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Lights Out -- Part Four

Updated on November 2, 2016

The door opens up behind Walt as he stands there looking at Marcus. The rifle pointed at his chest would scare a normal man, but Walt only considers this a hiccup; an annoyance that could have been avoided if he were a little more careful. If only he would have brought his own gun into this house when he first showed up, then maybe things would have been different. He could have come in here with some protection, but of course he had to leave it inside in his car.

“I did as you asked Marcus,” the voice behind Walt said. It was the guy who was busy getting hollered at earlier. He walks past Walt grazing the duffle bag full of money with his leg. He was holding Walt’s keys outward ready to give them to Marcus. A foul stench followed this man which reeked of booze.

“Don’t hand those to me you idiot. Put them over there on the table.” He points at the table with the torn table cloth on it. The stinky guy listens with a nod as he takes the keys over. “And while your over there grab the keys to the Ford.”

“Okay, sure thing.”

This stinky guy has dirty clothes and a dirty brown hat. He has a beard which doesn’t look too clean either. Walt could see the holes in his clothes, as if the guy hasn’t worn anything else in many years.

“Walt, you can go ahead and leave that bag on the floor over there. I don’t think you are going to be needing all of that money. Not where you are going anyway.” There was that smile again. That horrible smile that showed off those raisin teeth.

“What do you mean? Where are you taking me?” Walt knew this wasn’t good. He didn’t show any fear at all on his face though, and it’s not as if he were scared. Fear wasn’t something that Walt experiences anymore. A long time ago before he had gotten himself mixed up in all of this drug business he was normal. He had fears just like the rest of the world, but now after all of the violence that he has been through this was just another walk in the park. He knew there was a chance that he could still be shot, and probably die from the wound that comes from that shot, but he just didn’t care. There is nothing left in this world that he does care about. Sure he has a wife, but after all of the problems that arose when she found out what he chose to do with his life, the love was all gone.

Marcus points the rifle at Walt’s head.

“You don’t need to be asking questions. You’ll find out where you are going when you get there. And you should be happy about all of this, because you are the first.” And another horrible nasty smile crusts over his face.

“I’m the first for what?”

Walt wasn’t enjoying this candy puff’s vague description of what his future might hold. All throughout his life he has been blunt and straight to the point with people. There was no beating around the bush in order to make what he had to say less offending, no, he wasn’t like that. The way Walt always saw it was that there was only one short little life to live, and if you were going to live it not expressing yourself the way you really wanted to, then you were only wasting it. There were times when he has told those little white lies in order to soften the blow of his words, but after he made the decision to change his life for the better, one of the promises he has made to himself was to rid his life of those little white lies. He doesn’t use them anymore, and he doesn’t respect anyone who uses them. So if he were the one in control of this situation instead of Marcus, he wouldn’t be dancing around the fire, he wouldn’t be softening the blow, no, he would look his victim in the eyes and tell him exactly what was going down like a man would do. He would tell them exactly what he meant to do, and there would be no candy puffing around.

None at all.

“Don’t you give me that crap! You have a rifle pointed at me and we are in the middle of a drug deal. I know what kind of person you are, and I can guess what kind of things you have done to people in the past. Don’t leave me in the dark, I can get very… angry…” Walt said. He wanted to tackle this candy puff to the ground, and then use his fists to rearrange his disgusting face.

“Enough of this Walt. You may act tough, but I really don’t know how tough you are. I would like to find out though.” He waves his rifle at the door signaling for Walt to walk outside.

“What? You want me to go outside now? How do you know I’m not going to grab a stick and beat you to death with it?”

“Hah-hah, oh I know you won’t Walt, I know you won’t. There is something that we are going to do that I know you are going to like… or at least I am going to like. I am a crazy man Walt—”

Walt points.

“You have no idea how crazy I am!”

“As I was saying, I am a crazy man Walt, and what we are going to do is find out how crazy of a man you are.”

“I can show you right now if you want me to!” Walt’s eyes showed a man who was ready to do battle. His fists were clenched.

