Paranoia

PARANOIA

It’s nighttime in this sleeping neighborhood…

I don't know why I'm here. There are no porch lights on. No street lights. Everything is dark. I can't see who and I can't say why but I’m being followed. I can hear their steps echoing throughout the silent neighborhoods. With the lack of road traffic I can hear their creeping vehicles as they crawl and slither down alleyways and slowly perusing the suburban blocks. I run up to and in between houses but, for whatever reason, I never knock on anyone's door. I guess I just wouldn't trust them. This place just looks so suspicious; devious dark matter hiding beneath a wholesome image. I know if I were the people in the house I wouldn't trust me if I came to the door. They're after me. It may sound paranoid but is it really paranoid if it's true? 

I don't know how they found me, if they've ever lost me, or hell, even when they started watching me. I've never seen them; never got a good look at them. They're always dark figures hiding behind bright lights and that's the perfect description of this place, this Stereo Falls: dark figures hiding behind bright lights. Everything in sight is lit by moonlight and all appears covered in gray and illuminated with blue. I keep running but I feel like I'm in a maze. Click-clack, click-clack, I can hear their shoes on the paved road.

The walking sounds are getting closer though I can't see anyone. I run behind the bushes on the side of a nearby home. Crouching down behind the brush I see the figures of black clad men roughly through the branches. They move confidently and search the neighborhood street like storm troopers for warlords of yesteryear. I can hear them yet I can't make out the words. They look like shadows that have left their owners behind. The shadows move on in their search; their search for me. Why do they want me? I don't even know anymore. I suppose I've known about them for some time now. The feeling of being followed, silent phone calls, blank letters in the mail, mysterious looking men around my apartment, often watching me with binoculars from the street corners. At least I've believed me to be the object of their investigation. I became a shut in, albeit briefly. I refused to leave the apartment.

Keeping myself holed up was driving me crazy. I was holding myself captive with fear of these shadowy figures. I finally fled and evaded them for awhile but now I'm here...and so are they. My heart's racing and the beating is so loud I'm certain that it's audible beyond my own body and I try to calm down and quiet the thumping of the blood flow. With the men now out of sight I move on to the next spot: a dark space between two houses across the street. Faint light is seen in a window so I make sure to duck down beneath it. The window is cracked a few inches and I can hear that the couple inside is engaging in vigorous sex. I make sure to stay silent and invisible. While the heartbeats past the open window spike, mine steadies and I’m finally calm, taking in deep breaths. But the feeling doesn't last long as I hear their vehicles again. The engines of the slow-moving cars hum.

The very few bits of gravel and loose rock on the road audibly crush beneath the wheels. Time to go. I leap the fence to my side and sprint through the backyard. I didn't scan the yard as I should have. Right on my tail is a dog that's rushed from its doghouse and, from the sounds of it, is quite large. I don't have time to turn back and see for myself or even assess the situation; I just run as fast as my aching legs will take me. It barks and growls whilst galloping at me. I'm almost to the next fence and a few feet closer I jump, not fully clearing the gate as my pant leg is caught in the jowls of my chaser. The dog's relentless but luckily the weight of my body falling pulls me free and I continue through the next yard. No dog, thank God. I rush up the yard and hop the fence. My heartbeat plays like a Gene Krupa drum solo as I rest between houses.

I hope and pray that they pay no attention to the dog's barking. Dogs bark all the time. I lean back against the house's paneling while sitting in the dark trying to steady my breathing. I can still hear something but I don't know if it's THEM or a TV or radio in one of the houses next to me. My nerves are shot. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up while my skin tingles. My pores cry out with perspiration and my throat is dry from the excessive breathing. I'd kill for something to drink right now but survival is more on my mind than nourishment. Yes, to my side is the water spigot; I just hope this line's turned on. The handle creeks as I turn it. Success! Water falls out looking better than a five-course meal. I stick my mouth beneath it guzzling up as much as I can but I slow it down so I don't get waterlogged. I turn it back off, thankful. Now...about making it out of here alive.

I stretch and prep myself for the next sprint to the following location when I notice that, slowly, one by one the street lights are coming on. One at a time down the line. What is this? Are THEY doing this? A child's voice is heard behind me, "Mister..." and I almost throw my neck and back out spinning around. It's a little girl. Couldn't be older than nine; long blonde pigtails and in her pajamas. "Have you seen my doggie?” I'm thrown. "No, sweetie, I haven't.” She tells me, "He got out and I don't want him to get hit by a car.” "I don't want that either. Say, sweetie, isn't it a bit late for you to be out here?” And then everything goes black; sheer darkness is all I see. They've caught up with me. They used the little girl to distract me and now I have some kind of black sack over my head. I fight to no avail; there are too many of them though I can't see how many there are.

My heart beats like a fist is trying to punch through my chest. The lump in my throat is making it hard for me to swallow; hard to breathe. They're dragging me somewhere. My kicking and flailing legs give it a rest. Resistance is futile at this point, no use in wearing myself out. I hear one of their vehicles again before I'm presumably thrown into the trunk. The landing is hard and I'm certain I've landed on a tire iron which is now sticking into my back. The trunk is shut; everything is now darker than what it was, if that's even possible. They don't drive erratically and I can't hear anything my captors are saying through the opera blasting from their stereo system. This ride feels like an eternity. What is this? What do they want with me? I'm nobody. I can't honestly remember if I'm leaving anyone behind; kids, wife, parents, friends, anyone. I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm certainly not someone of interest.

We've stopped. The music shuts off and the car parks. The trunk opens and I'm pulled out forcefully though I'm thankful I no longer have the tire iron in my back. I'm dragged along despite my trying to walk with them. The air and ground change. It sounds like we're in some building now. I'm planted in a chair and I'm rolling...must be a wheelchair. Through the threading of the black sack over my head I catch glimpses of light as they wheel me down the hall. Florescent lights spaced apart along the ceilings of this hallway. I hear a loud unlocking sound and the opening of a large door, presumably. I'm turned around and wheeled backwards. The sack is removed and the lights in this room are harsh at first. It's taking my eyes a bit to get used to it. From what I can tell I'm strapped in a wheelchair by my arms and legs and the room I'm in looks like a medical facility of some kind.

The men in the room are in all black and are speaking amongst themselves though I can't make it out; almost sounds Russian. They turn their attention towards me. People would probably listen to me talk about my hiding out from the shadowy figures and say I'm just paranoid but, then again, those people won't have to go through what I'm about to. One of the men speaks to me in very broken English, "You no run away. You belong to us now. You signed contract. Remember?” It's vaguely coming back to me but only vaguely. Another black clad man comes from behind the one who spoke and places a massive apparatus over my head. It's silver, black, and clear fiberglass with a tray or guard of sorts resting in front of it. The device is over my head and face with the tray piece resting about eye level. I'm paralyzed with fear. The next feeling beyond terror – pain - as my eyelids are abruptly pulled open and held open by clamps on my new head gear, this apparatus.

My heart is in my throat and I can't bring myself to speak as I watch them approach me with two abnormally large (to me anyway) syringes. The needles are as thick as piercing needles and the liquid content inside them is a bright green. The two syringes are placed on the little brace piece in front of my eyes. The eager needles drip and I've never seen a drop so big. The drops fall on my cheeks and I can't tell if the liquid is freezing or burning. With the needles in place and its contents ready, they flip a switch and the syringes are mechanically being pulled closer to my eyeballs. I can't turn away and I can't blink. Please God, no. No, please God no! The needles are getting closer, larger. I tense up. I'm certain this will be the last thing I ever see. 

...And I'm right.