-Chapter 2 - Red Tape-

Later that day, Jacob rounded up everyone up onto the roof of his apartment building and everyone but Rod shared all of their tales of horror about being stalked by masked men in dark coats, skinless dogs, cars, things crawling out the walls. Jacob even claimed that he saw the Devil himself rape his girlfriend at a friend's party! Yet everyone but Rod saw these hilarious images that kept these grown men up at night. For God's sake, thought Rod. We fought in a war! Are we really that afraid of the dark!?

Unable to tolerate their childish boogieman stories any longer. Something intelligent had to be said. "Yeah, well not me, buddy."

"Okay, not you, Rod. The rest of us are going out of our fucking minds!" snorted Jacob.

Doug then brought up an interesting point. "Do you think it has something to do with that night?" He, of course, was referring to their black-out in Nam.

"Eh, It's got something to do with something…" replied Jacob. "I think we should go see the Army. They're not telling us something, so we gotta find out what it is."

"Oh come on, Professor!" Rod mocked. "What makes you think that the Army is going to give you any answers, huh? I mean, you're going to be buttin' your heads up against a brick wall!"

Jacob took in what Rod had said and then mumbled under his breath, "We got to get ourselves a lawyer."

"Ah, you should find yourself a shrink." added Rod.

Jacob responded by flipping him off under his coat pocket.

Rod wasn't getting through to any of them. "You're all fucking paranoid." he said. "It's bad grass; that's all it was, man! I mean, there's no such things as fucking demons, man! C'mon!?"

But no matter what he said or tried to convince them otherwise, they were already set in their beliefs. Everyone afterwards left the roof and immediately head to the law office down town to plead their case. Rod would have called it quits, but he did believe none-the-less that something fishy was going on. Jacob even said that their veteran doctor, Dr. Carlson, had been bombed, as well. Rod knew that something was definitely up with those bigwigs in the military. Besides, if they not only got their case, and won it, Rod as well as the others would be extremely rich. Money was a devil he would never deny.

After a long wait, their patience was finally reward when a pudgy lawyer named Geary greeted everyone and motioned them into his office. From there, the others told their story of why they thought they were experimented on (but of course, leaving out the demon stories). After a while, the lawyer finally, agreed to look into it. It was as if they had already won. Rod was even pleased. Perhaps this event could shine some light on some of the insanity that had ensued.

A wild cry could be heard in the distance; not too far from where Rod's position was in the jungle. He quickly proceeded further into the jungle until he came across the grizzly sight of a wounded soldier with his left arm missing up to his shoulder. Judging from the torn areas of flesh and loose bone without any burn marks, it appeared as if it had been ripped off. His bottom lip was also missing, which gave him a zombish appearance, but he was still alive.

Just then, another native surprised both of them as he came out of nowhere and knocked the wounded soldier down, hitting him in the head with his own severed arm. Once the killer threw it to the ground, he quickly reached for his rifle and unloaded into the corpse until it was almost unrecognizable as human. Once he was finished, the enemy then turned his crazed attention towards Rod. Rod's only response was raising his machete high into the air and charged with a battle cry at the large man who was armed with a knife, also.

Rod was then woken by the phone again. Rod had fallen asleep as always on the couch, staying up all night watching TV. He drowsily got up and went to the phone to answer it. "Ugh, hello?"

"Hey, Rod. This is Frank."

"Yeah, Frank." said Rod. "So any news on the case, man?"

"Um, yeah… about the case…" Frank's tone suggested anything but good news. "Rod, let's just drop it all together. The case; everything."

"What!?" asked Rod, baffled. "Are you fucking bonkers? What about the Army, man!?"

"Rod, you were right, okay? It's just Nam trips from smoking their grass is all. It's just all in our heads, really."

A frightening thought then came across Rod. "Frank… are they harassing you or something. C'mon man, you can tell me!"

"Everybody else has dropped out, too. Okay? Besides, Geary doesn't believe us anyway."

"What do you mean he doesn't believe us?"

"He said he checked into it and said it was a load of bullshit. Besides, Jerry's…"

Rod swallowed hard. "Jerry's what?"

"Mm… never mind. Rod, I should have listened to you. I'm sorry. But whatever you do, don't do anything. Just give in. It's better that way…"

"Damn it, Frank! I'm not gonna be intimidated by these guys. If something really is going down, we gotta fight it; right here, right now!"

"I was afraid you'd say that. That's pretty much what Jake said, too. Goodbye…"

"No, don't hang up…!"

"…(click.)"

At this point, Rod was so furious that he ripped the telephone out of the wall and flung it across the room. Not only was he pissed about the case and the supposed threats, but was also worried as to what he was referring to when he mentioned Jerry. What did he mean about Jerry, he wondered. Did the army get to him, too?

And just at that moment, there was a slow knock at he door.

Rod turned his attention to it, as he listen to the slow boom… boom… boom… the door made. Rod carefully tiptoed towards the door and as he looked through the peephole, he saw that nothing was there. He then lowered his eyes away from it to then hear a light rustling sound below the door. He looked down and watched as an envelope with brownish-red stains was gently shoved under the door. Rod carefully bent over and picked it up. Something hard other than a note was inside. He then ripped off the side edge and dumped out the contents. A metal army dog tag caked in dried blood fell into his hand. He then looked closely at the imprinting. It read: "Hinkley, Jerry"

"…Dream on!"

A deep scratchy voice that belonged to a man hissed loudly beyond the door. A little freaked, but curious, Rod brought his eyes to the peephole again and what he saw terrified him. Just as was described by his friends, outside stood a tall hooded man in a coat who dressed completely in black leaning against the hall wall. Before Rod could let out a gasp, the figure then instantly appeared directly in front of his door; it's cloaked head now a frightening blur. Rod fell backwards unto the dirty tile floor in shock, then got back up and swung open the door to face the entity.