“We’ll see about that, now go outside and listen to everything I tell you to do. I’m not playing around anymore. If you make me, I will shoot you in the back.”

Walt looks at the duffle bag full of money. All of his troubles were caused because of that money. He came here to make a few extra dollars, and now…


Marcus shoves Walt toward the door which they both walk through. The keys to the Ford were hanging in the driver side door keyhole. His Chrysler 300 was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Marcus’s stinky friend.

“Where is my car?”

“No need to worry about that. Just get into Ford and start the engine.”

Walt looks at the broken down Ford parked before him.

“Are you kidding me? That car doesn’t even look like it’ll start. How about we take your car instead?”

The thought of taking the VW wasn’t something Marcus wanted to think about. If they were to take his ride then Walt would have to drive. He would be the one driving while Marcus sits in the passenger seat pointing the rifle at him. That wouldn’t work. There wasn’t a man alive on this planet that would ever get to drive the VW except for Marcus. That idea was definitely out of the question.

“I don’t think we will. Now go over to the Ford and get inside.” He gives Walt a push with his rifle. Walt fought back another urge to take this guy out with his fists. It was still too risky with the chances of himself getting shot very high. Reluctantly he does as he’s told.

“Where are we going?” Walt opens the car door and sits down inside. Marcus mirrors him on the passenger side.

“You will find out, don’t worry.”

Walt starts the junky Ford which came to life on the first key turn. He was amazed by this. From the looks of the ride it was assumed that he would struggle with it, but now as they sit there it purrs like a kitten.

“Put the car in reverse and back out of here. I want you to head north.”

Walt does as he’s told, and the car drives without a problem. The long dark road ahead of them looks to go on for miles. There is still some storm clouds in the sky blocking out all of the stars and the moon. A few lightning strikes here and there, but there was no rain.

“Where are we going?”

Marcus looks over at Walt with his raisin teeth grinding.

“I told you, you will find out. Stop asking where we are going.”

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

“I just might. You old timers always have bad attitudes. I don’t play nice with bad attitudes.”

“I have a bad attitude because you are holding a gun on me, but even if you weren’t I still wouldn’t like you very much.”

“This is a rifle, not a gun.”

“Doesn’t matter what you call them, they all blast holes through the people you point them at.”

“Over there,” Marcus points into the woods. They were even darker than the road.

“What? You want me to drive in the woods? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. We’ll get stuck in there.”

“Not the woods old man, I want you drive down that path.” He points.

And there was a path over there; a path leading through the dark woods to a place Walt was sure he didn’t want to go to. He looked into those woods, and all he could see was this junky Ford stalling within those trees and then a bear coming out to eat them. He slows the Ford down ready to make his turn.

“It really doesn’t look to pleasant down there.” Walt said.

“Yeah, but that is where we are going. Now hit the gas and let’s go.” He points the rifle at Walt. Walt looks down the barrel and hopes to see it pointed the other way very soon. And when he gets ahold of the rifle he wasn’t going to play around with Marcus. He would look at him in the eyes as he shoots him to the ground.

They drive down the narrow path for what seems like miles. There were huge dips with the Ford striking the ground on many occasions. A huge puddle of water was in one of those dips but the car managed to swim through it with ease. A few twists in the path, and then finally a straight path ahead. The darkness engulfs the Ford all around them, and then Marcus holds the rifle up.

“Okay, right here. I want you to stop the car.”

Walt does as he is told. He pushes on the brakes bringing the Ford to a complete stop. There are trees on both sides of the car, and the narrow path seems to open up in front of them. It turns into a dirt road that leads off into more darkness. The headlight beams could only reach so far, and then Marcus laughs.

“Hah-hah, we’re here old man.”

“Where is here? I don’t see anything out there.”

“Oh… you will.”

Marcus rolls his window down, which takes quite an effort to lower, and then sticks his whole head outside.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Walt asks, but Marcus ignores him as he screams toward the darkness.


With a flicker large spotlights turn on off in the distance. There are ten in all, and they are all positioned around what looks to be a small arena. The dirt road in front of them travels into this circular arena. The huge walls are made of stone and have mattresses strapped to them.

