Regret

The building loomed ahead of me, dark blue, almost black in the foggy night. Only the pale light from a single street light illuminating it. The streets were empty of all but two cars; to my left was a white van, missing a wheel and left for the scavengers of the street to pick clean. The side panels had been graffitied with the tags of the local artists. On my right was a red sedan, almost too good to be in this rubbish-strewn street and I gave it a passing glance as I passed by, catching my reflection in the passenger window. I stopped, surprised at my appearance.

I sniffed and dabbed at my nose, my fingers coming away bloody.

When did I get a blood nose?

Then I heard the footsteps - thud, thock - and all thoughts of my appearance were left behind with the red sedan as I hurried towards the building, away from my pursuer.

I reached the metal double doors, the D-shaped handles cold to touch and pulled them.

They jingled loudly, like a baby's rattle next to a megaphone. I looked down and saw a thick chain snaking around both handles, a shiny new padlock denying me entry.

I cursed and spun around at the sound of more scuffing. It sounded closer now and I felt my heart beating out of my chest. I couldn’t go back so I ran around the side of the building and found a fire escape zig-zagging its way to the top of the building. The vertical ladder was down and without thought I grabbed it and started climbing, my shoes banging against each rung as I climbed. When I reached the level platform I ran across and switch-backed my way up to the roof where I sprinted across the rain-soaked concrete towards the only door leading into the building.

I pulled the door open, grateful it was unlocked, and burst inside, letting it close behind me. I found myself in a dark stairwell, illuminated by single bulbs of pale yellow light. One bulb for each flight of stairs. A death trap if there ever was one.

I waited, leaning against the door and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness while I tried to calm my breathing. Each gulp breaking the eerily silent stairwell. I had to get out of here and get to the police. 

Suddenly the door handle rattled, sounding like a gunshot in the confined stairwell and I cried out in shock.

I ran, my footsteps echoing off the walls as I descended the stairwell. Behind me, I heard the door slam open. The sound hit me like a concussive blast despite being two flights below and I almost stumbled. But I managed to hold on and continued down, testing each emergency door while footsteps followed me, the sound of them getting closer and closer.

At the first floor stairwell I found an unlocked emergency door and pulled it open. I passed through and ran down a corridor that split up the row of offices. Dim night lights lit the path ahead of me and on either side glass walls towered over me. I saw myself in the glass, running, my shoes thudding along the thin carpet, kicking up dust and the small, rational part of my mind was wondering how long this place had been abandoned. 

Behind me I heard the emergency door slam shut and my heart leapt into my mouth. 

He was right behind me! 

I didn’t dare look back and I picked up my pace, my heavy legs protesting but I forced them to keep going. The alternative was worse.

What did he want with me?

My chest was heaving when I made it to the other side, to a set of stairs that went down to the ground floor and there I saw the green light of hope. The glowing illumination of the words I longed to see:

EXIT

I hurried over to the emergency door and pushed on the bar, my heart swelled with hope when the bar depressed and the door gave a little. It was stiff, hadn’t been used in years, and I put my shoulder into it, shoving as hard as I could. I pushed again and again, the door giving little each time. Putting all remaining strength I had into it, I gave it one final shove and the door creaked open, protesting at being used for the first time in God knows how long.

It was as I passed through the door that I realised I hadn’t heard the footsteps chasing me since the stairwell.

It was as I stumbled out and looked out to the wide open road ahead of me, the road to safety, that I didn’t see him. A part of me wondered how he had gotten there before me, waiting for me…

I woke with a gasp, sweat pouring down my face. My alarm clock was blaring and I fumbled for it on my dresser amongst my phone, a book and a glass of water I almost tipped over before finally shutting it off. I rolled over, groaning and rubbing my eyes.

“What the hell was that?” I said aloud to no one in particular. There was no one.

Well, no one except the seven ventriloquist dummies sitting in a row on the other side of my bedroom. My life’s work all there, completed and ready to go out to shops and budding acts ready to put on a show.

They all stared back at me, males and females and mocked up superheroes. Made to the clients specifications. All except Bruce.

Bruce was the first one I’d ever made, my pride and joy. He looked like any other ventriloquist dummy dressed in a dark blue suit and bowtie, painted green eyes and brown hair, with a mouth half hanging open on stiff hinges. He was a little rough around the edges, as to be expected from my first go, and he was ten years old so there was naturally going to be some wear and tear.

