Another Normal Day.

Another day at work. If this isn’t hell I don’t know what is. I work for a banking firm that specialises in over-seas transfers. What a lovely job it is. People asking the same questions all day long. The odd lively customer comes around once in a blue moon and even then, when they reached my counter, my depressed nature seems to spread like a disease infecting the stranger almost instantaneously.

Today wasn’t a very busy day. I was glad of it. Most of the time people would just come in to see if they could argue with someone. You see, the bank had a bit of a reputation. “The Barmy Bank” they call it. It’s because of the increasingly high suicide rates from the employees, apparently no one can hack it for too long. I eyed the clock on the far wall opposite from where I was sitting. It read 12.30. Perfect. I got up and walked over to the main revolving doors and triggered the mechanism, causing the doors to glide to a gentle stop. The bank seemed empty, my colleagues were already gone. Not daring to stay another minute in this place, I walked back over to the desks which I had been sitting all morning and picked up my briefcase. Strolling over to the wall nearby I picked up the only jacket on the pegs and made for the exit on the right.

Pausing at the rear door to the bank I turned around. This place seemed so empty I thought and as I said it in my head the realisation of being alone in this world struck me harder than ever before. No one would wait for me when 12.30 came and no one would be waiting for me at home. No one. Reaching into my trouser pocket I pulled out a large array of keys which spiralled and swirled all on one key ring. I’d done this so many times before I already knew which key it was and where I would find it. Rotating the mess about 90 degrees I saw the shiny silver key with the tooth shaped end and a small indent in the neck. I walked out of the door and closed it tightly shut. Taking the key I had just found I placed it into the lock and turned it once. The lock slid into place and off I went.

Just a few blocks from the bank was a nice little café. out of the way place, it was a good get away from the hustling and bustling of the New York rush hours. And the food wasn’t that bad too. I walked into the small building, taking my coat off as I entered.

“Hi Margaret,” I said plainly as I hung my coat on in the usual peg.

“The usual Mr. Ream?” said a short stout woman from behind an incredibly old and shaky looking counter.

“Yes please. And do call me David.” I sat down at a nearby table. The café was deserted, only the two of us were present. So I thought… Margaret came over with a coffee and sat it steadily on the table. Her old grey hair twirled in rolls on her head. She wore a dark green pinafore with a chequered shirt underneath. I was beginning to wonder if she ever wore anything different but thought it too rude to ask. I leaned over my knees and rummaged about on the floor trying to grab the handle. Succeeding I pulled the briefcase onto my knees and unclipped the locks. As usual I took out the papers which looked oh so familiar. Dropping the briefcase to the floor I turned and rested the papers on the table; the bank wasn’t doing very well. The amount of money the bank contained was slowly deteriorating. Scanning over the values I began to do the usual calculations. I was so engrossed in my own work that I hadn’t noticed him. Or had he just appeared? I was sure I was alone in the café. I ignored him and continued to read over the paper.

“David Ream, you’re in great danger,” he said.

I lifted my eyes from the paper once more to look at him. He was wearing a dark overcoat on top of what looked like a suit. His shoes were polished so much I could begin to see my reflection in them. He was wearing black gloves and a black face mask. Sunglasses hung in-front of his eyes. What really made me wonder was his hat. It was a large, black hat with a single pure white feather attached to it. This seemed to radiate an essence of white light all around the room. How had he known my name? I have never seen this person before in my life.

He got up. Pacing slowly through the café, weaving in and out of tables and chairs as he did so, he sat down in the chair directly opposite to me. I rush of fear seemed to strike me but yet some excitement remained, maybe that’s why I stayed seated. Bolted to the chair. Unable to move my legs or to call for any sort of assistance. Not like anyone would hear me of course but the thought was nice to know. I knew his eyes were looking at me. I could feel them, piercing me like daggers. Scanning my every feature. As if I was some sort of un-discovered insect that a Scientist was examining. His hands moved in an upward motion and reached for the glasses.

His eyes were a deep shade of blue. It was like staring into a mini ocean. The colour seemed to ripple all the way around the centre of his eye. He spoke in a deep clear voice. Much like a narrator to a story book. Again he repeated, “You’re in great danger Mr. Ream”

I stared blankly at him. Unable to speak only to listen. Maybe it was the shock of a mysterious man just happening to be in the same café at the time I walked in and knowing my name. He inter-twined his fingers and perched them on his lap.

