Chapter Three

[Chris (Ningmaster)]

This is an exerpt from my NaNoWriMo novel, currently in progress. It's also my first stab at action/suspense

Chapter Three

Ethan finished all that he needed to do, and packed up his things. He transferred the papers from last night from his briefcase to his desk, and then took a few reports that he wanted to take home and finish. He took the balloon as well. It was growing dark outside, and most of the other people had already left. Ethan maneuvered back through the halls, the only people left weren’t talking on the phone anymore so an eerie quiet cascaded over the whole building. Ethan made his way to the time clock room, it was now lit by a single fluorescent light. Swiping the card, he angled himself so as to not be affected by the balloon. Beep.
The double airlock doors slid open, and the cool air flew into the chamber. Ethan stepped just outside, and stared of past the parking fortress. Anyone looking into his eyes would have seen a significant amount of longing, for want of what not even Ethan knew. His eyes were looking through the air, at something intangible. Just as Ethan decided to move his legs, a terrible pain stabbed the inside of his head. As if someone had struck him, he staggered backwards, clutching his forehead. He fell on his knees, a terrible grimace dominating his recently solemn face. The pain was unbearable, his brain was trying to escape through his eyes. Or something was trying to get in. It struck again, Ethan’s eyes and mouth opened, he let out a tortured yell across the parking lot. There was no soul near enough to hear him. He curled up and waited for the pain to stop, slowly he gained control of his surroundings. The pain ceased but Ethan’s adrenaline glands were still firing from the experience.
Before Ethan could stand, a blinding light erupted over the building. Ethan covered his eyes, and tried to identify what was now externally assaulting him. There were two lights, fifty yards away. Headlights. They were getting closer. Ethan jumped up, eyes wide now in the direction of the unknown motorist. It was a sedan, the lights were low to the ground. They were thirty yards away now, rapidly increasing speed. Ethan ran parallel to the building, stumbling over his weakened legs from the last collapse. The driver stayed the present course. Ethan made it about five feet and leaped, the car clipping his leg before smashing into the sliding airlock doors. Ethan swung his back to the impact, shattered glass rained down on him. He was heaving gulping in air, the car ominously beeping the door ajar warning. Ethan rose, clutching his calf where part of the screeching metal had sliced him. He limped further away, not looking back. Eventually he collapsed near the tiny entry booth, it was vacant.
Ethan slumped down, his heart and lungs finally getting a grip on the situation. Ethan looked back at the wreckage. The night was surprisingly silent despite the events that had just transpired. There was the car, rammed about halfway into the lobby, Ethan bleeding next to the oompa loompa booth, and broken glass glistening on the pavement. Ethan looked closer at the carnage, and saw the balloon. It had been caught under the small overhang jutting out from the roof of the lobby, floating around the concrete.
Ethan’s face became twisted in fear and confusion. He must have released his grip on the balloon before the terrible headache. Ethan grabbed the back of his head, then looked at his hand. No blood. He pinched and poked the rest of his vital organs to the extent that one can to check stability. He was fine, save the gash on his right leg from the car. But even that had stopped bleeding, and his leg seemed functional.
Nobody had exited the car. Ethan’s mind began to function again. He needed to go to the hospital, he needed to alert someone. His phone had no reception in this area, he didn’t even want to try. Find someone. Get my car. Get out of here. Ethan rose, and shook the broken glass from his suit jacket. The balloon. Ethan had the most absurd thought to go back and retrieve it. He shuffled closer to the scene, allowing his left leg to take most of his weight. That car. He stepped closer. It was his car.
He checked his pocket. The keys were still there. He looked around, then back at what was apparently his small sedan smashed into the front of the Dataedium building. How could someone have done this. Why?? Ethan moved foreword, advancing to his totaled car. The night was getting quite dark, it must have been seven. The headlights were still on, illuminating the interior of the building and sending bits of escaped light through the shattered glass. The car seemed to be a still image, Ethan the only human agent in this demented picture.
He forgot about his leg, walking on both feet now he steadily approached the car. He was near enough to touch it, and bent over to see inside. The car was not terribly damaged, save the broken glass from both the doors and the windshield. The driver door was open, Ethan noticed the beeping once again. It was strange how little help the “door ajar” beep helped in a situation like this. Generally the driver would know if they were wedged halfway into a building, and the notification that the door was open neither helped nor gave information that wasn’t already available. One only had to look to see the door was wide open. Ding. Ding. Ding.
Ethan thought about the ridiculousness of the door alarm, and wondered who had opened it. He moved around to the other side, the driver side of the car. There was still no sign of a person. He peered inside, there were no keys in the ignition. He reached in and pressed the headlights inwards, the high beams had been set. The lights turned off, and Ethan sat down on the broken glass in front of the door. He was shaking his head now, bewildered. The events just did not compute with his brain. He was not seeing anything he could recognize as real. He looked up, it was getting dark. He located his cell phone, and attempted an emergency call out of desperation. No service. He rose and tried to re-enter the building, climbing over the hood of the car. His leg screamed in pain when he lifted it, and he stopped moving with one leg on his car, halfway into the lobby.


tell me what you think.