Blood Moon & Alpha Baylor Anthology

I woke up to a beautiful late summer morning. It’s September so even though it is technically still summer, it is beginning to feel like autumn. I got showered and dressed quickly, so I could carry out my favorite part of my morning routine, breakfast at the deli. 

Stopping at the full-length mirror by the front door, I check to see that my tie is straight and that my hair is in place. I am not a vain man, but I like to look well put together during working hours. My hair is short on top, shaved on the sides, and dark brown in color with threads of silver. I like to think that I earned those silvery threads through years of hard work, but I have heredity to thank for that. I have my father’s blue eyes, which happens to be my mother’s favorite trait. I have the Todorov family's nose which is narrower and sloped. 

My charcoal gray suit hides a lean muscled body that sports the ink I have a fondness for. My shoes are polished to a high shine, a habit from my years spent in the army reserves. A crisp white shirt and a red tie complete with a perfect windsor knot round out my attire. I nod at my reflection, knowing that I look like the man who leads his department and hopes to possibly end today's presentation leaving the impression that I am a perfect candidate for partner.   

It isn’t a long walk from my apartment on West Street to the office at World Trade Center 2 and Kaplan’s Deli is on the way, so it has become a part of my workday routine. I have worked for the same company for the last twenty years. Although there was a short period of time that I worried I was going to have to begin looking for a new job. When we received notification that the founding heir had been killed in a car accident along with his wife and son, many panicked and began looking for other employment. I stuck it out believing that things would find a way to work themselves out.

Turns out that a little faith and company loyalty goes a long way. I am the head customs broker for the American headquarters of DunneRock Plastics which is quickly becoming a fortune 500 company for being a pioneer in the field of recycled plastics. Someday I would love to travel to Ireland and visit world headquarters and see where it all began. Maybe I should start making plans to do just that for my vacation next spring.

“Good morning, Walker. Would you like your usual this morning?” Lydia called out from the service counter when I stepped through the door of Kaplan’s Deli.

“Add an extra shot of espresso this morning please, I have a big presentation this afternoon and I want to be sharp for it,” I said as I settled down at my usual corner table. 

While I waited, I scanned the paper checking for fluctuations in stocks of various corporations. After seeing that most of my investments had remained the same, I decided to check my horoscope (a guilty pleasure of mine).

Sagittarius: “An unexpected gift will change your life forever.” Well, that was an interesting bit of information. I don’t hold a lot of stock in these things, but occasionally, they are strangely accurate. 

“Here you go, Walker. I threw in a ham and swiss on rye, with the brown mustard. You should have a good lunch for your big presentation,” Lydia said, handing me the bag with both my breakfast and lunch in it and my vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso.

“You shouldn’t spoil me like that, Lydia. Mr. Kaplan will suspect us of having a torrid love affair,” I teased and stood tucking the newspaper under my arm while picking up my briefcase and my purchase to head towards the door. 

I checked my watch as I stepped onto the sidewalk and saw that I was still on schedule. I like to arrive at work by 0730 so that I have time to enjoy my breakfast while booting up my computer and checking some emails before work starts at 0800. 

At 0750 Yassine passed by my desk on the way to his own. “I should have the hard copies you need for your presentation by 0845 at the very latest. I looked everything over last night, you’re going to knock their socks off with this one. I bet you get offered a partnership after this,” he said as he settled down at his desk.

“Your mouth to God’s ear Yass. I poured my heart and soul into this for the last six months. The title of partner certainly has a nice ring to it. If it happens, I’ll put in the recommendation for you to fill my position. You have definitely earned it,” I replied and went back to reading emails.

Just as Yassine stood to head for the print room, the entire building shook violently. “What on earth was that? I didn’t know New York had earthquakes?” he questioned. Yassine wasn’t from New York, I can’t recall where exactly he said he was from, but he has only been here for about six years.

“THE NORTH TOWER WAS JUST HIT BY A PLANE!” someone shouted from the hallway. The office immediately erupted in conversation and speculation. I wondered if perhaps the pilot had some sort of medical emergency that caused the accident. That didn’t really make sense though because there should have been a co-pilot to help prevent something like that. Don’t get me wrong, I have never flown a plane, I am just speculating based on things I have read before. 