“I’m going to try to keep you alive.” As he said this he reached into the right hand side of his jacket and pulled out a small envelope. In scarlet ink across the middle read “Mr. Ream.”

He slid the envelope across the table to me. I hadn’t noticed until that point that I was trembling. My arm was shaking like a tree in a gale force wind. My heart was pounding so much it was in my throat making it harder and harder for me to breathe. I held out my hand and grasped the envelope tightly.

“You shall understand in time” he said in the same deep clear voice. I gazed at him for about a minute and turned to the wall where my coat was; I walked over and stuffed the letter into the upper right pocket. I don’t know why I didn’t just open it; I don’t think it seemed right. I spun around to face him again but I could not see him. My eyes were fooling me again surely. A man cannot simply disappear. Hit with the shock of the moment. The strange feeling of insecurity and isolation. It felt like nothing else in the world now mattered, and that now my life had something which it lacked before: a purpose.

The door opened and slammed shut. The café shook a bit and the wind that had blown in through the door opened its mouth. In that same deep clear voice said; “By the way, the names Slim.”

After a long day at the bank all I wanted to do, like any man or woman would, is to go home. It was dark and the streets were almost empty. The odd car came rolling past every now and again. The chill of the night was getting to me and I started to shiver. A soft whistle in the wind was being pumped into my ears. My fingertips were almost frozen. I’d walked twenty blocks so far, only another ten to go. The streetlamps emitted the faintest glow. Almost like they’d given up. The curtains of nearby houses hung over the windows dully. There was not a sound to be heard, not one, even all the wildlife seemed to be in a sleeping trance not to be awoken but the slightest utter of a scream. I felt like screaming. There was something inside of me just waiting to get let out, just waiting for the right moment.

Five blocks left. I was in the poorer side of New York now. Derelict buildings hung around the streets like a bad smell. The graffiti was sprayed on anything that could be seen, gang names and people’s names. I hated walking down this street, the fear of being jumped by a drugged up psycho was pretty high. Cars howled past full of drunken adolescents going to parties in the nearby houses. You could spot a party from a mile away. The old houses were lit up like a Christmas tree and music was playing so loud you could barely hear yourself think. The occasional gunshot could be heard from the surroundings and then everything would fall silent for a few minutes. Screaming would then follow and more gunshots. People are crazy these days.

Finally, I approached my street. It was set far away from the gang culture and from any sort of disturbance. There was just a long street with a block of perfectly good flats at the end. I lived on the top floor overlooking the City. The New York skyline fascinated me. I’d only ever seen one person in the whole block. It was just another building in the middle of no where. The background scene I liked to call it. No one would ever notice it unless they looked. I owned the top flat, which was great apart from the amount of stairs. There must have been hundreds. Well, there was five hundred and sixty-three. I remembered counting them once as I came back from a particularly boring day at work. A little sad I know, but who’s going to stop me? As I reached the five hundred and sixtieth step, I was hit with a sense of confusion. The door was ajar. Not just ajar. It had been taken clean off the hinges.

Rushing towards it I peered in through the open doorway. My belongings had been littered about the apartment and my furniture laid in twisted positions in the living room. The fridge was rocking like a see-saw on the breakfast bar and the cupboards had been wrenched off the walls revealing a large grey area of plaster. Then it caught my eye. On the far wall near the door to the bedroom. Hanging there quite innocently: an envelope. Not just any envelope either, it was the exact replica of the one that Slim had given me back in the café. Then it dawned on me, I hadn’t actually opened it. I swiftly took it from my top right jacket pocket and began to stare at the scarlet writing on the front. It seemed to stare at me as if to say, “open”. I flipped it over and started to un-seal it, a strange thing to do really when my apartment has just been trashed. I slid the piece of paper out, it was folded two or three times. As I opened it the words became imprinted on my eyes.

