Chapter 4: Mark Calaway

Every night was almost the exact same. I'd go home after a long day of work, have a drink, then hit the sheets. Fall asleep for five minutes before seeing It's face, wake up sweating profusely, and never fall asleep again for the night. Tonight was probably the eighth time that it had happened in a month because It -He- refused to let me sleep. I didn't quite understand why It enjoyed tormenting me so much and maybe I never will, but for the past few months, I've been doing nothing but accepting it. What more can I do? There's no fighting a ghost of the past.

"Hey, Mark. Wake the hell up." The deep, masculine voice was like a slap to the side of my head.

I blinked several times before remembering exactly where I was. Dick's Bar N' Lounge. Best bar in Texas. Seated by a window stretched across the front wall of the bar, I would've thought that the noisy cars outside and the loud bastard rednecks in the bar would have been enough to keep me from going off in my own little world, but was my little world that deep and dark that it completely drowned out my surroundings? I could tell by the way my muscles felt stiff in my face that I was mean-mugging the hell out of the bald-headed Texan standing over my table trying to get my attention. What was his name again? Oh yeah...Stone Cold Steve Austin. That's what we called him around these parts, but sometimes he just preferred Austin.

"I ain't sleep, boy." I growled at him, which only made him laugh and take a seat on the other side of my table. Great. Company.

"Then somethin's on yer mind." He said, slamming his beer mug down in front of him as if trying to draw my attention to it. And it had worked. "Remember this big fella?" He asked, sloshing the bitter, golden liquid around in the crystal mug. "You used to order these every time you came here. Good ole Jack Daniels. I ain't never seen a man take down an entire mug of it either, which meant you were in a happy place. Wanna know what you order nowadays?"

I sighed and sat back in my chair. "What?" Came my uninterested response.

"Captain fuckin' Morgan." Austin raised his voice at me. "And ya know what that means, Mark?"

"No, I don't, Austin. I don't give a fuck ei-"

"It means yer fuckin' depressed. When you drink Jack Daniels, it makes ya think of yer past and yer past is pretty fucked up. Ya know, with those women, gambling, yer addictions and shit. Ya coulda really ruined yerself for life back then. Shit like that haunts ya. Makes ya angry inside. Crazy. So now ya order yerself a new drink to take yer mind off of it. But it ain't workin' fast enough so ya order it again and again and again-"

"Austin...really...what the fuck is your point?" I frowned at him, my annoyance turning into irritation.

"I'm just showin' that I'm worried about you, man." Austin shrugged, lifting his mug to his lips to take a gulp. "You ain't been the same lately."

"So fuckin' what?" I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, looking him in the eyes. "I'm just fine. I got a house and a job. I don't need women or drugs or shit like that. All I need in life is me, myself, and I."

"How is that Madhouse of yers comin' along?" Austin caught himself grinning at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment, wondering if he was trying to change the subject on me. He did that a lot during our conversations. Like he just couldn't focus on one subject at a time. Retarded bastard. "I found another lunatic earlier today. She didn't have to tell me much for me to figure out what she was about."

"It's a girl?"

"Ain't that what I said?" I reached across the table and grabbed Austin's beer, ignoring the questioning look he gave me in return. "Now, come on, man. That's a pretty good beer I just paid for." He said quietly, but I simply glared at him, tilted it over my mouth and let the cold, golden liquid run down my throat. All of it. When I saw Austin sit back and brush his hand down his face in an irate manner, I set the mug back down and licked my lips slowly for him to see that I enjoyed it. "Damn right it was a pretty good beer." I said spitefully, just to torment him like he usually found himself tormenting me.

"I ain't mad." His voice sounded shaky when he spoke, like he was trying his hardest to fight down the anger building up inside him. It was obvious that I'd pissed him off with the beer stunt, but he figured I'd win if he showed it. Ah, this game don't ever get old. "So what's her name?" He took a deep breath, looking down at the empty mug in my hand that was once his precious Jack Daniels.

"Excuse me?" I cocked my head at him.

"The new lunatic you found? What's her name?"

"Oh. Her name's Michelle."

"Michelle." Austin repeated the name slowly as if enjoying the way it sounded as it rolled off his tongue. "She sounds like a doll. Maybe you could introduce me sometime." He shot me a mischievous smirk, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Maybe she's way off limits because she's a deranged psychopath and possibly a threat to society." I replied sarcastically. "Besides, I don't need you messin' around with one of my patients."

"Ah, I won't be doin' no messin' around, Mark." He chuckled, standing up out of his chair. "There ain't no harm in showin' her how we do it at Broken Skull." I grimaced as he put his hands behind his head and started thrusting his pelvis hard and fast into the table, shouting, "Wham! Wham! Wham! Take my Texas rattlesnake, Michelle!"

"Austin!" I shouted, lunging out of my chair at him, only to have him take off running in the opposite direction, laughing his ass off. He could be so openly disgusting sometimes. Not that I always minded. I just wasn't in the mood for it tonight.

