Irrational Fears

Chapter 1


The man opened his eyes.  He had heard something, an odd sound, a kind of thump on the ground.  He glanced sleepily around his room, and then focused slowly on his clock.  A box blocked the glowing red numbers of the clock.  He knocked the box aside, and it fell off the table.  The clock shown in the dark, the cheap timepiece saying that it was a little past one in the morning. Outside it was very dark, and nothing was troubling the night anymore.  He looked at his bed wearily and tried to remember why he had awakened.  He glanced around once more, and then closed his eyes.  He was tired, and he needed to sleep.
                                                   *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
He awoke again, but this time the light woke him up.  The man let out a sigh that could shake the heavens.  
        “Why are the shades open…?” he murmured.  He looked and blinked.  Not only were the blinds up, but the window was open as well.  He gave it a suspicious look.  The birds that chirp away in the morning were quieted, the normal outside sounds were          muted.  Outside, dust flew by quietly, swirling in the wind.  There was no noise, not the          playful sound of children, not the loud sound of an automobile.  He felt an odd feeling; something was wrong.  The man rushed up to his window and closed it.  He saw fingerprints in the thick coat of dust on the sill, and several pairs of footprints in the mud.  The man snorted, and slammed the window shut, flipping its lock.  
        He turned around and tripped on something.  Falling hard on his arms, he cursed and rolled over.  He glanced down at the object that he had tripped on and then kicked it out of the way.  It was one of the few boxes full of his possessions from his move to town the other night.  He remembered last night when all the townspeople had welcomed him into their town.  The people of the area were very nice, and they had given him a fruit basket, among other things.  When he got in the house, he had gone directly to bed, too tired to turn the lights on and change.  He just threw his sleeping bag on his bed and fell asleep.
        “Being here” he thought, “is going to be nice.  It’s about time I retired.”  The man noticed that the box he had kicked was lying at an angle as though it was on top of something. He kicked the box away to see what was under it. Lying under the box was a body.

Chapter 2


         Run, running, ran; that was all that was going through the man’s head.  Through the street, past the neighbor’s house, under tree branches, trying to find someone.  He slowed to a stiff walk, breathing heavily.  Sweat was dripping down his forehead and back, and dust was sticking to him.
         “Where is everybody?”  he wondered aloud.  Streets are usually full of cars, and children, and yards always have parents in lawn chairs, chatting with one another.  Should this town be any different?  He looked all around him and couldn’t see a single soul.  Unsure of what to do, he jogged toward the police station.  He wished he had called the police, but when he saw the body, all he could think of was leaving that house.
         He saw two young officers sitting lazily on a park bench outside of the station.  They were speaking, and as he drew closer he heard their conversation.
         “So, di’ja hear?  Horgens are getting a new four-wheeler for mudding, they said I can try it out this weekend.”
         “Really?  D’ya think I can…  Sir, can we help ya’?”
         The police had noticed him before he had reached them so he jogged to them, and then paused a second to catch his breath.  He glanced back the way he had come and cringed at the short distance.  He needed some exercise.  
The police looked the way he had glanced, and spoke. “Sir, is someone following ya?”
Almost gasping for air, he coughed out a few sentences.
         “Last night….  Noise…” the man said, sputtering.
One of the officers looked at him suddenly. “Yes sir, we realize that there was a disturbance last night, but don’t ‘cha worry, we got the entire situation un’er control.” The officers exchanged glances, and one rolled their eyes.
         “No…” The man said, still losing the fight for breath.
The police seemed not to care, and turned back to one another to continue their talk.  The man looked incredulously at their backs, wondering how someone like them got such a job in the first place, and then turned and jogged away, breathing laboriously.  He had to find someone to tell.  He had to find someone who would listen.  

