointing him. His dreams had been put in me, placed on my shoulders. Whatever needed to be done to fulfill those dreams, I would do."
            "Wow. Somewhat noble of you. Taking on something you didn’t have to, and making sure to see it through."
            "Not sure about noble, some people call it stupid or weird."
            "I don’t think so at all," she said laughing and smiling.
            "Thank you," he said.
            "So you were born in India?" He nodded his head slightly before answering.
            "Yes, lived there until I was about four or five."
            "Did you enjoy it? India always seemed like one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Do you remember any of it?"
            "Certain things, I remember, others I do not. My father was a very prestige doctor in a small city, so life was relatively good."
            "Why did you guys have to leave?"
            "I’m not certain. Whether it’s because I was never told or I was too young and forgot, I am not sure."
            "Oh yes, I’m sorry you did say that. I guess I spaced out for a moment as well." They both laughed, the tension which had previously been there was slowly being relieved. He felt less stressed, all the talking relaxed him and made him more comfortable.
            "I did have a very traumatic experience while living in India" Her eyes widened showing how interested she was. "Because my father was a doctor, I think one of the few doctors in our city our residence saw its fair share of special house visits and house guest. People who lived in villages outside of the city would come to our house seeking treatment. Our house was big enough and we could let a few of the villagers stay with us while my father issued treatments or they waited to be transported to a nearby hospital. One of his main goals in life was to make sure he did everything he could to help people. He would do everything he could, selflessly for them. Often times he treated people from small villages, not charging a fee.
            "During the summer, around the time I was four, there was a terrible outbreak in a nearby village. The villagers believed they had been cursed by a witch or some supernatural force. Horrific things were happening, people were becoming extremely ill. A few of the villagers came to our house. My father tells me to this day, he is still baffled by what took place. He had never seen anything like it."
            "What was wrong with them?" she asked, with a hand over her mouth.
            "A few things. The two main things were these bloody pustule’s which formed all over their bodies. I’m sorry is this grossing you out?" he asked politely. Without a word, she shook her head. Her body language gave him the signal to continue on. "Their eyes, it was their eyes too. Something out of a horror movie. Those small villages are exposed to so much, it's really hard to determine how they get sick sometimes. It takes a strong medical professional to handle what you may face in those situations. We had about five or six of these sick villagers in our house, who were somewhat quarantined off.
            "One night I was sleeping in my room. I was already nervous because of strangers staying in our house. Having problems sleeping I tossed and turned most of the night, staying wide awake. Often my mother or father would stand in my doorway, checking on me. There was a particular night when it was terribly hot, unbearably. A really foul stench had also started to build up in our house. Couldn’t even think about sleeping it was so uncomfortable. Seeing the figure of a man standing in the doorway, I automatically thought it's my father. I jumped out the bed, and ran to him. Found myself in the arms of a man who instead of being my father was a dying villager. He's standing before me crying tears of blood, his face filled with bloody pustules. He said something I didn’t understand then died on his feet. Fell right on top of me. Once we hit the ground, a few of the pustules burst open spraying me with blood and pus. I couldn’t get him off of me, he was crushing me, and the blood from his eyes and pustules spilled on my face. It got in my eyes and mouth, I could taste death. I screamed out for help. Don’t even know how long before someone came, but it felt like I was trapped under this guy forever."
            "Sounds very dramatic," she said somberly. "Traumatic."
            "My mother didn’t make matters any better. She was terrified I'd caught whatever illness the villagers had. She constantly stressed over this, there were check-ups, several of them. She had it in her and my mind my blood got poisoned. At one point she considered going to see a village shaman to have my blood cleansed. My father would hear no such thing, wouldn’t allow her. My dad and a few other doctors ran a lot of test on me, never found anything. But I was fearful, and it had a pretty bad affect on me."
            "Hmmmmm," she said. "That's really really interesting. Did your father ever figure out what exactly happened in that village?"
            "No. We don’t talk about it much. He’s still somewhat interested but I don’t bring it up at all. Oh wait. From all the test and me not getting sick, my father started to believe the outbreak in the village may have been a genetic illness." Momentarily his voice got harsh and irritated. The change of tone did not go unnoticed,  she raised an eyebrow.
            "Are you alright?" she asked concerned.
            "Yes, sorry. It’s something that gets to me."
            "It’s alright, seems like it really got to you. So don’t worry. We all have those experiences."
            "Thank you. You still enjoying the drink? How is it?"
            "Yes. It’s strong and it’s good." She grabbed the drink off the table, taking another hearty gulp. "Great choice. Thank you. It’s great. Do you get it often?"
            "Every once in a while," he said smiling.
            "Yeah, it’s great," she said smiling back.

