Chasing New York

Prologue He’s sitting on a bed, plucking away at the guitar he holds. The new speakers, purchased for his 18th birthday, sound perfect. He’s concentrating on the chords he’s playing, repeating them until they are natural to him. As he plays, he can see smoke building around him slowly. He doesn’t panic, he doesn’t move except his fingers on the neck of the guitar, still repeating the chords. Out of the smoke he sees a form walking towards him. He continues repeating the chords and the speakers get louder as the form gets nearer. He is now playing frantically, moving his head to the chords, lost in the music. The form becomes clearer and the shape of a woman appears. She is slight of frame, elderly, dressed elegantly and smiling. He looks up from where he sits on the bed and smiles at her, still continuing to play the chords. Her lips are moving as if in slow motion but no sound comes out. He feels frustration, tenses his body and increases the intensity of his playing as he tries to watch the woman and play the chords at the same time. Her lips continue to move without sound until suddenly she leans forward and her face is all he can see; large, wide-eyed and penetrating. The speakers are now full blast. As the noise builds to a deafening crescendo she takes an obvious deep breath. “Wake Up!” she shouts above the din, her eyes as large as saucers. He awoke with a start. He’d been right in the middle of a recurring dream when he jolted awake and heard the sound of crashing glass from somewhere in the apartment. His heart racing and his mind reeling, he pushed himself up off his bed and listened for any other sounds. Seconds passed in silence. He gently opened the top drawer next to his bedside and, reaching to the very back of the drawer, he grabbed the handle of his gun. With his other hand he snagged his phone from the pocket of his jacket at the end of the bed and tiptoed across the room and into his walk-in closet. The doors were louvered and faced the closed bedroom door. If he crouched low he could pull the laundry basket in front of him and be completely hidden and still see what was going on. Holding the phone in one hand and the gun in the other, he kept his eyes on the door while he managed to call 911 with his thumb. “911, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher’s voice said, rather flatly. Jesus Christ! he thought, there’s an intruder! You could sound a little more concerned, but what came out was barely a whisper. “There’s an intruder in my apartment,” he said quietly, into the phone. “An intruder?” she asked. “Do you have security, sir? Are you still in the apartment?” she asked. He could hear her typing quickly. “Yes, we have a security man at the front door,” he whispered. “I’m hidden in my closet.” “Can you give me your address?” she asked. “5575 Riverside Drive. Apartment 1505. Can you please hurry?” he asked, his heart thundering in his chest. “I’m afraid they’re trying to kill me,” he admitted. “There’s more than one?” the dispatcher asked. “I… uh…” he hesitated. “I don’t know. I ran into the closet as soon as I realized someone had broken in. Are the police on the way?” he asked, his whispers rising in pitch. “Yes, we have police on the way. Just stay on the line with me, okay? Can you hear anyone? Are they moving around?” the dispatcher asked. Keeping calm was the name of the game here and this guy was getting too excited. “I heard glass break. It woke me up.” Not true and he knew it, but he wasn’t going to go there with the 911 dispatcher! Just then he heard the faint sound of a hallway closet door closing. His heart was pounding madly in his chest. Someone had definitely broken in! “Seriously, do you have anyone coming? They’re moving around now, I can hear them opening doors.” Again his whispered voice rose as he panicked. Again the dispatcher remained calm and continued asking him questions. “Are you alone, sir?” she asked calmly. “Yes,” his heart now pounding so loud he was barely able to speak. He still had the gun in his hand and his eye on the closed bedroom door. If he had to he could shoot anyone coming through that door from where he was hidden. He wasn’t sure he could kill them but he’d be sure they were stopped before reaching him. His hand shook as he tried to aim at the door and focus on the doorknob. How did it come to this? he wondered. He had never thought this would be the result of telling the world who his father was! Campbell had revealed the details of his past and Kyle had beefed up security, but this was bullshit! If he wasn’t so friggin’ scared he’d be really pissed! Footsteps! He heard footsteps! Shit! They were right outside his bedroom. His mind screamed! Why were they coming here and why after him? He needed to get his shit together and try to think straight. He took three deep breaths and tried to remain calm. The shaking didn’t help. “Sir, are you there?” the dispatcher asked. “Police have arrived and are on their way up in the elevator to your floor.” He panicked as he saw the bedroom doorknob jiggle slightly and then turn slowly. His throat constricted as did everything else on him. He could see the door opening just a little… were they making sure they had a bedroom? When the door swung open suddenly, he pointed his gun outward away from his body and emptied it towards the form coming through the door as he screamed into the phone. The body fell to the floor before the hand had left the doorknob. Shaking all over and feeling tears in his eyes, he dropped the phone and rose from his hiding spot. His heart was racing. He felt like he might be sick. Four large holes now adorned the louvered panels of his closet doors. He opened what was left of the door on the right side to see the crumpled form of an extremely large man, dressed all in black. He was lying on his stomach, head turned grotesquely to one side. There were three, large, bloodstained marks on his back and the leather jacket had blown open where the bullets left the body. Holy Shit! he thought. What the hell just happened? His heart was racing even faster and he was frozen where he stood. Naked, breathing heavy, standing over a dead body, pale as a ghost and holding a gun. That was the description the police officer stated in his report and that was the description that ran in the latest edition of Star Access! with a front cover showing his handsome face and a large headline that read: Chase Morningstar! A Shooting Star? Oh, he had definitely made his mark! New York was turning out to be a hellish ride!