The last day has been a blur, total and complete. You wonder if that trend in zombie movies has somehow wormed its way into your brain. Maybe you ARE patient zero. You hardly remember any of the details during your transit to the megalopolis of dirt and grime, Manhattan.
Strangely enough, the only details you really seem to be holding onto are about a singularly strange man that travelled with you. Not the man from your commute to work, no, yet another strange man, this one being an encounter on your ride to New York. He had a mole on his low right cheek, near the jaw line. Speaking of jaws, his had been one of the most angular you’d ever seen. Chiseled, angular features are something that people usually consider to be attractive, but in this case, you’d have to say that it was too much of a good thing. He probably could cut through paper with that sharp line and skin and tough bone.
You vividly recall the suit he was wearing; one that seemed to be surprisingly expensive and quite modern. It did make you jealous for a few moments, thinking about your nicer business outfits. Though, you have never seen such a nice suit splattered in white and a few multi-colored paints. It is as if this stranger is a handy man in a fancy suit, mind boggling. That part still just did not compute in your head.
His hat was one like you had seen in an old Hollywood movie, you couldn’t quite place it. Strangely, the hat had no paint or scuffs of any kind on it. He must have just recently purchased the hat, because although it looked old style, it was quite crisp and matched his modern suit well. Perhaps he never actually wore it, it just sat in his lap, along with a folded up Washington Post.
His hair was styled in such a way that you could not tell if it was unkempt and just happened to fall perfectly, or if this guy had spent an hour in front of a mirror getting each piece just right.
It really struck you as odd that you remember so many of the details of what was seemingly just another passenger. Could it have been that after the trip and the arrival in Manhattan he approached you and gave you a business card? Maybe he smiled at you and then walked away without another word, just a nod.
Here you stand, looking down at a business card from a “Kepler Hawking.” A scene comes back to you from a movie that you saw a few years ago where the characters made a big deal about the paper and quality of a business card. Even in this odd circumstance, you can’t help but laugh a bit, comparing something in your life to Hollywood. You stuff the card in your back pocket, resolving to throw the thing away just as soon as a trash can is within reach.
**
You wander the streets throughout the day and even check out a few Manhattan tourist attractions. You may as well do something with yourself while you are here. You don’t really know what else to do.
Your phone rings a few times. Your boss... ugh. You don’t answer. Instead, you type up a brief e-mail that simply explains that you have family issues you need to address. You even get a couple of calls from significant others. You don’t really feel like talking to anyone beyond just asking how much it costs to get into a tourist attraction or to say excuse me while heading into a rest room.
You check your phone throughout the day for a response from your boss. It is nerve-wracking the way you are getting the silent treatment. It does make you smile warmly when you check your messages a few times throughout the day and get the warm, fuzzy ‘are you okay’ messages from others.
As the afternoon wears on, you start to look around for a hotel to stay the night. You can’t seem to find a single one that has any vacancies. What the hell? You think to yourself, “Is the New York City Marathon or something going on this weekend?” You do find a couple of hotels that take your breath away. They even have vacancies. When you see what the price of a single room is for the night, your jaw drops and you wander back on to the street, defeated.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
**
Central Park
After the hotel failures, you start to feel suffocated by all the tall buildings and concrete. You make your way into Central Park after a long, calming walk. The expanse of the park in the middle of such a huge city astounds you.
There are happy couples feeding each other grapes lying out on large picnic blankets. You see an old lady throwing bits of bread to flocks of birds. Children play with Frisbees and kites and their protective parents watch and laugh, reveling in the kids having such fun in the outdoors.
The sun reflects off of the wondrous falls and the polished stone bridges beg to be walked across. You allow yourself to be sucked into this deceptively large urban forest in what feels like it should be a hidden wonderland where the faeries play.
You pass a hot dog stand and grab yourself a foot long dog with every topping you can get to fit on the bun, and even a few more beyond that. You devour the delectable treat and feel that if you turn around and return home on the next train or bus, you just might be satisfied with the whole random trip up here.
Your head slouches back and you rub your belly as you finish the caloric treat. You bask in warm sunlight that shines low in the sky. Drowsily, you gaze at the passing clouds. You get lost in the brilliant colors of the approaching sunset. You eyelids droop, and unintentionally, you drift off to sleep.
**
Startled, you open your eyes. You perk up to attention. There are no sounds of children giggling. There are no dings of bicycles trying to make their way along crowded paths. The singing birds have been replaced with echoing crickets and the eerie hoots of an owl. The moon has replaced the sun. It’s a dim moonlight that does little to ease you or boost your confidence in regards to your personal safety.
The shrill sound of a police siren in the distance brings you to your feet. In the darkness, you start to shuffle out of the unfamiliar depths of Central Park, down the largest path you can find. Your lack of familiarity with this place becomes apparent as you find yourself even more disconcerted than before. You stare down at your shoes, trying to avoid any unwanted attention. If you scream for help, you aren’t even sure if it will be answered except by those that you’d rather avoid.
Just when you start to feel the most alone and vulnerable, three men that could only be described as gang bangers approach you. They separate and move to your flanks as they overtake you. Their breath is rank with cigarettes and high proof booze. You hope it is just your paranoia getting the better of you when the one that stays on the path smacks right into you, sending some of your possessions careening into the darkness.
"Watch it mayaen!" You immediately apologize and trudge off of the path when a flanking ganger smacks you on the face. All three of them laugh at you as they converge on you. You know you are in for it now and do your best to fend them off. Three to one, you are hopelessly outfisted and outfooted.
You are on your knees, bruised with a bloody lip, when suddenly; a figure flings itself out of the darkness at one of your assailants. It travels through the night like a bright, burning comet. The poor gangsta' flips, switching places of head and feet, as if hit by a small car. The other two shriek in surprise before diving out of the way of the rapidly moving figure. He... or she stops just short of knocking the other two hooligans off their rails. They run off into the concealing darkness of the park without a second thought for their prone friend. The mysterious and domineering figure stands over the final assailant for just a moment with an aggressive huff. Then, moments later, the last hooligan runs off.
"This place is dangerous and needs to be vacated. Come with me or stay and take care," ground out the gravelly voice of the figure. You brush yourself off and decide this event, though seeming disturbingly more commonplace lately than not, is enough trauma, for well, probably a week.
You limp toward what you hope is the nearest exit of Central Park. The stranger offers an arm of support to you. You can’t actually tell if it’s a man or a woman, but you say thanks nonetheless. One of your eyes is swollen and you twitch nervously as it obstructs your peripheral vision. Fortunately, the stranger seems to account for this as he or she supports you with an offered arm.
The presence of this person next to you is somehow comforting, even with the long, dark multi-layered coat that the figure wears. It’s like no jacket you’ve ever seen; it must be European or the newest Japanese style. The hood covers your rescuer’s face and the darkness of the night shadows you from seeing any of its facial details. You vaguely see a nose sniffling, eyes darting, and teeth grinding, but nothing more. For a moment, you think you see several strands of long white hair. Though, it could have been a reflection of the ambient moonlight off of the hood.