Yes, I know it's short. But I figure I shouldn't leave you
guys hanging anymore.
~*~=visions. My retarded computer doesn't do italics.
~*Visions from Afar~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Johnny, I really think that you need to go to Dr. Gibson," Bruce insisted, watching Johnny as he ran his fingers through his hair wearily. "Johnny, are you even listening?"
"No," Johnny replied, getting up from the couch, the headache pounding behind his temples almost overwhelming him. "I'm not. I should tell Walt, you think?"
"No more misgivings?" Bruce asked, raising his eyebrow as Johnny started to shuffle to the kitchen.
"No." Entering the kitchen, Johnny reached for the phone. All he wanted to do was flop down into his king sized bed and fall into blissful sleep. He wanted to forget everything. The dog was just too much. He massaged his forehead as he dialed Walt's number. Too much, everything was just too much. "Walt?"
"No," came the familiar voice. "It's Sarah. Johnny, is that you? You sound horrible."
"Thanks, Sarah. Can you get Walt for me?" He watched as Bruce came in and went to his medicine cabinet. Johnny rose his eyebrows and started to tell him something when Sarah interrupted.
"It's that dog, isn't it? Johnny, did it hurt you? Are you okay?"
"Everything's fine, Sarah. Just go and get Walt for me, it's urgent."
"Are you sure you're alright, Johnny?"
"Sarah!" He listened in satisfaction as he heard a sigh. He turned to Bruce, who was combing through his medical cabinet. "What are you doing?"
"You're bleeding," he replied. "I just noticed. Your arm."
Johnny looked down at his arm. Indeed, blood was dripping from his arm. What a good day, he thought irritably. Days were not becoming very good for him. He examined the cut. It was shallow, and hadn't been bleeding much, but now it was coming out in steady trickles.
"Oh," he said. "So you're going to fix me?"
"Johnny," Bruce said, indignantly, as he continued to fish around in the medicine cabinet. "You forget my profession. It is my duty to help the injured. It is my commitment. It is my life's goal."
"Oh, and I'm sure the money has nothing to do with it."
"I work for free."
"So the checks that come in the mail with my signature on it just happen to go to you?"
Bruce coughed. "Um . . . I'm only sending them to charity organizations."
"Nice leather jacket, Bruce."
"I know, it cost me-"Bruce suddenly stopped, realizing the trap he had fallen into. He eyed Johnny. "You suck, Johnny."
"I know. Walt?" He turned his attention back to the phone. "Walt?"
"Yeah, Johnny, it's me. What's up?" He sounded a little irritated. "You're not going to give the dog back, are you? You said you had it under controlled."
"I do," Johnny said quickly as Bruce finally closed the cabinet and started over to him with a bandage. "It's just that . . . something weird is happening." He almost closed his eyes at the lameness of his statement.
"Well, um, Johnny, whenever anything concerns you, it's always weird." Walt's voice was humor ringed, but still irritated. "So what's up, Johnny? You getting weird vibes?"
"Walt, you said the dog was locked inside the house when you found its owner, right?" Johnny blurted.
"Yes." Walt sounded surprised. "We did."
"That's not right. That's-Bruce!" His friend had grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged it over to him on the counter.
"It's bleeding," Bruce insisted, reaching down to keep his friend's hand steady.
"What?" Walt asked, concerned.
"Nothing, Bruce is pretending to-"
Bruce's hand touched his skin.
~*~*~ The sky was dark. Rain dripped from the foliage. He ran forward, panting hard. The place he was running through was vicious, dark and silent. It was just as he liked it. Nothing stirred. A lone car was parked by the sidewalk, and the street on his left was quiet. On his right, forest stretched into forest. Lonely and desolate, his very fine running conditions.
Suddenly he heard something stirring in the brushes, something heavy and fast. He slowed, keeping his legs moving. Can't stop, he reminded himself, it will be harder to start. He started to peer into the green, which was sparkling with rain.
Suddenly a man burst through green, small and wearing a green and black beanie. Suddenly the man in the beanie careened into him, driving him backward. He felt pain in his chest from the collision.
"Watch it!" he said angrily. "Dude, where's the fire?"
"Get out of my way," the man hissed. He was dressed in tan and green Army fatigues, with a black belt tightened around his waist. He could see nametag, but couldn't read it.
"Fine!" He backed off angrily, watching the man, small and thin, get into the blue Honda parked on the street. He read the plate number in a rainy blur, ARK1 and nothing more. The car sped into the distance, exhaust coming from the back.
Disgusted, he started to run again.
~*~
"Johnny?"
Johnny blinked at Bruce, who was shaking him hard, trying to wake him up. He heard Walt's voice in his ear, "Johnny, you there?" He stared at Bruce.
Bruce jerked his hand away from Johnny's skin, frightened it seemed. "Johnny, what did you see?" he said, his voice forcefully calm. "Are you okay?"
Johnny nodded, barely. "You saw him," he said tonelessly, unaware the phone was still pressed against his ear. "Bruce, you saw him when he was trying to get away from the scene."
