Bad Trip

It was dark outside, dark and cold. I had just gotten out of work. God, I hate my job. Mr. Pardo was busting my balls all day for not restocking the movies last night. Maximum Overdrive had just come out a couple of weeks ago, and it was flying off the shelves. Or it would be if I had put them on the shelves, but I didn’t. But that’s in the past, it was time to go home. I started my walk to my car, a 1969 Maserati Spyder. It was a gift from my father for my 16th birthday. It was kind of old by the time I got it, but man did I love it. It was pretty chilly out, but that’s nothing new for Chicago. I just pulled my jacket closer to me and continued walking.

My car was just a few blocks away, and it was a five minute drive back to my apartment. My phone buzzed. Who could that be? I looked at the screen. It was Jennifer, my girlfriend. She wanted to know where I was, so I told her I was on my way. I got in my car, and started it up. As I pulled forward I felt a jostling motion, and quickly stopped and hopped out. Shit, my tires had been slashed. This wasn’t the best part of town, and I felt it was better to just get it towed and catch a ride home. I only really knew two people who had a car, and one of them was my parents so that wasn’t an option.

Even if it wasn’t my fault my dad would still be mad at me for the tires, so it would be best to just call the other contact. That other contact would be by my friend Mathew. A partier and a heavy drinker, in any other circumstance I wouldn’t try to get a ride from him. But I would rather not stay here any longer than I had to. So I called a tow-truck, and afterward I called Matt. He said he’d pick me up, but only if I went to a party with him. I tried to reason with him, but he stuck with it. I decided that I might as well go and get it over with. I notified my girl that I wouldn’t be home, and told her where I was going. She was weary at first, but I reassured her that everything was going to be fine, and she calmed down

Matt pulled up in his shitty 1973 Ford 5350, and I hopped in. He passed me a beer, and took a swig himself. I asked him if it was a good idea for him to be drinking while driving, but he said he did it all the time and it was all fine. Not very reassuring. I looked down at my drink. He told me it was fine. I might as well. I’m turning 22 in a couple of weeks. Time to live a little. I took a swig. We showed up to the house that the party was in, and automatically I wished I had just called my dad. There were tons of people, most of them with drinks in hand, out on the front lawn. Tables overturned, people pissing in bushes, couples making out. It was just a mess. Matt got out, and I followed suit.

Inside wasn’t much better in terms of catastrophe, but at least it wasn’t cold. I took a seat on a couch, and took another drink from a cooler. About 30 minutes went by of me just sitting, staring, as this party passed me by. Then Matt came back with a drink. He told me to try some, and kept insisting after I told him no. I eventually decided it was best to just take a sip and go along with my night. The night went on. People drank, argued, laughed, cried, kissed, and on and on it went. I started to get a headache at around 12:30. I tried to ignore it, but it just grew worse and worse. I had been drinking, so I guess it was to be expected. I went upstairs to find an unoccupied room to lie down in. I was able to get one after 15 or so minutes of waiting. I lied down and closed my eyes. I’ll just sleep this off. Just . . . sle ee p . . . i ttt . . . of f.

It’s so hot. God it’s hot. Why is it so hot? I lifted my head. Everything was tinted red. This can’t be right. I rubbed my eyes. Still red. I got out of bed and started walking towards the door. I heard scratching on the other side, and stopped dead in my tracks. The door slowly opened, and a blotchy grey hand reached through. I gasped and fell back. The thing suddenly slammed through the door and pounced on me. It was my size, but much more frail. But it was strong, and it slammed me into the ground. It dug its claws into my arm, and bared its teeth at me. I broke free and grabbed the side of its head and turned over so that I had it pinned to the ground. I lifted its head and slammed. Slam! Slam! Slam! Blood started to pool out of the back of its head. Slam! Slam! It’s claws dug deeper into my arms but I didn’t stop. Slam! Slam! Its skull started to crack in my hands. Slam! Slam! Blood poured out of its eyes and ears and it screamed in pain. Slam! One last push and its skull caved in, spraying brain matter out of the back of its head. It was dead. That was . . . exhilarating. I’ve never felt more alive.

