Urban Horror : Doors Short Story by Richard GK Stark, Page 2
Richard GK Stark
bedroom.
“Oh, that’s the second time I’ve done this.” He thought to himself. He was about to go to the bathroom when he realised he was really tired (any kind of emotional conflict can be very tiring) and ended up just going straight to bed.
The following morning at 7.15am he arose as usual and got ready to go to work, except this time it was going to be a different firm, Carbottle and Trevis, where he would finalise the terms of his new appointment as a junior Partner. As usual he put the TV on to catch up on the news and weather – the news was rarely good and for that matter neither was the weather. He was pretty much behaving on auto pilot, grabbed some breakfast, watched some TV etc… and got up to put the dishes back in the kitchen when he suddenly felt himself treading on broken glass.
He looked down to discover he was no longer standing on his carpet or the tiles of his kitchen but bare concrete, and had in fact just stepped on some glass. As he looked up he was even more amazed to discover he was no longer in his apartment but in what looked like an unfinished building (most likely due to be a block of flats) with a bare concrete floor and breeze blocks for internal walls. The other thing he noticed was that despite having no windows the air was very warm and dry.
He heard movement in what he guessed was a neighbouring room and cautiously crept forward, almost in a haze, trying not to step on any more glass to see who it was. As he peered through the doorway (there was no door in this building as it hadn’t been fitted yet) he was even more confused to see an Arabic looking man wearing black boots, camouflage trousers (not the kind you would be issued in a regular army but more the kind you would buy in a High Street Retailer), a black anorak and dark blue woollen hat kneeling down against the wall on the opposite side of the room, pointing what looked like a large assault rifle out of a window. Before he had time to take in this bizarre sight the man fired his gun out of the window, about three or four rounds, each as loud as a firecracker, the sound recoiling off the concrete walls. The man then jumped up, shouted something in a foreign language out of the window and began running away.
Still in a daze (“am I dreaming” he thought to himself) he leant forward and peered out of the window to see what the man had been shooting at. He saw about a dozen soldiers in regular army gear running along the street on either side of a tank, about 10 metres long with six wheels surrounded by tracks and a main gun protruding at least three or four metres in front of it – the gun looked massive. At that moment one of the soldiers looked up and pointed at him, to which the tank responded by raising its gun towards him. Josh stood and watched, almost transfixed, for a moment then heard shouting from within the building and he jerked back away from the window.
He’d barely taken more than three steps when his ears were numbed by an overwhelmingly loud sound, and a blast that threw him several metres into the wall on the opposite side of the room. He struggled to his feet, a low humming sound droning in his ears and looked around to see that half of the wall overlooking the street had been blasted away. Like a wild animal that’s been hit by a car, his adrenaline kicked in and he began running away from the edge of the building as fast as he could.
He ran into the next room and saw, laying on the floor, the man he had seen earlier completely motionless with one of his legs missing. He had never seen a dead body before, and the sight held him transfixed in its grasp. To see the physical remains of what had, just seconds earlier, been a breathing, living human being just like himself lying there like stone, blood oozing from just below its left pelvis (where the leg had been formerly attached) – not pouring as that would have implied some kind of life but just seeping like a puddle of spilt milk – was mesmerising. He stared at the body for a few more moments before the sounds of voices shouting from the street outside woke him up. He felt another rush of adrenaline and continued running, through one room and then another.
After about three rooms he saw what looked like open space in front of him and was about to run blindly into it when he realised it was the opposite side of the building, but with no wall, and slid to halt, nearly losing his footing until he lay on the floor with his feet dangling over the edge. Looking out from the building he could see that he was in the middle of some city suburb, with other similar buildings and streets stretching for about a third of a mile away. Many of the other buildings were also damaged, displaying the ravages of war. As he looked to his left he could see that there was a river about half a mile away, separated from the suburbs by an area of farmland. Across the river he could see what looked like an oil refinery, and beyond that there was a larger, older urban area with parks and office buildings. He could also see two or three Mosques and a much larger one with a great silver central dome surrounded by nine smaller domes.
“Where on earth am I?” He thought to himself. Worse still was the feeling of being in a situation over which he had absolutely no control.
As he looked to his right he could see in the distance what looked like a mountain range, covered with oak and pine trees. A few moments later he heard talking and looked round to see an Arabic looking man in jeans and camouflage jacket carrying a rifle talking to another man carrying what like a rocket propelled grenade. They were moving his way when one of them spotted Josh, raised his rifle and took a shot at him which ricocheted off the wall about a foot to his left.
Instinct kicked in and Josh turned and ran through an open doorway where he found what looked like a crude staircase (the steps were in place but none of the railings, carpet and other trimmings had been fitted yet). Without thinking Josh began running down the stairs – running for his life.
He could hear shouts from above him and two more gunshots but he didn’t dare look back. A few minutes later (it seemed like a lot longer) he found himself at the bottom of the stairs and ran through another opening into the street.
