Please see Outta Time for the first part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 2 for the second part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 3 for the third part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 4 for the fourth part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 5 for the fifth part of the story.
The sirens were getting closer. But he couldn’t leave without understanding what had happened.
His eyes went immediately to the perfectly made bed. And it wasn’t the perfection of a good housewife, but rather it was that of a hotel maid. Or of a new cadet recently graduated from boot camp. He surveyed the bureau and spotted Ella’s untouched purse. A stack of neatly folded clothes sat on a nearby end table.
‘Ella?’ It was a whisper. He cleared his throat. ‘Ella?’ This time it came out as something of a scream except an octave higher than his normal voice.
Something was very wrong with the picture. He walked to the window beside the bed and looked out at a few of the local buildings as he had when he lived there. Then he glanced down at the street below and noticed a commotion. He also noticed at that moment that the sirens had ceased. He opened the window and stuck his head out the screenless window. Below, he saw what looked to be a large quilt covering something on the sidewalk.
He backed away from the window catching his left foot on the edge of the throw rug. He fell with a thud. The precious seconds quickly ticked away, limiting his potential options. Still, he felt the paralysis of indecision. He could try to make a run for apartment H and ‘sit on the couch’ as he was told. He could try to get out of the building, which was less and less promising every moment he waited. Of course, he could just wait to be caught and try to explain the strange events that had been happening. He had the DVD after all. But the DVD wasn’t much; in fact, it was nothing more than a cut-rate production that made no reference to any person specifically.
‘Okay, gotta go,’ he said out loud. ‘The apartment seems as good a choice as any.’
He stepped back into the hallway and grabbed the fungo. He moved past the kitchen and glanced down at the floor. On the floor laid Bruce face down in a pool of blood; there were two gunshot exit wounds in his back. Darren froze. For whatever reason, he couldn’t move. He just stared at the expired body.
A loud knock came at the front door, startling Darren. His time to contemplate had ended.
‘Darren Brahm, we know you’re in there,’ came the voice of a young man. ‘Surrender yourself.’
Darren considered his remaining options. He wasn’t going to bring a fungo to a knife fight; that much was certain. He turned and ran back into the bedroom. He looked out the open window at the crowd below. Then he looked from side to side. The wall was sheer.
‘This is your last warning,’ spoke the muffled voice.
Darren threw the bat onto the bed and seized the wooden trunk in front of it. With all his might, he lifted the trunk by its two handles and carried it into the hallway. He placed the trunk gently in front of the front door.
Then, he called out as non-chalantly as he could muster, ‘I’ll let you in in just a moment officer.’
‘I’d advise that you open the door now, Mr. Brahm!’
It was just the time he needed. Darren backed away from the door, extracted the DVD from his jacket, and put it into the DVD player. He hit the red power button to turn the television on.
The first thud upon the front door followed, but the door itself held. ‘This is for your own good, Darren!’
He wasn’t listening. The screen came to life showing the destruction of the U.S.S. Enterprise.
He heard gunshots. The officers were shooting out the locks. Somehow, the deadbolt and the trunk held the door shut.
The screen went black. The voice exclaimed, ‘There are no escapes this time.’ Playing softly in the background was End of the Line by the Traveling Wilburys.
Darren sighed. There came another volley of shots to take out the deadlock.
He had two options. He could wait for them to enter. Or he could decide to allow gravity seal his fate. The latter seemed more enticing at that moment.
The television cut suddenly to one of the closing scenes from Star Wars III. A droid presented each of the twins to Padme to be named. The voice spoke, ‘I wouldn’t choose gravity if I were you because Ella wasn’t completely honest with you about the abortion.’ The DVD ended.
An explosion came from the front door, and two men – rather boys – entered.
Darren dashed into the bedroom and grabbed the bat. The two boys stood in the doorway. The short, stocky white one had a pistol. The taller black kid – whom he recognized as the one from the street – had his hands in his jacket pockets.
The white one spoke, ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’
Darren grabbed the bat and decided that he’d try to bring the bat to a gun fight after all. He stood and, with all his might, flung the bat at the gun-toting kid. The white kid stepped back. The black kid rolled forward and bounced to his feet. In the next moment, the black kid extracted a small device and aimed it square at Darren’s chest. ‘The easy way,’ he said through a smirk. He pressed the button and tased Darren until he rendered him a limp body on the apartment floor.
Showing posts with label Outta Time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Outta Time. Show all posts
Monday, May 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Outta Time 5
Please see Outta Time for the first part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 2 for the second part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 3 for the third part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 4 for the third part of the story.
Complete silence followed. Darren made no sound. He couldn’t exactly look into her eyes, but he couldn’t look away from her face. He settled on her eyebrows.
Ella waited for a reaction, any reaction. After five seconds she expected his face would break into the uncommon smile of which he was capable on special occasions. After fifteen seconds, she would have settled for his normal scowl. After thirty seconds, she just wanted a reaction.
‘Darren?’
Before he could stop himself, he heard the question, ‘Didn’t you just have your period?’ come from his lips.
‘What?’ She transformed from vulnerable to stony as his question registered in her brain.
Unfortunately for him, Darren decided to answer the question. ‘I just thought you couldn’t get pregnant after your period.’
Her eyes narrowed slightly; her face blossomed into a red Darren had never before witnessed. She opened her mouth. ‘I…’ was all she managed before she closed her mouth again. Darren realized that she was no longer looking at him but somewhere beyond him on the wall. After a long moment, she asked, ‘Is that all you have to say?’
Darren’s head turned slightly, like a confused dog’s. ‘I just don’t know if I’m ready for a kid.’ It was the straw.
‘Get out,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘I can’t see you right now.’
‘But Ella, can’t we talk about this? I’m just confused. I don’t know what to think.’
‘Darren, you’re a selfish bastard. And I want you out of here now.’
‘I love you, Ella,’ he pleaded.
A laugh, bordering on a guffaw, escaped her lips. The sound surprised Darren; it surprised Ella more. She glanced around as if trying to find the thing that made her laugh. Then, she looked back at Darren and approached him with a wild look in her eyes. He backed up a step, uncertain what to do next. In the next moment, she nearly grabbed him, obviously trying to slap, scratch, or strangle him. Instead, she tripped over a wire and feel to her knees. ‘You don’t love anyone. I wish I’d never met you.’ She burst into tears.
