CHAPTER 19: LIFE OR DEATH
(Narration)
This chapter will require the song “Finding Life”. Play song when your told to and put it on repeat.
William Grant is up two hours before his alarm clock is set to go off. He’s currently detached from the real world. His mind is being occupied by a sea of thoughts. He’s sitting on the foot of his bed with his hands in his lap, filled with apprehension. The faint glimmer of dawn is seeping through the blinds, illuminating part of his bedroom and leaving the rest in darkness. His fiancée turns in bed and reaches over to his side of the bed, expecting to feel his firm chest in her hand.
Her eyes open when she realizes his warm body is missing. She sits up in bed and sees the light from the window casting a silhouette of his frame. She immediately gets a notion that something is bothering him. She maneuvers close to him and hugs him from behind.
Her embrace resurrects him back into reality and away from his inner-conscience.
“Hey, what are you doing up so early?” she whispers gently into his ear.
“I have to head out. I have a lot of papers to catch up on.”
She snickers into his ear.
“Or you could just…stay here,” she says in a flirty way. “I’m pretty sure we could think of other things to do.”
He breaks into a wide smile.
“I wish I could accept your offer, but I really have to go.”
“Is something wrong? You don’t seem like yourself since you came home yesterday.”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just worn out,” he lies to her.
“Okay. Don’t work too hard. I love you.”
He shifts to his left, peering into her blue eyes. The faint light coming through the blinds illuminates the crimson in her hair. He stares into her eyes for a lingering amount of time, remembering why he fell in love with her.
“I love you more,” he replies.
They kiss each other with deep passion. Her embrace becomes tighter as their lips touch.
Soon after, his fiancée goes back to sleep and he kisses her on the forehead before leaving their townhome. His blue sedan is parked in front of their house. He gets in and fastens his seatbelt before making a call on his cell-phone.
Meanwhile…
Daniel, Eric, Maria, Jason, and Jessica are all in a secluded forest, miles away. Daniel’s cell-phone starts ringing in his pocket. He looks at the screen and immediately recognizes the number.
“Hey, did you leave yet?” Daniel answers the phone.
“I’m in the car now,” Grant answers from his car. “I’m about to go to the campus and pick up Iva. I should be there soon.”
“What did you tell her?” Daniel asks.
“I told her we needed to talk. She doesn’t know anything. I knew she wouldn’t believe me if I told her. I’m about to hit the road. I will call you when I’m on my way.”
“Okay. We’ll see you in a little bit.”
They both disconnect from their conversation. Grant pauses in his car. He begins to think about what he discovered the day before. A large dose of anxiety hits him in the pit of his heart, making him feel sick. He looks to his right, staring at the door of his townhome, thinking about the woman inside. He then exhales deeply and ignites the engine.
Play song now and put it on repeat
It’s now six o’clock in the morning. The light of day is gaining momentum. The rain from the previous night is rising from the Earth, creating a dense blanket of fog. He cruises down a lonely road, which has a speed limit of fifty miles per hour, yet he’s driving at a cautious forty. The road is surrounded by trees that seem to have no beginning or end.
The soft, blue, morning light cast a silhouette off the arm-like branches. While driving through the lonesome road, he spots a long object resting on the wet ground. At first, he thought nothing of it; however, as he comes closer to the obscure obstruction, a dose of panic slams into his stomach. Dozens of long metal spikes are lined across the road.
“Shit…” he blurts out while stomping on the brakes in attempt to avoid running into the sharp pieces of steel.
This causes the tires to lose traction and jet-plane across the dark pavement. He then veers right and tries to go around the spikes. That idea doesn’t work the way he intended it to. Both front and back tires on the left side explode upon contact. He tries to swerve the car back into alignment with the road but he loses total control of the car. BOOM! The vehicle collides into a tree side. The loud boom echoes into the wilderness.
The front end of the car smashes in. In an instant, the airbag burst from the steering-wheel before his face is able to impact. In a blink of an eye, his head slams forward, bouncing forcefully off the airbag and hitting the headrest. Grant’s head rebounds off the airbag so fast and hard that it causes him to temporarily lose consciousness.
