A Nightmare to remember

The pair of them wander down the regularly busy Headrow, the buildings casting their usual shadows with a soothing chill on a stifling day. The city centre was unbearably warm this time of year, like being placed in a steamer, sweating wasn’t helpful and if it could make you sweat, you’d be too soaked by the thick soupy air anyway. Clothing sticks to your skin too, no matter how loose you wear it. Their steps where never in unison, but their laughter was as it had been so for many years, used to this dance they bypass the old familiar Horse and Trumpet, with its usual array of punters, daytime weekly drinkers of the late 50’s and usually bald variety, and the slew of people from the back end of the bus stop queue. The pair take a right onto Briggate, the sun blinding them both in equal measure, yet only one of them shields their eyes. Joe always thought Marie was insane for that, but she never really felt the sun burn her eyes because she’d found the right angle to look, and although it burned in the corner of her eye, she never felt it to be more than just a distraction. The usual lot of people were wandering, aimlessly or from work to get home. All faces they both swore they’d never seen before though despite how familiar everything felt. The malingering voices and the usual sight of ‘Bible bashers’ as Joe called them, littered the Briggate, creating this symphony of voices disturbed only by the very regular mentions of Jesus, and death on the cross, or the odd shout every few minutes of rowdy kids with little better to do but linger in town after school. A faint “Oi, Dick’ed! Wot yuh do tha’ fo’?” Echoes, and a scramble can be heard outside of the McDonald’s as Joe and Marie walk past, at least where they’d be meeting Mick and Sam they wouldn’t be seeing many highly irritating teenagers.

Upon arrival at their usual meeting spot, the North Bar. The proper formalities are extended, hugs exchanged, and drinks are ordered. Everyone has familiar tastes, never differing from their routine orders they never particularly differ from.

“So, what’s noo wi’ you then?” Mick perks up, before slurping his pint and lathering a thick moustache of foam on his lip.

Marie speaks up first, Joe distracted by a passing dog. “No’ too much, star’ed a new job last month. Pays worse but ‘am happier.” She passes a smile, and sips her own drink, almost going into a full-on chug.

“Joe?” Sam speaks; her voice breaking his disassociation.

“Not too much, bin busy at work as per.” He sighs, rubbing his wet forehead. “Nice to see you lot tho’ ‘ow longs it bin now?”

“Near a year in’t i’?”

“Think so, time eh. Where does it go?”

Their conversations drone on, from one bar to the next until the sun begins to draw itself in for the night. Town isn’t exactly bustling but it certainly isn’t lacking in drinkers and people out on the town, and the regular sorts of undesirables offering substances towards the ends of the night. The lights felt dazing to Joe, and he was ready to call it a night after this last bar, one more drink for friends, even if he wasn’t the biggest fan of this. Parting the crowd to go to the loo, his head felt fuzzy, this was why he didn’t like to drink, the unsteady stumbling and that awful feeling of ‘I could fall down right here and decide not to get up.’ Of which always happened when he got home but, he’d never like to have it happen in public. Stepping into the men’s and standing aside for a cubicle despite three urinals being available, he waits. The floor becomes unsteady beneath his feet, and before he can react, he falls, collapsing through the ground and further through the earth, like being dragged through quicksand. Numbed by the drink, he doesn’t feel any of the typically expected agony from being dragged through tiled floor, and even worse, when it didn’t even happen.

He was now lying on the restroom floor, now drenched in sweat and the lights appeared dim, the door was open and the bar in clear view. Standing up felt both agonising and exhausting now, the alcohol barely having worn off. But the one thing that caught his attention, was the stinging upon his neck, the throbbing that he was hesitant to inspect in the only unshattered mirror in the room, but with a knot in his throat building up, he rolled back his blood-soaked shirt collar, to reveal the teeth marks deep into his neck. Upon the sight of that, the bite on his shoulder he couldn’t steady himself, he’d seen enough movies, tv shows and played enough game growing up to know what would happen, and now if his hair didn’t already look dishevelled, the cold sweats and the fevered heat made sure of it. ‘I need to find the others...’ Quickly, Joe grabs as much toilet paper as possible and folds it over, packing it beneath his t-shirt and attempting to cover the mass lump with his overshirt. Stepping out from the restroom, he notices the floor, littered with assorted signs of struggle and a handful of teeth on the pool table, with broken pool cues and blood pools just about everywhere. No corpses, not a single dead or living body in the room, freshly poured pints still lingering on the bar, undisturbed aside from a slight spillage and reddish tinge. The sun looked to be coming up, as the sly shine of light comes through the window blinding him. Maybe his friends made it to the LGI, the hospital being the only option on his mind, maybe he could get some treatment to slow whatever this bite is down... ‘No, no that wouldn’t work Joe would it.’ He was half tempted to start up drinking again until his body gave in, so he took to pour himself a drink, with no hope left to find his friends, he takes a sip of the fresh beer and before he can even enjoy that first cold sip. His eyes draw closed, and the last thing he feels is his body slamming into the floor.