The phone began to ring.
She popped to her feet and rushed to the bathroom. The door slammed but didn’t close. She slammed it again.
His eyes popped open, and he tried to focus on the digital clock. He squinted and made out 2:17. When he moved his right arm to stretch, he noticed for the first time something in his hand. A gun. He had no idea what kind. His eyes went wide. He turned back to the television and saw a movie playing. Being a Trekker, he knew it was Star Trek 3. A Klingon held out a communicator to a display counting down seconds. The screen flashed to a Klingon Christopher Lloyd who stands and yells, ‘Get out, Darren! Get out of there!’ The scene replays. After the second replay, Darren heard a distant siren. His adrenaline kicked in once again.
He stood with the gun in his hand, picked up the middle couch cushion, set the gun down, and replaced the couch cushion. He ejected the DVD, put it in the envelope, and secured it in his jacket. Then, he grabbed the fungo and stepped into the hallway. Although he heard the siren growing louder, he knew he couldn’t leave until he looked into Ella’s room. He didn’t understand why.
He turned, and grabbed the doorknob. He quietly twisted it and peered inside. There was no one there.
Please see Outta Time 2 for the second part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 3 for the third part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 4 for the third part of the story.
Complete silence followed. Darren made no sound. He couldn’t exactly look into her eyes, but he couldn’t look away from her face. He settled on her eyebrows.
Ella waited for a reaction, any reaction. After five seconds she expected his face would break into the uncommon smile of which he was capable on special occasions. After fifteen seconds, she would have settled for his normal scowl. After thirty seconds, she just wanted a reaction.
‘Darren?’
Before he could stop himself, he heard the question, ‘Didn’t you just have your period?’ come from his lips.
‘What?’ She transformed from vulnerable to stony as his question registered in her brain.
Unfortunately for him, Darren decided to answer the question. ‘I just thought you couldn’t get pregnant after your period.’
Her eyes narrowed slightly; her face blossomed into a red Darren had never before witnessed. She opened her mouth. ‘I…’ was all she managed before she closed her mouth again. Darren realized that she was no longer looking at him but somewhere beyond him on the wall. After a long moment, she asked, ‘Is that all you have to say?’
Darren’s head turned slightly, like a confused dog’s. ‘I just don’t know if I’m ready for a kid.’ It was the straw.
‘Get out,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘I can’t see you right now.’
‘But Ella, can’t we talk about this? I’m just confused. I don’t know what to think.’
‘Darren, you’re a selfish bastard. And I want you out of here now.’
‘I love you, Ella,’ he pleaded.
A laugh, bordering on a guffaw, escaped her lips. The sound surprised Darren; it surprised Ella more. She glanced around as if trying to find the thing that made her laugh. Then, she looked back at Darren and approached him with a wild look in her eyes. He backed up a step, uncertain what to do next. In the next moment, she nearly grabbed him, obviously trying to slap, scratch, or strangle him. Instead, she tripped over a wire and feel to her knees. ‘You don’t love anyone. I wish I’d never met you.’ She burst into tears.
The phone began to ring.
She popped to her feet and rushed to the bathroom. The door slammed but didn’t close. She slammed it again.
His eyes popped open, and he tried to focus on the digital clock. He squinted and made out 2:17. When he moved his right arm to stretch, he noticed for the first time something in his hand. A gun. He had no idea what kind. His eyes went wide. He turned back to the television and saw a movie playing. Being a Trekker, he knew it was Star Trek 3. A Klingon held out a communicator to a display counting down seconds. The screen flashed to a Klingon Christopher Lloyd who stands and yells, ‘Get out, Darren! Get out of there!’ The scene replays. After the second replay, Darren heard a distant siren. His adrenaline kicked in once again.
He stood with the gun in his hand, picked up the middle couch cushion, set the gun down, and replaced the couch cushion. He ejected the DVD, put it in the envelope, and secured it in his jacket. Then, he grabbed the fungo and stepped into the hallway. Although he heard the siren growing louder, he knew he couldn’t leave until he looked into Ella’s room. He didn’t understand why.
He turned, and grabbed the doorknob. He quietly twisted it and peered inside. There was no one there.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Outta Time 4
Please see Outta Time for the first part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 2 for the second part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 3 for the third part of the story.
His finger pressed the red power button on the remote control. The screen flickered to black. From the bedroom came some rustling followed by silence. Even Bruce’s snoring had subsided. He was alone with his thoughts.
His first instinct was to grab the bat and run into Ella’s bedroom swinging; only those last few words that floated across the television screen deterred him. Paralysis ensued. He felt both helpless and angry. The rush of adrenaline instantaneously warmed his body, turning his face a bright red.
‘Who the hell is this guy?’ he thought to himself. ‘Why the hell should I listen to him?’ But the answer was all too apparent. Because the guy on the DVD had been right about the apartment. And not only right about the apartment, but had saved Darren’s life. Though Darren wanted desperately to disregard the message, he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.
He relaxed a bit, trying to stop his mind from racing, but he soon discovered relaxation was an equally bad idea. If he had ever boxed, he could have equated the feeling to a punch directly in the solar plexus. Vomit – or more likely bile – edged into his throat. He tried to counter with short, deliberate breaths. It didn’t work. He made it to the kitchen sink and spewed yellow liquid into the tub. His stomach felt as though it was turning inside out. Dry heaves followed. He put his right cheek down onto the cold tile; spittle inched from his half-open mouth.
Expending considerable effort, he lifted his head from the counter and tried to focus on the pink Hello Kitty clock with its tail wagging to and fro. The consistency of the movement calmed him. He grabbed a glass from the dish rack and put it right side up next to the sink. He then opened the refrigerator and pulled the milk carton – skim milk, unfortunately – from the top shelf. It didn’t pour as creamily as he would have liked. For whatever reason, water and soda had never helped him feel better; it was always a cold glass of whole milk, even though his mother constantly told him it would only make things worse. He took three large gulps, hoping to rid himself of the lingering bile. It felt good going down until he allowed his taste buds to process the liquid. The soured nectar didn’t taste much different than the bile; his stomach contracted, and he leaned into the sink again to allow his body to rid himself of the offending substance.