           The room was stifling. He had to continuously wipe his forehead with his sleeve. For the hundredth time, he took the sleeve of his scrubs and wiped off beads of sweat. Overcome by a familiar nervousness, he was unsure if he’d be able to do what he needed to. He’d practiced a lot, and made the effort to get better but still felt uncertain.

            "This is no good," he said stepping away from the medical table. He needed to take some deep breaths. Quickly he walked over to the sink on the other side of the room. Removing his gloves, he ran some water into his cupped hands and splashed the water on his face. He was so nervous he had forgotten his glasses were still on his face. Taking off  his glasses and shaking some of the water off, he sat them down on the edge of the sink. Looking into the mirror before him, he ran his still wet hands through his hair. His heart beat in his chest like it was trying to escape. His nostrils flared, and his mouth twitched. Gazing into the mirror, he was getting lost in his own image. Under his eyes, the brown skin was darkening from bags forming. The reflection he stared at didn't seem to belong to him. Beeps brought him back. Behind him, the heart monitor beeped at a much steadier pace than his own heart.
            "What is wrong with me?" he questioned himself. "This is not so different from the other times, from all my recent practicing." Turning away from the mirror he took a glance at the woman on the medical table. She lay on the table, naked with a sheet covering everything below her chest. Her arms were at her side with the heart monitor tube and a few others in her arm. Her chest moved up and down at a steady pace, this only caused his heart to beat faster. Ruffling his hair again, he picked up his glasses, washed his hands, grabbed a new pair of gloves and walked to the table. It was slight but he noticed an irregularity in the pace of her breathing. The sudden change in pace was sign of his time running out.
            "I have done this before. Studied most of my life, I've been preparing. There's no way I shouldn't be able to do this. No way." Attending Tufts University School of Medicine, a social life had been thrown away. Hours, hundreds of hours were spent in the library. He took in knowledge through whatever he could get his hands on, whether it be medical books, journal articles, or even video recordings. Whenever the opportunity presented itself he worked with cadavers. No longer could he keep track of the number of dead bodies he'd practiced on. There were times when one of his only friends would sneak him into the medical building where she worked, allowing him more time to work on dead bodies. Even with all the preparations this time would be different, it would be real.
            He took a small assessment of his medical instruments inventory. After peering over them for a few seconds, he looked over to the woman. Picking up a scalpel he held it in his hand as if it was a pencil. His shaking persisted, he had the nervousness of a student about to take a test they didn't study for.
            "Everything will be alright." He heard these words from a female's voice. A sense of calmness overcame him after hearing the voice, it was sweet, comforting, and familiar. Nerves soothed temporarily. "You're nervous, don't be. You know what you're capable of, you know that you can do this. Move forward, go."
             He starred down at the woman, trying to catch his breath. To pace himself, work up to what he had to do. Inching closer to hover over the table, he gazed into her partially open eyes. Only the lower part of her green eyes could be seen. Brown curly hair laying over the medical table and flowing off the edges, she had an Angelic resemblance. A few more deep breaths and he knew it was time. He grabbed onto her arm, her skin soft and silky. Cringing, he began to lower the scalpel into her skin. Pressing the scalpel slightly into her chest, he started to make an incision. Blood oozed out of the cut, not too much. Seeing the blood caused him to twitch baldly. The sudden twitch caused him to make his cut too deep. Blood squirted from the wound, even getting on his hands. Startled he backed away from the table, stumbling, and tripping over his own feet.
            "Oh my. Oh my God," he shouted, falling to the ground. Getting another glimpse at the blood on his gloves, he rolled over and crawled to the sink. "I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen."
            "It's ok." The same female voice from earlier spoke to him. This time it wasn't as comforting, it was strict and eager. "Nothing to worry about." Close enough to the sink, he used it to hoist himself up. Standing up he turned the faucet on full blast, dropping the scalpel in the basin. Taking a bar of soap he vigorously scrubbed his hands, even though he still had gloves on. Only a few drops of blood had gotten on the gloved but he washed them feverishly. As soon as he took the gloves off they were thrown away and he washed his bare hands even harder. His eyes met the water in the sink basin. Blood from the scalpel had turned the water a light red color. He turned away feeling queasy, but continued washing his hands. Faster his heart beat, anxiety was setting in. Not able to get himself together, but knowing his time was running short he moved away from the sink. Stumbling forward across the room. Bumping into things, he almost took a spill when he ran into a small table. He managed to make it to a counter. On top of the counter sat a group of orange bottles filled with pills. In the process of snatching up a specific bottle he knocked over several others. Giving the top a twist, a little too hard, he split pills onto the floor. Not at all concerned by what he dropped, he held the bottle to his mouth and poured out pills. Quite a few of the purple diamond shaped pills made it into his mouth, others went to the floor. Staggering back to the medical table, he grabbed a bottle of water. He took a long drink of the water, not moving as he drank. In front of the medical table, he dropped the bottle and picked up a new scalpel. A moment of hesitation, then he picked up a surgical saw too.
            "It's five pm, time for your only news at five. Top story on tonight's evening news, Twenty four year old college student Wendy Russells is still missing. The Graduate Student has been missing for about three days. There are yet to be any leads on her whereabouts. We really......" He turned off the TV hanging in the corner of the room, not sure why it got left on. Typically he needed silence to work and concentrate. Glancing around the semi empty room, slowly he tried to once again calm down. When he was about to turn around his phone rang. Not answering it just rang. When it immediately began to ring again, he took off his gloves and checked his phone. The name or number of whoever was calling got his attention, he answered.
            "Hello.....Yes, yes, yes," he said. "Sorry, I was in the middle of it......Yes, I am trying, it's been very difficult.....It was easier last time with you here......Yes, doctor my fear is somewhat getting to me, only some what though.......No..........I did have a slight problem with some blood........my mother?.......Yes, I did hear her voice, I don't know why but it's extremely soothing to me.......That feeling of her being near or at least thinking she is helps. I'm going to try and not make it messy......Yes, I will call you once I have finished and I will see you on Friday. Thank you."
            With a heavy and deep breathe he turned his focus back onto the woman. He put on another pair of gloves and picked up the scalpel. The surgical saw was left this time, but he made sure to know where it was for easy access. He took the woman's arm firmly as he bent over her. Visibly shaking, he lowered the scalpel toward the incision he had already made. Cautiously he pressed the scalpel, dragging it from her chest down toward her stomach. A sudden twitch of the women's body startled him, but he did not stop. Continuing to cut, he squeezed the woman's arm tighter. The hold he had on her was strong, it was like she was the person saving him from drowning.
            Like a newborn baby, the woman began to open her eyes. Unable to completely open her eyes she was becoming aware of her situation. Noticing she was awakening and she could see him, he gave a deformed comforting smile. Her eyes darted back and forth slowly, assessing her predicament. Terror, fear, and hopelessness appear when she saw he was still cutting into her. She strained herself to not avail. Couldn't scream, couldn't move, couldn't do anything, but watch. Cutting deeper he was still wary of any blood, but he kept that almost maniacal attempt of a reassuring smile on his face, for his sake and hers.

