The Heart of It All (HeartSick Series Book 1)

by Weston Mitchel

  The storefront basically consisted of a dusty, busted up counter and papers thrown about everywhere, of what looked like records of long ago auto work. Behind the counter was another door hanging slanted from the top hinge only. She could see past the part that allowed her to and into the workshop that lay behind it.

  Still with one hand grasping tight to the taser in her purse, she shuffled past the tilted door trying not to touch it for fear of breaking it off completely. Once in the work area of the gas station she could make out the rest of the tire tracks that continued on this side of the bay door.

  Running perpendicular to where these tracks ended was another set of tracks, only instead of burnt rubber on cement the tracks were cut out of the thick layer of dust on the ground. It looked like a small stampede from the tire tracks to an opening in the ground that was right in line with the middle of the second, broken looking bay door.

  Izzy had been familiar with what the hole in the ground was used for by spending quite a bit of time with her uncle Gerardo who owned a lube center in San Diego. Izzy looking at this gap in the floor made her doubt herself even more when she decided she needed to take a look down this particular rabbit hole.

  Isabelle Ramirez was brave, but she wasn’t stupid. When she saw a small tire iron on the ground by her feet she picked it up. Just in case the stun gun was a dud just like her ex.

  The tire iron was just one of those small jobs like you find under a seat in a Toyota, not the big iron cross looking kind that she would kill for right about now, but it was better than nothing. She pinched the bar of the tire iron between her palm and the phone in her hand. Now she had a weapon in each hand, with the added benefit of a flashlight, 911 dialer and blunt object all in one.

  Beats a Swiss army knife any day. Well, today it does anyway.

  As she crept closer to the hole, taking small quiet steps, she thought she could hear a moan behind what sounded like some sort of humming by a machine of some sort. Izzy was brave, not stupid and not religious. This didn’t stop her however from giving a little up to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost as she made an invisible cross over her chest. Thankfully not chipping a tooth with the tire iron waving about in her hand, before descending down into the hole one slow step at a time.

  The first set of stairs only went down roughly six feet before flattening out to a small, narrow work area that made it easy for a mechanic to stand and work on the belly of a car. Fifteen feet from the bottom step of this first set looked to be another set of stairs going down to a second lower level.

  From this bottom step she could definitely hear some sort of murmuring and a louder hum, or buzz, or something coming from some type of equipment. The cadence coming from whatever was making the noise actually sounded a bit familiar to Izzy, but she just wasn’t able to put her finger on what it was exactly.

  Armed with an electric gun and a tire iron her curiosity was doing it’s best to get her killed, or maimed at the very least. She knew damn well she would have just taken a picture of the place and drove home if not for the taser in her purse giving her a false sense of security.

  Gabriel screws me even when he’s trying to help.

  So with her false sense of security, tire iron, and phaser set to stun she descended this final set of steps.

  Oh hell no.

  Is all Izzy could think when she got to the bottom and saw what lay before her. She recognized Austin Kyle right away from his blood donations at the K Prize lab, but what she didn’t understand was why he was strapped into a wheelchair in the basement of this gas station.

  She walked closer and saw what was making that familiar hum and buzz, a dialysis machine. It wasn’t like the one her Abuela had to use though, this one was redneck rigged somehow. Izzy didn’t know for what but knew this shit wasn’t what she bargained for when she thought she would hunt the Doctor down and give her a piece of her mind.

  She stopped shuffling and hurried towards Austin and work on getting him unstrapped. Just as she got to him, the same moment she realized she was either going to have to let go of the taser or put her flashlight and weapon down, she heard a noise coming from above.

  To Izzy’s untrained, but highly alert, ear it sounded an awful lot like the door she sneaked past earlier falling off that last hinge and crashing to the floor.

  Whoever knocked it off apparently threw in the towel on still trying to be stealthy after the noise rang out through the shop. Izzy could hear what sounded like a huge man calling out for someone named Brittany, or Courtenay or some other white girl name.

  While she tried to swallow her heart to get it back down into her chest, Izzy looked around frantically for a place to hide. Her only option was a giant, metal toolbox with what looked like thirty small shelves, half of them already slid out.

  She whispered “I’m sorry,” to Austin and ran to the corner of the small basement that the tool chest sat in. It was sitting diagonal to the wall leaving a small space in the shape of a triangle behind it and luckily it wasn’t flush to the wall on one side because Izzy didn’t think she would be able to roll the rusty behemoth on her own right now, although the adrenaline pumping through her veins right now could have fooled her into thinking otherwise.

  Izzy squatted down to make herself as small as possible as she heard more yelling for a Hailey and Bailey, knowing it wouldn’t be long for whoever was up there to find the stairs.

  Worst Ever Wake Up

  When Austin Kyle first started coming around he found it hard to keep his head from leaning on his shoulder or chest, or anything else that was in it’s vicinity. Whatever it was that the blood bitch gave him was some kind of powerful. He could tell he had been drooling on himself by the cold, damp spot near his clavicle but couldn’t do anything about it. Even if his hands weren’t restrained to the wheelchair he didn’t think he would be able to have the manual dexterity to swipe at the right spot.