Leaves from the balding tree rain down upon the vehicle as he blacks out. Now his face is resting against the airbag with his arms dangling at his sides. Blood drips on the airbag from his fractured nose. He snaps awake a moment later, disoriented. It takes a moment for him to absorb reality. The first thing he does, after regaining full consciousness, is peep at the rearview mirror. Through the fog, he can see a hooded man walking towards the car. His heart cringes with terror as he spots the mysterious figure lurking toward him.
His survival instincts click on in his mind. He quickly unbuckles himself and reaches over to the glove compartment and opens it. The hooded man, also known as The Hellhound, is steadily walking toward him. He finds a small metal box inside the glove compartment and pulls it out. The heat is on now. The creature is only yards away from the car. This is a matter of life and death. Grant is only a few seconds from coming face to face with the murderous psychopath.
Grant holds the box in his arms as he climbs across the passenger’s seat and opens the door. It’s hard for him to maneuver because his right knee is throbbing with pain. His body falls onto the moist ground of the forest, dirtying his light-gray slacks in cold mud. He then crawls quietly towards a tree while holding the box close to his chest. His hands are already becoming frigid because of the wet ground, but he knows he can't stop now. Quietly, he stands up against the tree with his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.
His right leg can’t support all of his weight because of the impact, so he leans most of his weight onto his left side. Using one eye, he peeps around the tree at the creature walking toward the car. It seems that the man is unaware that Grant had escaped the wreckage. Grant then begins to limp away from the area in a fast pace.
Meanwhile…
The Hellhound has begun whistling as he strolls towards the car, unaware that the victim has fled the scene and taken off into the woods. Step after step, he looms closer to the driver’s door of the vehicle.
“William Grant,” Hellhound says while digging his claws along the surface of the car.
His sharp nails cause the paint to curl and fall onto the ground, creating a sound similar to nails on a chalkboard.
“I’ve waited a long, long, time for this.”
He opens the driver’s door and leans into the car to look inside. The grimace on his face flattens when he realizes that Grant has somehow escaped without him knowing it. He sees the passenger’s door wide open and grunts with anger. BOOM! He slams an angry fist on the roof of the car.
“Damn,” he mutters underneath his breath.
He then sniffs the air like a dog, hoping to catch the scent of his prey. Hellhound’s keen sense of smell discovers the aroma of cologne in the air. This gives him the advantage he needed. A moment later, he stops sniffing and smiles at the wooded area.
“So, you want to play!? Let’s play,” Hellhound speaks into the woods.
Meanwhile…
Grant is now running with a limp through the dreary woods, trying to gain enough ground from Hellhound. He stops for a moment and uses a tree to balance himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath before kneeling down into the moist soil. He grunts in pain as he is forced to take a knee. He unlocks the metal box and finds what he needs inside; a pistol and a box of spare bullets. He opens the barrel of the gun and begins to fill the empty slots with ammunition.
He stops loading the fifth bullet when he hears a noise. It sounded like feet scurrying at a distance. He stops what he's doing and peers into the endless fog, but the sound stops when he does. The last two bullets go in with difficulty because his hands are quivering uncontrollably.
With a shaky hand, he digs into the box and grabs a handful of additional bullets, and then stuffs the spare bullets into his jacket pocket. He closes the chamber of the gun, stands to his feet, and surveys his surroundings cautiously before moving his legs again. The soreness in his right knee is becoming intense but he tries his best to ignore the increasing pain.
It’s a cool morning, yet his body is already beginning to sweat. His lungs are working so hard that they feel heavy in his chest. Once again, he leans up against a random tree to rest his exhausted body. After taking time to regain some well-needed strength, he studies his surroundings to make sure he's not being followed. He listens to the wind. He hears nothing but the sound of his own breath and birds chirping in every direction.
He gives himself a boost by pushing off the tree, but he takes only three steps before stumbling hard onto the ground. His only defense, his pistol, falls from his hand. He immediately feels a harsh pain in his wounded leg, but this pain is new and far more intense then the pain in his knee.
