The Confession Of Zakary Jameson

Chapter 15

Zakary Jameson

"Zak!" Someone, a woman, cried off in the distance.

I lifted my head from where it had sat in my arms, which were folded over my knees, and tried to pinpoint the direction from which the call had come. It was no use. The loud noise of Chicago, the cars honking and people talking, had nearly drowned the sound out. After waiting anxiously to see if the woman would call my name again, I groaned and rested my head back on my arms.

From where I sat in the alley, beside the dumster against the wall, I was hidden to anyone on the busy sidewalks on either side. Black garbage bags, their repulsive smelling contents strewn all over the cement, were scattered all around. Overhead, thunder rumbled deeply, and tiny drops of rain began to rall lightly. As it began to fall faster, my form-fitting grey t-shirt grew darker and clung to my pale skin, and dripped repeatedly from my messy hair and slight stubble. I didn't mind the rain or the cold. If anything, I deserved to be out in the cold.

Minutes went by before I heard quick steps advancing towards me. "Zak!"

My head shot up to see Charlotte jogging towards me, bundling her thin sweater around her torso. She held an umbrella in one hand. As she grew closer, I forced a small smile.

Charlottte slowed to a stop, looking strangely at me as if I was some sort of sewer rat that the rain had washed out from it's dark sanctuary below our feet.

"W-who's blood is that?" She asked, concerned. I looked down.

Crimson blood covered both my arms up to my elbows and my clothes. Huge amounts of it. I shook my head, then looked back up at her.

"I don't know." My hoarse voice barely reached a whisper. Her brow furrowed, and she stared at me in shock.

"What? What do you mean you don't know?" She nearly shouted. I looked down at my clothes and hands again.

"I mean, I don't remember." I told her. My voice was shaky, and, for some reason, I felt afraid. I couldn't quite figure out what the matter was, but something was off. My hands trembled uncontrollably, even when I tried to calm them.

Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and watched me. Her face said enough. She thought I was lying. I attempted to wiped my hands off on my jeans. When none came off, I looked up at Charlotte, panic spreading across my face.

"Char, I don't know what happened! I don't know what's going on anymore!" I yelled, my voice cracking mid-sentance. I put one hand over my mouth, not caring anymore about the blood. I scanned the alley, only to find it as empty as it had been when I had come here nearly two hours previously. Charlotte squatted down next to me and hesitantly put a hand on my shoulder. I flinched at the unexpected contact. She recognized this and pulled her hand away. Slowly, I looked back at her. She was watching me with a sad look in her eyes.

"Why weren't you in the motel room when I got back?" Charlotte asked slowly. I recalled the terrifying experience from several hours earlier and shrugged. She slapped my shoulder. "Tell me, Zak." 

There was almost a minute of complete silence, during which the only sound came from the road and the rain, which had become a downpour.

"I saw Ben." I whispered. She looked confused. "My older brother." I informed her.

Charlotte shrugged. "What's wrong with that?" I swallowed hard.

"Charlotte, my brother is in New York, halfway across the country."

She put her hand back on my shoulder, this time with more force, and stared me in the eyes.

"So, what? You had a hallucination?" I was surprised at the genuine concern I heard in her voice. I shrugged and rubbed my eyes.