No One's There:
Nick Hoeper-Tomich
John wakes up to the blaring sound of his alarm. He lets out a long slow moan as he rubs his head and rolls over to hit the snooze button and go back to sleep. He soon wakes up again only to find that he is late for work and hurriedly jumps into the shower and quickly washes his hair. When he gets out of the shower he takes a look in the mirror, there were dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. That was some party last night. When he steps out of the bathroom he sees his clock ticking closer to 10:03. John runs over to his white dresser and quickly pulls on a white dress shirt and matching black slacks. He mulls over which tie he wants to where, either the red one or the blue one. He looks at the clock again; it reads 10:07. Shit, I am going to be so late.
John decides to go down stairs and get something to eat. Streams of light pour through the hallway window catching small mottles of dust in the air and reflecting off shiny picture frames. He picks one of these pictures up and looks down at it; it is a picture of his only son, Tommy. A wave of emotion hits John as the picture reminds him of what he has lost. He continues down the stairs and walks into the kitchen. Since I am so late already I guess I have enough time for a bowl of cereal.
John walks over to the refrigerator and gets out a gallon of milk and sets it down on the blue-green granite counter. He gets out a matching green bowl and quickly fills it with milk and his favorite cereal, Corn Pops. John looks down at his bowl of cereal and realizes that he put to much milk into the bowl. The Corn Pops have been reduced to a beige sludge at the bottom of his bowl. He looks up at the clock; its 10:21, time to get to work.
As John walks out of the front door he notices that the sky has taken on a foreboding orange-gray while he was in the kitchen. "Hmmmm… That's strange." John gets into his beater Toyota and fires up the engine, it sputters and stalls. He puts the clutch in and tries again, it stalls. He pumps the accelerator while yelling, "GOD DAMNIT I'm late." The car starts with a whimper and he puts it into gear and pulls out of the driveway.
John drives speedily down the suburban road. The houses on both sides blurring into a monotony of gray and white. He slams on the breaks and swerves around a frightened dog walker.
"Asshole!!" The man yells after him.
John keeps going without looking back. Shit, people need to watch where they are walking.
John quickly arrives at the freeway ramp only to find that there has been an accident and that two lanes are shut down. He makes his way slowly up the ramp and merges into traffic. There are cars for miles in every direction. John looks over at the Volvo station-wagon next to him. There is a small blond, curly haired boy in the back seat. If John didn't know better he would have mistaken him for Tommy. John begins to move as traffic begins to pick up. The station wagon pulls away into the traffic.
John checks his rearview mirror and instead of seeing an empty seat, there is a small boy sitting there. The same boy who was in the station wagon, except this boy didn't just look like Tommy, this boy was Tommy.
"Hello, father…"
"What the hell… you can't be here…"
"But I am here…"
"This is impossible… You died with your mother during the accident."
"Mother says hi…"
John sits there in utter shock as the boy's voice changes from a shrill prepubescent alto to deep unearthly sound. John lets the car coast to a stop, throws the door open and sprints down the highway. He looks back and sees that the boy is still there. Am I going crazy?
John looks bewildered as he walks down the side of the highway with his thumb up in the air. Finally a Volkswagen mini bus pulls over and offers him a ride. John is overcome by the stench of marijuana as he opens the sliding door.
"Where you heading brother?"
"Downtown, I really need to get to work."
"Sweet man, I was heading that direction anyways… I sort of own the hemp shop on Market Street but I totally spaced that today was my day to open shop."
The hippy looks back at John and sees the look on his face.
"Dude, it looks like something scared the shit out of you."
"I think… I think I’m going crazy."
“What happened dude?”
“I just saw my son… He has been dead for three years.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Shit…”
“I feel that I caused that accident. I feel that his death is my entire fault. I forgot to get the brakes and airbags checked.”
“Maybe that’s why you keep seeing your son. He is just a physical manifest of all the bad thoughts and feelings that swirl around your subconscious.”
“Maybe… I don’t know what’s going on.”
John stares out the window. Downtown is like it usually is. Homeless vagrants rest in hallows and nooks watching business men as they hurry down the street. Everything looks the same except for one little detail. There is a little blond boy standing by himself in the plaza. People walking by seem to not notice him yet still give him space. It's like watching water parting for a rock.