Darren decided not to try his luck with anything else in the refrigerator. Instead, he limped back into the living room and fell onto the couch. The cable box clock’s red digits displayed 11:11; he made a wish. His eyes closed. The words from the DVD floated in front of his eyelids. He struggled to open them again. He felt himself losing consciousness. Ella’s voice repeated in his mind, ‘For whatever reason, I love you. I forgive you. I’d appreciate it if you’re out of here by 7 a.m.’
Ella cuddled, her right cheek nuzzling into his bare chest. Her left hand played with the tuft of chestnut brown hair around his right nipple. She looked up and saw his scraggly chin; she kissed him on the neck. Darren didn’t move. She wrapped her left arm around the right side of his body; her hand squeezed just above his love handle. He turned suddenly; his left side upended her, causing her to roll back and away from him.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Huh? What?’ He didn’t feign sleep altogether well. She knew as soon as he ceased breathing deeply that he was awake.
‘I know you’re awake Darren.’
He made a few more grunting noises and shook his head a few times. He wasn’t a good actor.
‘Good morning,’ she spoke hesitantly.
He rolled off the bed and onto the floor; his feet landed flat on the wooden floor.
‘Where are you going?’ she wondered aloud.
‘Bathroom,’ he muttered.
She felt herself begin to cry. ‘Just calm down,’ she said to herself. ‘It will be okay.’ A few tears streamed down her face before she could get the cream-colored sheet to her eyes.
He re-entered and fell into the bed. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Hi,’ he grunted. There were no tears to notice on Ella’s cheeks.
‘Hi Darren,’ she answered. ‘How are you?’
‘Sleepy,’ he responded. His eyelids flapped from closed to open and closed again.
She kissed him on the lips. Softly. Just enough to open his eyes again.
‘Hi,’ she said, allowing the sound to linger in the room.
He wasn’t accustomed to such affection, at least not recently. He stared into her blue eyes and became immediately frightened by what he saw. ‘What’s up?’
‘Did you sleep well?’ She kissed him again on the lips.
‘Yeah,’ he answered. His voice cracked.
‘I have some news.’ She smiled again.
He already knew what she was going to say. He looked away and wished that he could postpone the moment indefinitely. He took a deep breath.
‘Please look at me,’ she half ordered and half pleaded.
He turned his head towards her and instantly regretted it.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
Please see Outta Time 2 for the second part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 3 for the third part of the story.
His finger pressed the red power button on the remote control. The screen flickered to black. From the bedroom came some rustling followed by silence. Even Bruce’s snoring had subsided. He was alone with his thoughts.
His first instinct was to grab the bat and run into Ella’s bedroom swinging; only those last few words that floated across the television screen deterred him. Paralysis ensued. He felt both helpless and angry. The rush of adrenaline instantaneously warmed his body, turning his face a bright red.
‘Who the hell is this guy?’ he thought to himself. ‘Why the hell should I listen to him?’ But the answer was all too apparent. Because the guy on the DVD had been right about the apartment. And not only right about the apartment, but had saved Darren’s life. Though Darren wanted desperately to disregard the message, he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.
He relaxed a bit, trying to stop his mind from racing, but he soon discovered relaxation was an equally bad idea. If he had ever boxed, he could have equated the feeling to a punch directly in the solar plexus. Vomit – or more likely bile – edged into his throat. He tried to counter with short, deliberate breaths. It didn’t work. He made it to the kitchen sink and spewed yellow liquid into the tub. His stomach felt as though it was turning inside out. Dry heaves followed. He put his right cheek down onto the cold tile; spittle inched from his half-open mouth.
Expending considerable effort, he lifted his head from the counter and tried to focus on the pink Hello Kitty clock with its tail wagging to and fro. The consistency of the movement calmed him. He grabbed a glass from the dish rack and put it right side up next to the sink. He then opened the refrigerator and pulled the milk carton – skim milk, unfortunately – from the top shelf. It didn’t pour as creamily as he would have liked. For whatever reason, water and soda had never helped him feel better; it was always a cold glass of whole milk, even though his mother constantly told him it would only make things worse. He took three large gulps, hoping to rid himself of the lingering bile. It felt good going down until he allowed his taste buds to process the liquid. The soured nectar didn’t taste much different than the bile; his stomach contracted, and he leaned into the sink again to allow his body to rid himself of the offending substance.
Darren decided not to try his luck with anything else in the refrigerator. Instead, he limped back into the living room and fell onto the couch. The cable box clock’s red digits displayed 11:11; he made a wish. His eyes closed. The words from the DVD floated in front of his eyelids. He struggled to open them again. He felt himself losing consciousness. Ella’s voice repeated in his mind, ‘For whatever reason, I love you. I forgive you. I’d appreciate it if you’re out of here by 7 a.m.’
Ella cuddled, her right cheek nuzzling into his bare chest. Her left hand played with the tuft of chestnut brown hair around his right nipple. She looked up and saw his scraggly chin; she kissed him on the neck. Darren didn’t move. She wrapped her left arm around the right side of his body; her hand squeezed just above his love handle. He turned suddenly; his left side upended her, causing her to roll back and away from him.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Huh? What?’ He didn’t feign sleep altogether well. She knew as soon as he ceased breathing deeply that he was awake.
‘I know you’re awake Darren.’
He made a few more grunting noises and shook his head a few times. He wasn’t a good actor.
‘Good morning,’ she spoke hesitantly.
He rolled off the bed and onto the floor; his feet landed flat on the wooden floor.
‘Where are you going?’ she wondered aloud.
‘Bathroom,’ he muttered.
She felt herself begin to cry. ‘Just calm down,’ she said to herself. ‘It will be okay.’ A few tears streamed down her face before she could get the cream-colored sheet to her eyes.
He re-entered and fell into the bed. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Hi,’ he grunted. There were no tears to notice on Ella’s cheeks.
‘Hi Darren,’ she answered. ‘How are you?’
‘Sleepy,’ he responded. His eyelids flapped from closed to open and closed again.
She kissed him on the lips. Softly. Just enough to open his eyes again.
‘Hi,’ she said, allowing the sound to linger in the room.
He wasn’t accustomed to such affection, at least not recently. He stared into her blue eyes and became immediately frightened by what he saw. ‘What’s up?’