 

 

Social Disaster

                                                                       12:35 pm James

"More to the left. More, little more. Stop. Good. This’ll be a better shot of you with Downtown as the backdrop. Whenever you’re ready. Wait. Something’s going on. Hopefully these people move they’re going to ruin the shot."

BOOM

"What happened? Oh my God. Natalie where are you? Natalie. Are you there? Natalie. I can’t see anything. Please say something. Natalie."

                                           12:37 pm @markE27 Twitter Timeline

Mark E Mark @markE27

Anybody downtown?

Jennifer S. @JennS

@markE27 Are you on Lunch break? Wanna get some food?

James Deez Nutz @jamesdawg

So something is going on downtown?

Mark E Mark @markE27

RT @jamesdawg so something is going on downtown?

Mark E Mark @markE27

@JennS That’s probably a bad idea.

Paulie D. @PaulieSure

Anybody down to go to a bar tonight? Pub crawl tonight maybe? Already need to forget today.

Johnny @Bon_John

DUDE WTH????

Jennifer S @JennS

@markE27 Why? Is traffic bad? You know I’m 10 minutes away. I could walk.

Paulie D. @PaulieSure

DRINKS TONIGHT? ANYONE?

Meagan @MeagaMind84

RT @ZodiaFacts #Pisces needs to stop worrying about people who won’t do the same for them > True!

