In 2013, my brother and I went for a drive. He always called shotgun, so when the headlights of another car came screaming towards us, statistics showed he could have easily survived the unfortunate crash that followed. But he didn't.
I did.
You can...
"We should've gone with it." Ray paces in his livingroom. "He's all alone out there now."
"I'm just as disappointed in Gee leaving without us , but..." Frank starts, trailing off as his light eyes slowly squint to focus on something above him. He's seated flipped upside down on the couch, watching the ceiling fan spin in unsteady circles. He wets his lips to start again, "...But he can handle himself. We'll give it the day and if he doesn't come back we'll go find him."
Ray stops abruptly, "Are you serious? Gerard's a harmless ice cream cone!"
Mikey turns from a bookshelf to raise his brows at the werewolf. "An Ice cream cone?" He echoes.
"A harmless Ice cream cone!" Ray emphasizes, throwing his hands out in front of him. "He's going to get himself killed if he ever finds The Pit!"
Mikey shrugs, "Then let's beat him there. We'll stop him when he finds it."
Right then Bob walks in eating Ray's food. One arm cradles a cereal box and another a carton of ice cream. He eats another mouthful of the strawberry dairy dessert and it goes through him, plopping to the carpet. "What're we doing?"
Ray looks to the trail of food Bob made from the fridge to where he stands. He can only sigh and shake his head. "We're going to beat Gerard to The Pit, grab whatever weapons you think you'll need."
~ ~ ~
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Meanwhile, I'm rudely awakened by freefall.
My bagged eyes drag open as wind whips around me. My grogginess doesn't live long as I come to realize what's happened; I flinch and bunch up into a panicked ball.
"Holy shit!" I gasp, "Shit, shit, I was on my own for only a few hours?!"
Seriously, maybe not even that. I really am useless without everybody else with me . . . I'm not okay for even an hour.
Two hours? No, maybe four and a half. Ugh, there's no time to calculate the specifics, I'm hurling towards the ground to my possible death. I ought to do something about it.
I screw my eyes shut and cover my head. I fully brace myself for the blow; I know I can handle it, it can't be that awful. I've fallen from worse heights.
THUD.
I crash to the ground harshly and sail forward into it, sending up dirt and debris around me. There are several cracks and pops as I hit the ground and roll, causing an uproar of shouts and cries from more than myself.
Those poor, poor tiny monsters.
I finally come to a heavy stop. I groan and put shaking arms out in front of me to roll me onto my back. There's a crack as I flop my arms back down. "Oh, that sounds broken." I say miserably.
But I can't just lay here, I'm fresh meat. Fresh human meat, too. Death prizes human blood higher than gold, I can't imagine The Pit of Monsters being much different. I gently shift my aching body to start moving along.
