The smell of ash was strong inside an old abandoned, yet slightly dilapidated, house. The smell of wet floor, piss stains, the taste of something rotten and the coughing fits you know you get from dust. It was evident, or so Pascal told himself, he was gonna be here for a very, very long time. He sighs, taking in the long dreadful silence of isolation as his small tiny footsteps timed hus ever ticking heartbeat. Every single noice was heard all around him like they wanted to be heard. The owl hooted, the floorboards creeked with their loud cracks, the skittering of tiny feet across the ground and the sound of his breathing.
The house wasn't large, but it would be considered big for its size. It was the only house within that particular neighborhood that was never gassed out. It made Pascal shiver when he thought about it. Ten years ago a family of five lived in this very old home. The neighborhood was then brutally attacked by a large number of gangsters who had gotten their hands on very dangerous Gas. Nobody really knows what happened other than the fact that the family had escaped and made it to a small, open mine shaft which was no longer in use. That was when they were last seen. Some say it was because they had a secret home or bunker there, others was for their final resting place. Pascal, who was lost in his forever winding mind, caught himself just mere seconds of stumbling into a deep hole directly under a bedroom. He looks up and stares at the wide gap. The bed was hanging down and swaying back and forth with the covers almost nonexistent. Pascal looks down back at the large gapping maw of a hole with a gulp of nervousness. He glances around looking for anything that maybe could help him, but to no avail.
"I wonder," Pascal hummed as he looked around "does this place hav- gah!" Suddenly he heard a loud bang behind him and he spun on his heels to see who dared disturb his exploration! Pascal hoped it was some small kid who had made his way her on accident, but that thought shattered as he saw nothing but a living demon. Standing in front of him directly im the doorway of the front-door was a tall figure, roughly 7 feet in height. The figure was imposing and menacing has Pascal could tell he had a small muscular build. The figure, wearing a large yellow rain coat, with a white expressionless mask stepped inside holding a small grey lantern. "H-hey! I have authority to be here, s-so scram!" Pascal called, stuttering slightly but albeit he was shaking like a dog when it's wet. Pascal look around for anything to scare this person, anything to get away!
But to no avail.
The only thing he could do was either try to jump over the large, menacing, hole or face this eerie beast! Pascal raised his hands in a placating motion hoping that would, possibly but without certainty, ease the situation. The figure, who had shifted towards a small wooded chest with a pictures and a large camera, tilted their head sideways just a fraction. It was a tiny but powerful movement that kind of eased Pascal but not by very much. Pascal acquiescenced that maybe this mask-y person was just dressing up and warning to scare him away hoping to terrify him? Yea! Maybe that's the reason!
The figure drew closer, their steps heavy and hard on the wooden floor, as they came closer and closer with each passing minute. It was as if time slowed down when Pascal ran for the pass the figure heading for the front door. In truth, pascal, he was horrified at this unsightly monster! He wanted to run away and escape, hide or even cower under a bridge! So Pascal ran, feeling the wind pass as he tried to get pass the masked person but something was off. The mask persons hands were up just above his waist right under his ribs like they were holding something. Then he felt it — sharp, painful, agonizing and dreadful. Pascal looked down to see a large shinning silver scythe with its black handle sticking out from his middle chest. Falling to his knees and coughing up fluid, Pascal, tears streamed down his face, was this how he was going to die? What about his family and friends? "P-please! Don't kill me." Pascal pleaded with dying hope as his hands were slowly losing their grip around the small handle of the scythe.
Pascal's memories rushed through him like a damn of that broke and water gushed through. His childhood wasn't great, he was raised by gangsters. He had killed a family as a child with his own group of boys because of a stuipid reason. He later became a gangster leader within a large alliance. Within that alliance they attacked a small town and murdered everyone there. He deeply regretted this act after realizing the importance of family when he gotten released from prison.
A friend of his, whom was part of the gangster leadership, had also been let out of prison and had made a small county with a small number of people. He knew he had done bad and horrible things but that was already judged for! It was over and he had a better life! He had a wife and three kids, with the third being not yet born. Still! What other wrongs has he done that deserves such a fate as this!
