Red Eye

Part Twenty-Three

They're all gathered in front of the building, pressed against the glass like spectators at the zoo. There's not enough of them to be considered an army; more like a Black Friday mob. They're just standing there, faces devoid of any discernible expression. A few moans and grunts escaped their chapped lips, lifeless red eyes staring straight ahead. They're waiting... but for what, I don't know.

Sitting here, looking out at these... damn, can I even call them "people" anymore... you'd think I'd be scared shitless, waiting for that warm sensation to run down the front of my pants. Sure, the fear is there, rising in the middle of my chest. The tingling of goosebumps has already taken over my skin. But there's also this weird, maybe unnatural, sense of calm that's keeping me from having what should be a full-blown "holyfuckingshit" panic attack. 

Dangling on the edge of insanity, my mind is tugging at useless strings and grasping for non-existent straws. It's conjuring up every insignificant detail of a long forgotten, not-worth-remembering memory, reminding me of important dates that no longer hold any significance, telling me a joke that was never funny to begin with. Desperate to compensate for godknowswhat, my brain is struggling to produce even the saddest of farts. 

I know this is it. It's overwhelmingly clear that I stand no chance of surviving this. And strangely, after all of my second-guessing about how... and if... I was going to ride this out, the moment I've dreaded is finally here and I'm surprisingly at peace with the fact that I'm going to die. In a way, it's hilarious that my life has been leading up to this moment. A moment probably a lot of us never truly entertained the possibility of happening. I mean, really... who spends their life thinking they will one day be a part of the end of the world?

I know it wasn't a lot, but there were still things I wanted to do with my life. Graduate college, become a published author, finally be happy. All of those hopes and dreams, they're all horse-shit now. All those aspirations just tossed away, sucked down the drain. 

You'd think in your final moments, everything would become easier to let go of. All those fears, doubts, worries. But it's not like I'll be leaving this world with nothing. I still got my regrets, my emotional baggage. I'll carry all of that unresolved mess with me even though it will all mean nothing once I'm gone. 

Being this close to Death, staring straight into that black void of nothingness, I thought I would have flinched. In my final hours, I thought I would have begged, pleaded for one more day or sought mercy from His cold touch. But no. I'm just waiting for it all to end.

My eyes roaming the faces of this monstrous crowd, this horde sent to drag me away, I wonder what choices they made and didn't make that led them here. How many of their hopes and dreams were fulfilled and which went unachieved. 

Did any of them think it would come to this? 

A faint crackling alerts me to a small spider-web forming in the center of the glass, growing wider as the crowd begins pressing themselves harder against the window. A loud pop. Then it all comes down in a million pieces, crashing onto the floor. The glittering shards snap and crack under the immense weight of these stumbling bodies as they make their way through the threshold. One group follows another until they've formed a semi-circle around me. Normally the Red-Eyes move fast, descend on a victim in a mad frenzy. The realization that this wasn't meant to be a mindless attack or even a snatch and grab quickly dawns on me and I'm left utterly confused. Maybe because it's just me, there's no need for it to be over so quickly.

Before I can think of any other reason to explain their bizarre behavior, a figure much bigger than the rest slowly begins making their way through the crowd. It's clear this one's the leader, the Alpha of the group, as the other figures move themselves out of the way to create a path down the center. Watching it grow closer and closer, recognition toys with me until the figure stands before me, staring me right in the face and there's no more room for denial. 

It's him.

The first Red Eye I'd ever encountered. 

The one who snapped the pony-tailed barista's neck, who broke that mother's back and stomped on the skulls of her poor children. The one who slaughtered everyone. The one who saw me, looked me in the eyes, chased me into the bathroom.

Standing before me was the reason why I was here...

And the reason why I would soon be dead.