‘Did you sleep well?’ She kissed him again on the lips.
‘Yeah,’ he answered. His voice cracked.
‘I have some news.’ She smiled again.
He already knew what she was going to say. He looked away and wished that he could postpone the moment indefinitely. He took a deep breath.
‘Please look at me,’ she half ordered and half pleaded.
He turned his head towards her and instantly regretted it.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
3WW (Gesture, Immediate, Treasure): Outta Time 3
Please see Outta Time for the first part of the story.
Please see Outta Time 2 for the seconf part of the story.
Ella opened the door wider allowing Darren to step into the hallway. He scuffed his shoes on the mat and started to walk inside but heard Ella clear her throat.
‘Really, Darren? Really?’ She gestured towards his feet.
‘Oh, sorry.’ He put down the fungo and quickly removed his sneakers.
‘So, what’s with the bat?’ she asked.
‘I got freaked out and grabbed it just in case they were still in the apartment. I haven’t let go of it since I got home.’ He was making it up as he went along.
‘Alright, well you don’t need it here.’
‘You sure?’ He pointed his thumb toward the bedroom where he imagined Bruce was either teeming with anger or passed out.
‘He takes care of me,’ she shot back. ‘As long as I’m here, you won’t have any problems.’
‘I hope you don’t plan to leave.’
‘Funny that you’d say that,’ she answered sarcastically.
The relationship hadn’t ended well. On the day he returned from London six months prior, she had been expecting a gift, if not the ring itself. What she received was the shock of her life. After five years of what she thought to be a perfect relationship, Darren explained that he needed something else, something more. He couldn’t explain what that something was. Instead, he awkwardly said goodbye and moved into a cheap hostel where he lived for a month while searching for a new apartment. During that time, he ignored all of her calls whether to his cell or to work. In fact, he ignored all incoming calls in his attempts to find himself. What he discovered instead was his dislike for the hippies that stayed in hostels, his need for Advil after drinking mostly cheap vodka every night, and the gonorrhea infection that made him piss with pain every 15 minutes.
Darren sat in what used to be his old spot on the sectional. He reached for the handle to activate the recliner but thought better of it. Ella sat on a stool; she didn’t offer him anything to eat or drink.
They sat in awkward silence for a moment, listening to Bruce snoring in the other room. Darren thought about making a sarcastic comment but remembered his situation.
Ella broke the silence. ‘So, what are you really doing here?’
‘I’m just a little freaked out. They got away with a bunch of stuff.’
‘Like?’
Nothing immediately came to mind. He hesitated.
‘Don’t bullshit me, Darren. I’ve been to your place. They only thing I’d want to take is the bat you brought here. Who the hell would try to rob you?’
‘Damn, Ella, why don’t you believe me? I’m totally freaked out right now.’
‘So, what did they steal? Clothes? Books? Your cupboard full of nothing?’
He stared at her, attempting to glower but it didn’t come off.
‘Why the hell do I care? You weren’t honest with me during our relationship, so why should I expect anything different now?’ She stood up from the stool and walked to the linen closet. She pulled a fleece blanket and threw it at Darren. ‘Here. You know how to work the TV. I’m going in the bedroom. I’d rather not deal with you right now.’ She walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
Darren remained on the couch, absent-mindedly petting the fleece with his right hand. He thought about putting the DVD into the player but decided it was too early; he didn’t want to run the risk of Ella hearing it. The happenings of the past few hours ran through his head. A flayed rat under his bed. The super in the hospital. The Netflix DVD in his mailbox. The pounding at his door. The black kid with the gun. They had to be connected but he couldn’t discern what that connection might be. The DVD was his only hope.
He decided he couldn’t wait and pulled the envelope from his jacket. He extracted the DVD and put it into the player. Then he adjusted the volume so that he could barely hear the television. His index finger found the play button on the player.
The television came to life, and the clock chimes rang for an instant before everything went dark. After about 30 seconds, the screen changed to that which used to be displayed for the emergency broadcast system. Across the bottom, text scrolled.
‘This is not a test. Please mute the television. The apartment is bugged. You must not make any noise. They want to know what your next move will be.’ The scrolling ceased and the emergency broadcast screen faded into black once again.
Darren sat very still and stared at the television intently waiting for the scrolling to begin anew. The minute he waited seemed an eternity.
‘Press stop on the remote control now,’ scrolled across. He obeyed. In the next moment, Ella emerged from the bedroom and went into the bathroom. After a short time, she came out and reentered the living room wearing her flannel pajamas.
She sat on the stool. ‘Darren, I never thought I’d get a chance to confront you. Now that I have the chance, I don’t really want it. I think what you did was selfish and hurtful and just mean. I don’t give a damn about what you needed. You didn’t talk to me. But that’s water under the bridge. What I really want to say is, I forgive you. I think you’re afraid of commitment and generally full of shit, but for whatever reason I love you. Still, I don’t ever want to see you again. It’s too difficult. So, I’d appreciate it if you’re out of here before 7 a.m. I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t call, write, text, or whatever. Maybe someday we can talk again, but for now, I just can’t. Good night, Darren. I wish you the best.’
With that she got up from the stool, walked to Darren, kissed him once on the left cheek, and proceeded – without looking back – into the bedroom. The door closed ever so gently.
Darren chuckled to himself; it was more a nervous habit than actual humor. He pressed play.
The black screen transformed into some tropical location. The scrolling began again. ‘She needed to get that off her chest. You don’t understand why yet because you’re a selfish asshole, but you’ll learn. Unfortunately, you’ll never see her again.’ The scrolling ceased. A couple walked in front of the screen arm in arm. He was watching stock footage used for tropical getaway commercials. ‘Luckily, they were a bit careless this time around. They installed only one camera in the living room that is filming you at this very moment. But they didn’t put a camera on the television. They won’t make that mistake again. But one mistake is enough to get them off your trail for a short while at least.’ The screen flashed ‘Come to Cancun, the Treasure of Mexico’ with a group of dark people smiling and dressed in white flowing shirts and shorts.