He could feel his heart pounding away, but fortunately he kept himself fit so didn’t stop to catch his breath but ran straight across the street and left into another street. About eighty or ninety metres (100 yards) further down the street he came to a crossroads, and as he ran into the open he heard gunshots, lots of them coming from his right and bouncing around him. He immediately turned back, glancing briefly to see what was firing at him. He could see about five or six uniformed soldiers running towards him and a tank, just like the last one with its gun barrel pointing straight at him. Fortunately he was out of sight before the tank could get off a shot.
He was now running back in the direction in which he had just come when he could hear the rumble and feel the vibrations of the tank approaching. He was not going to be able to reach the next crossroads in time. Blind panic set in and he began to cry “I want to go home!” Then he noticed a door on the left which led into a house – anywhere was better than on the street so he ran for it.
It was locked. He could hear shouting and the tank approaching. He saw another door a few yards further down the street. That too was locked. At this point he could see the soldiers had reached his street and were shouting at him in a language he didn’t understand. He turned and ran, heard gunshots, saw a third doorway which he instinctively ran straight at, crashing straight through it.
He crashed through the doorway and stumbled over the coffee table in his apartment, falling to the floor. He looked round in anguish to see if the soldiers were following him but all he could see were the walls of his lounge, a broken coffee table and the TV which was still on. He lay on the floor for several minutes until his heart rate began to drop down to normal.
“What the hell happened?” He shouted to himself.
“I must have been dreaming.” He thought. A few moments later he felt a searing pain in his arm and noticed that he was bleeding, quite badly, and that his clothes were covered in dust. He looked at his arm and noticed there was a large gash, probably caused by shards of glass or shrapnel from the explosion in the building, or perhaps just the
coffee table. As he lay there his attention was caught by an article on the TV “And the Civil War in the Middle East is continuing unabated. The rebels are clinging onto the outskirts of the City whilst Government forces use their superior firepower to wrestle control from the uprising. Casualties are reckoned to be high, and rising.”
He stared at the TV… “That’s where I was.” He thought to himself.
“I must have fallen asleep on the couch and had a dream about it.” Slowly getting to his feet, in severe pain (now the adrenaline was wearing off he became aware of the pain in his arm, as well as bruising on his knee) he realised he needed to call an ambulance, as he had obviously cut his arm on the edge of the table falling off the couch.
It was several minutes before an ambulance arrived, and despite bleeding and being in pain he was still able to get to the front door and let the paramedics in, who bandaged up his arm and advised him he would need to go to Hospital and have some stitches. They led him out of his flat through the open door and into the ambulance.
He was rushed into the A&E ward of the Hospital, the paramedics clearing the way for him so as
“Oh, that’s the second time I’ve done this.” He thought to himself. He was about to go to the bathroom when he realised he was really tired (any kind of emotional conflict can be very tiring) and ended up just going straight to bed.
The following morning at 7.15am he arose as usual and got ready to go to work, except this time it was going to be a different firm, Carbottle and Trevis, where he would finalise the terms of his new appointment as a junior Partner. As usual he put the TV on to catch up on the news and weather – the news was rarely good and for that matter neither was the weather. He was pretty much behaving on auto pilot, grabbed some breakfast, watched some TV etc… and got up to put the dishes back in the kitchen when he suddenly felt himself treading on broken glass.
He looked down to discover he was no longer standing on his carpet or the tiles of his kitchen but bare concrete, and had in fact just stepped on some glass. As he looked up he was even more amazed to discover he was no longer in his apartment but in what looked like an unfinished building (most likely due to be a block of flats) with a bare concrete floor and breeze blocks for internal walls. The other thing he noticed was that despite having no windows the air was very warm and dry.
He heard movement in what he guessed was a neighbouring room and cautiously crept forward, almost in a haze, trying not to step on any more glass to see who it was. As he peered through the doorway (there was no door in this building as it hadn’t been fitted yet) he was even more confused to see an Arabic looking man wearing black boots, camouflage trousers (not the kind you would be issued in a regular army but more the kind you would buy in a High Street Retailer), a black anorak and dark blue woollen hat kneeling down against the wall on the opposite side of the room, pointing what looked like a large assault rifle out of a window. Before he had time to take in this bizarre sight the man fired his gun out of the window, about three or four rounds, each as loud as a firecracker, the sound recoiling off the concrete walls. The man then jumped up, shouted something in a foreign language out of the window and began running away.
Still in a daze (“am I dreaming” he thought to himself) he leant forward and peered out of the window to see what the man had been shooting at. He saw about a dozen soldiers in regular army gear running along the street on either side of a tank, about 10 metres long with six wheels surrounded by tracks and a main gun protruding at least three or four metres in front of it – the gun looked massive. At that moment one of the soldiers looked up and pointed at him, to which the tank responded by raising its gun towards him. Josh stood and watched, almost transfixed, for a moment then heard shouting from within the building and he jerked back away from the window.