“Meet me at Twelve Thirty tomorrow”

Although this specified the time, it did not specify the place to meet. Why would I even want to meet this Slim character? For all I know he could be a nutcase who’s been on too much Heroin. I stuffed the note back into my pocket and continued to observe the wreckage that used to be my home. There was so much debris I couldn’t see the dark blue carpet. Navigating to the wall was a pain. Bits of glass and wood were everywhere, as I clambered my way through I caught my leg on a sharp metallic object. My leg seared with agony, I had to restrain myself not to shout out vulgarities. What was in the envelope on the wall? My mind wondered. Would it be from the same people who had ransacked my home? Or was it from Slim? The mysterious man who likes to play mind games. All of this was too much to handle. For a normal guy to be involved on something like this had to be an extraordinary co incidence. Eventually after what seemed like hours of trying to fling myself at the wall I reached my destination. My eyes were now fixed on the envelope. Unlike the first one, this one had the message on the outside.

“Use it wisely,” it read. Use what wisely? Puzzled by the information that I’d just gained, it opened up new questions in my already overflowing brain. Too much to handle. It seemed like the world was somehow now revolving around me and that somehow, just somehow, I might have a purpose. Far away from the noisy racket of New York City. The city which I held so close to my own heart. But all was quiet now, all ears were listening, all eyes directed at me. It was like my heart was beating in unison with the whole of the city.

I slowly started to turn, my eyes now wandering to the doorway. I tried to move, lifting my leg painfully, but to no avail. I could not seem to do anything but look at the doorway. I tried to jump forward but my feet were somehow glued to the floor. I looked down, beginning to actually wonder if they’d been stuck to the floor. Thankfully not, but still I couldn’t move. A warmth spread through my body. A glow of green light seemed to be surrounding me. Engulfing me in its jaws. I let it swallow me, it felt right, like nothing I’d ever experienced before. A tingling sensation rippled through me as the light surrounded me. It elevated me off the floor, I was levitating about three inches off the ground. The light started to turn me towards the wall. It was so strange to see light like this ricocheting off the nearby objects, yet it felt so natural. As I turned to face the wall the envelope that hung quite motionless was also covered with the green light. Perhaps it was this that was emitting it? My hand out-stretched without my authority. It grabbed for the envelope, holding it tightly, like nothing could take it away. My body had a mind of it’s own as I was opening the envelope without realizing. Light streamed from the top of it, as I peered in I saw it. A lime green stone attached to a rather grimy looking piece of string. On instinct I took this and placed it around my own neck. Power seemed to rush through my body. It felt like something inside me had just opened its eyes. It felt like driving a car all night and wanting to sleep and then someone finally taking over the wheel. I felt revitalized. Refreshed. Ready for the world and all its deadly horrors. I felt alive again, like never before. My life was spiralling rapidly out of control and I was letting it. Embracing the power, I closed my eyes and imagined all of the possessions that littered the floor to be repaired. I imagined the door flying back into its frame and repairing itself, the fridge standing up and walking back to it’s original position and the cupboard gliding back to the wall which they’d came. And as suddenly as all the power had came it stopped. Just like that.

I opened my eyes, got out of bed and walked over to the set of drawers on the other side of the room. I pulled on the usual suit and tie and walked into the living room. After opening the blinds of my New York apartment, I gazed across the skyline. Clouds hung lifelessly in mid air being blown along by the normal breeze. I walked into the kitchen and picked up a cup of coffee off the breakfast bar. After drinking it and organizing my papers for the morning, I packed my briefcase and set off out of the door.

Something was bugging me, I felt like I’d misplaced something. As I arrived at the big revolving doors to the bank I saw the familiar faces off my colleagues behind the desks, their faces as grim as usual. I glanced at the large clock on the southern wall of the bank, it read 12.20.

How could it possibly be twenty past twelve? I’d only just woken up. I was usually on time every day of the year. Why today? I sensed something strange was going on. I felt like a mystery was clouding my mind and that I could no longer see where I was walking or what I was doing. The bank was closing up for an hour, usually I’d let everyone out and stop the automatic revolving doors then get my coat off the peg of the empty banks wall and stroll out of the back, locking the door as I went. But today was different. Today felt abnormal. Like I was stuck in a parallel universe and that I was no longer me but another being in a far away dimension. What was going on?