Right now he was staring at me and I felt guilty, “Was it you?” I asked.

Naturally there was no response and I lay back in bed, staring at the roof. Groaning at the thought of another long day.

After another minute I reluctantly rolled out of bed and dressed in my work uniform. As I was pulling my bright orange shirt over my head my phone dinged and I picked it up.

It was the email I was expecting. Dreading, but expecting.

I opened it and read it. Then closed it and looked at Bruce. “Sorry buddy.”

I spent the rest of the day tending to the needs of hungry shoppers. Fried chicken is like a golden life saver to some. There are those who are here every day, requesting the same greasy fried meal every single time and I serve it up happily (at least on the outside) and watch them, just waiting for the day they keel over from clogged arteries.

But thankfully today was not the day and it all went smoothly for the most part, not that I would have known otherwise. My mind was elsewhere, at the regret of the decision I had made. But that was the sad situation of my life right now. I needed the money and Cluckin’ Chicken wasn’t the highest paying job in the world.

Carving out my own handmade dummy’s did pay well enough but the demand for them was low. I sold my last one a few months ago and the other six in my bedroom were ones that had fallen through.

Who knew people would renege on a handcrafted ventriloquist's dummy? 

Dad told me to get a contract together, get some sort of payment upfront which made sense. Of course, this is coming from the same man who says contracts aren’t worth the paper they are written on.

My mind was also on that dream. I’d never had a dream like that before. Who was chasing me and why? I’m a server of chicken and maker of dummies. The only enemies I have are termites and vegans.

I usually don’t take notice of my dreams, in fact I rarely have them, but that one was vivid. I felt like it was actually living it, like a past life.

The building wasn’t familiar to me but that is meaningless. I live a pretty narrow existence. I leave home, walk the same streets, catch the same train, walk the same street to the same shopping centre to work my shift and repeat on reverse to get home. I know like ten streets in this city.

It was almost closing time when my phone buzzed. The boss doesn’t like us checking phones during work hours but everyone was chickened out and she wasn’t here to tell me off.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it. It was an email from the buyer.

Sorry. Have to pull out of sale. Something has come up.

I sighed, not with regret, but with relief. Bruce might be rough around the edges but he was my first working dummy. There was sentimental value to him. When I was a teenager, we spent a lot of time together doing comedy acts at kids parties. Then I became an adult and needed to make real money to survive so the kids' parties stopped. 

The feeling I felt, the small spark of happiness was just what I needed. It confirmed that I would have regretted selling him for the rest of my life. Sure I could have made another one, even a better looking, better working one but it wouldn’t be the same.

I smiled for the first time today. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Bruce the good news.

Not that he would know, or care. He was a wooden dummy, but still, it was good news and I needed to share it with someone.

It was past eight by the time my shift finished and I hurried out of Cluckin’ Chicken and the shopping centre itself. Outside it was dark and cold, my breath misting out in front of me as I walked towards the train station. I was tired, exhausted after a long day but also excited to get home. Have a nice, hot shower and maybe try a few acts with Bruce.

Since I got the news of the buyer pulling out I was thinking of ways to make money and decided maybe it was worth trying the party gig again. Extra money was extra money.

I turned off Main street into a dimly lit alleyway I used as a shortcut. The uneven path was wet and the walls glistened with the remains of the afternoon’s rain. I skirted around puddles and dodged around bins and piles of boxes and crates carelessly tossed from the backdoors of the shops on the other side of the alley. The only sounds were my footsteps and the tap-tap-tapping of dripping water.

Suddenly there was a splashing sound. I glanced back but saw nothing in the dim light. I figured it was just an animal scavenging for food. I paid it no mind and continued on.

I was almost to the end when I heard another sound.

Thud, thonk.

I turned around, but the sound had stopped and I could barely see past the length of my arm. I shrugged and continued.

Thud, thonk, thud.

There it was again, and this time it sounded closer. Almost right behind me. This time I didn’t stop, rather I quickened my pace a little. Not so much that I wanted to let whoever it was behind me know that I was scared but enough that I could break out into a sprint if needed.

I emerged out of the alley and crossed the road, passing a row of parked cars. I stopped and watched the alley entrance, waiting to see what was following me.

But there was no one.

A car approached and the headlights lit up the alleyway entrance. I squinted, watching the alley, and just as the car passed I saw the light reflecting off something just out of sight, behind a stack of shipping pallets.