Rex Kwon Do @lawyerFu

Sitting in my office, looked out the window. The Square might’ve exploded.

James Deez Nutz @jamesdawg

The Square blew up

Mark E Mark @markE27

Gotta get out of downtown now.

                                                                12:30 pm Ron’s iPhone

"WorldStar. Yo wassup. This is kinda rare for The Square. Seeing two people who aren’t homeless argue with each other. Those Suits with briefcases have been going at it for a minute now. They’re really going at it. Lawyers and Business types still get brolic, I guess. Not your typical WorldStar fight, I know, but if they start throwing hands. Sounds like the yelling is getting louder. Gonna get a little closer, need a better view. This woman is going in.

What the hell kinda language are they speaking? Maybe it is two drunk bums arguing. Sure isn’t English, can’t be Spanish either. Yeah, I’m recording. Hey y’all are gonna be on WorldStar. Don’t think imma stop cause you giving me salty looks. You need to chill and keep arguing with buddy. You gone let him smile and put his hand ya face like that? Worry bout him not me. WOW. She stole on dude. WorldStar she is not playing. This is getting"............................................"ach, ach, ach. My arm. Aaaaaaaaaah. The hell? My Phone? Oh. There it is. Still recording.

Let me flip, so you can see me. Check out my arm, disgusting. It may be broken, ouch. Won’t touch that again. This has to be a terrorist attack, they must've dropped a bomb. Can’t see anything. People are screaming, also sounds like thunder and lightning are booming and banging through the square. Let me go check this out. I’ll be back later to give you guys an update. I’m sure you’ll want to see this."

                                                          12:40 Jordan’s Facebook Status

             Jordan Tolbert

            2 minutes ago

Downtown is in SHAMBLES.
Piper Jones, Larry Jason Smith, Rich McCallister, and 3 others like this.

Rich McCallister

What’s going on? You alright?
Weds 12:41 pm * like

Jane Conway

Are you ok?
Weds 12:41 pm * like

Jayson Tolbert

Sis you ok?
Weds 12:42 pm * like 2

Rida Singupta

Jordan I’m downstairs, they’re not letting us go outside.
Weds 12:43 pm * like

Miguel Ortiz

Hey, babe are you ok? Tried to call you.
Weds 12:44 pm * like 4

Jordan Tolbert

Hey guys, I’m ok.
Weds 12:45 pm * like 7

Miguel Ortiz

What’s going on?
Weds 12:45 pm * like

Jordan Tolbert

I’m ok, The building was put on lockdown. I can sort of see from my window, but I can’t make out anything. Seems like The Square is a Warzone. I keep hearing these loud bangs.
Weds 12:48 pm * like

Jayson Tolbert

A Warzone? Who would fight in The Square?
Weds 12:50 pm * like

Baker Troy Daniels

Fighting? A fight that could turn downtown into a Warzone?
Weds 12:51 pm * like

Rida Singupta

It sounds like bombs are going off. A few of the windows exploded.
Weds 12:51 pm * like

Jane Conway

Where are the Police?
Weds 12:52 pm * like 3

Daniel Strait

Obama’s administration is the reason for this.
Weds 12:53 pm * like

Megan Charles

Please don’t start Dan.
Weds 12:54 pm * like 5

Jordan Tolbert

Daniel this isn’t the time. Baker Troy Daniels and Jayson Tolbert it’s hard to tell, there’s so much smoke.
Weds 12:56 pm * like

Rida Singupta

A car flew through the lobby window downstairs.
Weds 12:57 pm * like

Miguel Ortiz

Why haven’t you left the building yet? And I’ve called you a few times.
Weds 12:58 pm * like

Melissa Tolbert

Are they evacuating your building yet?
Weds 1:01 pm * like 6

Jayson Tolbert

Sis you need to get out of there. I’m looking at the news. Put your phone up, get off the computer and leave.
Weds 1:01 pm * like

                                12:40 pm Channel 7 News Helicopter Steve, Robert, and Peter

"Steve a call came in, there’s something going on Downtown," Robert said.

"More traffic? We’re reporting on traffic right now, what’s the difference?" Steve responded.

"Not traffic. HQ said it was ‘Big Story’."

"Near The Square?"

"Yeah."

"Protest, maybe?"

"Not sure but they want us there asap."

"Peter we need to head downtown, quickly," Steve said into his headphones.

"Sure thing," Peter responded.

"Once we’re turned around maybe we’ll get somewhat of an idea of what’s going on," Robert said.