The screen went black again. ‘Here are your instructions. When you hear the phone ring in the apartment, you will again extract this DVD and put it in the envelope in your pocket. You will take the fungo and proceed down the stairs to the 11th floor. You will proceed to apartment ‘H’. Under the welcome mat you will find a key. Unlock the door, enter, and lock the door. Sit on the couch. You will receive further instructions. I must warn you that you will hear two loud bangs immediately following the ringing phone. Those will be gunshots. Bruce will shoot Ella and then himself. He isn’t as drunk as he seems. If you harm Bruce prior to the incident, you and Ella will be captured and tortured. They will kill her, and they will use you as bait. Any deviation from the plan will most likely result in you being captured. Remember that you made your choice. Turn off the DVD now. Good night, Darren.’
The last word scrolled to the left leaving the black screen yet again. Darren pressed stop. An old episode of Friends appeared. He leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling wondering what he was going to do next.
Please see Outta Time 2 for the seconf part of the story.
Ella opened the door wider allowing Darren to step into the hallway. He scuffed his shoes on the mat and started to walk inside but heard Ella clear her throat.
‘Really, Darren? Really?’ She gestured towards his feet.
‘Oh, sorry.’ He put down the fungo and quickly removed his sneakers.
‘So, what’s with the bat?’ she asked.
‘I got freaked out and grabbed it just in case they were still in the apartment. I haven’t let go of it since I got home.’ He was making it up as he went along.
‘Alright, well you don’t need it here.’
‘You sure?’ He pointed his thumb toward the bedroom where he imagined Bruce was either teeming with anger or passed out.
‘He takes care of me,’ she shot back. ‘As long as I’m here, you won’t have any problems.’
‘I hope you don’t plan to leave.’
‘Funny that you’d say that,’ she answered sarcastically.
The relationship hadn’t ended well. On the day he returned from London six months prior, she had been expecting a gift, if not the ring itself. What she received was the shock of her life. After five years of what she thought to be a perfect relationship, Darren explained that he needed something else, something more. He couldn’t explain what that something was. Instead, he awkwardly said goodbye and moved into a cheap hostel where he lived for a month while searching for a new apartment. During that time, he ignored all of her calls whether to his cell or to work. In fact, he ignored all incoming calls in his attempts to find himself. What he discovered instead was his dislike for the hippies that stayed in hostels, his need for Advil after drinking mostly cheap vodka every night, and the gonorrhea infection that made him piss with pain every 15 minutes.
Darren sat in what used to be his old spot on the sectional. He reached for the handle to activate the recliner but thought better of it. Ella sat on a stool; she didn’t offer him anything to eat or drink.
They sat in awkward silence for a moment, listening to Bruce snoring in the other room. Darren thought about making a sarcastic comment but remembered his situation.
Ella broke the silence. ‘So, what are you really doing here?’
‘I’m just a little freaked out. They got away with a bunch of stuff.’
‘Like?’
Nothing immediately came to mind. He hesitated.
‘Don’t bullshit me, Darren. I’ve been to your place. They only thing I’d want to take is the bat you brought here. Who the hell would try to rob you?’
‘Damn, Ella, why don’t you believe me? I’m totally freaked out right now.’
‘So, what did they steal? Clothes? Books? Your cupboard full of nothing?’
He stared at her, attempting to glower but it didn’t come off.
‘Why the hell do I care? You weren’t honest with me during our relationship, so why should I expect anything different now?’ She stood up from the stool and walked to the linen closet. She pulled a fleece blanket and threw it at Darren. ‘Here. You know how to work the TV. I’m going in the bedroom. I’d rather not deal with you right now.’ She walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
Darren remained on the couch, absent-mindedly petting the fleece with his right hand. He thought about putting the DVD into the player but decided it was too early; he didn’t want to run the risk of Ella hearing it. The happenings of the past few hours ran through his head. A flayed rat under his bed. The super in the hospital. The Netflix DVD in his mailbox. The pounding at his door. The black kid with the gun. They had to be connected but he couldn’t discern what that connection might be. The DVD was his only hope.
He decided he couldn’t wait and pulled the envelope from his jacket. He extracted the DVD and put it into the player. Then he adjusted the volume so that he could barely hear the television. His index finger found the play button on the player.
The television came to life, and the clock chimes rang for an instant before everything went dark. After about 30 seconds, the screen changed to that which used to be displayed for the emergency broadcast system. Across the bottom, text scrolled.
‘This is not a test. Please mute the television. The apartment is bugged. You must not make any noise. They want to know what your next move will be.’ The scrolling ceased and the emergency broadcast screen faded into black once again.
Darren sat very still and stared at the television intently waiting for the scrolling to begin anew. The minute he waited seemed an eternity.
‘Press stop on the remote control now,’ scrolled across. He obeyed. In the next moment, Ella emerged from the bedroom and went into the bathroom. After a short time, she came out and reentered the living room wearing her flannel pajamas.
She sat on the stool. ‘Darren, I never thought I’d get a chance to confront you. Now that I have the chance, I don’t really want it. I think what you did was selfish and hurtful and just mean. I don’t give a damn about what you needed. You didn’t talk to me. But that’s water under the bridge. What I really want to say is, I forgive you. I think you’re afraid of commitment and generally full of shit, but for whatever reason I love you. Still, I don’t ever want to see you again. It’s too difficult. So, I’d appreciate it if you’re out of here before 7 a.m. I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t call, write, text, or whatever. Maybe someday we can talk again, but for now, I just can’t. Good night, Darren. I wish you the best.’
With that she got up from the stool, walked to Darren, kissed him once on the left cheek, and proceeded – without looking back – into the bedroom. The door closed ever so gently.
Darren chuckled to himself; it was more a nervous habit than actual humor. He pressed play.
The black screen transformed into some tropical location. The scrolling began again. ‘She needed to get that off her chest. You don’t understand why yet because you’re a selfish asshole, but you’ll learn. Unfortunately, you’ll never see her again.’ The scrolling ceased. A couple walked in front of the screen arm in arm. He was watching stock footage used for tropical getaway commercials. ‘Luckily, they were a bit careless this time around. They installed only one camera in the living room that is filming you at this very moment. But they didn’t put a camera on the television. They won’t make that mistake again. But one mistake is enough to get them off your trail for a short while at least.’ The screen flashed ‘Come to Cancun, the Treasure of Mexico’ with a group of dark people smiling and dressed in white flowing shirts and shorts.
