Tales of the Storage Space, Part 18

Martin was running from Frank through rows and rows of storage units.  But as fast as he ran he was hardly moving at all, and the storage space building’s halls kept growing longer and longer.  Finally he found what he somehow already knew was there, a partially open unit.  He even knew Karen was inside, and he didn’t have any way of knowing that either.  But he could hear Frank clattering up the stairs, so he tried to get in there with Karen anyway.

He knew that if Frank found him with her again, Frank’s killing him wouldn’t just be about all the money Martin owed him.  But maybe Frank wouldn’t find him this time.

This time?

Martin didn’t have a chance to think about that because he’d just spotted the thing that had tried to stop him last time.  Again it oozed into the opening to Karen’s storage unit.  Again it was some hideous mixture of a vicious dog and a sea serpent.  But Martin dove right at it, remembering he’d passed right through it before.

This time, though, it wasn’t a bloody hallucination.  Martin collided with the serpent dog with a sickening thud.  A green, serpentine hand grabbed his throat.  Another green hand, dripping seaweed, raised something that caught the light and sparkled high over Martin’s head.

He made out the shape of the sparkly thing as it descended to puncture his throat.

It was that shard of glass.

For the third time since Jennifer’d left that morning, Martin woke up screaming.

This time he stumbled out of bed in a cold sweat, tripped over some of her clothing, and sprawled across the floor like some broken and discarded doll.

But it was just a dream.  Right?  Then the memories from the previous night washed over him with all the subtlety of a tsunami.

Shaking, wracked by dry sobs, he staggered to his feet.

Memories…

He yelped in pain, then shook himself like a wet dog.

That spurting blood…

Frank’s face…

Martin hit a wall and screamed in pain.  He couldn’t believe he’d let himself fall asleep again.  There was something he had to do.  What was it?  It was important.

Jennifer!  He’d told her he’d left one of her boxes of precious stuff in the storage space by mistake and sent her off to retrieve it as soon as he’d been able to wake her up.  This after the consummate job of acting the previous night, when he’d actually managed to get it up and fuck the stupid, annoying bitch…while babbling about how much he loved her and how big a mistake it had been to ever let her go.  Fortunately she hadn’t stopped to check or she would have seen that all her bloody boxes were already there in Martin’s apartment.

But he had to act fast since it wouldn’t take long for Jennifer to figure it out.

Martin grabbed the phone he’d taken from Jennifer’s purse and punched in the number.  At least he could let his voice shake all it wanted to for this conversation.  But what he did need to do was to remember to speak in as close to a pure American accent as he could…no bloody British-isms.  “Yo, is this the number to call to report a violent crime?  Ya know, anonymously?  Like, I think the perp is still at the scene a’ the crime, but I got ahold of her phone when she dropped it.”

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