Chapter 3


         He sat on the curb of Main Street, hoping to see someone that he knew.  He sat there for several minutes, resting in the presence of the red leaves.  This town has some hot weather he thought.  He looked at the small piles of dust in the street.  The man was glad he wasn’t allergic to dust, otherwise, paired with the heat and this sudden problem, he probably would have given up a long time ago. He had a sudden thought “Why not go down to the bar and see if some of the men his age would come with him.”  Surely some of them would believe him.  Or, if they do not believe him, they would follow to see what the fuss was about.  He reached the door of the two-story stone building and realized that it was Sunday.  The bar would be closed as would most other shops. That also explained how come he hadn’t seen a soul while sitting on Main Street.  Everybody would be in church or at home.    
         He came to the sudden decision to go to the police again.  He would pace himself this time because he didn’t feel up to running any more.  As he walked, his thoughts were taken back to the past few weeks.  He had sold his home in Colorado and moved someplace warmer because his doctor had recommended it for his health.  He didn’t like the fact that he had to leave his job as a Physics teacher at the local college, but it was either that or medication.  He would have ended up taking eight pills a day, and they were expensive.  So he had simply quit, packed up, and left without telling anyone.  He didn’t know very many people; even less that would remember or miss him.  
Arriving the day before, he had removed a small “For Sale” sign, which the realtor had forgot to remove.  He had also bought the house with the furniture, which was more than adequate.  
         The people of the town were nice, they had come over and welcomed him that night, even though it was close to eleven.  He smiled as he walked, remembering how good he had felt being welcomed so warmly.  He turned the corner and saw the police station.  The officers were gone, but the door to the station was open.  He walked up to the door and paused.  He could hear someone talking.  
         “Wait, you mean it’s still in there?” he heard a man talking with a loud voice.
         “Yes sir, I tried to get it last night, but then he woke up.”  It was one of the officers he talked to this morning.  He listened to their conversation, getting a sudden odd feeling in his stomach.  
         “I DON’T CARE IF HE SEES YOU, WE CAN TAKE CARE OF HIM LATER!” The first voice was screaming.  The man started backing up; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  Then the man tripped on a bush, and fell back, making noise.  The voices inside quieted suddenly, and there was a rush of feet to the door.  The two officers from the morning, a man with a gold badge, and three other people walked out of the door, and saw him.  All the man could do was sit there and stare.  One of the officers walked toward him and offered the man his outstretched hand.  The man took his hand shakily, and the officer pulled up.  
         “Ya a little interested in our conversation?” the officer said.  The man shook his head, and closed his eyes.
         “I… I don’t want n-no trouble.”  The man was stuttering.  “Just, please, get rid of the b-b-body and I won’t tell anybody.  Or I-I can just leave!”  
         “Nah, we can’t have that.” The officer was grinning.  He grabbed the man by his shoulders.  “We’re gonna haf’ta get rid’a ya.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other officer and two others who had come out of the building cringing, the man who had been yelling had the same sick grin on his face.  
         “Enough people know about this.  We can’t have no more people ‘cause we need to keep this secret.  Killing ya will jus’ make it easier.”
         The man was blanking on what to do.  He had never taken self-defense classes because he never thought he would be under attack like this.  He focused on the desert on the horizon, the sand dunes, a mirage in the distance, simply wishing he wasn’t here.  What had he done to deserve this?  
         “I swear, if I get out of this, I will give money to charity, be nice to every one, just let me be all right” he thought feverishly.    
         The officer holding the man glanced back, and wondered aloud to his companions.  The man was drawn back to complete consciousness.
         “So, waddya think we ‘otta do wit’ ‘im?” the officer still wore the sick grin.
         “Alan, we don’t need to kill ‘im.  He said he wouldn’t tell nobody, I think we can believe him.”  The other officer said with a pleading voice.
         “Listen to you! You’re the one who came up with that entire idea to off that guy, and now you’re getting cold feet?  Sorry bud, it don’t work that way.” The man who had been screaming said.
         Throughout the conversation, the cop who was holding the man back had slowly loosened his grip on the man.  The man had noticed this, and was eagerly waiting for the perfect moment to make his escape.  He listened to the conversation and stared at the ground so that no one would look at his eyes, look into his eyes, and see him plotting. See him plotting his way to get away.  The dust rolled around on the ground, blowing around in the wind.  The police officer holding the man started yelling at the other police officer.  The man chose this moment to take his chance.  Now or never, he took it.

Chapter 4


         Looking through the back of someone’s house can give a good idea of how they actually live because they don’t expect people to be looking there all the time.  However, that was not the goal of the man.  His wasn’t to spy on neighbors, his was to live.  And to live, he needed to get away from the police.  The sun was high in the sky, burning the grass, and bearing down on the man’s shoulders.  Sweat dripped from his brow and fell past his eyes.  He tried to climb a fence, just barely succeeding as he rolled over the top.  He was gasping for breath, ran across the yard, and through the gate.  His sides burned and his shoelaces were untied, threatening to trip him.  
         He glanced around and he recognized this place.  This was the yard that he had bought, the house, everything.  He hadn’t been back here yet, but it was the same as the pictures he had seen.  He heard voices yelling and knew the murderers had found him.  
         He had a sudden thought, “The phone!  I can call someone from home!”  He rushed in the back door, and ran inside the house.  Avoiding his bedroom, he sprinted into the kitchen where he remembered seeing a phone.  He looked around the room, shoving boxes out of the way, looking for the phone.  
         “THERE!”  The phone was on the counter.  He grabbed the phone, placed it on his ear, and started dialing. Then he stopped.  There was no dial tone.  Looking down, he saw a piece of paper taped to the base of the phone, written by his realtor.

     "Hey, sorry, the phones won’t be up until
Tuesday.  The previous owner forgot to
pay his bill.  Sorry!"
                                        
      His heart sank to the floorboards, followed by his body.  He was going to die here became his single thought.  He could hear the men trying to get in through the front door.  They were yelling, and slamming into the door; the man could hear the wooden door splinter and crack, sudden gaps appearing in the door.  The man snapped his head around suddenly; there had to be some sort of weapon here for him to utilize.  A knife, pipe, something, anything.  He threw the drawers open and heard a sudden crash.  The front door was open and two men dashed through the shattered door.  The police officer saw the man and grinned.  He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the man.  The man was frozen like a deer in the headlights, unable to move, unable to think.  How could this have happened? What did he ever do?  All he had done was follow his doctor’s advice, and he wound up here, staring death in the face.  Death, which ironically was being held by an officer of the law, and he couldn’t escape.  He closed his eyes and…



…opened his eyes.  The man’s heart was beating, he couldn’t see anything, it was all dark.   

“Am I dead?” the man thought.  He looked around, and spotted a faint red light.  It was being blocked by something.  He swatted it away, it was a box, and saw a cheap clock sitting on a side table.  The clock told him that it was a little past one in the morning.




Epilogue


The man’s new neighbors walked over to the newcomer’s house, ready to give him a welcome party.  When they reached his yard they saw that his door was still open with several boxes in sight.  The neighbors searched the house, but there was no one in sight.  They never heard of the man again.  
The man headed back to his home in Colorado despite his doctor’s orders.  The man told his doctor that he didn’t feel comfortable in Arizona and had decided to come home.  He told the doctor that he would have died with out his home.