Dale works toward the outside of the city as a car mechanic in his family shop. It's been struggling recently due to the advancements in technology and the mass migration to electric vehicles. It was his dad's place before he died last year, which got handed down to Dale. He decided to keep it open as it's his primary source of income. It's a small business, with two or three others in the shop at any given time.
One car is suspended in the air by a lift. His. He's organizing one of the tool benches inside, possibly for the third time today, when he sees my headlights through the garage doors. The lights inside go out one by one until he walks out the front door, locking it on his way out.
The shop is surrounded by abandoned buildings and storefronts available for sale. It's sad to see this side of the city. Not all of it is broken down. It's small, but far from dead. It's heavily overlooked in favor of the flashy 175 story buildings and the patterns of flying drones in the heart of the city. In fact, across the street is a fantastic bicycle shop which I've been to numerous times. There's a breakfast place near here that Kristen enjoys.
He swings his keys around his finger until he opens the passenger door to my car. Once he's in, I drive off.
"Know where it is?" he asks, as he throws his apron in the backseat. "I'll need a ride home tonight and tomorrow morning... obviously." He's sweaty and had spots of grease on his apron. He slicks his dark hair back and looks at himself in the mirror in the visor. He's not one to exercise much, so all the work at the shop is probably all the physical activity he gets.
"All good, and yes, I know where it is." I already put the address he provided me into the car before I even showed up. It's a peaceful drive with only a few stop lights making us stop. Old street lights line the side of the road. They're out of spec and use parts that the manufacturer no longer makes. We've opted to make our own poles at the power plant. Ones that are brighter and more reliable.
The directions take us into an older and more broken neighborhood, not far from the car shop. Over half of the homes are abandoned, missing roofs, broken windows, or completely demolished. Of the homes that aren't abandoned, most of them have an overgrown yard with wood nailed to and covering the windows.
Some people walk down the side of the street, almost invisible with the lack of any street lights. It's until I see a house down the street with lights shifting through the entire rainbow coming from it that I think we're lost. Many bikes are thrown haphazardly onto the front lawn, with a few cars parked in the driveway and on both sides of the street. Even from inside the car, I can feel the heavy music and hear the cheers coming from inside. It's going to be a long night.
No one notices us walk in. Almost everybody has a plastic cup in their hand, most likely containing some sort of alcohol. A few people are already passed out on the ground or laying on couches. Both I and Dale are clearly overdressed for the occasion which attention from some. Most people wear old clothing, sometimes ripped.
Each floorboard I step on creeks. Seems as if one wrong step you could fall down to the basement, if there is one. There is a second floor, but some of the floor of it is missing. In some areas, you can look up and see the attic or even the sky. No way anyone lives here.
For a house that looks like it's about to collapse, there's plenty of fancy furniture inside. The stuff you see in the lobbies of five star hotels. The house is mostly open, with not many walls separating any of the rooms. An extra large chocolate fountain that stands up about as tall as me draws Dale's attention the quickest. He tries to point it out to me, despite it being right in our faces as we walked in. I nod as I take in everything around us. Many people of all ages, some as young as high schoolers. Explains why there's bikes on the lawn.
Toward the front of the house where we came in is a makeshift stage made from tables and chairs for a DJ set. The person DJ'ing is a teen boy with long black hair, probably still in high school. He jumps up and down pointing at the crowd in front of him. Whether or not the songs playing are his, his skills are still impressive for someone that young. The tech looks quite professional and expensive, something you would see at a club, not a house with half of it's roof missing.
Dale seems to enjoy the music. It's the kind he likes anyways. Electronic dance or something like that. He's tried to get me into it a few times with no success. Too loud. Fast. Confusing. Sort of repetitive too. I can appreciate the music though.
No one here knows who the party host is, not even Dale. Many suspect it's the DJ, some think it's the owner of the house, while others think the host isn't even here. Everyone else starts pointing fingers around the house, telling who they think is the host. Dale told me that the host was a friend of his friend, but doesn't know the name.
Toward the back of the house is a foldable table with bowls of food and various flavors and types of alcohol on it. After wiggling through the mass of people, I grab a small plate of chips and crackers and a bottle of beer from the cooler on the ground. Dale, has a shot of whiskey in one hand, a cup of beer in the other hand, and another bottle of beer in his back pocket.
He looks at me confused, "What?" he asks with his mouth full, after noticing me looking at him. He chews on a cupcake and washes it down with a big swig of whiskey.
"You're insane." It's not the first time he's drank like this, and it's far from the last. Sometimes is scares me.
An hour passes, maybe two, possibly even three at this point I can't tell. I left my phone in the car to charge so I have no reference of time. The alcohol doesn't help either. There aren't any clocks in the house... figures. Music still plays and the lights flicker to the point where someone could have a seizure if they weren't careful. A minor headache develops and my balance starts to go along with my vision, but a bottle of water and an unpleasant trip to the bathroom snaps me back to reality.
Dale stands in the middle of the house talking to other people. Probably old friends from high school or college. He enjoys the music more than I do, to the point where he almost falls over dancing to it. At one point he gets everyone to start chanting to the beat of the song playing. It probably reminds him of his college days. Definitely much different from mine.
It would be impossible to drag him away from the party to leave, so to escape the party for a moment, I step out onto the front porch of the house. The entire neighborhood is dead except for the party. Nobody walking, nobody driving about, only the sound of music and voices from the party. Being away from the smell of cigarettes and alcohol and inside allows me to close my eyes and, attempt to drown out the sounds of the party. It barely works.
