The first thing Tyler noticed was the empty baby carriage in the middle of the food court.
How many babies can an alien invader abduct before there's a witness?
Tyler was convulsing. With laughter. It was too good, cuz the oogie boogie men were comin down from the clouds and pickin out infants like real scary shit. Real scary shit.
Real scary shit!
Tyler was laughing. With convulsions. He had ziiiipped a couple more a few seconds or minutes ago, but what did it matter? His kids weren't the ones with goo for brains. So be it if some schmuck was having a fit or an aneurism for freak's sakes—it wasn't Tyler's freakin responsibility. He wasn't Joan of Arc; he was a goddamn high school student. People told him he had this and that; high potential, high power, high this, that, and the freakin fourth.
Tyler didn't want all this high shit piled on him. He just wanted to stay high. Even keel. Like wayward sons on the ocean blue. He just wanted to smoke a little and drink a little and pop a little. Fuckin grandpas with their crooked canes and their Viagra pills thought they knew what was good for him?
Fuck those limp-dick codgers. Fuck the know-it-alls and the snotty-nosed money grubbers that told him to open his savings account at x % interest with this, that, and the freakin fourth. Tyler was tired of freakin "normal" people running his life; dictating their horseshit clusterfuck microcosms. Tyler reached into his pocket for another. He never did this many at one time, but fuck it, that's what.
The stupid world was coming crashing down; Tyler had no intention of going out sober. He was gonna ride this freakin wave into the goddamn sunspot supernova splash, that's what, Kermit.
And Audrey was actin like somebody had smashed her balls with a tin bat. She was giggin out haaard, goin all mute. Tyler hated that shit; if you had something to say, just freakin say it, don't hold that shit in—were you tryin to be a volcano?
Fruck yo. Frucking Fruck. Tyler was fruckin frucked. Clamblasted. Fudruckered. Skonzzzed.
Sober people. They just didn't know what the hell they were missing. They were living in their silly worlds, acting like the realities they erected were somehow more 'real' and authentic than what Tyler had.
Tyler laughed. Most those dingbats had no idea what he was gettin into. He was the "nice" boy with the shaggy hair. Milfs wanted his freakin seed in their mouth like warm milk. And what was with these milfs? They take it from behind from the Brazilian landscaper, then the bigshot Mr. Moneybags would roll home in his Benz, lookin for a good meal and some hot dome.
Most these skonzoids didn't even know Tyler was disheveled whenever they saw him. He was always freakin disheveled; like they would ever know. He had to get disheveled just to be on the same wavelength as most these "normal" people. Fruck the normal people—they were so silly. So fruckin silly. Tyler loved them. He really did—totally hated them. It was a love/hate. He lated them. He hoved them. Haved them all.
Fuck them.
And that was it, wasn't it? At the end of the day, when you sat your white ass on the satin sheets, that was freakin it. If you weren't fuckin them all, what were you doing? Life was too short to do what other lifers wanted you to do. You had to do you. Zip if you wanted to zip, skonz if you wanted to skonz—freakin do you.
Tyler turned to Audrey, looking all forlorn and skinny and hot as shit. She was lookin like the biggest bitch ever right now, and Tyler wanted nothing more than to give it to her. Right here, right now, in the middle of the mall's abandoned food court for all of nobody to see. The world was coming crashing down, and what Tyler had was hard dick and hard abs. Grabbing her by the rear he shoved her against a nearby booth. Audrey muttered something but fuck it, that's what.
Vision flickering, temples pounding, tongue and mouth drier than a donkey dick, Tyler grabbed his zipper with his free hand. Life was too short to do what others wanted. Tyler wanted ass, and he wanted it now.
Somewhere in his pill-ravaged brain, a voice yelled for him to stop.
###
It was the kind of knife that could kill a man in one swipe, regardless of point of attack. Gleaming silver, with serrated edges; long and cool. Normally, they used this type to cut slabs of meat for the paying hungry. Normally, Audrey would not have been able to get ahold of it.
Tyler was using the bathroom in the mall's food court. Audrey had allowed it; it was nothing new to her. The vain throbbing, the huff and the puff—she was so bored with his attempts at pleasing her. That poor excuse of an organ used to give her pleasure; somehow. But now, with the emotion gone—without the connection—it did nothing. But she had put on her theatrics anyway. She could fake moan like you wouldn't believe.
When he had left to "tidy up," Audrey knew what had to be done.
This is your chance
The voice had come clear. She understood that the food court presented a unique opportunity. She could have grabbed one of the many pieces of silverware abandoned on one of the many tables, but they were small, and would not suffice. Much like her boyfriend's appendage.
Audrey knew what was important. The priority could not have been more obvious. She needed to get out of the Dale. She needed to leave and find what was surely waiting. Life inside the Dale was no longer viable. But outside...
Outside, she could finally find what she had always sought. She could be reborn. Tyler, with his wide eyes and steady look—he was resisting. He could not fight Father, and yet, he swore that he had it in himself to do just that.
How foolish could one person be? Why would anybody choose to revolt against something so pure? And now they were in this mall... but why?
Audrey knew why. Because once again, Tyler was trying to force his will upon her. She had endured this long enough, silently and with a happy face. She had been the victim for too long.
Her fingers tightened around the handle of the large knife as she clutched it against her leg.
The bathrooms of the food court were down a long corridor at the far wing, to the left of the Chipotle corner. It was almost too easy. She would wait right at the entrance, off to the side and out of view. When the squeak of his shoes neared, she'd strike.
Poor Ty would walk right into it.
###
There was no pain. Though there should have been. There should have been great pain.
The blood flowed free, but the legs carried him onward; impossibly, unconsciously. Shards of glass were like glitter.
Michael knew that the bastard was in here somewhere, and he needed to be punished. Michael needed to punish him as best he could. He grabbed his head, his tingling, wet head. The red was everywhere it seemed, in his mouth and eyes and his ears, and dripping down the torn shirt and pants legs of his uniform.
There was so much of it, Michael wondered if maybe he was already dead. Perhaps it had already ended, the instant he crashed into that concrete wall.
He should have been killed. His body was supposed to be tossed from the vehicle like a ragdoll. He hadn't even been wearing a seatbelt.
Michael breathed. He was not a religious man, though Kate had tried to get him in touch with the Man Upstairs. Perhaps now was the time to say amen, to thank whatever higher force had allowed him to continue moving.
The fragments of memory stormed his brain, but he couldn't piece them together. It had been a bigger vehicle, a truck. He had been following it for a while, hadn't he?
But what about before then?
And the people. Where had they gone? Were they here, in the mall? Or had there never been people? What kind of town was this?
Kate would know.
His girlfriend Kate, she was a genius, that one. Though she was going wild as of late. She had these notions and these desires—sometimes Michael could barely keep up. Her brain seemed to move so much faster than his, but most of the time she tried to hide it. Was she embarrassed? To be smarter than her man? Was that something that women thought about?
Michael didn't know. But he did know some things. He knew that he was tired of living here, in this town. He was tired of life here in Denver. She had talked often about moving, to a more "placid setting," as she put it. Her mind was fixed on this other place, called Marin's Dale. She seemed so set on it...
Michael rubbed his eyelids. His vision was a little blurry it seemed. He wiped his head. There was red everywhere.
Why the hell was there red everywhere? And where the hell were the people?
Kate would know. She was his girlfriend, Kate. Michael was going to marry her one day.