“Why are there mattresses on those walls?” Walt asks. His eyes were squinting from all of the light.

“Those are there to cushion the impacts. I don’t want to mess up our ride now.”

“Cushion our impacts? What do you mean?”

“Just drive forward Walt. You’ll find out when we get up there. I don’t want to ruin the surprise for you.”

With caution he presses on the gas sending the car forward. They enter the arena coming to a stop when Marcus waves his rifle.

“Okay, right here is good. Now wait a second.”

And Walt waits.

He sees in his rearview mirror that two guys were closing a pair of concrete doors. There were mattresses strapped to these doors as well, and Walt can see a sign hanging on those doors.


Walt was going to ask another question, but Marcus points to the other side of the arena. He looks excited at what he sees.

“Over there Walt, do you see them?”

Walt looks over to the other side of the arena. There is a small door opening up with two people stepping inside. One was a woman, and the other man. They were both blindfolded and handcuffed. They looked dirty and ruffed up as if they had been through some terrible ordeal.

“Who are they?” Walt asks.

“They are a part of our game Walt.” Marcus still had that sick smile on his face.

“What game?”

The small door closes behind the two captive people. The handcuffs have been removed, but the blindfolds remain. They were stitched onto the faces of the captives in order to keep them secure; to make sure that there was no way they could be removed.

“Walt,” Marcus begins as he takes a deep breath in. “I created this for you. I heard all about you from you friend James. He told me how crazy you were, and how much violence you have caused in the past.”

“Yeah, so?” Walt looks to be getting angry right now. He kind of wants to break some faces off.

“I would be lying if I said that I believed him, because I don’t. The things he was telling me about you made you look unstoppable. He was building you up to be this incredible badass drug dealer who couldn’t, and shouldn’t be messed with.”

“James knows me very well, and I don’t think you do little man.”

“Hah-hah, well you know this kind of piqued my interest. I had to find out how ‘badass’ you really were Walt. You see it’s rare that I come across somebody who is worse than me. And if you were to ask any of my associates, they know that I am the baddest of the bad.”

“Even though you are only a sixteen year old candy puff?”

“Hah-hah, you are very funny Walt. So funny indeed, but I am not sixteen years old. I am twenty-two.”

“And you’re still a candy puff.”

Marcus closes his eyes as he cracks his neck.

“We’ll see if you feel the same after we play our little game.”

“What game? Tell me what in the hell are we doing out here?”

“Those two people in front of us over there. You don’t know them at all, and neither do I. They were picked up on the street four days ago by my associates. I held them for the sole purpose of this game. Look around you Walt.”

Walt looks at his surroundings only seeing concrete walls loaded with mattresses. There was no way out for him, or the two blindfolded people standing on the other side of the arena.

“Okay, what am I looking for?”

“In about one minute I will signal for the game to begin. When it does begin, you must push the gas down on the Ford and hold it there. The tires on the car are bald, so you will be able to drift the car around the arena with ease. You must hold the gas down on the car until the bell rings. When the bell rings it signals the end of a round. There are three rounds in this game.”

“So you want me to drive like a nut inside of this place? I can do that.”

“Good! And with any luck you will strike one of our targets.”

Walt’s eye shoot wide.


“Yeah, those two people over there. You have three rounds to take them out Walt, and if you don’t take them out before the final bell rings at the end of the third round, I’m going to blow your head off with this rifle.”

He points the rifle right at Walt’s head, and another one of those horrible smiles appears. Walt can only sit there with an expressionless look on his face. He grips the steering wheel hard, and wonders why he had to listen to James. If he would have told him no, told him that he wasn’t going to come out here to sell those drugs, then he wouldn’t be in this car right now. He would be home eating his dinner, and then going to bed.

“Get ready Walt! The game is about to begin!”

Marcus leans out of the passenger side window again. He screams at the top of his lungs so his associates can hear him. The two blindfolded people on the other side of the arena were crying, and Walt’s anger was going through the roof.

“Let the games begin!” Marcus screams. And then,


The arena goes dark.

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