I walked hastily out of the bank, not pausing for any reason what so ever. Where could I go? I thought. The café on 6th street was usually where I’d go so I set off at the same hasty pace. Whether it was out of paranoia or just a total coincidence I turned my head and glanced behind me. Out of the hundreds of people on the street I recognised one. Out of the thousands of people in New York I recognised one. On one of the busiest streets in New York I recognised someone that I’d never spoken a word to. He was at the bank just a short while ago. He was dressed smartly, like a business man would. A black suit with a dazzling white shirt and a pair of sunglasses that were terribly un-fashionable. He was also wearing a white ear piece in one ear. Maybe I was just being stupid, how could I have remembered him from the bank? I’d only just been there and had walked in, looked at the clock, walked back out. It was only then I realised that I had stopped moving. The motion of walking and looking back seemed too great a task for my feeble body. He saw me. Just as I had seen him. We looked at one another; he was talking now, on a mobile that he had pulled from his pocket. Talking to an unknown person who had absolutely nothing to do with my life. Then the moment I’d been dreading. Another man came sprinting around a corner from a nearby street dressed exactly the same as the other man, both who were now starting at me. They started to walk towards me, another man came darting out of a shop and joined them. Three of them and one of me, but were there more? I was panic stricken, were these men really after me? Following me? Out off all of New York there must be someone else they were after. I was just a normal guy going to work. Maybe I’d gotten the wrong end of the stick here, I mean, they might just want to talk to me or something. Despite this thought I kept on walking.

As I turned the corner I glimpsed behind me. Two more men dressed identically had joined the group. Now I was scared. Did no-one else notice this? Was this my imagination playing tricks on me? I didn’t know where to go or what to do.

I took the next corner at a sprint. Five maybe more men were chasing me. I was nearly there. Just a few more seconds and I’d be in the shadows of the park. Traffic bustled across the road in front of me. I weaved my way through the onslaught of metallic monsters and reached the park just in time. Seven men stood at the intersection of twenty second street, where just a few moments previously I was stood. I quickly slipped behind a tree and made my way across the jungle of vegetation. I couldn’t see them following me; I hoped that I’d lost them. All of this was too much for me to take. I needed somewhere to lay low. A place where no-one usually goes and that is quiet. I thought about going home, but if they were really after me I’d guess they’d go there first. No, I needed somewhere hidden. Then it struck me: the café.

I made my way along the narrow cobbled street towards the café. Every now and again a sense of paranoia would hit me. I’d spin on my heels to look behind me just to check I wasn’t being followed by unknown men in suits. I reached the grimy door of the café and turned the large brass knob. As it clunked and swung open, I stepped into the familiar surroundings of this small but very peaceful place. I closed the door silently and swiftly flung my coat on the usual peg. I rotated around again to find the usual seat and collapsed into it’s more than embracing arms. Everything seemed to be normal again. I was alone in the café. I felt like I belonged here. Like there was something I needed to do here but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“Margaret, can I have a coffee please?” I shouted at the door behind the counter. No reply. “Margaret? Are you having a kip again?” Nothing moved. This had happened once before. I remembered back to when the same situation have arisen. I had to go through the door and up the stairs to the right then politely knock on the door. After politely knocking it turns to shouting at the door until she wakes up. Not very nice I know, but it was at her own request.

I rose from my very comfortable chair and proceeded towards the small brown door behind the counter. It was made from a type of wood that was very rarely seen, and marvelled in its own glory. After all though, it was just a door, so I turned the slightly less magnificent handle and pushed it open.

The stairs in-front of me were covered in a lime green carpet which seemed to radiate a gloomy feeling throughout the hallway. There were only stairs, no doors at all. Just one long stairwell upwards. Up I climbed, on past the rotten wallpaper which hung off the wall, on past the pictures of memories long gone, on past the clock which had been lacking batteries for years. The remnants of a poor old woman, the inhabitants of her hallway.

I reached the top of the stairs. It felt as though eyes were piercing my skin and that something was there. Something. I tapped on the door, hoping that she was in there. No reply. I began the usual hammering of the door frame and the usual bizarre yelling. This continued for a good five minutes before it happened. Someone was here. Someone had been watching me. Someone was still there.

