Minutes to Midnight

[Dogs231]

In retrospect, tomorrow was a generous estimate.

S031: ABHISHEK PANICKER — CONTINUED FROM "A Brick Joke"

Abhishek shambled—the tell-tale trail of crimson behind him—towards his refuge. His vision was all blurry around the edges, and the world seemed dark like he'd set the brightness and contrast settings on his monitor too low. His hand clutched at his open side, the blood dry on his fingers and cracked by its twitches like chips of red paint.

The smile had long faded from his face, washed away by the pain—a child's sandcastle in the wake of a fierce ocean wave. Instead, he frowned, teeth clenched, as he took his final step, step, step, towards the door, towards safety, an escape from the night. With any luck, maybe, just maybe, the hyenas wouldn't find and feast on him quite yet.

In just a moment—by far, the longest second he could remember—Abhishek was at the door. He turned the handle with his left hand, right still clutched at the wound on his side. Then, he staggered in, zombie-like, and threw the door closed behind him, turned the lock, turned the latch, and sealed himself inside the tomb of a room.

The pain was fierce, electric in his veins, static knives, from toe to tip. Every step was remembrance, a reminder—she'd killed him, hadn't she? He was dead, wasn't he? But he'd kept one step ahead of the reaper so far. Just a few more hours, and he'd have made it to the next day, for all that was worth, a consolation prize for his failure.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Towards the couch. The weapon slipped from Abhishek's hand, clattered to the ground, and he fell, fell, fell, towards the soft embrace of the furniture, like a Victorian amid a swoon, and hit it harder than he'd thought it would be. A running theme of the day, pain where he hadn't expected it.

His breath was hot, each rise and fall of his chest heavy, like he was Giles Corey below the rocks. Two brown eyes, his, flicked up at the camera in the upper-right corner of the room, stared intently—as if he was the one monitoring, and those on the other side the monitored. Through the pain and two clean rows of gritted teeth, he spoke.

"Well, that didn't go, well, ah—exactly to plan."

A bitter, painful laugh echoed.

"It's good to talk to you again—for all I know, this one'll be the last time. Who can say? Maybe I've got a few more hours in me. Maybe, maybe—ah—maybe not.

"You've probably got some questions, right, and you probably think I've got the answers, right? And I'm sure you want to know why I did all that, right? Why—why, why, why—I made all those decisions. It must've looked like I wanted to throw my life away. It probably seems like I was being stupid, right?

"Maybe.

"But I had a reason."

He smiled. It hurt.

"It wasn't a good one, though.

"I dunno if you know—do you all see the briefings?—but, ah, they said you needed a kill to get out. Otherwise, catch and release—they toss you right back into the next one. What's the point, then? It's probably a lie anyway, but I didn't feel the need to call the bluff. And, well, I wanted to go home, you know?

"You and I both know why I would've wanted that."

He paused, let the words hang in the air like a row of men on the gallows.

"And, well, you might say: why not the two girls at the house? Good question.

"They amused me. That's all.

"After that, I figured it'd be a good time to strike.

"People remember the first handful of names they hear on those announcements, I'm pretty sure, and start to turn out after the first dozen. Only the people with lists—and they confiscated our paper—would've even remembered I did it in the first place. And, hell, chalk it up to self-defense—especially on a killer—and I'd be clean.

"D was just the first person I saw.

"Small world, huh?"

He smiled.

"I don't wanna say too much else. You can probably figure out all the other reasons, even if I didn't tell them outright. After all, you know me better than anyone else ever did.

"I'd like to keep my secrets, you know?

"Let them all wonder. It's more fun that way.

The reaper was close.

He could feel it, see it, hear it, the glint of the scythe above him, the tread of footsteps in the night.

"You know, I can almost pretend.

"That you're here, beside me—that the camera's you, and that I'm looking into your eyes right now. I know that you're not. But, it's almost tempting to let myself believe. I imagine that alone is cause for concern, given the circumstances—poor circulation to the head causes hallucinations, right? I've lost enough blood, I think, for that."

He chuckled. They wouldn't ever know if it was a joke or the truth—perhaps now, even he couldn't tell. But, in the end, what difference did the difference make? In the end, did it even matter? He'd said it, regardless, and nobody could ever un-say it. That was a fact—that was all anyone would ever need to know about it.

Words were easy.

"The time's come, hasn't it?

"I'm not sure if it's because it's almost midnight or, well, because I'm—I'm going to die, I think—but I'm feeling tired. And, well, maybe that's an omen. A good one or a bad one, I don't know. But, still, there's one last thing I wanna say to you before I go to sleep—because I know it might be the last chance I ever get."

He closed his eyes and then let them flutter back open.

"I love you. Goodnight."

Abhishek kept his head positioned towards the camera, sighed, and smiled. He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was a struggle, a battle of will. Then, his head fell slightly back into the side of the couch. Still, his gaze never turned from the camera, even as his eyes slowly slid closed, like the final curtain at the end of the play.

He never opened them again.

For a long while, Abhishek didn't move, entirely still except for a smile running roughshod across his face. Unlike the ones he'd flashed before, though, there were no teeth in his grin, no hints of malice in his expression of joy. He looked like he was sleeping—it was a long sleep, indeed—and perhaps, he was dreaming.

A reverie was all he had, but it was enough for him.

S031: ABHISHEK PANICKER — DECEASED
95 STUDENTS REMAIN