Midnight Run (Rhino Writing Contest #3)

I broke into a full sprint, for an hour, maybe more, before I stopped to realize no one was chasing me. The road behind me was clear but for the streetlamps, whose lights stooped low to kiss the cold asphalt.

I caught my breath, after a second, and took in what little surroundings I could see in the impending blackness. A church, its steeple stark white against the shark-eye sky, and an adult video store, directly across from the church, ironically or intentionally, I didn’t know.

I chose the safest, most-incognito option, and ducked inside the dirty video store, red neon sign like a shot of caffeine to the weariness that caked my bones.

The lady working there, behind the counter, reading a King James Bible, wore a bulky sweater and had thick glasses that she had to push up occasionally. She leaned against the back wall, looking tired, bored, annoyed. I didn’t even know if she saw me come in or not.

My heart was throbbing harder than I’d expected, my midnight run a little more exhausting than I’d imagined.

I found a corner, out of sight from the door, and lowered to the ground, put my head against a low display. I didn’t know how long it would take until my pursuers made it past, nor if they would think to stop at “Smuthouse Films” in an attempt to find me out. I was tired, but I knew I couldn’t sleep, occupied myself with staring at the covers of some of the films, a little amused. Like, the Wizard of Oz, XXX Addition, or Naked Zombie Killing Babes.

A voice jarred me “Please stop beating off back there, I can see you.”

I jumped to my feet, annoyed, embarrassed “I’m not, um, masturbating.”

“We have cameras hun, and unless you have a bicycle pump with you, you’re totally masturbating. I don’t need that in my life, it’s late, and I don’t feel like cleaning up after you.”

I was looking at the woman as she said all this, her face buried in her Bible.

“Hey.” I spoke.

She looked up “What?” Her eyes were brown, something I'd wished I hadn’t noticed.

“I’m good.” I held my hands over my head to prove it.

“Oh, cool, ha ha.” She went back to reading.

I tried to act like a customer, looked around interestedly at the covers, pulled a sex toy from the wall and read the label, grimaced in pain, replaced it back.

“Look, would you make a selection soon, please?” She spoke again “We’re closing soon.”

It struck me as odd how rude this lady was to a perceived customer; yeah, it’s a porno shop, but, like, I’m still a person, right? Plus, I wasn’t here for the porn, and I felt very bothered that I was automatically placed in that category.

I just needed somewhere safe.

“When do you close?”

She sighed, histrionically, then glanced at her wrist watch “It’s 11:45, so, like, fifteen minutes man.”

Was fifteen long enough?

“Okay, so.” I walked up to the counter, leaned on it “I’m a little short on options. Is there any way I can hide out here, just for a little bit?”

She looked up, over her glasses. She breathed, then “What’s your problem, huh?” She looked at how I was dressed, looked at my tattered suit, my cheap, shiny shoes, now white with gravel and dust, and spoke “So maybe you aren’t here to rent porn.” She closed her Bible, kept a finger inside it, then leaned forward, now invested, if only slightly.

“No, I’m not. Um.” Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I could explain myself or not. “Okay, first, hi, I’m Barry.”

“Nice to meet you, Bartholomew.” She spoke it with a faked southern drawl, shot out a hand to shake.

“Thanks. Well…” I shook her hand, then “I’m in a bit of trouble.”

“Okay, not porn. So drugs?” She asked, worried now.

“No, nothing like that. I’m… I’m a good guy, I sing with the Atlanta Opera, I pay my taxes and send my mom flowers.”

“Show off." Then: "Sing something.”

“I don’t… I don’t sing without being on stage.”

“Fine. So what’s with the get up?” She asked.

“I had a dinner to attend. I was at the club, just up the street.”

“Nice. I can’t get in there, obviously.” She referred to herself with a small movement of her hands.

“Okay, well, I’m being followed, and I’m pretty sure these people want to kill me.”

“Alright, now I know you’ve seen porn.”

“What?” I responded, hot faced.

“You just whipped up a tale that would make for a pretty intense porno. And I guess this is the part where your suit comes off in one rip and we do it on that display over there.” She pointed to a condom ad, a cardboard stand-up boasting additional sensitivity. “Then, I dunno, the people chasing you have sex with me, then you with them, then all of us together. Maybe there’s a side plot. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Wha-? No.” I quickly tried to decide if I liked her or not, tried out the image in my mind, but it was blurry. Ecstatic, but unsure.

