CHOOSE YOUR OWN MINDFUCK: A Night in Eighth Block Tower (A53)
Bedlam Bible fans! Explore the Eighth Block Tower! Choose your fate! Don't succumb to the huummmmmmmmm...
You’ve set your alarm for 3AM…
Your alarm goes off at 3AM and somehow (thankfully) you manage to turn it off and sneak away from the couch without waking Lynda.
Your tongue is thick and stuck to the roof of your mouth from how dry the air is inside her apartment. You need a drink, and fast. It can’t wait.
You walk to the kitchen and open the fridge and aren’t all that surprised to see it’s mostly empty. Only a few cans of ginger ale and a stack of about four or five thick sirloin steaks are inside. And cheese. There’s an entire drawer full of assorted cheeses. Breakfast of champions, you think, then close the refrigerator door.
All you want is water, and you were hoping you wouldn’t have to drink directly from the poison tap, but your mouth is so incredibly dry you can think of nothing else. Poison or not, you need water.
You reach over the sink to turn on the cold water, but before you’re able to reach it, you feel a set of claws digging deep into the flesh of your hand, then something bites the tip of your finger. The pressure of its teeth is enough to break the skin. You can't help but to utter a short yelp, though (fortunately) you’re able to keep your squealing at a level that isn’t loud enough to disturb Lynda.
You look down at your attacker, sitting in the bowl of the sink. It’s Baby, Lynda’s cat. The amount of trouble this creature has caused you in the last few hours is enough to justify a scolding, but being the animal lover you are, you’re not angry about the attack. It’s just a cat doing cat things, you think, then look for something to dress your wound, but you’re only able to find a slightly soiled napkin. It’ll have to do.
You wrap the dirty paper rag around your finger, then tiptoe through the heaping piles of trash on the floor, all the way to the front door. You exit Lynda’s apartment and silently hope you never find yourself back there again.
You walk to the end of the communal hallway, then down the stairwell, and not even a full flight down, you’re greeted by the most wonderful sight you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Your heartbeat quickens and your palms begin to sweat. It’s a miracle, no two ways about it. It’s as if all your prayers have been answered. You can hardly believe your luck.
Lying on the stairs now, directly at your feet, are two bodies—warm, but dead. They’re the bodies of your former accomplices: Leonard and Larry. It’s pretty obvious how they died, as blood continues to gush from their open wounds. Of course, you’re not positive what led to their demise, but you deduce that one or perhaps both of them got greedy and attempted to rob the other, right here on the stairwell. Leonard managed to land a bullet straight in the middle of Larry’s chest, and Larry—being the deadeye that he was—put a bullet in the small gap right between Leonard’s eyes. Neither stood a chance at surviving.
Scattered across the stairwell are hundreds of dollar bills, in various denominations, spattered with tiny dots of bright red blood. You remove the bag tucked under Leonard’s arm and begin tossing the loose bills into it, one by one, until it’s all accounted for. Once you have the cash packed away, you bolt towards the front entrance of the building, hoping not to be seen by any of the residents.
I’m home free, you think, just as you push open the busted glass doors of the front entrance.
But then you remember that you don’t have a way out… no plan, no getaway vehicle—not even a place to go. Besides, it’s much too late to catch a bus now anyway, you know that for a fact, because you arrived here on the final stop of the evening. You could call a cab, even if it’s just to get far enough away from the tower that you no longer hear its incessant humming—you certainly have enough money for that now—however, you don’t have a phone to call one up.
As you contemplate your next move, the bright light of full moon beaming overhead catches your eye. It’s then you realize just how perfect the night has gone. With the exception of a few uncomfortable moments, and of course the throbbing wound at your fingertip, this is exactly what you wanted—a new start.
You decide to take a walk, unsure of the destination, just happy to be going anywhere at all.
The next morning, you notice the wound looks even worse than it did the night before. You check out of your hotel, and immediately head to the nearest hospital emergency room. The entire process is fairly painless, you’re in and out within an hour, and your finger is expected to heal within a week—however, because you have no medical insurance, the doctor bill ends up being nearly as much money as you found the night before. You pay with the speckled bills. They raise an eyebrow as you count the cash, but accept it without question.
You only have enough cash left to get yourself a nice combo meal from The Taco Hut, which depresses you greatly, but you try to remain positive.
At least you now know where you’re going.
THE END