Ambrose Returns
Ambrose Returns is a multi-part story, written "on the fly", as an exercise. I add a new part whenever the fancy takes me, and I give each part absolutely no thought before I write it. I write it directly into the HTML editor, and then post it without any rewriting or real editing. The only editing I do is to correct spelling mistakes and anything else that is obviously wrong. And I may even miss a few of those. Writing this way won't produce my greatest work, but that's not the point. The point is to exercise the creative muscles, and to practise. And to always remind myself to not be afraid to "get things out there". :)
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7
Part 5

I stopped at the first open door I came to and peeked inside the room. Empty. I peeked in the second room. Empty again. I stood perfectly still and listened, straining my ears for the slightest sound. Nope, there was nothing. This definitely wasn't right. Had they cleared the entire hospital just for me? If so, then where were they? Surprise parties had gone out the window years ago when the "So nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you" vibe had worn off - about 3 weeks in. No. They weren't waiting to surprise me, in a good or bad way. This was something else. I slipped out of the hospital gown, and pulled on my civvies. I needed to be ready for action.

I returned to my room, and was happy to see that Bryce was still there on the floor, squirming in pain, still clutching his special area. He was a little more alert now however, and just about ready to speak.

"You'll pay for this Lowdon," he muttered, barely audible. "You think you can just stroll back into this like you never left?"

"I never wanted back into this Bryce," I replied coldly. "Now, shut up, and roll over."

I rolled him over. He winced, but didn't put up any fight. "What ya got back here?" I enquired, pulling up his jacket to inspect the goodies clipped to his belt. "Hmmm, Glock. Nice. I'll have that thank you very much."

He laughed. "Take it. Not gonna do you much good is it? Not now."

"Better than a fart in a breeze."

This time he didn't laugh. "I never liked you," he said, and I could see he meant it. The hatred poured from his eyes. "Any of you. Freaks. That's what you are. Freaks of nature."

Now it was my turn to laugh, "Ha! And you think you are what God intended?"

"It aint about God Lowdon. It's about what's best. And what's best is not some mannerless, disgusting, mutant like you!" The venom was spewing thick and fast now. It didn't bother me in the slightest. It was pointless arguing.

I stuffed the Glock and the two spare clips into my jeans, and threw the rest of the items out of the open window. "You can collect them when you get your balls back," I said, this time without any hint of humour. I'd had it with this guy. Had it with his games. With their games. With the whole thing. I'd been out. For years. And now they come for me? Because of some dipshit medium? I could swing for Vee for getting me into this mess. But, I suppose she wasn't to know. None of them were.

I was half way out the door. I turned back to Bryce, now sitting up, back against the wall, nose all bent and swollen. "What the fuck is going on here?" I asked simply. "Where is everyone?"

"They're there," he said, the smirk returning to his lips. "You of all people should know that just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not there."

Crap, I cursed. That old trick. Oh well. If that was the case, then there was really only one thing for it. I pulled the Glock from my pants, turned it around, so I was holding it by the barrel, approached Bryce, pistol whipped him across the face until he was out cold, and probably out of a job, and then, jumped gracefully out of the window without so much as a flutter.

Copyright © 2015 Daniel Lee Peach