I left a tip at my table and headed for the door, shaking my head at the bald-headed bastard and his foolish antics. Only reason why I had tolerated him so much was because he'd been like a brother to me since the 90s and in actuality, I didn't know what I'd be doing without someone like him to keep me in check. Back when I was strung up on drugs, suicidal, and just lost in life, he was there to help me out...like a brother. I could turn to him for advice and what not, but only when he wasn't getting just as piss drunk as I was.

I looked over my shoulder before I walked out of the bar. Austin was leaning sideways against an old jukebox and when he saw me looking at him, he saluted me with a sideways smile. I returned the salute, then walked outside into the cool night air.

My Harley was parked just beside the door. Thank goodness it hadn't been touched or I would've had to kill a bitch. I climbed onto it without bothering to start it, deciding that home was a short distance away and I could just relax outside. Digging into the pocket of my favorite black leather vest, I pulled out a cigar I'd been waiting to smoke since the day had gotten started. I tucked it between my lips and reached in my other pocket for a lighter. After a few seconds, the only thing I felt was a tiny ball of lint and an old bullet. "Goddamnit." I muttered, realizing that I'd forgotten my lighter...again.

I sat there for a moment in thought, trying to remember just where exactly I'd forgotten it or if I'd even forgotten it at all. Maybe I had just put it in a different pocket that morning. Damn, I must be getting' old or somethin'.

I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye and looked across the street. My eyes narrowed, zooming in on a shadowy figure walking up the sidewalk, arms wrapped around itself as if it was cold. The street lights were a bit dim where the figure walked, but once it walked under a lamppost that just happened to be bright enough, I saw that it was a male. A young one at that. He looked a mess, walking with a hunch while breathing hard as hell, like he'd just gotten through running through town. His wet, blonde hair was strewn all over his face and I couldn't help but notice the green, pink, and blue streaks hanging past his shoulders. I sat up on my chopper, trying to get a better look at him as he awkwardly stumbled into a wall, paused, looked around, then continued to walk, hugging himself tighter. I studied his face to see if I knew him, but I didn't recognize him at all. I'd say he was a gorgeous young man, though and didn't look like he belonged in these streets.

I continued to watch him until he found himself a nice, dark alley and disappeared within the shadows. Literally. Frowning, I stood up off my chopper and began making my way across the street. At this time of the night, there weren't many cars out so I wasn't the least bit worried about getting hit on the way. When I made it to the sidewalk, I heard a couple of voices in my ear. No, I wasn't going crazy at that moment, but I could hear people walking by who had seen the boy.

"Crazies these days." Said a man in an all black suit, walking with a woman next to him. "It's gotta be the music they listen to."

I shot a glance in the man's direction as he walked right by the entrance of the alley and he glanced right back. We held each others' gazes for a moment, before he grew concerned and looked away quickly, acting as if he didn't even see me. Yeah, I had that kind of effect on people sometimes. Punk bitch. I turned my focus back on the alley and walked inside, the darkness instantly engulfing me as well as the God-awful smell of urine and old trash. I moved slowly and cautiously to prepare myself for any sudden surprises like a random gang attack or some shit like that. Then again, what gangbangers around these parts had balls enough to attack Mark fucking Callaway?

"Kid?" I called out once I was certain that no one else was in the alley besides myself, the young man, and a bald cat hiding behind a dumpster. "Kid!"

I began to hear whimpering and deep breathing from somewhere deep within the alley. I knew it was the kid but I couldn't see him through the eerie darkness. So I went deeper, startling myself when I accidentally stepped on a beer can and crushed it under my boot. I heard a gasp in response and then a voice that definitely wasn't mine. "W-who are you? Stay away from me." The voice was so shaky and full of fear that it pulled at my insides. I couldn't leave someone like that alone in this kind of place.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." I spoke calmly, continuing to move toward the voice. Now I could just barely see the silhouette of the young man sitting against the back wall of the alley, holding himself as if he would come apart at the seams at any moment. A sickening, yet familiar stench wafted into my nostrils at that moment – one that didn't take me long to recognize and almost recoil from. Blood. After a second or two, I saw exactly where the smell of blood was coming from. The boy was soaked in it from his head to his waist. It looked quite uncomfortable for him because a lot of it had drenched through his skimpy, tight-fitting mesh shirt and his baggy, black pants were dry as sand.

"Please, don't come any closer." He begged, sobbing quietly, holding one hand up in defense.

I knew a near-seven foot bastard coming toward him in almost pitch blackness would scare him a little, but I had ways to convince him that I wasn't threat to him. "Look, kid, you're hurt. You need help." I said, keeping the same calm tone that I had used before. "I already said I'm not gonna hurt you and I sure as hell don't lie. See?" I dug into the pockets of my jeans and my leather vest to show him that I had no weapons on me. The only potential weapons I possessed at the moment were my bare hands, but I kept them open so he wouldn't expect me to beat him and rob him where he sat. "I got nothin', kid." I informed him, slowly crouching down in front of him.