“Figures. That’d be interesting.” She thought to herself, bored it seemed. I thought she was about to open her Bible again, but she didn’t. “So who’s chasing you? A gang? What?”

“I… I honestly don’t know.”

“Figures. You’re insane, I’m no doctor. Here…” She opened the register, pulled out a chunk of bills “Here, take it. I don’t feel like being eaten.” She saw my face and laughed “Maybe you aren’t crazy,” put the bills back “There aren’t any cameras, so this is my way of protecting myself. Most of these are fake.” She continued, to herself. “So why do you think someone’s chasing you?”

"Okay…” I turned the events over in my mind, laid them out neatly, then “Okay, so at this dinner, this party…”

“Oooh, it’s a party now?”

“You know what I mean… Okay, so I’m awful at dating, so being an opera singer helps my game a lot, my confidence…”

“It does?” She asked, flabbergasted.

“Oh! Leave me alone!”

“I can kick you out; your pursuers could get you.”

“Anyways, what happened was, I saw this guy, really strong face, eyes dark, full. And so, confidence in hand, drink in another, I thought I’d try to meet him, get his number.”

“Okay. You’re gay?” She asked, a little unsure.

“Kinda. Maybe. I don’t know.” I tried to dodge the question, avoided her eyes.

“Okay.”

“Well, I asked for his number…”

“How old are you, exactly?”

“I’m 22. Yeah, I’m young for the opera, I know, lessons help a lot.”

“I bet.” She gave my chest another quick glance, met my eyes again. I grew self conscious of my loose tie, but didn't bother with it.

“Well, I asked for his number.”

“Cool.”

“And then they appeared.”

“They.” She mouthed.

“Yeah. They were people, I’m sure, but their eyes were red, brighter than a sunset, and their features were… well, they didn’t have features.”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“I know, but it’s true. They, well, it was like they were always under a shadow; I never caught them moving, but when I’d turn, they’d be in different places.”

“So ninjas?”

“I hope so… They followed me the rest of the night, and then, when I went to the bathroom, mind you, already freaked out of my mind, I heard one say ‘You stole his number.’” And then I bolted.

“His number?”

"Yeah, his cell phone number.”

“Why are ninjas and/or demons chasing you over a phone number.”

“Because I took it! They don’t want me to have it, they want it back.”

“That’s… okay, wow. Alright.” She’d set her Bible on the counter, now interested somehow. I knew I sounded insane, maybe I was just entertaining to her.

“So I ran, and I’ve been running, and I haven’t seen them in a while but I can just feel them, over my shoulder, looming.”

“So dramatic…”

“Listen, this is my life! I’m in danger!”

“Are you though?” She thought, holding her chin. “What if you just call the number?”

“Call the number? Are you insane?”

“Nah fam, I’m just like, well, if they need the number so bad, if they’re tormenting you so much over it, it’s probably super important. You should call it and see what happens.”

“But what if they kill me? Or you?”

“Then we won’t have to worry about it anymore. Here…” She extended the phone to me, attached to the cradle by a coiled wire. “Call him.” Her eyes flashed mischievously.

Maybe she was right. Maybe this would all end if I called him.

But what if they never leave, and they keep following me until I really go insane? Was a phone number worth all that?

Was finally discovering my sexuality worth all that?

I took the phone, punched in the numbers, and sat. The woman watched me, a smirk on her face, something she knew that I didn’t. The phone purred in my ear, the darkness outside became thicker, I thought I saw something moving in the shadows. It wasn’t too late to stop now. Maybe I could hide in the church, maybe I could escape them. This was suicide, this was…

“Hello?” He had a thick accent, roman maybe, that I was absolutely in love with.

“Hey... hey, this is Barry, from the party?”

“Hey Barry From the Party. What’s up?”

We talked for a long while after that. His name is Felix, and he works with his father, selling Hondas at a dealership nearby. I think he liked me, seemed a little more than kind, and interested in me.

The shadows retreated, the night wore on, and the woman, with a grin, retreated to her King James Bible and, without a word to me, without mentioning the closing time again, read on.

~

Thanks for reading my submission! Let me know what you thought in the comments :D