After five minutes, I'm about to head inside when I see three pairs of bright LED headlights in the distance. Squinting, I notice that they are three identical vehicles. They drive closer and closer, slowing down as they near the party. The police? No. Three black SUVs with black tinted windows. Instead of driving past like I thought they would, they stop, pulling onto the lawn of the house, almost hitting my car.
Two men in black suits with dark sunglasses emerge from each vehicle and walk up the pathway into the house. They walk swiftly and with purpose. I start to open the door to head inside until one of them orders me to stop. Given that music is still playing it seems no one inside has noticed.
"Are you the bouncer of this party?" one of they say. I laugh at the question. At first I think they are joking until I look at what I'm wearing. A dark blue t-shirt that almost looks black in the night, a size too small so it makes my biceps look bigger than they are.
"No," I reply, confused.
"Are you the host of this party?" he asks without hesitation, almost cutting me off. I have to ask him to repeat the question because of the blaring music.
"No.. I'm not. Why—"
"Do you know the host of the party?" he asks impatiently, this time cutting me off.
"Nope," I say more informally, trying to ease the tension. "No one really does. My friend brought me here and—"
"Step aside," he says.
I move as they asked, stepping into the view of the four men behind him. The porch small and uneven, so I almost fall off. One of the men pushes himself to the front of the group, this one a little shorter and skinnier than the other.
"Wait," he says. he looks me up and down. Something flickers in his glasses. A movement so small it's hardly noticeable. Smart glasses. "That's him."
Before I can say anything, two of the men approach me. Both of my arms are grabbed and I'm lifted off the ground. I scream and shout, trying to kick the men holding me. They keep walking. No one hears me, the music is too loud inside. The backseat door to one of the SUVs is opened and I'm violently thrown in. The locks on the doors are modified so people in the back like me can't open them. There's a grate between the backseat and the front so I can't escape.
Looking outside, each of the men return back to the front of the house and walk inside. Now's my chance. Think. Think. Think. The windows. The backseat is clean, nothing sharp. Nothing in the doors either. I use my feet, kicking at the windows. Nothing. The windows just wobble, instead of breaking. If I had my work boots on, just maybe they would break. The trunk. I pull at the handle. Locked. Think.
The music stops inside. They drag another person out. Dale. He lets them carry him, his feet dragging across the cement. He's thrown into the SUV behind me, more gently that I was. One of the men guard the door to the house, making sure no one gets out. The rest of the men return to the cars. There goes my opportunity. People inside of the house look out of the windows and try to push past the man blocking the door but to no avail.
The driver and passenger doors open and two men enter. The air conditioning automatically turns on. They turn around to look at me, sunglasses still on.
"Don't worry. We're not taking you anywhere," the dark-haired one says. He sits in the driver's seat. "We're just here to talk to you about something."
"We have gotten word that your wife and daughter had died in a car accident just 30 minutes ago," the other one continues. "You weren't home but you were listed as her husband. We're truly sorry and if we—"
"I'm sorry. What? No," I say quickly. "That... that's impossible. My wife is home, and... and my daughter is sleeping. They're nowhere at 1 a.m." Both of them look at me, saying nothing.
"We have gotten word that your wife and daughter had died in a car accident just 30 minutes ago," he says again.
"Why's my friend Dale involved with this?" I ask impatiently, pointing toward the SUV behind me. "Where are my wife and daughter? How do you know them anyways?"
"They died... he just told you that," the dark-haired one says. I punch the grate with anger, hurting my own hand. It starts to bleed. Neither one of them flinched.
"Where?" I ask angrily. "Where are they? Are they in a hospital? Can I see them?" I try to reach my hand through the grate, but it's only big enough for my fingers to get through.
"I'm afraid we can't do that," he says. Anger builds in me. Why I keep asking myself. Why can't I see them? Why aren't I getting straight answers? I kick my leg, hitting the seat in front of me, bruising my leg this time.
"Why's my friend Dale involved with this?" I ask again. I already know I'm not going to get an answer.
"We want to make sure both of you are safe. He—" Before he can finish, the radio turns on, playing a midnight talk show before it turns to static. Both of them are caught off guard. Every light on the car turns on and off. Horns to each of the three SUVs go off in unison. The dark-haired man turns on the car and fiddles with the large screen that is the center console.
Suddenly, the glass to the driver's window shatters. Glass flies everywhere, some into my leg. The dark-haired man flinches backward, hitting his head against the grate. Instinctively, I duck down with my hands over my head. Before the other can react, the glass to the passenger window shatters. Something runs down my face. Blood. It doesn't take me long to realize that it's theirs.
Oh my god. They've been shot. There's a large cavity in the middle of their foreheads where the bullet went through. Blood pools up on the leather car seats. With a click, the locks on the doors open. Before I can get out, someone else opens the door for me. A woman with long black hair dyed dark purple at the end. There's a bright light outside, brighter than the sun, making me squint when the door opens. I try to get out but she pushes me down. She wears a face shield that covers her entire face. I can see my reflection in it. Blood covers half of my face.
"Night night," she says. I'm confused until I see the needle she pulls out of my neck. I try to form words but nothing comes out. My vision fades and my hearing goes in and out. There's shouting and the sound of a gun firing, too echoey to make out words. I'm too tired to move any of my limbs so I lay back as I ascend to the heavens.