I got up, my hands dripping with blood. I turned and decided it was best to prepare if I was going to be facing more things like that. I opened the closet and searched. I found a box cutter and some paracord in a plastic craft tub. If those things were in the rest of the house then clearing them out would be the best option. I reached for the handle and prepared to brave the things that lurked in the rest of the house.

Opening the door I look down the hallway. Nothing. First thing first is to clear out the top floor. The room across from me will be first. I squared up the door and kicked it open. The door slammed into something behind it, and I pushed in. There was a large muscular creature lying on the ground. The door must’ve slammed into it. There was another more frail creature lying in the bed. I got down onto the large creature and jabbed the box cutter into the side of its neck. Once it was dug in I pulled and the blade slid across the throat like a hot knife through butter. Dark, black blood sprayed from the wound, and it made a guttural choking sound.

The creature on the bed lunged at me and sunk its teeth deep into my shoulder. The pain was agonizing, and I screamed. Adrenaline rushed through me and I slammed the blade deep into it’s back. It screamed and rolled off of me. I pulled the paracord out of my pocket and wrapped the ends around my hands, leaving a two-foot gap of rope between them. I slid this length of rope around its neck and placed my knee into its back. It attempted to get out from under me, but I held my ground. It’s shrieks turned into forced wheezing, and it eventually stopped making noise. I unwrapped the rope from my hands and stood up. Two more down, however many more to go. A new room to search as well. I checked the connected bathroom this room had, and found a first aid kit. I took the time to stop my bleeding and bandage my wounds. I then searched the closet. Nothing but board games and blankets. I was going to leave the room when I slipped on some blood and slammed into the ground. It hurt like a fucker, but I was able to notice a black box beneath the bed. Getting up I pulled the box from under the bed and opened it. Hallelujah! A shotgun and a box of shells. I loaded it up and got ready to search the rest of the upstairs. I checked the other two rooms, ready for anything.

Luckily nothing was in the other two upstairs rooms. Now for the descent to the ground floor. I slowly walked down the stairs, and got down to the bottom. Shit. Four, all in front of me. I raised my gun and pulled the trigger. Blam! It connects with the first creature. It’s left shoulder explodes, tearing the arm right from the torso. The creature flies back, bleeding profusely from the wound where the arm was previously connected.

The 2nd creature rushed me, and I pumped the shotgun, sending the empty shell flying. As the new shell cycled in, the creature reached me, sending me flying back into the fridge. My shotgun flew out of my hands leaving me weaponless. It grabbed me by the shoulder, and punched me hard in the face. Blood welled up in my mouth as I felt two of my teeth come loose. I spit my blood into its face, leaving it temporarily stunned. I shoved it back into the counter, and rushed for the sink. It was full, so I just had to reach into the water and hope for the best. As it regained its coherence I grabbed a handle and pulled. A fork. Shit. It swung at me and hit me right in the temple, and my head hit the counter top. It grabbed me by the back of the head and pushed my head into the sink. I couldn't breath, and it shoved my head deeper into the water. I tried to break free, but it was strong. As I ran out of air I was able to reach the fork I pulled out and stabbed it into the thigh of the creature. Its grip loosened and I was able to bring my head out of the water. I turned and kicked it in the knee, snapping the joint backwards and sending it falling. I kicked it in the face, and proceeded to slam my foot into its head until it caved in.

I grabbed my gun and tried to find the other two creatures, who had run away at this point. I searched the other rooms on the ground floor. I found one of them in the laundry room, cowering behind the washer. It screamed as I raised my gun and shot, sending its head spraying blood and brain matter all over the wall. The fourth I found in the ground floor bathroom. It stabbed me in the chest with an exacto blade, but it wasn’t long enough to hurt much. I shoved it back into the wall and blasted a hole into it’s stomach. It slid down to the floor and let out one last breath.