He shouts in agony until he can feel his throat burning. He rotates onto his back and sees Hellhound standing twenty-yards away from him. Grant glances down at his right leg and discovers a rope wrapped around his ankle. The rope appears to be modified to create an unbreakable grip. Grant immediately knows that there’s no way the rope can loosen, especially if there are nails molded inside of the fibers.
The nails are already in his skin and they're only about to get deeper.
“Did you actually believe you could escape?” Hellhound says to him with fiery eyes.
Hellhound pulls on the rope. The rope around Grant’s leg tightens as his back slides across the moist soil. Grant ignores the increasing pain and turns onto his belly. He desperately reaches for the pistol but his reach is short by mere inches. Again, Hellhound tugs on the rope, pulling Grant closer to him. He’s drifting further and further away from the pistol. Hellhound reaches his arm forward, grabbing the rope, and uses his strength to pull his prey closer. Grant shouts violently as the nine-inch nails rips through his denim jeans, through his skin, and into his calf muscles.
Grant’s mind is completely unstable at the moment. He can’t figure out what to do next. Stress, panic, fear, and adrenaline consume him all at once. Hellhound pulls on the thin rope again, causing him to slide even closer. The pieces of jagged metal slide deeper into his flesh. Grant screeches in pain as he is pulled helplessly through the leaves.
He spots a glimmer of hope resting on the ground to his left. It’s a long branch. He grabs it as Hellhound tugs on the rope again. Using the branch as a last ditch effort to survive, he reaches for the pistol. He’s hoping that the branch may be able to pull the gun toward him. His first attempt is delivered poorly, completely missing the gun by two-feet. Hellhound pulls again, shortening the distance between them even more.
Grant grunts in agony as he reaches for the gun with the branch. The branch lands on top of the gun and he almost manages to bring the weapon in hand’s reach. It moves slightly but the grip doesn’t hold fair enough. Hellhound yanks him further away from the gun. Grant can hear the sound of his pants ripping as Hellhound pulls him closer. The pain in his leg is worsening and if he doesn’t retrieve the gun in time, he most likely will pass out.
He has one last chance at reaching for the gun with the branch. He grips the branch firmly and extends it toward the gun one final time before his reach becomes too short. Hellhound pulls again. As he is being pulled, the branch and gun is being pulled along with him. His plan worked. As Hellhound yanks the rope, Grant pulls on the branch, bringing the gun in arms reach.
Hellhound pulls again and again, shortening the space between them. Now Grant is only yards away from the hellish creature. Grant can hear Hellhound laughing victoriously as he positions his finger behind the trigger. He’s now five-feet away from Hellhound. Hellhound then pulls one last time.
“It’s now or never,” Grant thinks to himself subconsciously.
He swiftly rotates on his back and fires at an upward angle twice. The bullets disperse from the gun. The eruption echoes throughout the wilderness, causing crows to scatter from the trees above. To his surprise, Hellhound has disappeared from sight. With amazed yet frightened eyes, Grant points the gun left and right, franticly.
A dead silence sweeps through the forest. He places the gun on the ground and then focuses his attention onto his wounded leg. He shrieks in pain as he tries to unravel the rope from his leg. His face turns red as he harnesses his will to withstand the pain. One by one, the nails are removed from his ankle, each one creating a nasty popping sound. Warm blood immediately begins to soak through his jeans as he rips the nails from his flesh. He tosses the rope to the side and stands to his feet, unable to hold any weight on his right leg.
Hellhound’s laugh bounces off the trees.
“Close, but no cigar!” his voice echoes throughout the woods.
Grant rotates left, trying to find Hellhound’s location. He points the gun into the fog, ready to fire at any moment’s notice.
“Did you honestly think you were going to kill me that easily?”
Grant swiftly turns right and points the gun into another wall of fog. He can’t seem to keep track of Hellhound’s movements.
“If you want to kill me, just do it!” Grant shouts into the dreary woods with the gun pointed.
“Can you see me? I can see you,” Hellhound says with a chuckle.