"They didn’t give you any info? None at all?" Steve asked.

"Um yeah, uh, all I got was there’s a story unfolding and they need us on it."

"Looks like an out of control fire or some sort of Warzone," Peter said. "ETA three minutes."

"Are those explosions?" Steve asked.

"Explosions in The Square?"

"Or thunder. That’s what it sounds like."

"Peter do you see anything yet?" Robert asked.

"No, the entire Square is covered by smoke. We might end up flying blind."

"Robert get the camera out so we can be prepared. Whatever is going on down there, we need to get the best parts," Steve said.

"What am I looking for?"

"Peter can you fly straight, the jerking can’t be necessary."

"Uh."

"Ugh."

"Peter please be careful, we’re gonna need to get there soon, you can’t fly......"

"Ouch."

"What are you doing?" Steve shouted.

"Trying to maneuver to the best of my abilities," Peter responded calmly.

"Why would such drastic and erratic movement be.........Holy......."

"That’s a......"

"Oh my.......Peter move. Move out of the way."

"Please sit down, I can avoid them on my own," Peter remained collected.

"Those. Those cars. Those were cars. They weren’t on the ground. Weren’t driving on the street. Those cars were off the ground, flying through the air. How did they?" Robert said, his tone despondent.

"You think they came from The Square? But what could’ve thrown them so far?"

"Robert, Steve we’re almost there. It’s time to start doing our job."

"Steve, I don’t want to do this story anymore," said a timid Robert.

"Peter’s right. A story’s down there and it’s our job to report it. This could be one of the biggest stories we’ve ever covered. Think about the last time you saw a car fly through the air. When have you ever seen something like that? Imagine the footage we could be getting. And you’ll be the cameraman to film it. Do a good enough job and you could win awards. The awards, recognition you’ve always desired, and deserved," Steve said.

"I’ve never wanted to see car flying, ever. What if people had still been in those cars?"

"Truly tragic, but it’s our responsibility to report. We have to present this to the World. Peter get closer, so we can get good view. Robert come back to us, get it together. I need you to hold the camera steady. We don’t want messy straight to DVD ‘Found Footage’ Horror movie quality."

"We don’t have to do this," Robert said wearily.

                                                        12:5 pm #TheSqureInShambles

Sean Don @DonSean
#TheSquaresInShamble is trending?

Nat @Natnate

So #TheSquaresInShambles

Eves Saint Lauren @Yves_Aint

#thesquaresinshambles my friend is on 12^th Street, she said a car fell from the sky.

Ash @ashsass

RT @DonSean #TheSquaresInShamble is trending?< It’s getting demolished

Iron Man @Iron_Aron

#thesquaresinshambles 2012 came early.

Mart @Maar_Tin

#TheSquaresInShambles looks like something out of a Michael Bay movie.

Martin Lawry @Martinlaw

a Summer Block Buster RT @Maar_Tin #TheSquaresInShambles looks like something out of a Michael Bay movie.

Rocky Baow Baow @RocTurnal

#TheSquaresInShambles where are the POLICE? The ARMY? We need HELP downtown.

Ceddy @PimpC_e

RT @RocTurnal #TheSquaresInShambles where are the POLICE? The ARMY? We need HELP downtown.

Jamie Lee @Jam_I_E

RT @RocTurnal #TheSquaresInShambles where are the POLICE? The ARMY? We need HELP downtown.

The Franchize @stfranchize

#THESQUARESINSHAMBLES RT @DaltonWeb_Mayor it’s a beautiful day in our City, please go out and enjoy

Sgt Sandy @SgtSandy

RT @RocTurnal #TheSquaresInShambles where are the POLICE? The ARMY? We need HELP downtown.

Josie J @JoeZEE

RT @stfranchize #THESQUARESINSHAMBLES RT @DaltonWeb_Mayor it’s a beautiful day in our City, please go out and enjoy

                                                               12:48 pm Ron’s iPhone

"I’m still alive world. There’s stuff on my phone, the world is definitely going to want to see. Not sure if you can hear it, you may be able to since i've gone deeper into The Square. Kinda sounds like rapid fire Thunder. It stopped for a minute but picked right back up. Getting closer to the heart of the commotion. Still going, cause I’m know you guys want to find out what’s going on as much as I do."

"Ahhhh. Ahhhh."

"You alright?"

"My leg. My leg."

"Ok, ok. Don’t worry, you’ll be alright."