That was it, the whole house was clear. There was no longer a red haze, and the air had cooled down. I walked towards the front door, and opened it. A light flashed into my eyes, and I put my arm up. It was a truck and a couple cars. I squinted and looked closely. They were cops. Thank god, they can clean up the bodies of those creatures. A guy on a loudspeaker told me to kneel and put my hands behind my head. I complied. They must just be making sure I’m not one of those things. Two guys came and handcuffed me. Why? What is this. They told me I was coming with them. This must be some sort of cover up! They’re going to kill me and make sure this whole thing gets hushed up. I struggled and broke free. I started to run and suddenly felt weak. One of them tazed me, and I fell to the ground. Everything went fuzzy and I passed out.

“Are you going to interrogate that guy?” Detective Stevens asked me. “Yup, going right now” I responded. We had picked up this guy this morning, and we were waiting for his tests to come back. They just had, so I was going to question him. I got to his holding room, and stepped inside. “Are you here to kill me? Hush this all up?” the perp asked. I pulled up a chair and sat down. I put his file on the table and cracked it open. “John Beard, that you?” “So what if it is, there’s no point in drawing this out. I know what you’re here for. I know who you are. Just get it over with.” he told me coldly. I looked down at his file. “Born on August 13th, 1964. You don’t have any previous symptoms of psychosis. What do you think happened?” I asked him. He smirked at me. “Don’t act like you don't know. We both know what’s going on here.” he retorted. I was confused. I looked further down his file. “Sir, are you a frequent drug user?” I inquired. He looked at me confused. “No, never. I lost my Uncle to drugs. I would never touch the stuff.” He seemed sincere, but his tests showed otherwise.

“Sir, your tests show psychedelics in your system. Did you take any drinks from other people?” He seemed shocked, and started to turn pale. “Uhm . . . ya, yeah I did. From a friend. Mathew.” I looked at him, and he stared back at me. “Sir, I believe that the events that transpired tonight were due to you being under the influence. Do you know what you did tonight?” His lip started to quiver, and he looked at the edge of tears. “I . . . I . . . I stopped the monsters. I . . . swear.” I looked at him. “Sir, you killed seven people at a house party. Witnesses called after hearing screams, and again after they heard gunfire. Most people had left the party a couple of hours before the first call. Would you have killed them all, if they were all there?” A tear rolled down his cheek. “It was in self defense. They were going to kill me. You have to believe me.” He seemed distraught. “No sir, they were not. You killed a young woman by the name of Jennifer Giles. According to your phone records she was coming to get you. And you killed her.” He started crying. “No, no, it can’t be true. She was my girlfriend. I would never hurt her.” “Well, you did sir. You killed her, as well as another young couple on the top floor. And on the ground floor you killed one other young man and three young women. Your court date is in a couple of weeks. Do you want anything? A drink? A lawyer?” He put his head down on the table. “Just leave me be,” he muttered. I looked at him. He seemed at wits end. I decided it was best.

I got up and left the room. I went down the hall and got a coffee. “Did he say anything?” asked Stevens. “Yeah, it seems he got drugged and went on some sort of massacre. Poor kid. He’s probably going to get life, if not the death penalty.” I responded. It really was a sad case. On one side this kid's life has been ruined by some horrible druggie, and on the other the families of the victims have to live the rest of their lives without them. “Detective! Get over here!” I hear a yell down the hall. I turn and start running. I get to John’s holding cell in time to see him slamming his head into the table. “Stop!” I yell. I fumble with the keys and get the door open. But by the time I get to him his skull is already pretty damaged and bleeding profusely. I prop up his head, but his eyes are already still. He’s dead. I slam my hand into the table. “Dammit!” I yell. Stevens walks in behind me. “Should I call someone?” he asks. I look down at John. “Yes, call his parents, and also call the funeral services. They’ll probably want a proper burial.” Stevens nods and steps out into the hall. Poor kid. He murdered so many people, and then stricken with grief he killed himself. All because of one bad trip. I guess it’s time to go. So I stepped out into the hall and awaited the body crew.