"Did your life flash before your eyes, yet?" The figure boomed with such a disgusting sound it made Pascal cover his ears mid thought. What type of human would possess such a voice! It was like hearing a hundred loud trumpets but they were screeching and hoarse or like when a human voice has that raspy tone when they lost their vocals but just ten times worse and more severe. "Don't worry, you'll get to pick them up from school. One. Last. Time." The figure spoke again as he watched Pascal stumble away towards the front door of the abandoned house. Pascal stumbled out the door heading for a small Ford SUV, which has four doors, with a large pulled back roof. He knew something was amiss, but what was it? The School's get-together party tonight ended at 9:00 and what time was it right now, he glanced down at the watch on his wrist which read 8:40Pm; Pascal cursed as he threw the watch onto the ground. Pascal opened the car door, putting in the key and turning on the engine as he closed the car door with a slow painful grunt. Dying the was last thing on his mind, he wanted to see his two kids and possibly, if he could live long enough, his wife! "Please! Please! Let me live! LET ME LIVE! GIVE ME STRENGTH!" Pascal thoughts screamed inside his head as he clutched his chest where the scythe was keeping the blood from flowing like a water fall, it is a miracle that it didn't just fall out yet. Pascal drove and drove passing red lights and green lights or even taking short cuts to get towards his kids schools! Anything! Anything to get there! To see their faces one last time! Suddenly he notice a cop car turn on his head lights and they started to flash their standard police color, red and blue. Pascal cursed under his breath as he looked in his rear view mirror and upon seeing within the mirror didn't stop, in fact he didn't care! He wanted to see his two little children before death and he was arrested before when he got there then so be it! Pascal slammed on the gas and speed towards a red light that turned green, no cars insight which benefited Pascal! He looked down at the cars GPS, two miles left— four minutes away! He could vaguely see the school just down the block with its square walls and triangular roofs! "Just a little further and I'll make it!" Pascal whispered with a chuckle of hope as he got closer and closer to the school.
When Pascal had gotten towards the school and parked on the side walk, he groaned when he opened the door of the car the feeling of fatigue as he slid his legs out the car. The opening of the police car door was heard as the officer shouted some words at Pascal that he couldn't make out. "What is she saying? Whatever, I have a job to do!" Pascal muttered as he stood up, stumbling greatly as he steadied himself on a small railing.
*What was this feeling? Pain? No. It was more of a headache, yea a headache.*
"Sir? Are you okay?" Pascal heard the officer yell from across where they stood. Pascal glanced over towards the officer, it was a blond haired white woman with small brown freckles. She was slender but not too skinny, had a mild muscular build and had that tomboy-ish look. How young and beautiful, it reminded Pascal of his wife for some reason. "Sir? Sir! Are you okay, please respond!" The young tomboy officer asked with nervousness as she inched closer to Pascal. Pascal decided that this was enough time being wasted so he ran, as humanly possible, inside the building; a small trail of blood following with him.
As time went on thumping was evident inside Pascal's brain. It hurts. Did the headache turn into a migraine? If it did that was really fast. Faster than the last time he had migraine. Ah, yes. That one time he had a migraine. He was inside his bedroom, the room pitch black as he had his eyes closed. The pain was unbearable. He wanted to vomit. It was like a sledge hammer sat on his head with spikes and he could feel those individual spikes. He could also vaguely remember his wife walking inside with some warm vegetable soup, but unfortunately the body was so weak that not even the strongest part of body could be lifted. It was so lovely, seeing his beautiful wife, her brown and red hair with slightly brown-green eyes that overlapped a slight shade of grey.
Shaking his head firmly after the sudden memory rush stumbled across the school corridors. Their white walls with banners supporting the schools experts and students along with different programs. Pascal saw a glass stall with a small line of trophies with different names of champions that won those trophies. Two names stood out then the rest of them, Sophia Youth and Rosto Youth. His daughter and son. They were his pride and joy! His save keeping. His lock and key that would open to only them. "Hopefully they are still here!" Pascal prayed as he search around, opening doors and finding nothing. He could hear the faint steps of the tomboy officer behind him. He didn't have enough time! The thumping grew louder — more painful and he knew that there wasn't going to be any more time left if he just stood here like an idiot! He stumbled and stumbled, sliding down the black and white marble floor. Pascal stop in front of a cross away, left and right. He could just barely hear DJ music in the background down the left corridor so, shambling his way there and shifting to lean against the wall. "Sir!" The young tomboy officer called running to Pascal's side, "Are you okay?" Pascal ignored the woman and continued forward, clutching his chest to steady the flow of blood, but the officer notice this. "This is officer two-one-nine, Elise Sasha I have an injured man and I need an ambulance, ASAP!" Elise yelled into her radio, walkie-talkie, as she tried to turn Pascal around to get a better look at the wound. The chest wound wasn't an ordinary one, it had punctured and broken right through the sternum and into Aorta, a long red tube that starts from a curve connecting into the heart then branches out from the curve connecting into the veins, livers, heart and etc, it wasn't fatal enough to kill him instantly but the injury itself was killing him. "Stop!" Pascal shouted at the Elise with anger, shoving her aside as he walked like a zombie towards where he heard the music, "Just let me see my children one last time before I die." Pascal added, coughing up blood with tears in his eyes. Elise saw determination and hope within them but all dread and recognition. She knew that he knew he was dying.