"I need to find her. Where is she? Natalie? Natalie?"

"Calm down, we’ll find her, she could be deeper into the smoke. Get a little rest, I got you.

We’ll find her. People this is my new companion. Wait, what is? Shi....."

                              1:00 pm Channel 7 News Helicopter Steve, Robert, and Peter

"This is Steve Reyes. Your guy high in the sky. Reporting from Downtown. Where the, dammit Robert can you hold the camera steady?"

"What do you expect? All this turbulence. The Square has turned into a Third World Warzone. Hard to maintain a steady hand right now."

"Steve should I moved around and get closer?" Peter asked.

"Yes."

"No," Robert vehemently protested.

"Robert in order for use to get the news worthy, award winning shots. We need to fly closer. Peter is more than capable of doing that."

"Hey do you remember, remember two cars flying through the air? We need to keep our distance."

"No we need to get closer."

"This is that important to you? Peter you’re really willing to put your life at risk, very high risk? All for me and Steve to get a story? I’m sure you’ve flown in some harsh conditions, but."

"The story of our lifetime could be down there," Steve interrupted.

"So could death."

"You’re willing to give up being the cameraman who filmed a Historical World event?"

"Think about a mid size SUV smashing into the helicopter. Think about what we’re going to find down there. The people suffering. People are caught in whatever the situation is, how many dead could there be? Should we use them for our own recognition?" Robert retorted.

"Our job is to turn their deaths into stories. So they’ll be seen and remembered. You’ll be recognized and glorified for you magnificent camera work. Money, prizes, accolades, glory, it’s all waiting."

"What else?" Robert asked.

"Hey Steve, Robert another Helicopter arrived. It’s getting closer to the action."

"What? Jeez. It’s Mike and Sharon," Steve shouted. "Didn’t they get a new pilot?"

"I’m sure I can out fly him."

"We don’t have to do this," Robert pleaded.

"Get yourself together. This is ours, the story belongs to us. Our glory. Peter, I trust you. Let’s go."

 

1:15 pm Jordan Tolbert’s iPhone

"Jordan? Honey what’s all......Jordan can you hear me?"

"Mom. I can sort of hear you. Mom can you hear me?"

"Yes. Where are you? I talked to Jay and he gave me pieces of what’s going on. I checked the news but they’re only giving so much information. Jordan, it’s so loud, are you alright. Jordan? Jordan?"

"I’m ok."

"Ok? Jordan you can’t be. Things don’t sound ok. Jo, please where are you right now? I’m worried."

"I’m in the building. Everything is fine."

"No it’s not. Unless you’re watching an action movie with surround sound at work, you’re not. Plus your building is right next to The Square. Jo tell me this instant."

"The building was on lock down mom."

"You’re safe?"

"Uh."

"Jo are you safe?"

"Mom."

"Jo."

"Mom, they’re in the building."

"I thought you said the building was on lock down."

"The sixth floor is being destroyed."

"Destroyed?"

"The building can’t take much more of this."

"Jo? Why are you still in the building?"

"No where to go.

"Where are you?"

"Bathroom."

"Get out now."

"Part of the hallway outside collapse. Chelsea, Nick, and Morgan went....I heard them scream when it did. Chelsea begged for me to come help, I was so scared. My body locked up. Something shook the whole building and I heard her scream again."

"Jordan, please you have to get out of the bathroom."

"Blocked, it’s blocked. I can’t move, my body won’t let me."

"Jordan please. Please stop crying, it’s alright. Please Jo, you gotta find a way out."

"Mom."

"Jordan."

"The floor."

"Jordan. Jo. Answer me."

"Mom."

"Jordan stay on the phone. Please, Jo please stay."

"Mom."

"Jo."

                                                5:00 pm Channel 7 News Neil Brockman

      "Neil Brockman is at The Square."
      "I’m only blocks away from where earlier today a scene no one could imagine unfolded." The reporter was somber, but he maintained his informative New Anchor tone as well.
      "Not sure what happened to tell you the truth."

Martin works across the street in Citri Bank. He had returned from lunch when the commotion started.

      "Soon as I walked in.......BOOM. Windows and glass doors exploded, the entire bank shook. My first thought was an elaborate bank robbery."