“This is my building.”
“Right on brother, let me find a parking place.”
The hippie veers over to the side of the road and hits the brakes and the curb.
“Whoa… I hate driving high.”
“Hey, thanks for the ride. Your are a real life-saver.”
“Its what I do.”
The hippie guns the minibus and John is blasted by a cloud of noxious fumes. John turns around and looks up at the concrete monstrosity that is his office building. Oh boy… John puts his bag on his shoulder and starts towards the giant revolving doors. He enters the lobby and looks around. The walls are painted a repressive green/gray and the floors are made out of cheap granite knock-off. John looks over to the elevators and sees the doors closing.
“Hold that door.”
The woman doesn’t hear and the elevator’s doors close with a quiet click.
“FUCK!”
John realizes that everyone in the lobby is silent and staring at him.
“Sorry.”
John walks over to the bottom of the elevators. All of them are at the top of the building. Fuck this. The stairs are going to be faster. John starts up the ten flights of stairs with a groan.
John arrives on his floor. He pauses to catch his breath and opens the door into his office.
“Hey John, what’s your excuse this time. You have been late three times this month. That is completely unacceptable. One more time and you may never have to come here again.”
“I am really sorry sir. My car broke down on the freeway and I had to hitch a ride here.”
“You need a new car. How many times has this happened this year?”
“Three or four times maybe.”
“One time is too many.”
“I will start looking for a new car as soon as I get home sir.”
John shrugs his shoulders with a sigh and walks down the aisle to his cubicle. He fires up his computer and gets up to get a cup of coffee from the break room. A blur of movement catches his attention. John looks up from the coffee machine and looks for the source of the motion. The room is empty. John looks down and starts fiddling with the coffee maker again. Damn filter… Doesn’t fucking fit! John picks the machine up to make sure it’s plugged in. He catches a reflection in the pot. There is a small boy standing in the corner. John turns around.
“How the hell…”
“Follow me; I have something to show you.”
John follows the boy out into the aisle and towards the emergency exit.
“Where are you going John?” John’s boss asks.
John doesn’t answer and keeps walking. He opens the exit and the alarm goes off. Whoops. The sprinkler system goes off and starts spraying all over the place. John gets to the roof and sees the little boy standing on the edge of the roof with his arms out to his sides.
“Have you ever thought about ending it all?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Do you miss me? Do you miss mommy?”
“Yes… I miss you guys so much. I think about the accident everyday. I think about how I am at fault. I should have bought a real car. I should have bought a safer car.”
The boy’s voice takes on a demonic tone.
“It is all of your fault. You killed me. You killed mother. You don’t deserve to live anymore.”
“You aren’t real. You can’t hurt me.”
The boy’s switches back to its normal alto.
“Dying isn’t that bad. I just went towards the light. I just followed the tunnel.”
The boy stares deep into John’s eyes and seems to penetrate his soul. John is overcome by a wave of sorrow and walks towards the edge as if he is in a trance. What the hell am I doing? John struggles but the edge draws nearer and nearer.
“You won’t feel a thing.”
“I don’t want to die. What are you doing to me? I am too young to die.”
“You died on that night three years ago. You haven’t lived since.”
“That’s not true. I have lived as well as I could…”
“You go to the bar every night. You have no friends and nothing to live for. Drinking yourself stupid every night is not living.”
John catches balance and totters on the brink. He looks down. Insect sized people go about their errands fifty stories below. John looks up to the sky. The storm arrives and lightning arcs down from the sky. The rain starts pouring down as the heavens open. John closes his eyes and feels his right leg move into open air. He loses his balance and begins wind milling his arms. His left foot slips off and he begins to fall but catches himself on the edge.
“Let go.”
The boy looks down at John teetering on the edge of his demise and laughs. John wills himself to not let go. His arms begin to burn as the lactic acid builds up in them. John shouts through the pain.
“I will not let go!!”
Suddenly the boy vanishes. There is no one there anymore. John hears the faint shouts of firefighters running up the stairs. John’s hands begin to slip on finger at a time. Just when he thought he could hold on no longer a gloved hand grabs his wrist. The rescue workers had gotten to him.
“Thank god that we got to you in time”
FIN