“What do you think your doing?” Called a voice from the bottom of the stairs. “It’s rude to just wander into peoples houses you know!” I turned to face Her.

“Margaret?” I said “Is that you?”

“Who is Margaret? I’m Beatrice, the owner of this café”

“Then where is Margaret? I thought she was the owner?”

“Who is Margaret? I’ve never heard of her in my life and I’ve been here for thirty four years. It’s been a good home to me this café.”

Perplexed by what my ears were hearing, I just wanted the day to end. There is something else going on, there must be. Can this really be true? Margaret, the woman who I thought was the owner of the café that I’d gone to for so many years, disappeared off the face of the planet?

“Who are you?” Inquired the woman, She was a stout woman with badly dyed black hair and a dark pink raincoat on. Her eyes were magnified by the milk bottles perched on her long thin nose. They watched me with anticipation, watching my every move closely. I began to feel hot and sweaty under my new suit. Here eyes matched the lime green carpet and also radiated the same glow.

“My name is David Ream.” I said. She seemed taken a-back. Had I insulted her in some way? She ushered my towards her at the bottom of the stairs. I followed commands and stopped about an arms length away from her.

“You must find Slim. He is the only one that can help you now David. Just follow the clues and you’ll know what to do in no-time. You must get out of here quickly before they find you, don’t go to your apartment or back to the bank.” She whispered. I was stunned. Totally blown away by the power of her words. I remember Slim. The memories of a distant pastime were seeping into my head. I remembered the shady character in the café. That must have been Slim. Where should I go now? What should I do?

“Go to the Church on the corner of 29th street. Be careful, they know where your going.”

I was walking down 27th Street. I was being followed. Two men in a Mercedes Benz who had been tailing me for about three blocks. They don’t know I noticed them otherwise, I figure, they’d give chase. There was an old bus depot on the left hand side which I would use to escape their eyes. Maybe I could get one by himself and have a little one to one. The street was empty, only a single cat prowled along the rooftops purring every now and again. The sun had sunk so low in the sky that even the fluffy white clouds were begging to look like dark musky figures looming over the city. Streetlamps stood as bold as always on the edge of the run down road. I reached the depot.

The door was lying on its face on the other side of the doorway. The inside of the shelter was in ruins, old desks were tossed aside and papers that once meant something were now littered like a carpet all over the floor. The flakes of white paint were peeling off from the brick walls that encased the room. I took one glance back, allowing the men in the car to see this, I turned and ran into the building. Sure enough, a few seconds later the slamming of the cars doors echoed throughout the street. Footsteps were drawing closer. This was it. I’d replayed the scene in my head a million times. I ducked behind an overturned desk in the far east of the room and waited.

Shadows drew closer to the gaping hole in the wall where the door had once stood. Their voices were low and fast and I could barley make out what they were saying. I don’t suppose that mattered though, if all went to plan, I’d be talking with one of them soon enough. I looked around the floor in hope of finding some sort of hard object. To my joy a large steel pipe laid next to the broken chair on my right. I reached for the pipe and grasped it tightly in one hand. Ready to strike. They were right outside the door now. I heard them loading their guns ready to enter. Just a little longer and everything would be ok I kept telling myself. Just a little longer… The first shot went off. And then a second and third. The fourth came so close to my head It felt like it had just given me a haircut. I remained still, nothing could move me now, not even a bullet. I peeked out from the side of the desk and looked at the men. They were smartly dressed and were wearing the same un-fashionable sunglasses as before with the white ear pieces dangling from the left side of the head. One was slightly taller than the other, but both looked well built. They turned to face each other.

“I guess he ‘isn’t in here after all” said the slightly smaller man.

“I saw him come in here though” replied the slightly taller man. Both seemed to not like each other very much. I could tell from their body language. Both of them had their fists wrapped tightly around their guns as if they wanted to fire at each other. There was an awkward silence between the men until the smaller man spoke again.

“I’m going to go call the boss, left my cell in the car though, don’t do anything stupid Kyle.”

The smaller man left the doorway and presumably strolled back to the Mercedes to look for his cell phone. This was the hard part. How could I lure the man from the doorway without alerting him to my presence? Time was running out. Any minute now more men would arrive. I picked up a pen and threw it at the west wall. This seemed to work as the man readied his weapon and proceeded to where the noise had emitted. He crept silently, like I did. He got to his target, like I did. He lowered his guard and I took the opportunity to strike a blow to his head with the pipe. A loud bang spread through the street. So far so good.

