Believe It Or Not (An Eddie Munson Story)

Lost His Head

Eddie's POV:

"Why exactly are we the one's helping you put together your new entertainment center?" Dustin asks, frustrated. He and I stand over Steve as he lays out all the necessary pieces for his new furniture on the floor. Dustin and I share loaded looks as he pulls some tools from his tool bag and also lays those out to be used.

"I need a few extra hands and you both are able bodied and bored," Steve huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

"But we are like the least handy people I know," I say, gesturing between the Dustin and I and Dustin nods.

"We have instructions," Steve says, ducking down and snatching the pamphlet from the ground and shaking it in the air. "And I am here to guide you both. We will be fine. Besides, this says it should only take thirty minutes."

Dustin and I share one more skeptical look at his optimism before shrugging and getting to work, eager to get this over with.

*******************************************************

Three hours later and we are sweaty, mad, and no closer to finishing this damn entertainment center then when we started. Turns out that only the cover page of the instructions is in English and the rest is in Chinese. Dustin, Steve, and I only have one black and white illustration to go off of as to what it should look like and what we have built so far is nowhere close.

"Why don't you just return this piece of shit and get something from Walmart?" I ask for the tenth time, beyond annoyed as I try to hold two pieces together for Dustin to screw.

"I bought it off the home shopping network," Steve sighs and I look at him dumbfounded. "It'd be a pain in the ass to return."

"Are you a middle-aged mom? Why were you even watching the shopping network to begin with?" I ask incredulously and Dustin chuckles.

"I find it soothing," Steve huffs indignantly and Dustin and I burst into laughter. Steve's cheeks flush and he rolls his eyes. The phone rings and he jumps up to get it, turning his back to both of us as he answers.

"Hello?" I can hear him say as Dustin continues to roast his television watching habits.

"Oh my god," Steve says lowly. My head snaps up and when I look at him, his hand is tightly grasping the door frame to the kitchen, his back is as straight as a rod, and his muscles are tight with tension. He is still turned away from me and his head is ducked, so I can't see his face, but I push to my feet. Dustin stops rambling, feeling the tension in the air as Steve continues to give one worded answers to the person on the phone before agreeing to meet them as soon as possible. He hangs up the phone loudly, slamming the phone down on the receiver with more force than normal and he turns.

His eyes are blood shot and I can tell he is doing his best not to cry. My heart plummets and my palms immediately start to sweat. I feel my stomach roll and I fidget slightly to keep myself from getting sick at the mere look on his face. Ripley's face flashes behind my eyes, but I push the thought away, unable to bear it.

"What's going on?" Dustin asks at my shoulder. Steve and I don't break eye contact, both of us staring fearfully at the other. Steve takes a shaky inhale in and gulps, his throat working.

"Chrissy and Ripley are missing."

It's as though someone has ripped my chest open, plunged their hand inside, and yanked my still beating heart out before my eyes. I feel all the air leave my lungs in a giant whoosh and I stumble back slightly. Dustin reached out and steadies me. Steve moves forward purposefully, his nostrils flaring and desperation on his face as he grips the front of my shirt with his fist. He yanks me up and against him so our faces are inches apart and he stares into my eyes, pleading.