Thunder breaks and my eyes open. I see the corner of the east side of my room. The west side. The bathroom. Nothing is concealed in this room. Getting up, I examine myself in one of the mirrors. It is as I expected, nothing has changed. Putting on my coat, I leave.
Outside is dark. What woke me up seems to have passed. I know my position. Any area, every space. Or do I? The hole in front of me proves otherwise. How it have eluded me, a simple hole? I should know everything.
Jumping, however, is ridiculous in my current condition. I would most likely shatter my legs on the landing because of all the extra weight. Bound by limitations, I climb down the hole. I hit bottom after 10 feet. A smell that is not one single smell smells. My sight has been taken by the darkness. If I had come during the day, I would have had light from above. Unfortunately, I didn't. Reaching into my coat, however, I pull out a lighter. As I flick the switch, the smell of well-cooked meat dilutes the smell from this place. Looking back, I remember when I last pulled this lighter to cook meat when I was in the jungle. I didn't have time to make a fire but the past is the past. The flame illuminates the the water, giving the river a reflective glisten. There is trash in the water with clumps of floc. 8 feet across the water, there is another path that runs parallel to the one I am currently on. If I had to, I probably couldn't reach it because the water could hold dangers unknown to me. Walking left of my entry point, east on a map, I notice that this underground area follows the street. This area, however is not that simple. There are holes at spots in this tunnel. Each hole corresponds to a building on the surface. A noise comes from one of the holes. Startled, I motion closer with one hand inside my coat, the other holding the flame forward. Impure, murky water gushes out of hole and enters the river. This place is a sewer. Shaking my head, I revel in my stupidity. I had forgotten sewers it seems. What else?
Moving back to my entry point, now shining with light, I hear a noise. It's not quite the same as waste from a building. It more like a swishing noise through water. Stranger still, it was quiet and coming from the river. Grabbing the same handle as before with one hand, I etch cautiously towards the sound. Suddenly, a reptilian creature erupts onto the path. A perfectly tossed knife only blinds one eye causing the alligator to hiss in anger. As it attempts to retaliate, more knives pierce its flesh and before it can reach me, its legs give. Retrieving and wiping each knife with my disposable wipes, I examine my 9-foot foe. It'd be a shame if I just left it here. Pulling out a much longer sharper blade, I detach the head and kick the body into the water; the teeth might be useful and no sense in leaving a rotting body on concrete. Head under one arm, I climb up the ladder.
When I reach the top, I shield my eyes. The brightness, it burns. Upon entering the Watershed Heights, I notice the faint trail that the dripping head has left behind. Normally, such a trail would be wiped. In this town, a little blood probably wouldn't raise any alarm. Then it hits me; there are people here. Not for me though. For the fountain, the broken thing that served as a center of sight. But now it works. Too many people; I must leave. Carefully, I make sure no blood follows me into Watershed Heights. When I enter my room, I toss the head into the sink and enter the bathroom; the stench on me is only mildy annoying but unappealing nonetheless.
Getting out of the shower, I hear a rumble, a growl, similar to the alligator's. Has something come for revenge? Another growl breaks the silence; this time, I notice the source, my stomach. Should I cook some alligator? The head can't have much meat though; it'd be a waste of energy. I reach into the cabinet a grab out some poptarts, which have 360 calories for two and the perfect blend of carbs and sugars to refuel me. I freeze. Gunshot. And not just any gun, an m-16. Somehow I just know the sound. Why? It came from right above me. Putting on my coat, I open a mirror and walk up.
Peeking, I see a man. He's holding an m-16. It's that crazy guy I saw before talking to himself. He's doing the same thing, talking. Waving his gun, he looks so familiar.
"Him. We want Him." On the screen in front of me is a man. With a rough, battered look and his rifle, the man looks like a veteran. My eyes stayed on the target while they spoke."More importantly, we want him alive. Bring Him back upon discovery of his whereabouts." Turn to face them, I replied "Understood."
Him. It's him. I need to get him. But how? He's crazy. Worse, he's got an m-16. Those two things should never be associated. As I crawl up, my hand shifts a pebble. More like a rock. That slingshot. Perfect. All my other tools would have killed him or made a mess. Positioned, I take aim but his movement are unreadable. Even worse, he's been visualized by officers. Why are did they respond so fast? I need to get going, before this escalates into an inescapable situation. I take my shot. He shot first. Not me but himself. His body falls.