He’d barely taken more than three steps when his ears were numbed by an overwhelmingly loud sound, and a blast that threw him several metres into the wall on the opposite side of the room. He struggled to his feet, a low humming sound droning in his ears and looked around to see that half of the wall overlooking the street had been blasted away. Like a wild animal that’s been hit by a car, his adrenaline kicked in and he began running away from the edge of the building as fast as he could.
He ran into the next room and saw, laying on the floor, the man he had seen earlier completely motionless with one of his legs missing. He had never seen a dead body before, and the sight held him transfixed in its grasp. To see the physical remains of what had, just seconds earlier, been a breathing, living human being just like himself lying there like stone, blood oozing from just below its left pelvis (where the leg had been formerly attached) – not pouring as that would have implied some kind of life but just seeping like a puddle of spilt milk – was mesmerising. He stared at the body for a few more moments before the sounds of voices shouting from the street outside woke him up. He felt another rush of adrenaline and continued running, through one room and then another.
After about three rooms he saw what looked like open space in front of him and was about to run blindly into it when he realised it was the opposite side of the building, but with no wall, and slid to halt, nearly losing his footing until he lay on the floor with his feet dangling over the edge. Looking out from the building he could see that he was in the middle of some city suburb, with other similar buildings and streets stretching for about a third of a mile away. Many of the other buildings were also damaged, displaying the ravages of war. As he looked to his left he could see that there was a river about half a mile away, separated from the suburbs by an area of farmland. Across the river he could see what looked like an oil refinery, and beyond that there was a larger, older urban area with parks and office buildings. He could also see two or three Mosques and a much larger one with a great silver central dome surrounded by nine smaller domes.
“Where on earth am I?” He thought to himself. Worse still was the feeling of being in a situation over which he had absolutely no control.
As he looked to his right he could see in the distance what looked like a mountain range, covered with oak and pine trees. A few moments later he heard talking and looked round to see an Arabic looking man in jeans and camouflage jacket carrying a rifle talking to another man carrying what like a rocket propelled grenade. They were moving his way when one of them spotted Josh, raised his rifle and took a shot at him which ricocheted off the wall about a foot to his left.
Instinct kicked in and Josh turned and ran through an open doorway where he found what looked like a crude staircase (the steps were in place but none of the railings, carpet and other trimmings had been fitted yet). Without thinking Josh began running down the stairs – running for his life.
He could hear shouts from above him and two more gunshots but he didn’t dare look back. A few minutes later (it seemed like a lot longer) he found himself at the bottom of the stairs and ran through another opening into the street.
He could feel his heart pounding away, but fortunately he kept himself fit so didn’t stop to catch his breath but ran straight across the street and left into another street. About eighty or ninety metres (100 yards) further down the street he came to a crossroads, and as he ran into the open he heard gunshots, lots of them coming from his right and bouncing around him. He immediately turned back, glancing briefly to see what was firing at him. He could see about five or six uniformed soldiers running towards him and a tank, just like the last one with its gun barrel pointing straight at him. Fortunately he was out of sight before the tank could get off a shot.
He was now running back in the direction in which he had just come when he could hear the rumble and feel the vibrations of the tank approaching. He was not going to be able to reach the next crossroads in time. Blind panic set in and he began to cry “I want to go home!” Then he noticed a door on the left which led into a house – anywhere was better than on the street so he ran for it.
It was locked. He could hear shouting and the tank approaching. He saw another door a few yards further down the street. That too was locked. At this point he could see the soldiers had reached his street and were shouting at him in a language he didn’t understand. He turned and ran, heard gunshots, saw a third doorway which he instinctively ran straight at, crashing straight through it.
He crashed through the doorway and stumbled over the coffee table in his apartment, falling to the floor. He looked round in anguish to see if the soldiers were following him but all he could see were the walls of his lounge, a broken coffee table and the TV which was still on. He lay on the floor for several minutes until his heart rate began to drop down to normal.
“What the hell happened?” He shouted to himself.
“I must have been dreaming.” He thought. A few moments later he felt a searing pain in his arm and noticed that he was bleeding, quite badly, and that his clothes were covered in dust. He looked at his arm and noticed there was a large gash, probably caused by shards of glass or shrapnel from the explosion in the building, or perhaps just the
coffee table. As he lay there his attention was caught by an article on the TV “And the Civil War in the Middle East is continuing unabated. The rebels are clinging onto the outskirts of the City whilst Government forces use their superior firepower to wrestle control from the uprising. Casualties are reckoned to be high, and rising.”
He stared at the TV… “That’s where I was.” He thought to himself.
“I must have fallen asleep on the couch and had a dream about it.” Slowly getting to his feet, in severe pain (now the adrenaline was wearing off he became aware of the pain in his arm, as well as bruising on his knee) he realised he needed to call an ambulance, as he had obviously cut his arm on the edge of the table falling off the couch.
It was several minutes before an ambulance arrived, and despite bleeding and being in pain he was still able to get to the front door and let the paramedics in, who bandaged up his arm and advised him he would need to go to Hospital and have some stitches. They led him out of his flat through the open door and into the ambulance.
He was rushed into the A&E ward of the Hospital, the paramedics clearing the way for him so as