The screen went black again. ‘Here are your instructions. When you hear the phone ring in the apartment, you will again extract this DVD and put it in the envelope in your pocket. You will take the fungo and proceed down the stairs to the 11th floor. You will proceed to apartment ‘H’. Under the welcome mat you will find a key. Unlock the door, enter, and lock the door. Sit on the couch. You will receive further instructions. I must warn you that you will hear two loud bangs immediately following the ringing phone. Those will be gunshots. Bruce will shoot Ella and then himself. He isn’t as drunk as he seems. If you harm Bruce prior to the incident, you and Ella will be captured and tortured. They will kill her, and they will use you as bait. Any deviation from the plan will most likely result in you being captured. Remember that you made your choice. Turn off the DVD now. Good night, Darren.’
The last word scrolled to the left leaving the black screen yet again. Darren pressed stop. An old episode of Friends appeared. He leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling wondering what he was going to do next.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday Scribblings (Intense): Outta Time 2
Please see Outta Time for the first part of the story.
He hadn’t run so far, so fast in such a short time since he had been on the cross country team in high school. His lungs ached from the crisp, autumn air. A couple blocks away from Ella’s apartment, he slowed to a fast walk; his right hand held the fungo so tight his knuckles turned from white to pale blue. He couldn’t help but glance behind him at times to see if he’d been followed, not that he had any idea who he’d be looking for. He figured a van with no windows or guys in black suits, which just proved that he had seen too many formulaic movies.
Ella’s apartment was a newer high rise with multiple amenities including laundry on every third floor, a gym on the twelfth floor, and an elevator. She lived on the 19th floor, apartment ‘L’. He searched the list outside the locked front door and found E. Montgomery written in the familiarly flowing script. He took a deep breath and pressed the button, unsure how he’d get back up to her apartment for the first time in over a year.
‘Hello?’ came the edgy voice.
He wondered what to say, how to answer. He had been so involved with escaping that he hadn’t considered how to approach her.
‘Hi, Ella,’ he responded.
There was no mistaking his voice.
‘Darren? Is that you?’
‘Yeah,’ he answered almost apologetically, ‘can I come up? It’s kind of an emergency.’
There was no answer, but he knew she was still on the line. He waited.
‘Darren, no. I can’t. It’s too soon. It hurts too much.’
He tried to think quickly; he hoped the adrenaline could have some benefit. ‘Ella, I know what I did. And I’m sorry. I’m being totally honest when I say that this is an emergency, and I need your help.’
She paused again. ‘What’s the emergency?’
‘Ella, please let me in and I can explain everything I know, which isn’t much. Please, please, please let me in.’
Another pause. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just too soon.’ Then came the click.
‘Son of a bitch,’ he yelled at the intercom just as a middle-aged woman entered. She eyed Darren suspiciously and moved to the door with her key. He motioned as if he were going to follow, but the woman made certain to close the door behind her. Not good. He waited for someone – anyone – to enter or exit. And he thought that during the middle of the day in a major city, he wouldn’t have to wait long.
After 30 minutes, he walked outside with fungo in tow. He had made the decision to try his friend Keith. He started walking down the fairly quiet block, when he saw a black teenager coming toward him. Darren tried to avoid him but noticed the kid was staring at him intently. Darren made eye contact. There was no going back.
‘What do you want?’ Darren asked as they halted a few feet from each other.
‘We gotta talk. You comin wit me.’
‘Look, kid, I don’t want any trouble.’ He showed the bat menacingly.
The kid pulled a small pistol. ‘I said we gotta talk, sir. I been told I can shoot you so you don’t die, which I’ll do. So, c’mon.’
The black kid walked Darren back into the same apartment building and pushed a button. No answer. He pushed another. And another. And another. After pressing six different buttons – none of them Ella’s – he had reached one old man who said, ‘Go the hell away.’ Undeterred by the rejection, the young kid kept pressing buttons. Finally, after about fifteen tries, there came a buzz. He grabbed the door with his left hand and pointed the gun at Darren with his right.
‘Get in the building.’
Darren did as he was told. The black kid let the door close behind him. He bowed, replaced the gun in what Darren saw was a holster, and took off running.
Darren wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had no idea what to think. What he did know was that he was in the building and needed to see Ella. The elevator took him to the 19th floor, and he knocked on apartment ‘L’. When he heard no response, he rang the doorbell.
‘Who the hell is it?’ came a male voice from behind the door.
Darren didn’t answer. He stepped away from the peephole.
The door opened. A man with a linebacker build and dark complexion stood in the doorway. He wore pajama pants, slippers, and no top.
‘Hi, I’m looking for Ella,’ Darren said politely.
‘She’s not here,’ he answered not at all helpfully.
‘I think she is,’ Darren replied. ‘I just called up and spoke to her.’
‘Oh, so you’re the asshole that dumped her,’ his voice increased a few decibels. By the look of his red cheeks, it looked as though he was drinking.
Darren backed away instinctively.
‘And what were you thinking of doing with that bat, huh? Looks like you’re looking for some trouble.’
‘Uh, no, I’m just… I need… can I talk to Ella?’
‘Sorry, dude. Time for you to go.’ The linebacker stepped toward Darren and threw a sloppy punch.
Darren stepped aside and swung the bat wildly; it connected with the linebacker’s backside. The linebacker howled. And Ella came out of the apartment to see her ex and current boyfriends awkwardly confronting each other.
‘Stop,’ she yelled. ‘Get in here.’
The two stopped and looked to the diminutive figure. They obeyed immediately and entered the front hallway. Ella banished the linebacker, whose name was Bruce, to the bedroom; she kept Darren in the front hall.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked exasperatedly.
‘I just need to stay the night. My apartment was…’ He hadn’t considered what to say; he didn’t think the truth a good idea until he knew more. ‘My apartment was robbed. And I needed a place to go. Yours came to mind first. I just need to stay the night.’
She hesitated, wanting to ask about his other friends. But she still had hope, however small, that it could still work between them.
‘Please?’ he begged.
‘Okay, just for the night.’
He hadn’t run so far, so fast in such a short time since he had been on the cross country team in high school. His lungs ached from the crisp, autumn air. A couple blocks away from Ella’s apartment, he slowed to a fast walk; his right hand held the fungo so tight his knuckles turned from white to pale blue. He couldn’t help but glance behind him at times to see if he’d been followed, not that he had any idea who he’d be looking for. He figured a van with no windows or guys in black suits, which just proved that he had seen too many formulaic movies.