  He did manage to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds, but there wasn’t much he could make out. The sheer lack of light made it nearly impossible, coupled with his drugged up and blurry, bloodshot eyes it was like looking at one of those 3D posters at the mall but never seeing the hidden image. All he saw were a bunch of cubes in differing shades of grey.

  What he was able to see was a large contraption next to him on a rolling cart. He wasn’t exactly sure of what it was doing, all he could tell was that it was hooked up to him and making a loud humming noise. So all in all it was basically one of the worst ways to wake up imaginable.

  Along with all of the other things he wasn’t sure about in the last couple days why in the hell Dr. Greer would want do this to him, was right there with the rest.

  This surely isn’t standard medical practices, and don’t call me Shirley.

  He let out a quadriplegic giggle at himself and drooled a little more.

  Austin thought he was starting to sober up a bit. With each passing minute in the dark, dankness of where ever he sat right now, his head became a little clearer. His eyes also either started to grow used to it’s own night vision, or his eyes were losing the glossy shine of a high, or both. Either way the cubes were slowly turning into more familiar shapes as he got a grip on his surroundings.

  Just when he felt like he was making some headway on keeping his head raised long enough to swallow the spit instead of letting ooze out of his mouth, he heard sounds of shuffling, and little eeks here and there. Austin thought it to be a mouse at first, but when he heard the noises edging closer down from what he could now tell was a set of stairs leading up, he realized it was someone coming his way.

  He knew he wouldn’t be able to do too much to any assailant heading his way with all four limbs bound to the chair, but a good headbutt was a place to start and he could figure the rest out after. His mind was becoming clearer, but his strength was still flagging, if not receding entirely.

  As the steps grew nearer just before he could get a good look at who or what was coming down the steps Austin went back in
to full fledged drugged out mode. Pretending to be a catatonic victim he waited for his chance to leap. Well, let’s say he waited for his chance to jut his head out in a semi-violently way, at least.

  Dreadlocks of Entanglement

  Brian was able to stay far enough behind Izzy to not be suspicious following her all the way across town. Watching all that Netflix in between playing video games apparently had finally paid off in ways more than just killing time.

  Brian saw her pull into the abandoned gas station so he pulled over about a half block behind, parked and killed his lights before she had even come to a full stop. He sat there and watched as she fumbled her way through the door. As soon as she was fully inside Brian got out of Ashley’s Jeep, and caught himself before he hit the lock button on the key fob out of pure habit. The brief honk letting him know it locked might not have been enough to alert the person he was chasing to his whereabouts, but he was glad he wasn’t about to find out one way or another.

  Brian decided to leave the doors unlocked, ain’t my damn car anyway, as he casually, but with purpose, walked up to the front of the gas station acting like he was supposed to be there. There wasn’t much activity out on the streets in this area for him to be weary of, but he still didn’t to be harassed right now, he needed to be the one to do the harassing.

  The girl Brian was following, Tracy or Stacy, must not have felt his presence just yet, considering she left the deadbolt on the door to the station unlocked behind her. He barely had to twist the doorknob before it swung open before him, inviting him in to the dusty, darkness of the storefront.

  Scared to turn on his flashlight app on his phone for fear of being seen, Brian entered in the gas station just a bit hesitantly. Even in the dark he could tell that in it’s heyday this place was probably scraping by on money from the vehicle repairs of friends and family.

  For one the cash register, still bolted to the counter, looked about 30 years old and dark smudges of grease and oil stood out on the counter, doors and light switches, showing this place was rarely cleaned even before the abandonment occurred. Not the type of place ripe for the makings of a franchise, just ripe for a bankruptcy.

  It wasn’t hard to tell which way the girl went from here, there was only one way to go. There was a door hanging awkwardly from what looked like it’s top hinge. As he did a half-limbo, half-side shuffle to get past it he realized it had just been merely leaning that way. One of his dreadlocks got caught in a rough, splintered part of the door that looked like it had been punched a time or two in the same spot.

  The snagged lock o’dread pulled the door to the ground with a crash right behind Brian. His girlish cry was hidden behind the racket of the door banging on to the concrete, but unluckily for him his pursuit of stealth was now shattered right along with it.

  Brian gave up the sneaking and just went with what he knew best, loud and obnoxious. He began crying out girl names that had an ee sound at the end of it like he was pretty sure the girl he was looking for had at the end of hers.

  With all subtlety now brushed aside, he went bowling down the stairs, his shoulders bouncing from one wall to the other down the narrow passageway, coming up empty in what looked like a short grocery store aisle after an apocalypse left the shelves bare, he continued on to the next set of steps leading down.

  Brian belted out another set of names as he stomped down this final set of steps, his heart caught in his throat when his foot hit the floor of the basement. There wasn’t much light in here to speak of, but just enough was beamed down from the full moon outside, through the windows at the top of the bay doors and down both flights of stairs that it was able to cast a small shadow in front of Brian.

  Faint outlines of his shadow were resting on what could only be Austin in some sort of chair, with lines running from his arm to some type of machine by his side. Only now in the small, quiet confines of this concrete bunker could Brian hear the machine that Austin was hooked up to, humming and almost wheezing as it did it’s job.