Grant hears the sound of feet running. He looks left, then right, and then behind himself. He has no idea what direction to aim the gun. Suddenly, he spots the end of Hellhound’s cloak just before he vanishes behind a tree. He fires twice, hitting the tree but not Hellhound.
“Come on, you can do better than that. You’re making this all too easy,” Hellhound says through the dense fog.
Impacted hard by hopelessness and fear, Grant keeps his aim forward. His hand is shaking from adrenaline and fear. The sound of snapping twigs keeps him on edge. He keeps the gun pointed in the direction of the noise. He slowly begins to back away with the gun pointed forward. As he’s backing away, he hears the sound of crunching leaves behind him at a very close perimeter.
He knows someone is standing behind him. He can feel their eerie presence looming over him from behind. He swiftly turns around with his gun pointed. He fires the last two shots, but Hellhound catches his arm just before his face is able to cross paths with the barrel. The bullets are dispersed into the sky. Hellhound then retaliates by throwing his hand at Grant’s throat, clasping it tightly. Grant drops the gun as Hellhound applies pressure to his neck, cutting off any air and blood circulation.
Grant tries his absolute best to loosen Hellhound’s grip. He throws hard punches at his long arm. Each blow doesn’t seem to have any effect on Hellhound’s chokehold. His face swells and turns blue as Hellhound lifts him off the ground.
“Stronger men have tried to kill me and failed. You are no different Grant,” Hellhound states just before he throws Grant forcefully against a tree.
Grant’s head takes most of the impact. His body rebounds of the tree and falls onto the ground face first. Grant tries to get up but he is barely able to rise onto his elbows. Hellhound kicks him in the ribs, forcing him to roll onto his back. The kick shatters Grant’s ribs, causing him to vomit blood as a result. Hellhound chuckles and then kneels next to him, smiling his hardest.
“You don’t look so good. I had fun playing with you Grant. But your time on Earth has been spent.”
Grant then mumbles something underneath his breath but Hellhound is unable to understand his words.
“I’m sorry, what is that?” Hellhound leans his ear closer to his swelled lips.
“Mane is going to kill you,” Grant informs him with a weak voice.
Laughter burst from Hellhound’s mouth.
“Mane?” Hellhound takes a moment to chuckle again. “MANE!?” he shouts in Grant’s face. “That name does not scare me! I can’t wait to meet him. And when I finish him off, I’m going to gut him and turn him into a FUCKING RUG!!!!!” he finishes this sentence with a loud shout, saliva spraying in the poor Professor’s face.
He then smiles at Grant again with satisfied eyes.
“To bad you won’t be alive to see it happen.”
He then punches Grant in his face, rendering him unconscious…
We then switch back to Iva’s narration….
My mom cooked me a big breakfast this morning, but my thoughts won’t allow me to eat. For some unknown reason, my spirit feels bothered. Something is off this morning. Maybe I’m just anxious about my secret meeting with Professor Grant and his unknown associate. As I poke my eggs with my fork, I can feel my mom staring at the top of my head.
"Are you feeling well?"
I look up at her and sigh. This has to be the fifth time she asked me that question. To be honest, I have no idea how to even respond.
"Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” I reply halfheartedly.
“Just checking,” she replies and continues to eat her breakfast.
The drive to school is another silent one. We arrive so early that most of the parking spots are still available. She pulls up to the main building and parks the van near the curb.
"Okay, see you later," I say while opening the door, but my mom stops me just before I’m able to exit.
"Not so fast.”
I position myself back into the passenger seat and shut the door.
"If something was bothering you, would you tell me?"
"Mom, I’m fine.”
"I’m not trying to turn this into an argument," she clarifies.
"I just got a lot of school stuff on my mind. That’s all.”
Again, just like any other time, she’s reading me like an opened book. She knows I’m being slightly dishonest. I can’t hide anything from my mother, not even the simplest of lies, no matter how hard I try.
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” she tells me.
"Have a nice day at work," I reply as I exit the van in a hasty fashion.
