Tattoo by J G Alva

Author:J G Alva [Alva, J G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.G. Alva
Published: 2015-11-21T00:00:00+00:00

*

Mike didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

The dark was absolute. He could hear Beef nearby, kicking around and cussing. He could hear the drip-drip-drip of water. He could hear his own harried breathing.

But he couldn’t hear King.

He had somehow gotten away from them, it would seem.

Mike was angry with himself. He should have known he was going to be fucked over. If there was one thing rich assholes were good at, it was keeping hold of their money…and fucking poor people over in the process.

Angrily, he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and tore open his coat so he could get some air. He also took off his Watch Cap and stuffed it in his pocket. Wouldn’t need that anymore.

“Where the fuck is he?” Beef was shouting. “Where the fuck is he? Mike? Mike?”

“Shut up, Beef. For fuck’s sake.”

“Mike? Mike, where are you?”

“Lookin’ for the lights, numb nuts,” Mike said, and began moving in the direction he remembered seeing the switchboard.

The floor suddenly dipped into a hollow, and Mike went down on one knee. Fuck. He got up, and with his hands held out in front of him, cautiously moved forward. His fingers touched something. He went back. Rough stone. He was at the wall. He felt along the wall, moving to his right. No switches.

“I don’t like the dark, Mike,” Beef said, his voice worried. “I hate the fuckin’ dark.”

“Will you stop sayin’ my fuckin’ name,” Mike barked at him.

“It’s the dark,” Beef said. “I…I can’t think straight.”

“Then help me find the lights, you fuck,” Mike said.

Beef was quiet for a moment, and then Mike heard his shuffling footsteps.

“Found ‘em?” Mike asked.

“No,” Beef said, and to Mike’s surprise, a sob escaped him.

Jesus Christ.

“What the fuck? Beef?”

Another sob.

“I’m just…I can’t see shit. Mike, I can’t see shit.”

“Will you stop saying my fuckin’ name, you asshole. What the fuck’s the matter with yus?”

“What if we can’t get out? What if we can’t find the switches and we can’t get out and we-“

“Shut up,” Mike said.

“Mike, I don’t think I can-“

Just then, Mike thought he heard something. But it was impossible to make out beneath Beef’s babbling tenor.

“Beef! Shut up! Listen.”

They were both silent.

For a moment, Mike thought he was only hearing the echo of their own shuffling feet, until it became quite clear that the sounds were not being made by them, but were coming from some distance away, from somewhere off to his right.

And they were getting closer.

“Mike,” Beef shouted, afraid.

“Shut…up,” Mike hissed.

Closer.

Closer.

Mike spun around. He couldn’t tell where the sounds were coming from, couldn’t make out a specific direction; the acoustics in this room were weird.

“Mike,” Beef said again, scared, Jesus Christ, what an unbelievable pussy, and then there was a sudden rush of sound, footsteps, harried breathing, the mechanical sound of a motor, all of it echoing oddly around the room, so that Mike could not tell where the sounds were coming from. There was a pause, and then Beef was screaming, screaming so loud and so high Mike almost didn’t recognise it; it could have been a scream from a prepubescent girl.

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