Ella’s apartment was a newer high rise with multiple amenities including laundry on every third floor, a gym on the twelfth floor, and an elevator. She lived on the 19th floor, apartment ‘L’. He searched the list outside the locked front door and found E. Montgomery written in the familiarly flowing script. He took a deep breath and pressed the button, unsure how he’d get back up to her apartment for the first time in over a year.
‘Hello?’ came the edgy voice.
He wondered what to say, how to answer. He had been so involved with escaping that he hadn’t considered how to approach her.
‘Hi, Ella,’ he responded.
There was no mistaking his voice.
‘Darren? Is that you?’
‘Yeah,’ he answered almost apologetically, ‘can I come up? It’s kind of an emergency.’
There was no answer, but he knew she was still on the line. He waited.
‘Darren, no. I can’t. It’s too soon. It hurts too much.’
He tried to think quickly; he hoped the adrenaline could have some benefit. ‘Ella, I know what I did. And I’m sorry. I’m being totally honest when I say that this is an emergency, and I need your help.’
She paused again. ‘What’s the emergency?’
‘Ella, please let me in and I can explain everything I know, which isn’t much. Please, please, please let me in.’
Another pause. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just too soon.’ Then came the click.
‘Son of a bitch,’ he yelled at the intercom just as a middle-aged woman entered. She eyed Darren suspiciously and moved to the door with her key. He motioned as if he were going to follow, but the woman made certain to close the door behind her. Not good. He waited for someone – anyone – to enter or exit. And he thought that during the middle of the day in a major city, he wouldn’t have to wait long.
After 30 minutes, he walked outside with fungo in tow. He had made the decision to try his friend Keith. He started walking down the fairly quiet block, when he saw a black teenager coming toward him. Darren tried to avoid him but noticed the kid was staring at him intently. Darren made eye contact. There was no going back.
‘What do you want?’ Darren asked as they halted a few feet from each other.
‘We gotta talk. You comin wit me.’
‘Look, kid, I don’t want any trouble.’ He showed the bat menacingly.
The kid pulled a small pistol. ‘I said we gotta talk, sir. I been told I can shoot you so you don’t die, which I’ll do. So, c’mon.’
The black kid walked Darren back into the same apartment building and pushed a button. No answer. He pushed another. And another. And another. After pressing six different buttons – none of them Ella’s – he had reached one old man who said, ‘Go the hell away.’ Undeterred by the rejection, the young kid kept pressing buttons. Finally, after about fifteen tries, there came a buzz. He grabbed the door with his left hand and pointed the gun at Darren with his right.
‘Get in the building.’
Darren did as he was told. The black kid let the door close behind him. He bowed, replaced the gun in what Darren saw was a holster, and took off running.
Darren wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had no idea what to think. What he did know was that he was in the building and needed to see Ella. The elevator took him to the 19th floor, and he knocked on apartment ‘L’. When he heard no response, he rang the doorbell.
‘Who the hell is it?’ came a male voice from behind the door.
Darren didn’t answer. He stepped away from the peephole.
The door opened. A man with a linebacker build and dark complexion stood in the doorway. He wore pajama pants, slippers, and no top.
‘Hi, I’m looking for Ella,’ Darren said politely.
‘She’s not here,’ he answered not at all helpfully.
‘I think she is,’ Darren replied. ‘I just called up and spoke to her.’
‘Oh, so you’re the asshole that dumped her,’ his voice increased a few decibels. By the look of his red cheeks, it looked as though he was drinking.
Darren backed away instinctively.
‘And what were you thinking of doing with that bat, huh? Looks like you’re looking for some trouble.’
‘Uh, no, I’m just… I need… can I talk to Ella?’
‘Sorry, dude. Time for you to go.’ The linebacker stepped toward Darren and threw a sloppy punch.
Darren stepped aside and swung the bat wildly; it connected with the linebacker’s backside. The linebacker howled. And Ella came out of the apartment to see her ex and current boyfriends awkwardly confronting each other.
‘Stop,’ she yelled. ‘Get in here.’
The two stopped and looked to the diminutive figure. They obeyed immediately and entered the front hallway. Ella banished the linebacker, whose name was Bruce, to the bedroom; she kept Darren in the front hall.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked exasperatedly.
‘I just need to stay the night. My apartment was…’ He hadn’t considered what to say; he didn’t think the truth a good idea until he knew more. ‘My apartment was robbed. And I needed a place to go. Yours came to mind first. I just need to stay the night.’
She hesitated, wanting to ask about his other friends. But she still had hope, however small, that it could still work between them.
‘Please?’ he begged.
‘Okay, just for the night.’
Thursday, October 28, 2010
3WW (Fragile, Rampant, Tremor): Outta Time
Darren walked into his apartment building and checked the mail, which consisted of supermarket flyers, a credit card bill he didn’t want to think about, and a Netflix movie. After such a long day, the fact that he wasn’t a Netflix subscriber didn’t immediately strike a chord. In fact, it wasn’t until he reached the second floor the six story walk-up that the fact dawned on him. That’s when he paused and glanced at the front of the envelope. It was the right address, his address, but there was no name; in place of the name were the words ‘Free Time’ in big black block letters, which he didn't understand.
He trudged up the remaining five flights and extracted the keys from his pocket. They jangled for a moment before he found the right one. It slipped into the lock and turned the deadbolt. The apartment smelled of something rotten. He dropped his bag and threw the mail on the table in the front hall. It took some time, but he found the decomposing rat beneath his bed.
With his broom Darren inched the rat to where he could reach it with the dust pan. With slow, deliberate movements he inched the rat onto the metal. He made the mistake of bringing the rat closer to his face to look at it; what he saw were the headless scalped and flayed remains of what might have been a rat, mouse, gerbil, or guinea pig. An involuntary tremor struck his body, and he almost dropped the dust pan. After that moment of pure emotional panic, he regained composure and tried to think about the situation logically. First, he knew that the ‘thing’ hadn’t been under his bed when he had left that morning; there was no chance he wouldn’t have smelled it then, especially in its present state. Second, he knew for a fact that only he and the super had access to the keys since he had personally seen the super install a new lock.
