room – 3

“Mom?”

She raised her hand, signaling me not to disturb her mid-prayer.

She sat on the edge of her bed, facing the wall where the door was. Her face was colorful and full, not like the time she was pale, skinny, and sick. There was that peachy color in her cheeks I haven’t seen for ages. Even her hair was normal. Curly and black, like my oldest brother’s, but of course, longer. No wig covering the fallout that months of chemotherapy would do to you. She was her normal self, bubbly brown glasses and all.

I listened as she went from one prayer to another.

The words was undecipherable under her droning voice. I recognized the melody, but the words. The words weren’t right.

I rushed down the hall and down through the stairs. My heart was racing as I left through the front door. The glass screen closed slowly behind me. I was in the front lawn. I looked down the street and to no surprise, it was my old neighborhood. We were at the start of the block that was filled with single family homes. All were similar to ours.

There was another Vietnamese family in the house to the right front of ours. I ran over and banged on the door. I wasn’t sure what to tell them. If it was a miracle or if it was something unnatural. I wasn’t sure. I just wanted someone.

No answer.

I ran frantically to our neighbor’s house. Their family had also dealt with cancer’s terminal effects on loved ones. And like us, everyone had moved away when everything was over. Leaving the unwanted memories behind in the home they no longer saw the same way again. I decided not to knock on their door and walked back to mine.

Outside I stood. Looking at the home I had left.

All the blinds were drawn closed . On every window.

The only look inside was at the middle. Where the glass screen door had automatically pulled itself shut even as I left the main door flung open on the inside.

I was scared I’d see my mom there.

But I saw stairs, one set down and one set leading up, beyond the glaring reflection.

I felt ashamed.

It was my mom. Her normal self. Not some apparition. Not some ghost trying to scare me or pull me into a world that I don’t belong. I took a deep brief. Calmed my nerves. And went back inside.

The Hunt

“I need a weapon,” I called out to the group.

There were about ten of us, in the middle of a small street. We gathered under a flickering street lamp. It was one of few still working this night. The darkness around us was deafening. Only the rustling of our gear brought life to the streets. The buildings hid silent in the shadows.

“You have to give me something.”

Jimmy was packing a shotgun. Not sure where he got it, but he filled it full of shells and slung it over his should. He picked up a stick and swung it around, feeling its weight and determining if the balance fit his swing. Then he patted it against the palm of his hand. He looked satisfied.

“Hey man,” I called over.

“What,” he replied leaning on the stick like a cane.

“Dude, you got a shotgun already,” I tried to make it obvious.

He sighed and threw me the stick. It wasn’t much but it was something. A little heavy, but that was a good thing. I’d be able to crack heads with this. But they had to be slow. Anything moving fast would get to me before I could swing the bohemeth branch. It was not going to work.

Everyone finished up loading their weapons. Safeties were off. Their ammo stuffed into their pockets.

We started to move. Out of the light and into the dark. One by one people started to disappear. I was the last in line. Nervous and unsure I had to do something. I wasn’t ready. I grabbed Mike, the last guy in the line.

“Hey, you got an extra gun or something?” I lifted my crude weapon the best I could.

Mike was the most equiped. Complete in military fatigue and paints, he was like special ops, entering battle, rifle drawn, M-16 locked and loaded, laser scope on, and night vision goggles on. His flak jacket had magazine clips and a few grenades. I wanted to grab something, but those weren’t very helpful. His boot had a knife. Tempting. But I wanted something better. He shook me off his arm and was about to go, but that let me spot his side arm.

“Let me have the pistol man,” I grabbed it out of its holster.

It didn’t bother Mike. He turned back to the line and strode off into the darkness.

I cocked the gloc and noticed no slug.

“Fucker,” I whispered.

By the time I looked up, everyone was already on their way down the street. It looked like they were headed to the next lamp. I could make out their silhouettes against the light.

“Mike,” I shouted in my highest whisper. “Mike, you fucking ass!”

No response.

Not even a sound.

There was nothing but the heavy pulse in my ear.

I made the decision and ran into the darkness.

“Watch where you’re going,” I heard Mike next to me.

I wanted to punch him for giving me an unloaded gun. Of course, that was if I could find him. Bastard was the only one with the ability to see.

“Yo man, your magazine is empty,” I whispered. “Give me a clip.”

There was no answer.

I thought this was some sort of joke.

“How am I going to shoot anything?”

Still nothing.

I’m sure he was having a blast watching me squirm. I took a few breaths. Calmed my nerves. And tried to rationalize.

“What’s out there anyways?”

I knelt and curled up. The dark was all around me.

And the lamps flickered once, then twice, and then were off.