I am a light-weight, that is for sure. I am a bit buzzed, and my muse has decided to knock on my noggin. Let me know if this is not the correct sub, though. I rarely write these days, let alone finish anything. I want to "Keep Writing," though. Hopefully this will turn into something worth-while. The following is whatever my muse has decided to communicate tonight.
Kyle is doing is eyebrows. The bathroom light is situated in such a way that his hand casts a shadow over his face as he plucks each hair. It is a difficult process.
Someone knocks on the door.
He turns down the volume on his iPhone. The first knocks are three quick ones, the same knock every delivery driver does. He did not order anything. Maybe the guy from Jimmy Johns got confused with the building numbers, again. Maybe the person who ordered paid with a card and included the tip. Free sandwich wins out over the guilt of taking someone else's food.
Kyle places the tweezers back in the medicine cabinet. His back hurts from having to lean over the sink to see himself clearly. He stops at the top of the stairs to crack a few joints and stretch.
Someone knocks on the door, again.
Kyle can see the shadows of several people on the blinds. They are walking back and forth up the outdoor hallway. The knocks are more insistent. The police would have said something. A delivery driver would have come alone. None of his friends or family called ahead for a visit. Maybe something is happening in the building.
The person on the other side of the door rattles the doorknob.
He realizes someone is trying to come in, not be answered. Kyle walks down the steps and turns on the floor lamp. He has it positioned to shine light toward the windows, so that no one can see his shadow from the outside. His sister told him to do that, advice she herself received only after having her apartment broken into. She was not home when that happened, though. Maybe he should have gotten the security system she recommended, as well.
The door is pounded on, and the shadows on the blinds all stand in a straight line.
Kyle slowly walks back up the stairs. He picks up his iPhone. The music is still playing, but not loud enough to be heard from downstairs. He turns off the music, and dials his friend in an adjacent building. He hides in the closet.
The people outside are tapping on the windows. They noticed the light was turned on. Still, they say nothing. It is 3AM. No one else can hear them. Maybe someone will be coming home and see them. Maybe they have guns.
Kyle's friend is woken by the phone ringing. He grumbles about having forgotten to turn on airplane mode before he went to bed. The caller ID reads "Dumb Kyle." He answers, assuming he has locked himself out again.
"The couch is occupied, but you can sleep in the bathtub if you want."
Kyle has no time to laugh at his friend's humor. "There are people outside of my apartment. Could you look towards my building and tell me what you see?"
Kyle does not sound panicked, nor does he seem to be joking. He is very bad at joking. "Alright, but make sure I get up in the morning. I will sleep through my alarm if this keeps me up long."
Kyle's friend rolls off his mattress on the floor and begrudgingly heads down the stairs of his lofted studio apartment. Instead of peeking through the blinds, he picks up his cigarettes and a lighter. He takes these outside with him, as if he were simply out there to have a smoke.
There are five people standing faced towards the windows and door of Kyle's apartment. They are in normal clothing. Not police officers or delivery drivers. He does not recognize anyone from the distance, but the person in front of the door has a rifle in one hand and the other is on the doorknob.
"Do they know you are inside?"
"Yes, I turned on the light so they could not see if I walked in front of my windows."
"The person knocking on your door has a rifle. Hang up, call the police. Goodnight."
Kyle's friend has hung up the phone. He dials 911.
The tapping on the windows becomes rhythmic. The doorknob is no longer being jiggled. The sound of metal hitting the wooden balcony is soft, almost nonexistent under the tapping on the windows.
The 911 dispatcher picks up the phone. Kyle explains what is happening, and mentions that at least one person outside is armed. He gives the dispatcher his address. The police will be there soon.
The door is pushed open. Kyle wishes that his closet door had a lock on the inside. The people know that he is in the apartment. He hopes they are only there to rob him.
Kyle can hear the refrigerator start defrost mode. His air conditioning unit powers down. The people file into his apartment. He can hear their shoes on the vinyl floor of his kitchen. No drawers open or shut. He does not feel the vibration of anyone on the stairs. No one speaks.
An eternity later, his front door is shut. The refrigerator has stopped defrosting. He can hear the doorknob being replaced. He can hear the receding shuffle of footsteps on the outdoor balcony.
There is a knock on the door. It is two, loud knocks. This is the police.
Kyle opens the door for them. They ask questions. The officer in charge wants a description. Kyle recounts the knocking, tapping on the windows. He did not see anything but their shadows. He tells them his friend informed him of the weapon and number of intruders.
"Why did you not call the police first?"
"I did not know if it was an emergency. They could have been people I knew."
"Son, that was extremely stupid and dangerous. Your friend could have gotten shot."
"That is unlikely officer. They knew I was home but they did not try to find me when they came in. I don't think they even took anything."
"They entered your home?"
"Yes sir, but at least they replaced the doorknob after removing it. Did you see anyone when you came up the stairs?"
"You said they did not take anything? Five people, at least one armed, forcibly entered your home and did not take anything? Did you hear anyone say anything?"
"No sir. Nothing out of place and I never heard any of them say anything."
"Kyle, if we could take a look around your apartment, I would appreciate it."
"Sure, officer. I have nothing to hide here."
"You might not, but I think I may know what has happened here."
The officer makes his way to the kitchen. He runs his hand over the top of the cabinets to inspect them. He feels something up there and takes it down. In his hand is a voice recorder. He has seen these before, they are turned on and off by remote control. The battery is not rechargeable, and its memory cannot be erased. It is meant to be used in federal investigations.
He places the recorder back on top of the cabinet. He returns to the living room to find Kyle with eyes glued to his phone. The officer clears his throat.
"Kyle, I do not see anything out of the ordinary in here. We will check in with management tomorrow and see if there were any witnesses aside from your friend. We will also give him a call, if you could give me his number."
Kyle of course obliges, and thanks the officers who came over. He opens the door for them to file out, and waves goodbye. He thanks them again for coming over to help.
Kyle texts his friend to let him know that the police will be calling him. He makes sure his door is locked, and then heads back up the stairs.
"Well kiddo, I think it is time to move, again. The feds caught up with us. Too bad, too. You were so perfect."
Kyle climbs the access ladder to his crawlspace above the bathroom. The young woman whines, moves her arms in an attempt to shield her head. Kyle unlocks her kennel, easily pulls out one of her arms and takes a syringe from his 'toy box.'
It is going to be a pain to move her now. Maybe he can leave her. He should have a day or so before the feds come back for the tape.
That was a bit of a stretch, but at least I successfully finished what I started. That happens rarely these days. I know, I know. Wouldn't the police have called the feds to see why they were there? Why did the feds leave a tape recorder in the first place? Well... I suppose they brought the gun in case he saw them. Maybe they only 'suspected' him of a crime and therefore thought it unnecessary to do more than leave the recorder? And the whole staging of the break-in with the knocking and door rattling and window tapping- what was that about? Did they just want to see if he would answer? Possibly they counted on him hiding from them? They knew he was there, so why risk entering? Anyway, that was a colander of a story (filled with holes and holds no water).
That was satisfying to write, though. Maybe I will develop this idea further.
Submitted September 14, 2015 at 11:32AM by inspectoralex http://ift.tt/1FH9ItC KeepWriting
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