"Who?"
"The killer."
~*~=visions. My retarded computer doesn't do italics.
~*Visions from Afar~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Johnny, I really think that you need to go to Dr. Gibson," Bruce insisted, watching Johnny as he ran his fingers through his hair wearily. "Johnny, are you even listening?"
"No," Johnny replied, getting up from the couch, the headache pounding behind his temples almost overwhelming him. "I'm not. I should tell Walt, you think?"
"No more misgivings?" Bruce asked, raising his eyebrow as Johnny started to shuffle to the kitchen.
"No." Entering the kitchen, Johnny reached for the phone. All he wanted to do was flop down into his king sized bed and fall into blissful sleep. He wanted to forget everything. The dog was just too much. He massaged his forehead as he dialed Walt's number. Too much, everything was just too much. "Walt?"
"No," came the familiar voice. "It's Sarah. Johnny, is that you? You sound horrible."
"Thanks, Sarah. Can you get Walt for me?" He watched as Bruce came in and went to his medicine cabinet. Johnny rose his eyebrows and started to tell him something when Sarah interrupted.
"It's that dog, isn't it? Johnny, did it hurt you? Are you okay?"
"Everything's fine, Sarah. Just go and get Walt for me, it's urgent."
"Are you sure you're alright, Johnny?"
"Sarah!" He listened in satisfaction as he heard a sigh. He turned to Bruce, who was combing through his medical cabinet. "What are you doing?"
"You're bleeding," he replied. "I just noticed. Your arm."
Johnny looked down at his arm. Indeed, blood was dripping from his arm. What a good day, he thought irritably. Days were not becoming very good for him. He examined the cut. It was shallow, and hadn't been bleeding much, but now it was coming out in steady trickles.
"Oh," he said. "So you're going to fix me?"
"Johnny," Bruce said, indignantly, as he continued to fish around in the medicine cabinet. "You forget my profession. It is my duty to help the injured. It is my commitment. It is my life's goal."
"Oh, and I'm sure the money has nothing to do with it."
"I work for free."
"So the checks that come in the mail with my signature on it just happen to go to you?"
Bruce coughed. "Um . . . I'm only sending them to charity organizations."
"Nice leather jacket, Bruce."
"I know, it cost me-"Bruce suddenly stopped, realizing the trap he had fallen into. He eyed Johnny. "You suck, Johnny."
"I know. Walt?" He turned his attention back to the phone. "Walt?"
"Yeah, Johnny, it's me. What's up?" He sounded a little irritated. "You're not going to give the dog back, are you? You said you had it under controlled."
"I do," Johnny said quickly as Bruce finally closed the cabinet and started over to him with a bandage. "It's just that . . . something weird is happening." He almost closed his eyes at the lameness of his statement.
"Well, um, Johnny, whenever anything concerns you, it's always weird." Walt's voice was humor ringed, but still irritated. "So what's up, Johnny? You getting weird vibes?"
"Walt, you said the dog was locked inside the house when you found its owner, right?" Johnny blurted.
"Yes." Walt sounded surprised. "We did."
"That's not right. That's-Bruce!" His friend had grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged it over to him on the counter.
"It's bleeding," Bruce insisted, reaching down to keep his friend's hand steady.
"What?" Walt asked, concerned.
"Nothing, Bruce is pretending to-"
Bruce's hand touched his skin.
~*~*~ The sky was dark. Rain dripped from the foliage. He ran forward, panting hard. The place he was running through was vicious, dark and silent. It was just as he liked it. Nothing stirred. A lone car was parked by the sidewalk, and the street on his left was quiet. On his right, forest stretched into forest. Lonely and desolate, his very fine running conditions.
Suddenly he heard something stirring in the brushes, something heavy and fast. He slowed, keeping his legs moving. Can't stop, he reminded himself, it will be harder to start. He started to peer into the green, which was sparkling with rain.
Suddenly a man burst through green, small and wearing a green and black beanie. Suddenly the man in the beanie careened into him, driving him backward. He felt pain in his chest from the collision.
"Watch it!" he said angrily. "Dude, where's the fire?"
"Get out of my way," the man hissed. He was dressed in tan and green Army fatigues, with a black belt tightened around his waist. He could see nametag, but couldn't read it.
"Fine!" He backed off angrily, watching the man, small and thin, get into the blue Honda parked on the street. He read the plate number in a rainy blur, ARK1 and nothing more. The car sped into the distance, exhaust coming from the back.
Disgusted, he started to run again.
~*~
"Johnny?"
Johnny blinked at Bruce, who was shaking him hard, trying to wake him up. He heard Walt's voice in his ear, "Johnny, you there?" He stared at Bruce.
Bruce jerked his hand away from Johnny's skin, frightened it seemed. "Johnny, what did you see?" he said, his voice forcefully calm. "Are you okay?"
Johnny nodded, barely. "You saw him," he said tonelessly, unaware the phone was still pressed against his ear. "Bruce, you saw him when he was trying to get away from the scene."
"Who?"
"The killer."