Nothing. Nobody was there. It was just himself glancing around the hallway. Rod had finally realized that perhaps he had underestimated the situation at hand. Am I going to see these things, too, he thought to himself. He had to see Frank and the others. He didn't want to go crazy alone. But first, he had to reach Jacob. If Jacob was still going to fight this, he needed to help him at least. Rushing back into his apartment, he got dressed to go out. After putting on a pair of dark chestnut khakis, a pink button-up long sleeve with a black tie, and his favorite brown leather jacket, he was instantly out the door.

Rod avoided any taxis or other vehicles so to lower his risk of getting killed by yet another bomb. As long as it was from where he lived to Jacob and his girlfriend's apartment complex, on Bergen Street, he felt at least safe at the moment. Jacob had told him and the gang after the funeral to meet him at Room 14-G. Rod wanted to ask Jacob's girlfriend, Jezzie, if she knew where he was.

Come to think about it, he had never seen her before. Jacob had said that she was with him at the funeral, but they were never introduced. After all, he didn't want to make an ass of himself and mistake some random lady to be his missing friend's lover. That just sounded too creepy. But as long as he remembered the room number, he should be just fine. As he arrived at the steps of the complex, he quickly went inside.

Once he arrived at 14-G, he knocked at the door. But instead of Jacob or a beautiful lady arriving to open it, there was instead a crusty old geezer of a man smelling of dried sweat and semen; strapped to a wheelchair with two amputated twitching nubs for legs. The man pointed his cane at the man who had disturbed him.

"What the hell do you want!?"

"Whoa there, Skipper." jested Rod with his hands in the air. "I'm just looking for a buddy and a girl of his is all."

"Yeah, well there ain't nobody like that here, so git!"

"His, um, name is Jacob. Jacob Singer. I just need to--"

"Didn't you hear me say no one like that lives here, cock sucker!? Now beat it before I call the super!"

"Right." said Rod as he walked away from the old man. "Whatever! Fuckin' geezer…"

Rod was confused. Wasn't this where him and his friends had met him that day on the roof? Now someone else lived there. As Rod headed back outside to Frank's home, he went down the list in his head. Dr. Carlson was the first to die from a car explosion. Then Paul. Paul started seeing monsters. Then everybody else admitted seeing them, too. Their case is dropped. Jerry is obviously dead somewhere. And Jacob falls off the face of the earth. Everything made sense so far. Seeing that Frank was the last to speak to him, he could probably tell him something about their conversation.

"Frank!?" Rod swung open the door to his best friend's apartment to find that everything inside was gone. The nice, neat, clean, organized apartment was now empty and lifeless. No furniture remained, nor any photographs. Not even the garbage can remained. He wandered around the empty rooms for awhile, calling out to him and then noticed of all the room doors that were open, the bathroom was closed.

Rod cautiously approached the door. "Frankie, man? You in there?"

Silence.

Rod clutched the knob and pulled the door open. Frank, whom was completely exposed except for his underwear, hung by his neck with a toaster cord wrapped around it and the iron curtain rod above the bathtub. He had been dead for a few hours now. Rod at the moment was in too much shock to feel anything as he observed his friend's corpse. His coffee colored skin now a shade of a pale mushroom blue. Rod then noticed a folded note in Frank's left hand. Rod reached out and removed it from Frank's loose grip. He unfolded it to find a poorly scribbled suicide letter. It read:

To Mommy Baby Bonnie

The spooky man in glasses called me to say I was gone to dead bad men who follow me. I gots 2 sea Paul again tried to come out wal an want to take daddy away to the devil. Man black coat hospickable needle fire help I don want 2 dyie. I luv u it s nice heer

Fank

Rod sat alone on a bench in the city park; tears silently rolling down his cold cheeks. It had been so long since he truly been afraid. He had no earthly idea as to where Doug and George were. Chances were they were dead, too. The dead, leafless trees around him reminded him of that. They looked like black cracks in a glass picture frame as the sun fell into the New York sea.

Rod eventually sat up from the bench and decided to walk around town, unknowing and uncaring as to what to do next. As he strolled through Madison Square, surrounded by beautiful lights of advertisements and eventually snow, he came across a shop window with a series of playing televisions. As Rod glanced at the multiple screens, he didn't need to guess what the news reporter was discussing. In the TV screen, a Buick was being pulled out of the river by some docks with a large crane. The screen then flashed two pictures; each of dead veterans. The captions read that of, "Hinkley, Jerry" and "Rhames, George." Rod could have gawked at them all surprised, but he wasn't. With Doug nowhere, it was only a matter of time before he was next.

But suddenly, as if God had sent him an answer, a pay phone in which he happened to cross by began to ring. Rod stopped and stared at the phone, wondering if he should answer it or not. It seemed a little dumb that someone would call a payphone. Not unless, of course, he was being watched. What the hell, he thought. If he played into the hands of fate a little more, maybe he would find some answers. He yanked the phone of the receiver and began to speak.

"Hello?"

"Yes, thank god! Is this Rod Alessandro?" asked the voice on the other end.

"Who the fuck is this!?" demanded Rod. "Are you the one following us!?"

"My name isn't important right now." said the man, who seemed to be in some kind of hurry. "Listen, you and your friend, Doug, are in serious danger. You need to find him, fast!"

"What the hell's going on?" asked Rod. "I don't understand."

"I tried to find Doug, but he fled into the subway. He had a gun on him."

"Doug? Why is…?"

"I'll call you again. Get to the station and find him! I'll explain everything to both of you when we're safe…" The voice trailed away with a hang up.

Rod ran from the payphone and rushed towards the nearest subway station staircase. There were so many in Manhattan, but he had to try. Doug couldn't have been too far.