I took up position on the other side of the door. My trusty steel pipe still in my hand. Sure enough, the second man came bursting through the doorway moments later. I swung the pipe at him, trying to aim for the stomach. He saw me just in time and managed to dodge most of the blow. The only place I managed to get contact with was his right arm. He shrieked in pain and dropped the shiny silver pistol on the ground. He threw a punch at me. This connected with my head. I felt dizzy. Blood was trickling down my face as I stumbled backwards into an iron filing cabinet. As I did this he grabbed the pipe and wrenched it from my grasp. With the next blow he hit my right leg. Pain shot through me like a burst of electricity. And so we went on, we both landed punches on the opponent. Finally he fell to the ground with a desperate last punch to the stomach. He laid gasping for air on the cold hard floor.

I leaned over him. His face was covered in blood as was mine. His sunglasses were now on the other side of the room, broken. His lips were bust open and his nose was flat and bloody. His smart complexion suddenly seemed to be a little less smart. His suit was torn and his white shirt was stained with a musky layer of dust. He looked just about ready to die, but not just yet. I wasn’t finished with him. I stumbled forwards and knelt down beside him, propping his head up on my leg.

“Who are you? And why do you keep chasing me?” I said calmly. His eyes rolled over and met mine. He knew he was going to die.

“We are Anonymous. The army of the unknown which seek the undiscovered. We are everything and nothing. You cannot run. You cannot hide. We will find you, that is for certain.” He said. We stared at each other. So many questions appeared inside my head. So many questions that would remain un-answered.

“Who is Slim? What does he have to do with me?” I inquired, hoping desperately for a good answer.

“He is an annoyance. A former member of our army. He is worthless.” Replied the man.

“Where can I find him?” I asked. These were my final words to the stranger. After this he would be silenced. Permanently.

“I heard that he was snooping around 29th street looking for something.” He spluttered. His mouth was full of blood. Scarlet red dripping from the edges and down the side of his face. His head went limp and the last gasp for air fell to silence. His eyes were staring up into nothingness. I rested his head on the paper littered floor and limped towards the doorway. Next stop, the Church.

I was finding it hard to move my legs. One had a huge gash down it and the other was extremely painful to walk on. Mainly because I think I pulled the muscle in it. The church was in my view now. Beautiful stained glass windows enriched the gloomy atmosphere with liveliness. Once again the street was empty. Noting moved at all. The wind was gone and the sky had turned fully black. It was a cool evening. I didn’t know what quite to expect inside the Church. I wanted everything to be over. I just didn’t care anymore. I felt like a was a convicted murderer who had escaped from the grasp of law and order and was now running in fear of his life. The huge stone church looked somewhat welcoming. The glow of candles flickered inside. The huge oak door stood between me any my destiny. I leaned on it. The gravel pathway up to the church had been challenging due to the constant pain that ripped through my limbs. A faint ticking noise could be heard inside the church. I assumed it was a clock but wasn’t sure. I felt cold. As cold as ice on a December morning. My head was swirling with all types of questions. My face was covered in blood and I was still dizzy. My body ached all over and walking wasn’t doing much good. Maybe there was somewhere to rest inside the Church? Only one was you find out.

I staggered through the door to find an empty room. Candles filled the scene and were littered all about the place. Pews were aligned neatly in rows across the body of the church. A huge statue of Christ stood behind the alter overlooking the rest of the Church. I used the wall to get to the centre of the isle leading to the statue. Slowly I started to walk forward. I embraced the warmth of the Church and felt the heat it provided. As I got to the centre everything changed.

The door slammed. I spun round but was too late; a man hit me in the back of the neck and forced me to the floor.

Surrounded. Hope seemed to slip away from me. I clenched my knee in an attempt to stand, only to be forced back down to the dead stone floor. Blood trickled down my forehead and into my eyes, clouding my vision further. One of the men came forward, laughing coldly, he pointed up at the roof of the Church. There he hung…still…motionless…

Ryan Dawson