Alexander Mahone sat relaxing on his
couch watching football.
He heard the doorbell ring but ignoring
the little voices screaming "trick or treat"! he reached
into the bag of candy he held at his side. With a smirk he popped an
unwrapped piece into his mouth. He hated Halloween. It was only
trouble waiting to happen, or so he saw it. That was when the punks
came out, Halloween. He leaned back and watched the game letting his
mind wander from the bloodlust for justice that usually consumed him.
The Birdbath
glistened in the light of the full moon.
If you were to look
closely you would see the water rippling as the ground moved ever so
slightly beneath it.
Mahone, tired from a hard day of killing David Apolskis in cold blood, fell asleep before the game was over. He didn't stir at the sound of the birdbath tipping over, as the hand that busily clawed through the ground carelessly knocked it over in it's determination to reach the surface. Soon another hand appeared followed by arms as the body of Oscar Shales made its way out of the cold hard grave that Alexander Mahone had sentenced it to. Shales shambled to his feet, his stiff joints cracking in the still night. He cocked his head slightly as his dead ears picked up the sound of the trick or treaters in the distance. He ignored this, as he had no beef with the children. He had only one score to settle on this sacred night of the dead. He shambled quietly towards the door in search of his murderer, Alexander Mahone.
Mahone was
sleeping deeply with visions of killing Cons dancing in his head when
he heard the window glass break. He bolted upright, swearing softly,
"Dmn, punks"! He said, unsure exactly what had interrupted
his slumber. He reluctantly hauled his lanky frame from the comfort
of his cozy couch. He really did hate Halloween. In his refusal to
give out candy, Mahone had suffered the consequences on more than one
occasion. He made his way quietly to the front door.
Opening it,
he expected to see the usual egg splattered mess.
The front porch
was clean however, without a trace of egg goo.
He walked out onto
the porch, and sticking his hawk like beak into the wind, he took in
the perimeter of his yard. All was quiet, and there was no one to be
seen. Shaking his head he walked back into the house and shut and
locked the door behind him. He went to the television and clicked it
off, chuckling as the info-mercial that was claiming you could lose
30 lbs. in a week with their product disappeared from the screen.
"Yeah, 30 lbs. from your wallet", said Mahone
sarcastically. Assuming that the noise that had awakened him had been
from the television, he was totally unprepared for the surprise that
awaited him in the bathroom.
Mahone entered
the bathroom and un-poetically dropped trow.
He eased himself down
onto his throne and heaved a contented sigh as he began 'dropping the
kids off at the pool'. Once comfortable, he reached behind him for
the newspaper he had been reading, and reread the front page news for
what must have been the 10th time since it had landed on his doorstep
that morning: 6 remain at large in the Fox River Pen escape.
He
was smirking at his victory over David Apolskis when a hand eased the
shower curtain aside and observed him quietly.
Oscar Shales
peered out at his murderer, his maggot infested brain feeding his
limbs the vital instructions he needed to move. He eased the shower
curtain a little more to the side making as little noise as possible,
and stepped out of the bathtub. He began to move, and gathering all
the speed his creaky limbs would allow, he lunged at Mahone knocking
him into the wall. Mahone's head struck the wall hard, dazing him.
Shales then wrapped his cold dead hands around Mahone's weasly neck
and began to squeeze. The Federal agent in Mahone told himself he
needed to get away from this costumed freak. But before he could
escape from Shale's grasp, Shales bent his head close to Mahone's ear
and whispered "Trick or treat, Alex". Mahone had barely
registered the whiff of Shale's stale breath, smelling of earth and
death, when Shales sucked Mahone's earlobe into his mouth like a
lover might. He sank his rancid teeth into the lobe and with a jerk
of his head he severed the lobe and began chewing it. Instead of
swallowing the tasty morsel Shales spit it into Mahone's screaming
face, and jerked him up from his seat on the toilet. He threw him
headlong into the hallway and in a voice eroded by time and decay
Shales said, "Run, Alex, run".
