They carted the last of the bodies out from the white-lined motel. Had been a horrible shootout, some punks sticking it to “the man.” Whole thing was white painted red, like a sea of hot wires. I was the last one there. I left with a tile in my hand. Just a little black tile, there in the room.
It was cool for a few days, just a tablet that kept me calm, gave me everything I needed. Nice music, a couple of games. It also had a camera. At first, it was a nice way to snap some shots of whatever I wanted. Then it started to show me. Showed me everything.
I saw that hound whose head got caved-in down by Comm/Ent, took an autocop right to the dome. I saw the face of that white bitch shot down in front of Empire Square. I kept seeing the dead, kept showing me. Not spirits, not reanimated, just the moment they went. All in that little piece of the motel.
I didn’t know what to do with it. You think it’s just some dumbass tablet someone left hung on the wall. I’d point it at the road and see someone who got laid out cold on the asphalt, you can always find someone shot down in one of the tenements. It was the banality of it all too. Like they weren’t that badly hurt. Fur was still alright, not too much blood.
Then they came.
Through that pint-sized onyx square, the dead danced. Danced, laughed, sung, made merry most foul. Must’ve been the fourth day I had it. I couldn’t see my own reflection. My own wide muzzle, my own gray fur, but by God could I see those bastards move. Move and move like a waltzing ballroom, all lit up and laughing so gaily. It was kinda fun after a while, watching them go. Like a little musical all to yourself, ‘cept there was no music, just the bodies in motion.
Then they came for me.
I saw them reach through the glass, I swear! Reaching with fangs bared and claws ravaging. There to tear at me, there to make me scream. But I wouldn’t give in. I wouldn’t, I would not, I could not. I bolted down the street as they came roaring out at me.
I made it to an apartment and I hurled myself through the white door. Everyone inside just looked at me when I told them. I grabbed them and showed them, but they wouldn’t listen. Dear God, they did not see! I had to make them see for God-almighty they were coming to get me, to get us all!
They needed new eyes. That was it, of course! I had gotten my augs just a few months ago. They needed new eyes.
So I took theirs. I took every eye from every socket. I went looking for a dispensary. I’d heard they just put one in around here. Somewhere.
But I couldn’t find them. I couldn’t find the eyes to make them see. Oh God, I couldn’t make them see!
Closer and closer the beasts came. I ran down the hall, the poor eyeless devil all there, the obsidian beasts ready to claim them. I could only save myself, there in that room at the end of the hall. I locked, bolted, slammed shut every door and window. They beat and battered at it as the rest of the hall screamed, unable to fend them off. Unable to see!
They carted the last of the bodies out from the motel. They let me stay in the room. Gave me a nice white jacket for the cold. The tile is gone now, but the beasts are still out there. I still see them in the windows, on the screens. All there, all breathing hideous breath, all twisted in crushed form. They taunt me, but I taunt them. They can never get in. I can’t get out. Perfect.
Why didn’t they listen?