Aug 2, 2018

The Anomaly - Part 9

Otrahun turned to his left and pressed his forehead into the barrel of the gun.

"Look, lady. Just shoot me. I played along with your bullshit till now because I was drunk and you looked hot. But, now. This old dude is just hopped up on his medication and the shit he's talking doesn't make sense."

He spread his arms wide at his side and leaned into the gun.

"Be a babe and pull the trigger."

"Sir?" The woman looked at the old man and he nodded at her.

From the corner of his eye, Otrahun saw the old man nod. He felt the gun's barrel push into his forehead as the woman brought her other hand up to stabilize the gun. He saw her finger slowly squeeze the trigger. Felt the hammer striker the primer of the bullet, the vibrations reaching till the back of his teeth. Some ancient survival instinct made him pull his head away at the last moment. The bullet exiting the barrel of the gun was the loudest sound he had ever heard. And then he could hear no more because a toneless sound replaced everything he could hear. He touched his left ear and felt only blood and a mess of flesh and cartilage.

"Bitch! You actually shot me!" The disbelief poured out of him in an outraged aggression. "Fuck, you shot me!"

She reholstered the gun and bent down to pick him up by his collar. He was still too shocked to resist her effort to pull him up. She half carried half dragged him to the wall on the right side of the room and pressed a panel in the wall. Sections of the wall slid out and started to rearrange on their own in shapes and figures that looked eerily familiar to Otrahun.

The woman strapped Otrahun in the chair and put a white helmet on his head. He saw her flicking and swiping on her handheld module again. There was a satisfied look on her face as she tapped the screen with her index finger. The tap felt to Otrahun like the falling of the executioner's blade.

A feeling of multiple needles pricking the base of his neck and then he was drifting. Time passed and he dreamed of mountains, trees, and flowing water. There were sounds of birds and slow chants somewhere in the hills. A feeling of wellness flooded his senses and he felt more alive than he had in years. His constant headache and the building hangover was gone. He could see more clearly and feel the cold mountain air in his lungs. He was flying. Somewhere above the trees and rivers and mountains.

He felt a presence glide close to him and the woman's voice in his fucked up ear was as comfortable as getting your fingernails ripped.

"Get ready, loverboy," she said and before he could ask what the fuck she meant, he was falling.

The heat and chaos rose up to meet him like an angry ex's embrace. 

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