Did I see…

Was that?

No, it couldn’t have been.

I shook my head and laughed, I must have been more tired than I thought. There was no one there, the light was reflecting off something shiny, probably the plastic still stuck to the pallets.

Cursing myself for being a scaredy cat, I continued on towards the station. This street was lined with cars parked on the side, sitting silently, waiting for their owners. I passed rows of townhouses, lights shining in windows as families sat watching TV or having dinner or whatever it is families do these days. Probably on their phones ignoring each other.

Scuff...scuff.

I froze. 

Thud, thonk.

I spun around, my breath caught in my chest. My eyes searched the footpath and rows of parked cars.

Nothing.

I breathed out, the air misting in front of me.

It was eerily silent. No cars, no train horns. Nothing. It was too cold and too miserable to be out tonight. 

And it was getting to me. 

I turned back and walked towards the station, noticing my pace had quickened.

I crossed the Smith St intersection where a fog was starting to descend, blanketing the street. It was definitely going to be a cold one tonight. I was looking forward to rugging up in bed with a good book.

And all the doors and windows locked.

I rolled my eyes, why was I freaking myself out?

The train station was in sight now, the bright lights piercing the blanket of fog and I felt relief wash over me.

Then about 100 metres ahead, someone stepped out from between two parked cars. They stood under the pale yellow street light, fog swirling around them. Their shadow stretched in all directions, the light reflecting and refracting off windows and the wet footpath, and I couldn’t tell if they were two feet tall or seven.

But what I could see was something in their hand. It looked to be the size of a ruler. It also looked like a knife.

I froze. My heart froze. My breath caught in my throat.

I watched and waited. Waited to see what they would do. I couldn’t even tell if they were facing me.

I said a silent prayer that whoever it was would walk away.

Then they moved towards me.

Panicked filled me and adrenaline kicked in. I turned and ran.

I turned left at the next street, and kept going, turning at random streets. Behind me I heard the thudding of steps, though it sounded odd, hollow maybe?

It didn’t matter right now.

My breath clouded in front of me as I ran, my chest was tight and my heart thudded in my chest. Sweat started running down my forehead into my eyes and I wiped them free. I ran blindly, not knowing where I was going but it was an industrial part of town. I passed by large, brick warehouses with tall chimneys sitting in the darkness and big trucks behind iron gates. I turned into a dark, poorly lit street that I soon realised was a cul-de-sac.

Behind me I heard the hollow steps echoing off the factory walls. Moving slowly and calmly.

Thud, thonk, thud.

But getting closer.

“No!” I cried out. I sniffed and felt something running down my nose. I dabbed at it and came away with bloody fingers.

I had a bloody nose. 

When did that happen?

Behind me the steps were getting closer. There was no one around and I had no choice but to keep running, find a place to hide and hope I could circle around my pursuer.

I passed a heavily graffitied van, missing a wheel and a shiny red sedan. The wind blew, blowing rubbish across the street and ahead of me was a dark blue building sitting on the end of the street.

I headed towards it, testing the front door. But it was locked.

No. No!

I ran around the side, finding the fire escape, the ladder down. I hurried up it, my feet clanging loudly off the metal like a beacon for my pursuer. I zigzagged up the fire escape, onto the roof, through the door and into the stairwell.

All the while my pursuer kept following.

Thud, thonk.

As I leaned against the door in the stairwell I realised this was the building in my dreams. The one from last night. The vivid dream where I…

The door handle rattled and I cried out, running down the stairs, not even bothering to try the emergency doors, I knew they would be locked. I went straight to the level one door and opened it.

This was playing out exactly like the dream! I had to get ahead. It was the only way out.

I ran down the hall, down the stairs to the ground floor, to the emergency exit that I knew was stiff with age. I slammed into it, shoving against it as hard as I could.

This time I opened it on my second shove. I stumbled out, looking left and right, there was no one there. Just a straight run down the road, towards the station.

I’d made it. I’d beat my dream.

I took two steps forward and felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I looked down to see the black handle of a knife, the blade plunged all the way into my stomach. Dark blood pouring down my top, splattering on the ground.

I fell, my legs suddenly numb. Darkness cornered my vision, getting darker and darker..

And just as it overcame me, I heard a small, rough voice.

“Try to sell me, would ya.”