Car Park 42

Call me a wonderer, call me a ghost, call me what you like but there is one thing you can’t deny me, and that’s the things I know. The secrets I have discovered, the lies I have heard and the truths that can ruin life as you know it. I’m not supernatural, I’m not invisible but I can blend into my environment. I use it to my advantage. I sit near you in the café, I hide in the bushes outside your house and I can fit into every corner and not be seen. In truth I don’t have the best hearing, but I hear enough. This is my story about the day I stumbled upon Car Park 42.

Car Park 42 is mysterious, old and hidden. You can see it, but yet it isn’t there. If you walk past it, you don’t bother to glance inside. It’s desolate and dark. Many people say it doesn’t exist, but how is that possible you may ask. This isn’t a sci-fi story; it does exist, but only for the drug dealers and homeless.

I once heard a story that one man would walk into Car Park 42, and find out a secret so dark and unforgiving, that even his life would disintegrate at the core. Standing outside Car Park 42 you would think it was abandoned, and you’d be right. However, with the bustling town centre next door, you would be surprised. You’d expect people driving round in circles waiting for someone to return form there shopping spree only to find someone nab the parking space before you. Getting back to my story, you go through the door only to get the foul smell vomit and oil. (Not a good mix.)

Strangely, there were lots of cars, but it looked like no-one had come to collect there cars in years. Yet again, the smell of Vomoil (My name for the stench I had discovered) hit my nostrils. I was almost knocked back by the smell. The cars all looked the same, mostly because they were all covered in the brown dust. I ventured on up the various levels until I came across two guys in suits exchanging briefcases on level two. One must have heard my breathing; he reached into his top inside pocket. I knew he had a gun. He pulled it out and turned quickly firing a bullet me. I used my quick movement, I disappeared, and the man looked around but could only see cars. He shook of the event and continued talking to the other man who didn’t really seem shocked by the event.

The men continued to talk, however there voices were too muffled. My heart rate had finally started to get back to normal. I didn’t what it was, was it the graffiti on the wall or my gut feeling, but something told me I had to get to level 10.The only question then was then was, how do I get away? I looked around and thought that the cars would be good cover. But that guy was still edgy; I tried to use my cunning craft to manipulate my surroundings. Firstly I picked up a small rock and threw it across the men’s path. It was just quick enough to attract their attention. The man with briefcase screamed in fear and accused the other man of trying to set him up. He ran leaving the other man fuming. He pulled out his gun and started to step towards where I was hiding. I only had one choice, run. I ran it, I didn’t feel up to it but as the man kept firing bullets at me I had to forget how my joints were aching. Up the various floors I went, running, running. I was quickly out of breath but I couldn’t stop. He kept chasing. It had seemed at the time that he had unlimited energy, that was until he collapsed clutching his chest. I had two choices, I could run and keep going or I could turn back and save him…

I’ve always been a selfish man; I left the man to die. What had I come to? Level three and not a soul in sight. I looked in some of the empty cars and all I saw was were skeletons. There were empty crisp packets and fag cartons. I came to the lift ‘out of order’ hmm this place is run down. On that depressing note I decided to head for the stairs.

It had been twenty minutes since the horrible events that put my life in risk and yet I was still petrified in the knowledge that death could lie around every corner. Surprisingly for the first time, only which I can recall, I had trips of sweat gliding down my fragile cheekbones and falling the long distance to he floor. My gulping had got louder and my breathing shallower, I was somewhat indifferent about my situation as I had been in worst before.

I had started to get tired after the three flights of stairs I had travelled up. Level six, and everything was the same, it was like this place was invisible. Things were going fairly swimmingly, but from experience, I should have expected what happened next…I was on the floor and unconscious…

I had opened my eyes, dazed and confused, I saw my attacker, arms folded and staring at me. I looked around and tried to move but realised it was a no hoper. I had been tied to a chair at the arms and feet. I looked at my attacker, stared at him angrily and gave him a strong silence.

“You think that’s going to wash with me son, I don’t think so” He said as he pulled a magnum out of his jacket. He pointed it at me and I still kept silent. “Your not smart nor funny, like the taste of blood? Too bad” He smashed the gun around my right cheek. I and the chair came crashing down on to the hard concrete ending with a colossal thud. I had finally felt ‘the fear’. My father had told me to always avoid ‘the fear’. ‘The Fear’ can only be described as a state of mind, heart pumping, over excessive sweating and shivering with fear. Blood had started to slowly run down my lips and formed a puddle next to me. “Lift him lads” I was hoisted up by too heavy men and I was forced to my feet. “Get out of this building now, or I will take further action.” I thought it was all over, that was until I remembered something my dad had taught me. I picked up my strength and flew from the men’s grasp and threw my right fist towards the leader. With a bang he was on the floor out cold. The two men who had held me looked in shock. They ran. They ran quickly without thinking, quickly and swiftly. Now it was me and the leader, understandably he was still not moving so I thought it best to run. As I ran, I could feel my heat rate increase rapidly. This was the most scared I had ever been on missions.

Level nine, I was almost there, then I heard it, the roar of engines, the screech of tyres, cars were coming up to the roof. With only seconds to react I leapt behind a nearby car. The three all black limos drove past me and up the ramp to the roof. I could feel ‘the fear’ again, yet that wouldn’t stop me…I tiptoed gently up the ramp poking my head between gaps trying to get visuals on the people. There more I walked I heard murmurs, louder and louder every time. I had finally gotten to the top, exhausted and ready to give up. I walked towards the limos, where were they? I asked myself, I edged towards the end of the roof fearing the worst for some innocent man. I peered over gently making sure I didn’t fall…but then…I felt the full force of a cast iron bullet fire through my chest…I was so close to the edge…my now unresponsive body fell over the top. As I fell time seemed to have stopped, I had time to contemplate my life, my lonely life. I was so sinister, maybe if things would be different, maybe it wouldn’t end like this…then BANG…I hit the floor not with a thud, just silence. Lights out…

 

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By theryangoodman Posted in Stories

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