Second Sunrise Chapter 1, Complete17:57 Mar 26 2013
Times Read: 490
He woke up, putting his hand to his head. He had a killer headache. He sat up with a groan, the ceiling fan moving the curtains and air in the room. He shook his head, and then stopped pushing his hair back from his face. He crawled out of bed, looking around before stumbling to dress. He grabbed his pants off the floor and a hoodie forbidden jacket off the back of a computer chair. He dressed, ran his fingers through his hair and tried to remember the night before. 'He had gone....where?' he thought to himself. “The movies, right?” He tried to remember what he had gone to see, but he could not recall ever getting to the theater. He sat on his bed to pull on his shoes and stopped for a moment. He sniffed the air and something smelled good. It took him a moment to realize it smelled like bacon. One of his neighbors must be cooking. He decided to head out and see who was cooking. If it was one of his friends, he knew he could snag a bacon sandwich.
They all looked out for each other around here. It was just that type of community. He headed down the stairs, grabbed his keys, locked the door and stepped outside on a beautiful October morning. He was on fall break from college for the next week and was happy for the reprieve. Business Law was tiring.
He looked down the street and could tell that the sweet scent of bacon was a little further down. He had nothing better to do and it couldn't be but a few houses down; so he let his nose take over and just started walking and looking. He snapped out of his bacon-induced trance about ten minutes later to find himself closer to town than his house. He looked around, and then realized he was staring at a fast food restaurant during breakfast hours. He was hungry and felt foolish, so he walked in and purchased a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit with triple bacon and a soda. He walked out with his prize, opened the plastic wrapper and started devouring his meal. He tossed the plastic wrapper in the trash, figuring since he was down town anyway he would head towards the theater in hopes of trying to refresh his memory.
He got about a half block away and knew he was close. He could see the sign and smell the stale popcorn from the night before. He could not remember ever coming here, nothing jogged his memory. He slowed down, finishing his drink, crusted his plastic cup and threw it away. He looked around and spotted and odd flyer lying on the ground. It was too brightly colored and it hurt his already throbbing head as his eyes tried to focus so he could decipher it. It said something about “Leave the Lasers and Join the Rave!” He crumbled it up and was looking for the trash when he heard someone yelling.
“You! Hey, you....wait up!” It was a female voice.
He looked around to see who the voice could belong to and to whom it was yelling at. There was no one around but a short woman yelling and waving her arms. She ran up to him, trying to catch her breath. “Michael, right?” She asked standing up, pushing her hair back behind her ears.
He wrinkled his noise, “And...you are?” he asked, looking her over.
She was short and dressed almost completely in black. Her eyes were gold, had brown hair and what appeared to be platform boots. Her shirt was torn, fell off the shoulders and said in neon pink font “Cross my heart, I hope you die.” “How cheerful,” he thought to himself. She had skull and coffin earrings, a huge leather collar with long spikes, and leather wrist cuffs. Her hair was pink tipped over the normal brownish-black.
“And you are?” He asked her, skeptical as to how she knew him.
She smiled. “I’m Sarah. We met last night.” She cocked her head, hands behind her back, stalking around him. “Remember?” She stalked around him and came back in front of him, swaying on her feet. “Just like a man. Forgets a girl soon as she leaves his sight.” She gave a fake pout.
He shook his head, pushing his hair from his face. “I don’t know you; don’t know what you’re talkin about. Hel, I don’t even know how you know my name.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Besides, that’s a bad attempt at asking me for a date.”
Sarah turned red. “What the?” She asked, shocked. “You’re an ass!” She jabbed her finger into his chest, stomping her foot. “You walked up to me last night, not the other way around.”
She turned away from him, taking a deep breath and regaining her composure. “You’ll come looking for me.” She nodded. “You’ll want answers. When you do,” she flipped her hair back, “Come find me.”
She turned and started walking down the street, away from him. “You can find me at Second Sunrise. You can’t miss it.” She let out a giggle at that part. A few moments later she had turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
He looked down the road the way she had gone. He shook his head and started towards the theater. He walked in, bought a ticket and went and sat through something called “Blood Feast III.” He got bored half way through, but for some reason he was hungry again. He shook his head, licking his lips, not understanding the odd reaction to such blood and gore. He finished the movie, a light sweat on his body even though the theater himself was cool. He looked around at the other three patrons that were now leaving, one looking rather green. He hurried past them, the concession stand, and out the door. He was panting slightly and he tilted his head, taking a few calming deep breaths. Maybe the sandwich didn’t fill him up?
He headed towards one of the small cyber cafes he had eaten at a few times before. He headed in, ordered a steak sandwich and fries with a large sweet tea. He sat at the small table, the seats like tall stools and devoured his lunch. He had nothing to do this day, it was too cold for the beach; all his friends were home during the break. He had no living family left, so he had the house, his motorcycle, and himself. He had no girlfriend, didn’t really want one. He felt no need to tie himself down to a single person.
He dumped his trash and refilled his tea before making up his mind to search out this club the woman had mentioned, it’s not like he had anything better to do. He never really ever went out partying anymore. He was the type that would rather sit playing some online game with people he would never meet or watching something science fiction on the television. He preferred to have control over his actions, even if they in no way truly influenced his day to day life.
He had money, so that was no object for him. He didn’t work, having received a large inheritance when he had turned eighteen. He had a nice set up at home, surround sound, large television, and a hand built computer he had built over the years. He sighed and left the small café, walking to see if he could find a sign that would tell him about the club. “Second Sunrise,” he thought, snorting to himself. “What kind of name was that?”
