The Running Man

I shouldn’t have done that. I should not have done that.

            “Sir?” She had it coming, I warned her.

            “Sir, your order?”

            “My what? Oh, yes, umm… I want the Double Decker Cheeseburger and large fries.” The waitress grabbed the menu from the sticky, cold silver table. Marlo watched as her brown hair swayed back and forth across her back as she walked away. He turned to face the streaked window. His leg kicked the black leather bag resting on the floor. He looked down at it. The tip of a pale finger was touching the zipper of the bag. His eyes dashed around, glancing at all the people in the café while his hand squished the finger the rest of the way into the bag. It was Fate. Yeah, definitely Fate. I told her not to get involved. I told her. And she did. Fate did this. Not me. She shouldn’t have messed with Fate.

            “Here you go, sir. Let me know if you need anything else.” The steam from the fries began fogging up the window. He took his jacket sleeve and wiped away the fog. He put a fry between his chapped lips and bit into the skin. A little boy ran in front of Marlo’s window and pressed his face against it, spreading his mouth so wide, Marlo could see what the little boy had just eaten, a tuna fish sandwich. He knows. I bet that’s why he’s staring into my window. Get out of here! Unless you want to end up like the arm in this bag. And that is probably his teenage babysitter who is grabbing him by his collar. He better not tell her. He better not rat me out. I bet she’s just hitting puberty. She will become so reckless she will die from... I don’t know- let’s say drugs. Oh man, she pulled so hard on that kid’s shirt he choked a little. Maybe she’ll kill him before he can tell on me. That’s what he gets.

 Marlo turned around to see if anyone was watching him. When he saw no one was, he hurriedly went back to looking out of the window, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Ha, now the babysitter’s yelling at that smoker who just blew smoke in her face. I hope he gives her and that little boy second hand smoke and they both die of lung cancer. That’d be Fate. What a way to go, smoking your life away, smoking till your lungs get really black and tar-filled. Oh, but what’s this? Smokers in love. Great plan, now you both can die together. Or maybe you can blame each other for the second hand smoke. Aw, now they’re kissing, how romantic, a kiss filled with the taste of tobacco and smoke… delicious. They are getting a good talking-to from that old lady. Man it looks like she’s telling them good. You better calm down, old lady, you don’t want to have a heart attack from all this excitement. Although it seems you’re about to die soon anyway, so might as well go out with a big bang. And since you’re going to die soon, there’ll be no way you can tell anyone about what I’ve done. I know you know. He reached his hand into the red plastic basket for another fry, only to rub the thin greasy paper that held the fries. He twisted his head to the right and then to the left until his eyes found the waitress.

            “Check,” he demanded. She walked over and gave him a piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. Marlo looked at the black leather briefcase; his wallet was in there. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking. He slowly stretched his hand to the zipper. He began unzipping the bag. A limp arm lay diagonal across his bag decorated with a dark dried red. It had his wallet trapped. If I just… His sleeve scraped against its cold skin. He jolted up and looked around. He tried it again; he shoved his hand in and started to pull out his wallet. The fingers from the hand quickly wrapped around his wrist over his watch. His wallet fell from his clenched hand onto the floor.

“Shit! Let me go! It has me!” People turned to stare at him. He saw one man whose stare was so intense it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He was dressed in all black. The tiniest slit of skin showed out from his black jacket; it was as pale as the arm that lay in Marlo’s bag. There seemed to be a pin or something that glinted out from the inside of his jacket pocket. Is that a badge? Could he be a cop? He looked down at his watch; the hand lay still in the bag. I guess… I guess I just imagined it. God. What is everyone staring at! I better close my bag. I better get out of here, especially if that guy is a cop. He closed his bag hurriedly and left without paying.

I need to find the perfect place to bury her arm. This is the last piece of her body left to bury. I wish fate hadn’t gotten in the way. I wish she hadn’t gotten in the way.

Outside, the orange-red sun was just beginning to hide itself from Marlo. Yeah, I’m going to bury it in the city dump, that way no one will notice its rotting smell. It will all be over soon. He glanced at his bag swinging back and forth while he walked. The only way to the junk yard was through busy streets filled with stores and shops and the sound of cars speeding past. He was walking so fast it looked as if his legs were in a competition with one another.

            He heard some footsteps sticking to the cement. They sounded large and heavy, like a thumping noise. He looked down at his own feet but there was no sound. He quickly jerked his head around to see if anyone was there. I know you’re there. It’s definitely the cop from the restaurant, He’s following me. Show yourself. Where are you? He looked. No one was there but the darkness that the sun left behind. He kept walking with his chin resting on his left shoulder, and his eyes patrolling the sidewalk behind him. Still no one there. You’re not going to fool me, I know you’re there. He turned around and continued to listen intently in case the sound came back. He sped up his walk to a kind of jog. He could no longer hear the steps.

