Motor City Burning
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The real world ( the Neil Henderson story)

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The real world ( the Neil Henderson story)

Post by Ulfsark on Thu Jul 08, 2010 3:41 am

Neil woke up early the tuesday morning, but that did not surprise him, he hasn't been able to sleep for the last couple of nights. The head-ache that he had started to get used to was plagueing his periphery, and the sweat was trickling down his square forehead. He had called in sick this week, after what happened last friday. It wasn't just that he had problems coping, he physically felt sick. They're out there, they could be out in my garden, they could be knocking the door any second.

What am I gonna do? That... that thing was not human.

Neil got out of bed, more or less rolling to the side until his feet hit the ground. He reached for his robe, and stepped into his slippers. A yawn erupted, and Neil went out to get the paper. He sat down by the breakfast table, staring at the cup of coffee that his wife put out for him, expecting it to be as cold as the look his son shot him the night before as he went to bed. Lauren had gotten annoyed with how Neil hadn't gotten out of bed before 10 am since last friday.

How could I explain? How can I explain that we aren't safe anymore. Are there more things like it out there?

He leaned back in his chair, nibbling on a dry piece of bread, trying to remember what exactly had happened that afternoon.

It had been a regular maintenance job, checking the security systems, changing lightbulbs, checking for broken powercords, that sort of thing. It was the last job of the day, before he could return home for the weekend. The security guard had helped him a little, stabilized the ladder for him, and kept him company.
That's when they heard the noise. It had come from teh air-ducts, something was crawling through. A rat is what they both had thought, but the guard asked Neil to come check it out, as they can't have rodents running around. They had followed the noise down the stairs, till they came to an old heater-room where the ducts ended. It had been pitchblack, but they both heard something in the corner. The lightbulb was broken, and Neil had been thinking that he really didnt want any extra jobs in the old basement of a museum. He slowly raised his flashlight in the direction of the noise thinking that must be a really big rat. As the light approached the corner, Neil started to feel the panic screep up his throat. Those are not paws, those are sneakers!
"What, it's a person?" He had asked the guard in a confused manner. "Can we help you?"
He had let the flash creep up higher on the individual, now landing on what should have been his hands, as he seemed to be resting in a crouched position, hands on the floor. Only that those were not hands. They were... what were they? Talons.

Neil shuddered, took a sip of the cold coffee. It had been three days, but he could not bring himself to think of the face yet.
I wonder if the guard saw what I did. I should give him a call.

Ulfsark

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