"I don't need your help! I said get away from me!" He suddenly shouted, then flinched as if I'd raised my hand to him.

"I'm not gonna leave you here alone to get mauled by some little punks with chains and baseball bats. It's dangerous out here and you look pretty damn vulnerable right now. Just let me help you. I can get you to a hospital or even a police station so you can tell them who hurt you."

"No!" His eyes grew so wide I thought a vein would burst inside them as he jumped back and struck the wall violently. His chest heaved up and down and he shook his head quickly, looking at me as if I'd sprouted horns and a long, spiked tail. I frowned at him, not saying anything. "You can't- you can't fucking do that, man!" He stammered, pushing back on his legs as if trying to faze through the damn wall.

"What? Kid, you're soaked in blood and probably losing more blood as we speak. You need to get to a hospital. Look, my ride's right across the street and the hospital's not too far. If you can't walk in yourself, I'll carry you."

"No!" He shouted again. "I can't go in there!"

"Do you hear yourself? You're telling me you don't need to go to a hospital, yet you're bleeding out of just about every part you."

"It's not my blood!" He almost choked on his words and as soon as they were out, he buried his face in his arms and started to sob loudly.

I stared at him in utter shock, the words echoing around in my head for a minute before I finally snapped out of it, swallowing. I knew there had to be a reason why I had followed this guy. "You...hurt someone else?" I lowered my voice, allowing him to hear the concern.

"No. I didn't hurt him." He panted, lifting his head to look at me. His forest green eyes were like glass, meeting my own acid green ones in such a way that made my chest burn. "I...I killed him." His bottom lip began to tremble and he dropped his head sorrowfully, his tears cutting clean paths down his blood-stained face. "Oh my,God." He used his hand to wipe the tears away, smudging blood and dirt all over his skin. "He was right. Matty was right. Oh, God."

I blinked, frowning at him. "Who?"

"My-" Before he could finish answering, he covered his face with his hands and started to sob again. I watched him quietly, not asking him anything else until he cut his sobbing short and looked up. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, Matt." He seemed to apologize to the sky. Either he was crazy or he had someone named Matt looking down on him.

"Who's Matt? If you don't mind telling me."

"He's my brother." He took a deep breath and sighed, his eyes falling shut for a moment.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"The man I killed," The boy began to explain. "I killed him because...he was with these men. They were really big and..." He paused and I could tell he was on the verge of breaking down. "They took him away from me. They took my brother, man! They took my brother!"

I rested my arms on my thighs as I continued to stare at him. Feeling a mixture of emotions building up inside me. Sympathy, anger, confusion, concern. I had to take him home. I couldn't turn him into the cops and I couldn't take him to a hospital. He'd be in a worse predicament than he already was.

"But now I know the truth." The boy spoke again, looking past me, becoming lost in thought. Silence followed his statement and then suddenly, the smallest hint of a smile broke out on his face. I squinted at him, a bit caught off guard to see it. It started off small then widened into a snake-like grin. Was he possessed or something? Then he began to chuckle. At first he was quiet with it, then it began to escalate into a full blown cackle. My eyes widened a bit as I cocked my head at him, not saying a word. "Now I know they weren't lying to me when they called me crazy. Matty said I was just a little sick." He then turned his attention back to me and I noticed something different in those eyes. Something frightening flashed right through them, letting me know exactly what I was dealing with here. "And they were right. I'm fucking insane!" His eyebrows lifted almost into his hairline as he exploded into laughter again.

He was quickly interrupted by the sound of sirens blaring from the distance. I looked over my shoulder toward the mouth of the alley, spotting red and blue lights reflecting off of store windows and when I looked back at the young man, he was no longer laughing. A look of absolute horror had replaced that psychotic joker smile he'd worn for just a minute. I quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and jumped to my feet, pulling him up with me. "I'm gonna get you outta here, kid. Here, take this." After using my arm to wipe the blood off his face, I quickly stripped off my vest and handed it to him, telling him it was big enough to cover up his bloody upper body. Once he got it on, I put one arm around him and started making my way out of the alley. He followed with no words and I felt him bury his face in the side of my chest to hide himself.

We walked briskly across the street, trying our hardest not to look suspicious. "Don't let them take me. Please, don't let them take me." He whispered into my white shirt over and over again, his body trembling against mine.

"Hush. I won't." I answered between clenched teeth, looking around to see if we were being watched. There were just a couple of eyes glancing our way, but more so toward the cop cars that were now approaching the roadway. "Shit." I hissed. "Move faster, kid."

As soon as we reached my chopper, I practically tossed him on the back and climbed on in front of him, instructing him to put his arms around my waist so he wouldn't go flying off. He did what I told him and we were gone within moments of the cops' arrival.