      "But it wasn’t?"
      "Not at all. Smoke everywhere. The entrance had been enveloped by smoke. You couldn’t see outside. Our four guards were expecting twenty people with high tech weaponry to come barging in. We hit the alarms, tried to call the police, but we weren’t able to get through. The guards sat at the entrance for two minutes. After no one came in, one of them went outside. Almost as soon as he went, another Boom, might’ve been more powerful than the first. Threw the guard back."
      "The sound was that powerful?"
      "Wasn’t just a sound, it was a shockwave. Sent him flying over there, amazed he survived such a knock."

Melinda was out walking her German Sheppard when things started

       "Yeah, I was walking Bolder down Sixteenth Street, we’d gone to the park. It’s such nice day outside. We were passing Charles Coffee when it happened."

       "What exactly happened?"
       "Glass exploded all around us. Car windows, the coffee shops. The first blast was terrifying, powerful. If I hadn’t been able to brace myself and grab a pole, we would’ve been thrown down the street."
        "Were you hit by any glass?"
        "The force pushed most of the glass inward. A few people in the street got pelted."

Melinda says she, like a few others got curious and decided to get a better view. She decided to move to this small park we’re currently standing in.

        
         "Gives you a great view of The Square. Couldn’t see anything. A massive dust cloud covered the entire Square. People were gathering, I guess to get a sense of what going on, or because they were attracted by the noise. Over here about four people had their cell phones out recording. That dent in the ground, car landed there."
         "A Car?"
         "Yup, one of the guys didn’t move in time. Crushed him. He might not have even seen it, he was too busy with his phone."
         "Was anyone else hurt?"
         "Yes, a few other people. But seeing a man smashed into the ground will make people realize they’re not safe. The car had to have been thrown from one thousand feet away. Look at The Square. The destruction."
         "Did you see anything? Anything that would help us get an idea of what went on?"
         "Whatever was happening in the dust cloud, I have no idea. Heard loud noises but saw nothing. I feel sorry for the people who may have been in The Square."
         
No one is allowed in The Square. It’s been blocked off, half of downtown was shut down. Police and City Officials are trying to put things together. I’ve talked to a few officers who said they’re getting different accounts. No telling how long it will take to sort it out. Much of the information they receive isn’t going to be made accessible to the general public. Therefore it will be a while before we have an accurate number of how many people may have died. Government and City Officials are working hard, please bear with them. Our city couldn’t have expected to receive such a blow. A blow we couldn’t have been prepared for. If you’re looking for someone it’s going to take few hours possibly days to contact the Police. First try any co worker, friends, or other family members.
        
         "Thank you for keeping us up to date Neil. Any word on how long The Square will be closed?"
         "No. Nobodies sure Rosanne. They have to assess the amount of damage done, which will take days. The Square was the epicenter, so it’s going to take longer. Downtown saw its fair share of damage as well."
          "Is it true some Office Buildings got destroyed?"
          "Yes. The Mitchell Anderson Tower took the most visible damage. The SunTrust, AT&T and Lowes buildings also took serve damage. You can see some of the damaged done to the buildings behind me."
           "And still no official word on what may have taken place?"
           "Reports, stories, and witness accounts are coming in at a high rate. Police are trying to separate the hearsay from facts. Hopefully we get full report in few days. A few deaths outside of The Square have been confirmed, and more could be."
            "Quite sad, tragic and sad events have unfolded today."
            "Very sad and tragic Rosanne. My prayers go out to all the people and families who will be affected. I will remain downtown to report any news s it comes."
            "Thank you Neil. Our prayers go out to the entire City. As Neil was doing his report, some disheartening news came in. About two hours ago our News Seven Chopper, lost control and crashed. Steve Reyes, Robert Jorgon and Pilot Peter Burton were on board. Steve Reyes died on the scene, Peter died on route, and Robert was in critical condition for an hour before he passed. Channel Seven send their condolences to the families."

 

                                                  5:45 pm @markE27 Twitter Timeline

Jennifer S @JennS

@markE27 are you alright?

Dora Nora @doraTHEEx

Watching the news, praying.

The Great John Nash @JohnnyGT
Prayers. It’s so important right now. For everyone.

Sara @SaraEra

So sad. Can’t stop crying. I need strength.

Jennifer S. @JennS

@SaraEra Sara everything is going to be alright. Call me if you need to.

Cam @Cam_IT
Can’t believe this happened today. Feels like nightmare and I can’t wake up.

Paulie D. @PaulieSure
Longest. Day. Ever. Anybody wanna meet up tonight for drinks? Dog Days Bar in The Square?