The sound of sirens was loud in the silence of the county and the Sheriff arrived at the school with a cup coffee as he sat in his Sheriff's car. Elise came out from the school's entrance, a sad and empty expression etched on her face as she stumbled over to the car. She knocked on the window gently and the Sheriff rolled it down slowly. "What happened in there, Elise?" The Sheriff asked calmly bracing for the worst. "Nothing much, Sheriff Paul." Elise groaned in monotone segments, her expression unchanging. Within the school Pascal opened the doors of the basketball court, seeing the children dancing and talking. Lights flashed and the smell of punch was strong. Pascal hurriedly looked around for Sophia and Rosto but to no avail! Where were they! HE looked and looked and looked, shoving and pushing students aside to look for them!
*Oh no.*
Pascal thought with an empty and emotionless expression.
There standing directly in the middle of the punch stall was a figure — with a white mask.
*No, no, no, no, no, no! Please! Lord please don't let it be true!*
Pascal screamed mentally and stumbled forward towards the figure staring at him. The figure shook a finger as Pascal was close enough. "I'm surprised you've made it thus far. Don't worry your children are fine. They are here, alive." The figure said as he patted Pascal on the back. Pascal grabbed the masked person by the collar of their coat. "Where are my children you, sick bastard! I swear if you hurt a single hair or-" Pascal started, raising a fist before stopping.
*What could he do? Hurting this strange figure wouldn't do anything! This figure has the answers to where Sophie and Rosto are! Please don't screw up!*
Pascal lowered his fist slowly, breathing heavily as he stared into the dark sockets of the figures eyes. "I know that fear. The fear of losing those you hold dear to you. That fear and turn into anger if directed correctly. Don't you remember asking your friend Ron to pick up your children up from this school?" The figure rasped out with such enthusiasm it made Pascal shiver in fear. The figure slid a small Rotary-phone towards Pascal. "Hear, call him." The figure said. A low cough yet hoarse chuckle escaped its throat making Pascal feel sick to his stomach.
*This person is enjoying watching me suffer. For what reason thought? What vendetta does he has against me? Hmm. This throbbing sensation is more painful then before.*
Pascal thought mildly as his hand wrapped around the dil-phone weakly, dilling the numbers on the phone and waiting for person on the end to pick up.
*Come on! Come on, Ron! Pick up please! Pick up please! If you don't pick up I'm gonn-*
The sound of a flat line entered the dil-phone which ment that nobody picked up. A small women voice spoke back through the phone. "Please leave a message for 5217." Pascal nearly slammed the phone, but they would take too much strength. He need to conserve enough strength for the right time. "Ron! Where are my children! Pick up the phone, now! I need to know where I children are!" Pascal screamed. It was the sound that any other father wouldn't dream of hearing. The sound of a mournful father waiting for an answer about their lost child. Pascal dialed again hoping that maybe this time maybe! Flat line on the other side with a small beep. "Ron, what the hell is wrong you! Pick the phone, now! I need to know what happened to my children, Ron please!" Pascal's grip weakened around the handset of the Rotary phone as he sank to the floor. The Disco room had gotten quiet now, every eye was on him. Some with concern and fear, that was the girls and others with anger or curiosity, that was the boys. Pascal glared at them all, the children, with anger but he couldn't bring himself to hate them for some reason, why? Was it because he as a father couldn't bring himself to hate a child? Pascal lean on the folding table, staring up at the disco ball.
"The thumping has gotten louder… and the more… it's more severe and painful. Is my adrenaline wearing off?"
Pascal thought dryly as he sat on the court, he didn't even get to see his wife or his children. He felt betrayed and angry. Angry that this mysterious person killed him and betrayal at his best friend Ron for not answering the phone. The thumping had grown to a crescendo iniside Pascals head. He still had some, if not little, time left. He pulled pulled out his small flip-phone, typing in Ron's number with careful but weak fingers.
*It was harder now, to do things? Why? He was driving just fine moments ago, but now jusy typing simple numbers is hard? Is this how a person feels when their… dying?*
Pascal chuckled as he heard the phone ring… and ring. Nothing happned. Just the sound of ringing until a went dead signaling that nobody answered, but he could leave messages for only thirty minutes.
