RENEWAL
by
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CHAPTER 1
It was the fifth snow storm in four days. Jared was really starting to wonder what this kind of weather was doing in Los Angeles in July. On the other hand, he wasn’t about to ask for things to go back to the way they had been. It had literally rained all day every day for two whole weeks. Ironically, what plagued Jared’s thoughts the most was a morbid disappointment. Here he was, living in the heart of Los Angeles, and there hadn’t been one earthquake, not even a tremor. If nature was going to decide to wreak havoc, why wasn’t it sticking to the usual? It didn’t make any sense.
Jared’s inner monologue was cut short by a barking that seemed to be coming from a snow drift. A small dog emerged from a pile of snow-covered trash. Jared had taken notice of its pathetic yelps minutes before while he was walking back toward his apartment. At first, he had tried to ignore the cries; he didn’t have time to play Marco Polo with some rabies-infested mutt in a dark alley. After all, it wasn’t his animal, and therefore, it wasn’t his responsibility to rescue it, especially in such freezing weather. Its health couldn’t be worth putting his own in jeopardy.
However, Jared decided to turn around and head back to the barking anyway. He was a good Samaritan, whether he wanted to be or not. He began to tear away at the trash and snow in an attempt to rescue what he saw as someone else’s problem. What he found was a soaking wet, white-bodied, black-faced pug. It was shivering violently and smelled like sour beer mixed with cigarette butts. The animal’s leash was caught on something deep in the trash. Jared pulled the dog as best he could from the garbage and began to feel for the leash’s end. He gathered that the dog must have been digging for something and had caused a small avalanche upon itself. This self-burial must have indirectly made something take hold of his leash.
Jared finally freed the leash from something hard and jagged. The dog, in its own way, knew what had just happened and made an immediate bolt for the sidewalk. Jared instinctively clutched the leash as tight as he could, and the dog snapped back to him like a yo-yo. He grabbed up the squirming animal and attempted to read its tag. Jared frowned with perplexity: the tag read his apartment building. As he looked closer, he found that this dog belonged to a girl on the floor below him. “Well, you little bastard. I’ve found your owner, and soon you will be rewarded with an ending to this ordeal, and you will never appreciate me for it.”
Shortly after Jared made this comment, he found himself at the t-intersection of the alleyway. His apartment was only a two minute walk to the right. He reached the front door and let himself in. The dog had stopped fighting by now and looked to be actually sleeping--its eyes were closed, at least. Jared shifted its collar around and looked to see what room the dog belonged to. The dog cracked its eyes open in a sedated manner to see what the commotion was about, and Jared informed it, “You live in Room number 415. Do you think your master will still want you?”
Jared stepped off the elevator and walked to the designated door. He knocked three times and waited. Nothing. Jared knocked three more times and waited again. Still nothing. Well, this is just great. The only other option was to take the dog back to his place. In a last attempt, Jared knocked very hard four more times and yelled, “Hello!” Predictably, there was no response.
Jared turned and headed for the elevator. “I guess it’s just gonna be you and me for a little longer, my new friend.” They boarded the elevator, and Jared pushed the fifth floor button. Seconds later, the elevator door opened to a dimly lit, uninviting hallway. Roughly in the middle of the hall, Jared saw Milo, a drug dealer to whom he owed a decent amount of money. Milo was standing right in front of Jared’s apartment door. Jared began to frantically push the ‘close’ button on the elevator door; unfortunately, his efforts were fruitless as Milo clearly identified him.
“Jared!?”
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