Happy Pills - The Story of Kevin Free

Omens

  The warm air carries the thick, nauseating scent of blood and decay. It is as if the town has been painted red. Blood stains every wall, and drips off every roof. Corpses and viscera line the streets. Kevin feels bile rise in his throat at the disgusting sight. The people of his town, the people he cares for, are all dead.
  This is all my fault, Kevin thinks. He doesn't know how he knows this, yet it makes sense to him.   He looks down at himself. His hands are coated with the sticky red substance. They tremble uncontrollably. Deep inside, Kevin knows what he's done.
  My fault. My fault. My fault. Killer. Monster. I did this.
  The sun burns, its heat weighing down on Kevin like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.   He staggers through the wreckage, hoping to find something. To find anything. But there is nothing. Only blood and rot and death.
  What have I done?
  Kevin does not see the source of the fire, but he sees the smoke rising like a black scar across the sky. The city goes up like a match, and soon everything is in flames. Kevin chokes on the acrid fumes as the heat surrounds him. Slowly, surely, the flames consume him.

  Kevin wakes from his chilling dream with a horrified gasp. He coughs and chokes for a moment as his mind adjusts to the fact that he is no longer dying.
  Everything is fine, he tells himself. It's okay. Nothing is burning, and no one is dead.
  Kevin is still shaking, and tears run down his face. He knows. He knows. He's been the voice of Desert Bluffs for almost a year now. He knows the difference between a normal dream and a prophetic dream. Much of the dream may have been symbolic, but Kevin knows all the same.
  Someday, somehow, I'm going to destroy Desert Bluffs...
  "I can't let that happen," he muttered out loud. "I just can't."
  The memory of the chilling dream haunts Kevin throughout the day. It follows him like a shadow as he gets ready in the morning. It stalks him all the way to the radio station. As he slips into his usual normal of visions and reporting, it's right there, waiting in his mind's eye.
  Kevin sighs quietly as the time comes to play the weather report. He sets it up, and then decides he should go for a walk to calm his nerves.
  Lauren intercepts him about halfway to the door. "Where are you going?"
  "Mind your own business, Lauren. I'm not in the mood to bicker with you today."
  Lauren rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I'm not covering for you, so you'd better be back before the weather ends."
  "Oh, please. You and I both know you'd do unspeakable things for a little more time on the air. I'll be back soon enough." With that, Kevin pushed past an offended-looking Lauren and stepped out into the afternoon heat.
  As Kevin walked the familiar streets of his hometown, something orange catches his eye. A local convenience store, previously known as Twelve Corners, now bore no sign. Paper had been plastered over the windows, and on that paper was a bright orange symbol. A large triangle, with the word "Strexcorp" written underneath in black. Something about the logo made Kevin's stomach turn. Underneath the logo were the words "under construction".
  "What could they possibly be constructing?" Kevin muttered to himself. As far as he remembered, the store had been in fairly good shape. But perhaps the company that had bought it didn't intend to use it as a store.
  Yeah, that makes sense, he thought. But... there's something about that logo... something almost... sinister.
  Kevin's hands were shaking again. This had been happening on and off all morning. He found that whenever he thought of the dream, his hands would shake. For a split second, Kevin could have sworn he saw blood on his palms, but a quick shake of his head revealed it to be an illusion.
  Am I losing my mind?
  Kevin checked his watch. The weather would be over soon. He turned on his heel and began walking back down the road to the radio station, only partially aware of his racing heart and his still trembling hands.

  Upon entering the radio station, Kevin is met with a sneer from Lauren, that's quickly replaced by a mask of false concern.
  "Kevin, are you alright? You're all pale."
  "I'm fine, Lauren," he mumbled.
  "Are you sure? You know, if you need to go home-"
  "Lauren, shut up and leave me alone. I'm not doing this." Mentally, Kevin was exhausted. This back-and-forth with Lauren was only stressing him out more. Sighing in frustration, he entered the recording booth just as the weather came to an end. Of course it would work out like that. After all, good radio hosts always have perfect timing.

  Kevin found solace in speaking to his beloved town for the rest of the afternoon. Though the familiar routine calmed him, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Praying that someone was listening, Kevin decided to clear his mind as his show drew to a close.
  "You know, I couldn't help but notice that the Twelve Corners store has been bought by a new company. According to their logo, their name is Strexcorp, and they are constructing something there. What exactly they are constructing remains a mystery, however... I must get this off my chest, my dear listeners, I... I fear that this company is not as normal and harmless as they seem. I fear for our town. I fear for all of us. I pray to the stars above that this fear is misguided, however I do not know if they can hear me. I do not know if you can hear me, for that matter. If you are listening, please beware of this... Strexcorp. Something is wrong here, Desert Bluffs. I cannot shake the feeling. Even now, my hands tremble at the thought. Please, if you are listening, stay safe. And as always, until next time, Desert Bluffs. Until next time."
  Kevin sighed as he shut off his microphone. "I hope I'm wrong."
  He put his trembling hands down on the desk, and pushed himself up, ignoring Lauren as he left the station. As his feet carried him down the familiar path home, things were turning over and over in his mind, like a large rock in a curious child's hands. Over and over and over.
  Blood. Destruction. Strexcorp.
  "I don't trust them."