  At seeing Austin like this a flood of guilt and disappointment in himself rained down over Brian. Every word he had uttered to that stupid bitch of a Doctor after agreeing to her demands led to this moment now. Brian might as well have tied Austin up himself and dragged him down here to do whatever unspeakable acts were being done to him now.

  Brian started blubbering like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar, trying to explain himself in sporadic, snot-bubbled sentences, not making any sense.

  “Bro… Austin… I… can’t believe I-,” he said running towards Austin, hands outstretched towards the leather straps that were encasing his best friend’s wrists.

  Blue Sparky

  Izzy was still crouching behind the large metal tool chest, and could vaguely recognize the outline now barreling down the last set of steps in the faint silver glow of the moon shine. The large, broad shouldered figure with the Sideshow Bob silhouette of a hairdo could only be that of the guy that came in with Austin that first week of trials.

  Isn’t that pendejo Austin’s friend? Maybe I should come out and tell him I’m here to help Austin.

  Something nagged at Izzy though, something that told her she couldn’t be sure he was there to help too. That first meeting with Austin was clear in her mind, and now she was catching on to the fact that wasn’t the only place she recognized him from.

  Izzy would bet pesos to pintos that he was the same guy she had seen the Doctor talking to in the hallways of the Blood Center just outside of the K Prize labs once or sometimes twice a week. She was sure he had been wearing something over his head, a beanie or something covering his hair, but it was definitely him.

  Screw that shit, he could be here for the doc, there was no way she was able to do this all on her own.

  There was no way Izzy was about to trust her life in the hands of this idiot she had seen buddying up to the Doctor. Now that she interrogated her mind more thoroughly she would testify that she saw Dr. Greer handing over cash to him once.

  Did she hire him to help her with this? That’s fucked up if this guy truly is his friend.

  Her uncle Gerardo popped back into her mind, the one that owned a jiffy lube in San Diego. He wasn’t just a savvy businessman, her uncle Gerry was also known as one of the few, besides her, in the family to make it off the streets and into a real career. He had always been a little more colorful than some, and had a different take on the whole shoot first and ask questions later bit. His sentiment being, “Fuck em up first, figure it out sometime after that.”

  Without giving it more thought, Izzy planned on doing just that. She popped up from behind the tool chest, tire iron and phone already cocked behind her back knowing she was too far away to sneak up on him, especially since she was in front of him. She let the steel fly from her hand, twirling in the air straight at Brian’s face, not caring that her phone went skittering to the ground as well.

  She didn’t wait to see if it landed where she aimed, she started running towards her target as soon as her right hand was empty. As the tire iron made contact with skin she had only been a step away with the taser in her left hand, button already depressed, blue sparks of static discharge in front of her leading the way, until this too made contact.

  Her recently initiated victim already had his hands up after being smacked in the jaw out of nowhere by a flying metal rod, so the stun gun dug right into his ribs.

  The stun gun has a deceptive name. Most people think of using one with the outcome being the person falling to the floor either unconscious, or immobile. This however is rarely the case.

  Evidently not with this variety of taser. It was powerful enough to do some damage, but mostly just enough to piss the big brute off once the batteries ran dead. Izzy didn’t make it out of the barrio and into a lab coat by being a slow thinker though. Her left hand pushed the small plastic case about the size of a pack of cigarettes into his ribs until the juice was completely gone, while semi-squatting with her other hand blindly searchi
ng for the tire iron that bounced on the floor moments earlier.

  Finding a home finally, her palm wrapped around the staff of the iron and brought it up straight from the ground not bothering to cock it back behind her, thinking it would take too long and this guy would come to senses. The other side of his jaw felt the impact of the iron this time as a loud crack rang out through the tiny basement. This crack was followed by a wettish sounding thud as Brian’s body slumped to the floor all at once, out cold.

  Izzy stuck a firm, stiff foot out into Brian’s side checking for movement. His snoring and gasping for air told her he was still alive, but she damn sure didn’t want to fall for the whole I’m down but not out bullshit like in every horror movie ever.

  She reached down and made sure her the batteries of her stun gun were fully drained out in the side of Brian’s neck, and when nothing happened, from either her gun or a flinch from the guy on the ground, she was satisfied.

  Izzy then moved quickly to the machine looking for an obvious off switch but couldn’t make one out in the limited light. This made her think of her phone that was probably shattered on the ground by the tool chest right now.

  She peeked around the machine, and behind it, on the floor a few feet in front of the chest she could see a small glare rising up from the ground, thinking that had to be her phone. Izzy ran over to it, hoping to use the flashlight app again and figure out how the machine worked so she could turn it off, then worry about getting Austin situated, in that order.

  Izzy bent over at the hips, reaching down for the phone. The tips of her fingers just barely grazed a broken shard of glass jutting out from her phone at the exact same moment something, or someone rather, rammed into her. She was knocked off her feet and thrown sideways and her head smacked into the corner of the big metal tool chest she had hid behind only a dozen or so seconds ago.