He wasn’t paying attention to much around him, thought that was apparent when he walked into a woman with groceries, causing her to spill them all over the concrete. He jumped slightly, and then looked down at a rolling fruit, an orange. “I’m sorry,” he told her, reaching down to stop the escaping fruit.
She looked up at him with a venom-filled glare, snapping “I hope my eggs didn’t break!” She started hefting her bags back into her arms.
He stood back up, “Let me at least help you carry those.” He picked a few of the bags up, looking sheepishly at her. “Following you,” he stated, holding a case of soda.
She stared at him through narrow eyes and started walking. She didn’t even look back. He followed her, still looking for any sign of a close address or information as to where to head from here. She finally stopped, grabbing keys from her jacket pocket. She looked back at him. “Just so you know I don’t know you so you are not welcome inside.” She nodded to herself, “Just set the bags over there.” She pointed and reached over, fumbling through the bags. “What were you looking for?” she asked, not looking up.
He looked down at her, after setting down the bags where she had commanded. “A club,” he stated simply, shrugging. He wanted to play it off. “They wanted me to do some art design and a new logo from them,” he lied.
She chuckled, “What club? Or is that made up too?” She stood back up, opened her door and smiled at him.
“Second Sunrise,” he told her.
She stopped smiling and frowned. “You don’t need to go there,” She told him. “It's about a mile from here but I would avoid it. Give it a wide berth.” She gave him the general location then started toting her groceries into the house. “Hey,” she called to him as he started walking off.
He turned around right as something hit him in the shoulder. He caught it and looked at it, blinking slightly confused. She laughed softly. “An orange?” he asked curiously, a slight smirk on his face.
He laughed, waving at her and kept walking. He tossed the citrus in the air a few times before breaking it, peeling it, and devouring it. He walked for a short while then realized his surroundings. He looked down the sidewalk. It wasn’t well maintained. It was broken and chipped, some places higher than others. Weeds grew amongst the cracks. The buildings around were old, faded, roofs caving in, shingles missing. It was the older, less traveled part of the city.
He shook his head. Why would anything useful, much less something called a club be in any place like this? He was looking up when he felt the sidewalk dip beneath his feet. He looked down to see stairs leading down to a door under the road. He wrinkled his brow and walked down the stairs. “This can’t be the place,” he told himself, studying the door.
The door looked old. The hinges which looked to have been gold were now rusted and red. The wood was faded and cracked, being more of a washed out grey than anything resembling a brown. The only thing that really gave away that it was wood was the patterns hidden inside. None of the patterns repeated and some were more faded and harder to make out than others. That’s the interesting thing about wood. Unless everything is made from the same piece, the patterns are all different. You can see sickness, age, drought, all in plain view.
He stood, looking at the door when a large plank hidden in the wood opened and eyes peered out. “What do you want?” a gruff voice asked.
Michael started at the noise, “I’m looking for something.” He paused. “Or better yet, someone.” He looked up at the disembodied eyes.
“We’re closed,” the voice barked at him.
Michael could tell he was not wanted here and sighed, “If Sarah is here, tell her I said ‘hi’ for me.” He turned and started back up the stairs. If this was the right place, there was a slim chance that the voice would take the bait. He had seen it work in movies, so it had to work in real life right?
He made it to the top stair when he heard hinges squeaking and groaning. The door opened behind him, he didn’t have to turn around to tell. He could feel eyes boring into his back. He slowly turned around, seeing that behind the open door not light seeped out. He guessed it was because of where it sat under the sidewalk. The voice also now had a body. It was a large man, easily six foot plus. He wasn’t fat mind you, but his presence was not easily missed. His shoulders almost touched the sides of the door frame. He had no facial hair, no eyebrows, and no hair on his head. His eyes, they stood out like blue fire. They were a cold ice blue, so shocking against his skin. It made the man look like a predator, a hunger, a killer, even more so than his size and stance.
Michael nodded and walked back. “Yes?” he asked innocently.
The big man scowled. “If Sarah told you to come here, then you’re allowed in.” He crossed his massive arms and stood up straighter. “If I find you are lying…,” he let his voice trail off as he moved to the side.
Michael fought down a smile at his childish play having worked. He walked past the large man seeing, in print much too small, the name Bruce. He walked through the old wooden door and had to close his eyes. The lighting here was horrible.
He tried to take a deep breath but a musky smell assaulted his nose. Bruce shut the door as he stepped back inside, bolting the door with a massive wooden lever and iron deadbolt. Michael felt suddenly trapped and wanted to bolt back out, like a wild animal in a trap. He dared a glance over his shoulder and saw Bruce watching him, arms over his chest. There was no way out without seeming like a liar. He took a tentative step forward and then another. His shoes sounded so loud against the polished floor. His eyes finally got acclimated to the dim light and he tried to swallow the insistent pulse in this throat.
Bruce was still in front of the door almost as if he was made of stone. Michael swallowed again and Bruce moved just slightly. He pointed down a far hall but said nothing. Michael steeled himself and started forward once more, each step feeling as if was moving through water with lead weights tied around his ankles.
He finally made it to the hallway, the dim lighting making it seem almost like a dungeon out of a medieval fiction. He shuddered and started down it, seeing many closed doors. At the end of the hall was a massive set of wooden double doors. He sighed and moved to the massive door, setting himself to opening it. Soon as he rested his hands on the massive frame he was knocked over by a door that happened to fly open. He fell into a wall to see the woman he had talked to earlier panting down at him.
COMMENTS
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NellMorgan
21:23 Apr 17 2013
Very goo, I'm already hooked.
NellMorgan
21:23 Apr 17 2013
Very good, I'm already hooked.