The second step was all he needed to take his first in the investigation. He dumped the ‘thing’ into a plastic Safeway bag, which he put into a second plastic Safeway bag. He tied the handles and plummeted down the stairs and out the back door to the dumpster where he rid himself of the putrid carcass. He then bounded up the stairs to the third floor and knocked on apartment C2, the super’s home. A young woman of no more than 20 opened the door. Her eyes and cheeks were similarly red. In broken English, she explained that her father had fallen from a ladder and was in a coma in the hospital. Darren apologized and slowly climbed the stairs back to his apartment.
The rampant carcass stench hit him as he entered; he felt the vomit reach the back of his throat before he swallowed hard. He proceeded to open every window in the apartment; he preferred the damp, cold air to the smell of death.
Darren sat on the microfiber couch and contemplated his next steps. Off the bat, he had two options, i.e. he could stay or leave. Staying was the optimal choice as leaving meant that he had to explain the situation to either a friend or a family member, which he wasn’t quite ready to do. There were too many skeletons in his past that could haunt him.
Once he made the decision to stay, he blocked the front door with two boxes of books and pulled the silver fungo from his bat bag. After a short time, he closed and locked the windows. The apartment had been secured. He sat again. It was then that Darren noticed the red envelope peeking out from the beneath the flyers. He ripped the perforated edge and slid the disc out of the envelope. On the disk was the word ‘fragile’ obviously written by hand. There was no indication of what the disc contained.
He put the disc in his DVD player and pressed play. He saw the ‘Universal’ introduction followed by the opening credits for Back to the Future. And the ticking. Except the ticking was accompanied by a dubbed voice. ‘If you don’t listen to me,’ the voice explained, ‘then we’ll both be outta time. I need you to take the disc out of the DVD player and put it back into the Netflix sleeve. You will then put it into your jacket pocket. You will take the silver fungo, open the window to the fire escape, climb down the fire escape, and head to your friend Ella’s house. After she has gone to sleep, you will put this disc into her DVD player, and I will explain what you must do next.’ Darren stood paralyzed, uncertain what to do, believe, or think.
In the next moment, there came a chaotic cacophony from what seemed to be every direction. The television erupted with the sound of chimes, bells, and cuckoos. The voice screamed, ‘Go, now!’ And there came from the front door a bellowing thud.
Darren quickly took the disc from the player, slipped it into the sleeve, and put the sleeve in his jacket. He then grabbed the fungo, unlocked the window leading to the fire escape, and fled down the ladder. When he reached the bottom, he heard an explosion come from above and saw a small burst of flame come from the open window in his apartment.
He didn’t stop running until he reached Ella’s apartment.
He trudged up the remaining five flights and extracted the keys from his pocket. They jangled for a moment before he found the right one. It slipped into the lock and turned the deadbolt. The apartment smelled of something rotten. He dropped his bag and threw the mail on the table in the front hall. It took some time, but he found the decomposing rat beneath his bed.
With his broom Darren inched the rat to where he could reach it with the dust pan. With slow, deliberate movements he inched the rat onto the metal. He made the mistake of bringing the rat closer to his face to look at it; what he saw were the headless scalped and flayed remains of what might have been a rat, mouse, gerbil, or guinea pig. An involuntary tremor struck his body, and he almost dropped the dust pan. After that moment of pure emotional panic, he regained composure and tried to think about the situation logically. First, he knew that the ‘thing’ hadn’t been under his bed when he had left that morning; there was no chance he wouldn’t have smelled it then, especially in its present state. Second, he knew for a fact that only he and the super had access to the keys since he had personally seen the super install a new lock.
The second step was all he needed to take his first in the investigation. He dumped the ‘thing’ into a plastic Safeway bag, which he put into a second plastic Safeway bag. He tied the handles and plummeted down the stairs and out the back door to the dumpster where he rid himself of the putrid carcass. He then bounded up the stairs to the third floor and knocked on apartment C2, the super’s home. A young woman of no more than 20 opened the door. Her eyes and cheeks were similarly red. In broken English, she explained that her father had fallen from a ladder and was in a coma in the hospital. Darren apologized and slowly climbed the stairs back to his apartment.
The rampant carcass stench hit him as he entered; he felt the vomit reach the back of his throat before he swallowed hard. He proceeded to open every window in the apartment; he preferred the damp, cold air to the smell of death.
Darren sat on the microfiber couch and contemplated his next steps. Off the bat, he had two options, i.e. he could stay or leave. Staying was the optimal choice as leaving meant that he had to explain the situation to either a friend or a family member, which he wasn’t quite ready to do. There were too many skeletons in his past that could haunt him.
Once he made the decision to stay, he blocked the front door with two boxes of books and pulled the silver fungo from his bat bag. After a short time, he closed and locked the windows. The apartment had been secured. He sat again. It was then that Darren noticed the red envelope peeking out from the beneath the flyers. He ripped the perforated edge and slid the disc out of the envelope. On the disk was the word ‘fragile’ obviously written by hand. There was no indication of what the disc contained.
He put the disc in his DVD player and pressed play. He saw the ‘Universal’ introduction followed by the opening credits for Back to the Future. And the ticking. Except the ticking was accompanied by a dubbed voice. ‘If you don’t listen to me,’ the voice explained, ‘then we’ll both be outta time. I need you to take the disc out of the DVD player and put it back into the Netflix sleeve. You will then put it into your jacket pocket. You will take the silver fungo, open the window to the fire escape, climb down the fire escape, and head to your friend Ella’s house. After she has gone to sleep, you will put this disc into her DVD player, and I will explain what you must do next.’ Darren stood paralyzed, uncertain what to do, believe, or think.
In the next moment, there came a chaotic cacophony from what seemed to be every direction. The television erupted with the sound of chimes, bells, and cuckoos. The voice screamed, ‘Go, now!’ And there came from the front door a bellowing thud.
Darren quickly took the disc from the player, slipped it into the sleeve, and put the sleeve in his jacket. He then grabbed the fungo, unlocked the window leading to the fire escape, and fled down the ladder. When he reached the bottom, he heard an explosion come from above and saw a small burst of flame come from the open window in his apartment.
He didn’t stop running until he reached Ella’s apartment.
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