Free AWOL: A Character Lost by Anthony Renfro Page B

them warm, and some managed to find a few weapons that were still loaded.
    Back up top, the character found the small round room empty except for a body; one of the guys who had gone to guard the stables. The character rushed over to him, but it was obvious he was dead, throat ripped open from one ear to the other, forming a morbid red smile across it.
    The character stood up, and made his way out into the very cold night. He saw nothing nor heard anything. He went back to the door in the floor and leaned down, somehow his voice carried all the way to the bottom. “The coast is clear.”
    One by one they came out of the door, until the last one was out, which was Michael. The character lingered there for a moment, eyes still strained into the space below.
    “Something wrong, dad?”
    “Becky.”
    “Who?”
    “She helped me, a lot. In the confusion, I forgot about her. I wonder if I should go down and see if she made it through. Maybe she’s still alive, but unable to talk.”
    “Dad, everyone’s dead down there. You saw it. We all saw it.”
    “Yeah, I know, I just hoped – forget it, let’s get out of here.”
    The character led his son towards the door. When they walked past the entrance way, there was a flash of light, and they both were gone.

Together 3
    The character came rolling out of the second story like a coin falling out of a slot machine, rattling, bouncing, and banging his way into the wall with a sick heavy thud. He lay there a moment, collecting himself, as the door to the vampire story flashed out.
    After a moment or two, he got up on wobbly legs, grabbed the light, turned it on, and started to look around the room. When he was done, and sure his son wasn’t there, he looked up and said these words. “Where is he?”
    “I think he’s back in his story. The place you should be,” I replied, finishing up my latest writing project, so I could focus in on him.
    “You think or are you sure?”
    “Nothing is really sure at the moment. They are more educated guesses than anything else, but logic says if he isn’t here he should be there.”
    “How can you be sure he isn’t in another story?”
    “I honestly can’t be sure, but my hunches are rarely wrong, especially when it comes to my writing.” I paused for a moment and he waited. “Did he say anything strange when you saw him or remember anything that might help you out?”
    “No.”
    Silent moments passed.
    “I was hoping he would have some more insight.”
    “Nothing at all,” the character replied.
    “Do you need to stop for any reason or shall we continue?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Okay then, the Western genre is next,” I wrote, words flashing on the wall.
    The character looked at the next door, trying to get the thoughts of Michael out of his head. He just had to hope his son was home safe and waiting for him.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “I’m fine,” the character replied, even though he knew he wasn’t, but being pissed wasn’t going to help get him home. He just had to suck it up and try to get back into the spirit of things.
    “We can pause -”
    “I’m perfectly fucking fine. Now let me move on to the next story. I can’t dick around in here if I plan to get home. So let’s get on with it.”
    “Okay,” I replied, giving him another second, and then continued when he didn’t say anything. “You will need different clothes for that one. The ones you have been wearing are modern, and they fit in the last two stories, but not the next one.” I paused, thinking of western clothes, the ones I had seen in the movies. I have to admit I don’t watch a lot of westerns, but I have a basic idea of what he should wear. “Here goes.”
    The character looked down and waited.
    “You will first need a hat, a white one, good guys always wear white.”
    The hat appeared on the floor. The character picked it up and looked at it.
    “Next, jeans, a shirt, and boots with spurs on them; you have to have spurs.”
    The