            Marlo started to stare into the stores’ streak-free windows as he passed by them. “Time Is Running Out!” said the lighted red letters above a store filled with tiny hanging clocks and big great wooden grandfather clocks. Clever. As soon as he passed the clock store, he got a funny feeling. A shiver went down his spine. There were no footsteps, but instead he saw something dark and slick out of the corner of his eyes; something thin moving along the ground, like a shadow. He quickened his pace and headed to “The End Is Near” laundromat, the only store he could think of that would have a back door.  I can feel him. Why is he following me? Could he have seen what was in my bag at the restaurant? That one guy, who was staring at me, I bet he was a cop. It doesn’t matter. As soon as I bury the last piece they’ll never catch me. They’ll never know. Her other parts are buried in many different places. There’s no way they can trace the parts. I bleached the carpet, got rid of all those blood stains and the rotting smell. There’s no evidence left.

            Marlo sprinted up to the laundromat. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the golden colored gates that stood firmly shut in front of the store. He shook it frantically yelling at the windows to let him in. He could see no one inside the bright lit room. He felt something cold brush his shoulder lightly. His grip on the bars tightened and he clenched his teeth, afraid to turn around and see who was there. He started to turn slowly to face this creature of the night but with a jerk of his head he took off running instead. I bet he won’t catch me. I’ll bury the arm before he does. No one can know. No one will ever know. His run slowed to a jog as he began passing more and more stores that he had not remembered seeing before. I think I lost him. Marlo stopped to rest; he bent in half digging the palms of his hands into his knees. His briefcase tumbled down his shoulder and thudded onto the hard cement. A cool breeze made its way through the tangles in his hair and off in the distance he heard those same heavy footsteps. He didn’t bother turning around, he knew someone was there. He began twisting his head around looking for the next place he would run to. Directly across the street and beyond a broken chain link fence he saw a dark dirt patch, perfect for her arm.

            As soon as the two bright headlights passed by Marlo, he made his move. He ran to the other side of the street hoping to put some space in between him and his follower. The cars will keep him away from me long enough to bury this arm. It will be gone forever.

            He slid under the cut opening of the fence and jogged to the perfect spot. Marlo collapsed, his knees slamming into the dirt floor. He began digging his fingers and nails into the dirt scraping and pulling, making a hole big enough for an arm. Now for the arm. He un-zipped his bag and stared into the black abyss. Reaching in, he grabbed the arm and threw it into the hole. He looked at the arm surrounded by dirt, stared at the silver diamond ring on her finger and sighed. His arm stretched into the hole and slid the ring off her finger. I wonder how much I can get for this. He watched as the pale skin became freckled with dirt and soon disappeared altogether.

            Marlo patted the top of the dirt and stood up, brushing his hands together to remove the excess dirt. He grabbed his briefcase and left the same way he came. It’s done. I can forget all about her. When he arrived at the other side of the fence a dark thin bony hand was stretched out. It’s him. But he couldn’t have seen. It was too dark. I would have heard him. There’s no way. He won’t catch me. Marlo glanced at the hand, but did not take it. He stood up and stared into dark hole of the hooded figure trying to see his face.

            “You a cop?” Marlo asked. The dark figure did not respond, but reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out something rectangular and black with the initials, “M.O.” carved into it.

            “My wallet! You thief!” Marlo shouted, snatching his wallet from the figure’s cold hands. The figure turned and glided away with out a word.

            “Where are you goin’? You better not’ve taken any of my money!” Marlo yelled to the man who had disappeared into the dark. My money better be in here. My wallet feels a little thin. I better go after him in case he saw something. Marlo started across the street in the direction the man had gone. He opened his wallet and peered inside to make sure his money was there. There were a couple of dollars and a piece of white paper Marlo was sure wasn’t his. I know I had more money in here. This piece of paper better not be an I.O.U. He opened the paper and squinted his eyes to see what was written on it.

            “Owens, Marlo. 12:00 am,” Marlo read aloud. What the hell? A chime noise rang from the grandfather clock inside the store, 12:00 midnight. Seconds later a loud honk slammed into Marlo’s ears followed by a searing pain through his stomach and head. Marlo lay still across the smooth hood of a car, his head surrounded by cracked glass. His eyes slowly opened and closed and right before everything went dark, he saw a glimmer of a curved silver object and he felt the touch of a cold and bony hand.