Beware The Bat

"Find me."

"Find me."

"Find Me."

I woke to a start, still able to hear the echoes from the dream clearly. I could feel the beads of cool sweat rolling across my back and some settling on my forehead as I slowly lay back in bed, less tired than I thought I'd be considering the recurring dream of that night's events threatened to rob me of my very sanity overnight.

The police weren't able to do much since the only thing I knew was her name and where she worked. The looks that were shot my way as I narrated the story frantically made me sick. They probably thought I was some junkie looking for pity.

For about the fiftieth time, I considered going back to the police but the more I thought about it, the less it made sense to me.

I saw Fred, he showed me his new girlfriend, they kissed, then they both fell off a cliff, one after the other? The fact that her name is a blur to me didn't help matters at all.

I rub my eyes and try again to move out of bed, and stand for heaven knows how long in the shower. I put my clothes on and decide to go out. Anywhere. I'm sure anywhere would be less depressing for me.

Which surprised me when I saw myself at Frederick's front door.

I take out my copy of the key and slide it into the lock, it's been a week since he jumped but I never had the courage to go check on his place. I had half a hope that the door would already be unlocked and Fred would run to the front door, baseball bat in hand in case I were an intruder but then break into that goofy smile I'd come to tolerate then become fond of.

But I was wrong. The click that the unlocking door made had me release a breath I didn't know I was holding , my heart sank even more when I was hit by the silence that the empty house offered. Yet again, I asked myself what I hoped to gain by even coming here. Is it common practice to want to be in the abode of someone who's passed on? To remind yourself of what was, and what would've been?

I wander around, through the kitchen, jump over the beanbag and reach his room, heart still in hand, but It doesn't take long for the expectancy to wear off.

I sit down on the beanbag, feeling slightly empty and let my mind wander. To the times my biggest fear was being unable to wake up on Mondays to go to the electronic store where I work. To how I even met Fred at our college and he seemingly forced me to be his friend on accounts of "being from the same town." Bothersome as it was at first, I've never looked back at the day he approached me with regret. I was fresh off losing my brother to a motor accident and he, his sister.

A smile threatened to invade my face but my musings were interrupted by a certain noise.

Jangling?

Of a keyhole?

I stood with a start. It sounded like someone was trying to pry the door open from the outside. Before I let myself be happy at any possibility, I go to his room and pick up some form of protection; his trusty bat.

I stand by the front door, in prime position to deliver a good knock to the head. Gruelling as the wait is, I dig my nails into the wooden bat to keep my nerves steady. I hear some inaudible chatter as the jangling in the keyhole becomes more energetic. It doesn't take long before it opens, gently at first, then hit ajar with such vigor that I swing aimlessly in hope. The thud of the falling figure confirms my triumph but my eyes tell me a different story.

On the ground, slightly twitching to indicate he was in some way still alive, a man lay in all black clothing, his jacket laid back to reveal guns on either side of his waist, and a slight stubble to give the impression that he wasn't the kind to go around randomly breaking and entering, but here we are. Slowly, he sits up and once he sees me, lifts his hands and spreads them, as if trying to show he's friendly. The motion continues as he now stands, albeit slouchingly, all the while keeping eyes contact.

"Don't move"

I try to mutter.

He puts his hands down, dusting his clothes in the process.

"Well, I hope everyone isn't as neighborhood friendly as you are. It'll make my work a handful."

"I said not to move!!"

I suppose I'm more spent by recent events than I thought. Because I found it hard to believe that was my own voice, and from the look of things, the stranger in black thought the same thing. For a moment I felt slightly embarrassed that someone I didn't even know had seen me in such a state, but it was only for a moment. I put the bat on the floor, leaning on it as I silently pray to for things to be normal again, to have my life back. To have my best friend back. It took his voice to bring me back to reality again, but this conversation showed me that I was far beyond the boundaries of normalcy, as we went from one unexpected exchange to another.

His phone was out of his pocket and he was showing me a picture that made my very insides and knees weak. Feebly, I exclaim under my breath;

"Fred...?"

I was sure of it. The haircut was different, but this was definitely him. The bastard whose circumstances I'd been wrapping my head around. But this stranger knows him?

What in God's name did Fred get himself into?

"Fred? That's his name?"

He puts the phone back in his pocket and when out eyes meet again, the playful arrogance that they had in them was gone, in it's place now had something that looked a lot like shared pain.

"But... How...? Who are you?"

He takes one step closer and I instinctively raise the bat again in a speed that surprises us both.

"I know you don't trust me. I understand."

It takes him one more step to come right in front of me and he puts his hand on my shoulder, showing me an even softer voice than the one before.

"I can help you."

My chest feels strange. None of this makes sense, but I don't want him to stop.

I don't want to extinguish my last line of hope.

"I can help you find Fred."