In the early 1900s Motorola models like the DynTAC 8000x, a large-rectangular brick that had a small curve-like dip with an antenna and a small key pad, were ealry models that had very much less power imput during this time. Ten hours of charge time was about 30 minutes of talking time. It was a pain really but it worked for the time that it was worth as many were more were in the works that would be better. These models where the first puplic mobile phone but they were a heavy price being $4,000. But their pices dimmed down after a decade in 1920. So now-a-days you can get them for about 1,000 to about $2,000. The Rotary phones, a small rectangle or circular base with a cord in the back and a cirular dial on the front that you have to turn all the way to one point and then let it go back to then again do the same process, however, were much more cheaper, depending on the type, as if you had an operator or no operator. They were from 600 - $900.
Officer Elise and Sheriff Paul sat inside the stantard sheriff minivan. Elise huffed, it was huff between annoyance and frustration. "I wonder when that ambulance cab will be here." She muttered quietly. Although it was supposed to herself, Paul, on the other hand, heard it like it was music to his ears. "You know, people now-a-days don't like pulling aside for the ambulance." Paul said rolling his eyes, sipping on his small white mug filled with lightly steaming coffee. Giving a sideways glance Elise rolls her eyes in moderate disbelief. How would a human tease at this moment was beyond her, but sip coffee this late during day was even way beyond herself. Granted she liked coffee but not that much. Elise shifted in her seat, leaning back and staring out the window. Staring at the entrances lf the school, two large red oak wood doors with golden handles and a small glass panel, Elise saw a student run out. The studnet was wearing a light colored long-sleeved shirt with white perfect lines going down to the wrists, a brown vest with three shining silver buttens, smoothen down dark black pants with brown leather boots; the student looked nervous and pale as he look around frantically, like he had somethings wrong. When the student, unpon seeing the sheriff's car, saw the officer and sheriff immediately ran up to them with vigor, the boys face pale as he banged on the passenger window. Elise and Paul both look at each like they had seen a ghost and they began to beomce nervous. Paul stepped out from the drivers side, putting on his hat and slinging over his coat. He closed the door gently, staring at the shock stricken boy standing before him. "What seems to be the trouble, boy?" Paul asked, walking around the front of the car to stand in front of the student and place and calmling hand. The student, who looked fairly young with a slightly well rounded face and short muddled messy almost black hair and beautiful brown eyes, stared at him. They were dilating, Paul noticed, the boy was in pure shock and was hyperventilating to the utter max that it could even be considered acting. "The," sounds were made from the boys throat but they were so shaky that Paul could hardly make them out, "the man with the scythe in his chest is dead." The young man finished with such a terrible stutter that it Paul, who was considered the top of his class when it comes to sheriff work, couldn't even make pass the first two words before snapping the pencil cluched between his fingers. "Understood, wait here." Paul said with a slow and painful nod, turning his head towards the car. He made a small hand gesture for Elise to get out from the car and follow him, she obliged and stepped out from the vehicle with a graceful swing. "Did the Old man Pascal finally die inside there?" Elise asked with a solmn curse lf frustration wishing that she had decided to save him rather than letting him die. Paul raised a eyebrow but didnt press on the matter as the boy nodded in a smooth manner. "Sir, with permission. May I go ahead and take of the scene. I feel mostly responsible for this mess." Eilise suggested, albeit it was more of a request as in fact she did feel responsible. She hated herself that let a man die. A man in whom she had deeply respected for changing his ways in life. What was she gonna tell Pascal's wife and two kids? That she basically watched him die from the guidlines? Her fist clenched tightly at her sides but she calmed herself slowly as to not make the poor biy more nervous than he already was. "Go on ahead, Officer." Paul replied firmly with a tilt of his head. "I'll stay here and be with the kid." He add as an after thought as he realized that in the clutches of tiny fingers was a mug filled with brown liquid. Elise nodded her thanks and strode off to make due with the so called "crime scene," even though it was one, it didn't feel like it to Elise. No, it was more like a court with a judge.
"So, she's the one the mayor been smitten with, huh?" Paul said with a playful smirk sitting inside the sheriff car, watching other police cars show up steadily. Glancing sideways on his right was a person wearing a white mask, a light colored long-sleeved shirt, a brown vest with silver buttons over the shirt, smoothen down black pants with leather boots. "That's right. They've been in contact for a while now." The masked person rasped out like the sound of many morning piano cords. "As long as you pull some strings I'll make it to wear you can become mayor." The figure said with a loud chuckle.