Deadwing

Chapter.1

"A Beech Infests Moll"

It was approaching 10:48 by the time Major Crawford placed his pen down on the table. Grinning to himself, he placed the final document on a large pile to his left. He stretched his arms, yawning as he did so, feeling more relaxed than what he did at the beginning of the day. He was relieved to have finished all of the arduous paperwork that had been holding him back for the good part of 2 weeks. He grinned another grin before suddenly laughing to himself out loud.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed, jumping off of his seat and landing on the hard floor of his office. Crawford's office was located at the south-western end of Central Command, amongst other offices belonging to other Majors. Before he left, he approached his window, peeking out of it into the night. There was a dull yellow glow from streetlights and various houses that lit up Central. Smiling to himself once again, he grabbed his coat that was hanging on the end of his chair. After sliding his arms into the sleeves, he collected his papers and left his office, walking down the corridor towards the main reception.

"Finished for tonight Major Crawford?" the receptionist asked, smiling as Crawford stopped by, leaning against his receptionist's desk.

"How did you guess?" Crawford said. He then leant forward, taking her hands in his own, "Tell me Mary, when will you let me take you out for the night? Out for a romantic meal, a wonderful play, a… nice few hours in a warm bed…"

"Hey!" Mary exclaimed, cutting him off, "Don't talk about that stuff here! Plus… I seem to remember it lasting less than a few hours!"

"Ooh, low blow there!" Crawford said, "I seem to remember you enjoying it…"

Mary giggled as Crawford began stroking her hand. She looked up into his eyes and leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Mary said, smiling seductively, "Get yourself home,"

Major Crawford smiled, leaning forward and kissing Mary before standing himself up. He winked as he turned around and walked away from the reception, and out the doors of Central Command. Outside the streetlights lit up the pathway with the same dull yellow glow that he saw from his office. It was raining outside, and each droplet became illuminated at is passed by the streetlight's glow. Crawford tugged his coat closer to him in a vain attempt to protect himself from the cold.

"Fuck it's cold," he muttered to himself as he began to walk down the path leading away from Central Command. He found his car parked on the curb in the streets, and he quickly got inside, driving away from Central Command and through the roads twisting all around Central.

In the distance, he noticed a sign reading DIVERSION. Frowning to himself, he turned right, driving down a narrow alleyway. The sides of his car began to scrape the walls of the adjacent buildings next to him. Swearing loudly to himself, he tried reversing his car, only to find that his car had gotten wedged between the buildings.

"Fuck's sake!" he shouted as he turned off the car's engine. He sat there for a moment, contemplating the predicament he had gotten himself into. The doors were stuck against the walls, preventing him from opening them to get himself out. He felt his pockets for any tool he could use to break the window, when he heard a cough that echoed down the alleyway. Alert, he sat up, staring out of his window. "Hello?" he called out loudly, trying to alert the attention of whoever had coughed. He then continued to listen, hearing the sound of a glass breaking, as though someone had thrown a glass bottle to the ground. Crawford felt his heartbeat increase slowly as he began to feel more and more nervous. He pressed his hands up against the glass window of the car. The rain was making it impossible to really see anything, despite the glow from the car's lights and the window wiper's attempt to wipe the rain. All he could see was the walls of the buildings next to him travel down into darkness. There was a large puddle to his left, and the edge of a dustbin to his right, that seemed to be half-swallowed by the darkness.

He then saw the outline of a figure, and his heart suddenly raced as fear rushed through him. The outline was stumbling towards him slowly, almost teetering. Suddenly, the figure entered the light, and Crawford gasped in horror. His heartbeat continued to race as he noticed it was simply a homeless drunk, slowly walking towards his car. Crawford breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his heartbeat beginning to slow down gradually.

"Hey!" he called out, "Excuse me, sir?"

The old man stood still, turning his head towards the source of the noise. His eyes fell upon the bright car and he looked in curiosity as though the car had simply appeared right there in front of him.

"Excuse me sir," Crawford called out, "I was wondering if you could help me? I'm kind of stuck and I need help getting out!"

"Alright, alright!" the old man groaned, "No need to get all huffy about it, I'll get you fuckin' little sorry… don't know how to drive fuckin' cars…. All think they're so…"

The old man trailed off, continuing to mutter to himself.

"Sir, could you grab someone to smash the window with please?" Crawford asked, "I just need to get out, that's all,"

"I know, I know!" the old man shouted indignantly, "I'm getting there, I'm getting there… stupid young kids… don't know how to fuckin' sort their cars out, all yacking about stupid stuff no one fuckin' cares about…"

The old man bent down, picking up a large rock. Crawford watched as the old man slowly stepped over to his car, his figure looking ominous as it was lit up by the car lights. The old man then held up the rock above his head, and Crawford jumped into the backseat.

"I'll get ya out of there… fuckin' lunatic not knowing what to-"

There was a sudden explosion, and Crawford watched as the old man was blown into pieces. Blood sprayed everywhere as it splattered onto the car window, and all over the walls. Crawford screamed as the window wipers began to wipe away the blood, only for it to begin dripping down. In between each swing of the wipers, he could see the figure of someone standing in front of the car. Crawford began punching the back window in a pathetic attempt to free himself, only to hear another explosion. Glass sprayed all around the car, cutting Crawford in various places. Crawford watched as the figure stepped even closer to the car. He then clapped his hands, and Crawford watched as rope made from the walls began to twist themselves into the car, grabbing Crawford and binding him tightly. Struggling to breath and move, the rope suddenly moved, bringing Crawford closer towards the man. He could barely breath as the rope made from the walls constricted his windpipe and bound themselves tightly against his chest. He watched as the man looked up into his eyes.

"Crawford," the man said, in a deep raspy voice as though something was scratching against the back of his throat, "This'll only hurt a bit…"

Crawford watched as the man placed his hand into his pocket, taking out a sharp looking knife. Crawford tried to scream, but was still being bound by the ropes. He watched as the man brought the knife to his face, pushing the knife underneath his scalp. The pain rushed to his head as the man slowly started to slice off Crawford's scalp. Blood began streaming down his face as the pain intensified with every second. His head felt as though it was on fire as it began to sting worse and worse. Suddenly, the man had cut off his scalp, and then began to place the knife behind his ear. He cut a deep cut behind the ear and dragged it around the ear, down Crawford's cheek, and under his chin. He then brought it back around his other cheek and behind his other ear, before going across his forehead and connecting the cut back where it belonged.

"This may also hurt a little bit," the man said, as he clapped his hands together.