I watch the van emerge into traffic before I proceed up the walkway. I whip out my cell-phone and update myself on the current time. In fifteen minutes, I’ll be meeting up with Professor Grant, so he can clarify the questions I’ve been dying to have answered. Suddenly, a girl bumps into my shoulder and startles me.
"Hey!" I blurt out automatically.
I look over my shoulder and witness a girl running with her hands clamped against her mouth. I stop walking and take a breather to lower my startled heart. I proceed up the walkway only to discover another student sprinting my way. His eyes are consumed with extreme panic. I step aside so I wouldn’t get trampled by him.
"What is going on?" I whisper to myself.
I continue up the walkway quicker than before. An earsplitting scream rips through the silence of the morning. My fast walking converts into a jog. I see a frantic boy coming around the west wing of the campus. He’s talking to someone on his cell-phone.
"We need the police here now, there's been a murder," he cries hysterically into the phone.
My heart-rate skyrockets. Another female student comes from around the corner with her hands pressed tightly against her lips. At last, I finally make it around the corner. A small gathering of students are standing motionless with their faces drained of emotion and color. They all appear to be staring at something over my head. I don’t want to look, but my curiosity is forcing me to see for myself.
I slowly follow their gaze behind me and upward. I immediately become immobile. A body is hanging at the top of the science building. The body is covered in blood. The blood is in the form of a giant X. This person is no other than my beloved professor, William Grant. A moment later, my joints loosen. I quickly shift my eyes away. I nearly scream but I use my hands to keep my scream locked inside of my mouth.
As I stagger back down the walkway, I feel myself lose balance. I stumble right until I hit the brick wall of the school. I hold my jumping heart as I slide down into the wet grass. The girl, who bumped into me moments before, is charging back up the walkway with two other Professors.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell-phone. Warm tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I press the call icon on the home-screen.
"Hello," my mom answers.
“Mom, there's been an incident at school. Come, please,” the hysteria in my voice is dominating.
“What’s going on?” her concern instantly takes over.
“Mom, just come quick.”
“I’m on my way.”
A couple of minutes later, I meet my mom back at the main entrance. She hurries out of the van and pauses momentarily to gawk at the anarchy that is building momentum around her.
"Iva, what is going on?"
Sirens grow in the distance until several squad cars rush onto the scene.
"Iva...?"
I remain unresponsive. I place my head against her chest, and then she wraps her arms around me with an unbreakable grip.
On the way home, I tell my mom what I saw. The shock on her face is brutal but it’s nothing compared to those distraught faces at the scene.
Two hours later, Uncle Frank and his partner, Detective Jones, comes over to our house for questioning. It’s hard for me to answer any of their questions because the flashbacks are constantly reappearing in my head. All I can see in my mind is Professor Grant’s lifeless body, and all I can hear are the cries from those who discovered him.
“Iva? Iva?” Uncle Frank gathers my attention.
I snap back into reality another time.
“You are one of the last people to speak to him,” Uncle Frank states. “Did you notice anything out of character?”
“Cornelius Blaire had an argument with him like last month,” I explain modestly.
“They did? Where?” Jones asks urgently.
“In class.”
“What were they arguing about?” Uncle Frank presses on.
“Kendrick didn’t want to be in his class, so Grant kicked him out, then his father got really, really, angry.”
“Did he threaten Grant?” Uncle Frank interrogates me.
“He said he will get him fired.”
“Did he threaten Grant for his life?” Uncle Frank asks.
I think harder and try to remember if any death threats were thrown around between them two.
“No.”
“Are you certain?” he asks.
“Positive.”
Uncle Frank places his pen in the coil of his mini-notepad.
“That’s all I need for now,” he informs me. “You know…I’m sorry you had to see that.”
He comes over to me and kneels down with soothing eyes.
“I knew Grant. I went to school with him. He was a great guy, very compassionate. He went out of his way for me many times. His death won’t be in vain. I promise you, I’ll find the son of a bitch who did this. I may already know. I love you kiddo, hang in there alright?”
I nod humbly. He stands and nods at his partner, and together they leave the house with modest expressions. I know who Uncle Frank was referring too. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Blaires had something to do with his death…
Wow this story getting crazy