I got up and walked to the breakroom, hoping to find out some information about what happened. I wasn’t disappointed to find that nearly every news station was reporting. I quickly became engrossed in the news reports trying to glean what information I could. 

Suddenly, the building shook again, only more violently than the first time. There were shouts and people running everywhere. The power was out, and the scent of smoke was quickly filling the air, as people ran towards the already clogging stairwells. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Yassine and another man were heading away from the stairwells instead of towards them. They were helping some who had been knocked down in the chaos and I went to help them with their efforts. 

“Walker, you need to get out of here! It isn’t safe!” Yassine shouted, trying to be heard over the chaos. 

“I’m not running with my tail between my legs while others are still scrambling for safety! Let’s get as many people out as we can!” I shouted in response. 

I started moving quickly through the hallways looking for those who may have been left behind. I found a woman who was sitting on the floor clutching her ankle as tears streamed down her face. “Can you walk?” I asked as I approached her.

She shook her head and moved her hands from her ankle, which provoked her foot to shift in an extremely unnatural way. She wailed in agony, and I bent and scooped her up off the floor into my arms. “It’s going to be alright; I’ll get you out of here safely,” I said, trying to console her. I rushed towards the stairwell which was slightly less congested than it had been initially. 

The woman wasn't heavy, and I was in good physical shape, but carrying her down 37 flights of stairs was going to be a grueling task. I only hope that I don’t trip and injure us both in the process. Her arms remained tightly around my neck in her state of panic, and I was doing the best I could, considering I couldn’t see the steps in front of me. We caught up with the crowd of people trying to exit the building on the twentieth floor. People were pushing and shoving their way down and out, but they were knocking others down in the process. The whole thing turned an already chaotic situation up to riot level mayhem.

Suddenly an eerie sound became deafening quickly. The building structure was groaning under the stress of the accident, causing the people in the stairwell to panic further. “I’M GONNA DIE! LET ME GO, I’M GONNA DIE!” the woman in my arms began to screech at the top of her lungs, trying to fight her way out of my arms towards freedom. 

I was trying desperately to hang onto her, I knew she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. If she were thinking clearly, she would realize that she couldn’t get herself out safely and that I was the only one trying to help her.  She placed the palms of her hands under my chin and pushed with all of her might causing my grip to loosen. 

The woman slipped out of my arms as the building trembled around us. I tried to grab hold of her again to help despite the panic causing her to think irrationally. It was no use, she fought like a wounded, caged animal and was soon swallowed up by the stampeding crowd around us. I only had a few moments to feel disappointed that my efforts to help had failed before things got worse. 

The groan of the building buckling under the stress from the fire escalated from deafening to mind numbing as it drowned out all other sounds. My mind was racing to fully grasp the gravity of the situation, before the floor opened beneath me, and the walls began tumbling down. Then it was as if a switch flipped and awareness came all at once, it was too late to do anything else but accept my fate. 

As I began falling to my certain death many things flashed through my mind. The first dirt bike my dad bought me at the age of twelve. The Camaro that I worked all summer before I turned sixteen to save for. My parents and I at my high school graduation. My parents and I at my college graduation. The first time I kissed Mandi Marie Parsons behind the barn on my grandparents’ farm. Countless trips with friends and families over the years. The first and last times I had s*x, so many memories. All these things raced through my mind at lightning speed, ending with the moment of impact.

My mind screamed in pain before my mouth could utter even the slightest sound. My back and chest were in agony, it felt as if I were trying to breathe underwater, and my eyes were so heavy with debris that I didn’t dare attempt to open them.

I don't know how long I’ve laid here consciously aware of each breath that passed my lips, each beat of my heart that was slowing, acutely aware that the metallic taste in my mouth was my own blood, wondering if the next breath would be my last. I know from both the area the pain is radiating from and the blood pooling my throat, I am slowly drowning. I wish whatever pierced my body had hit my heart and my death would have been instant. Anything would be better than waiting to die, it was inevitably going to happen and waiting for that moment was a different kind of agony. 

My mind began to wander, thinking of unimportant things like; Would the dry cleaner know I had died before the moment I didn’t show up to retrieve the garments I had dropped off just yesterday? Would Lydia know the reason I didn’t come for my bagel and lox in the morning? Who was going to clean out my apartment and what would happen to my collection of sports memorabilia?

My eyes began to feel heavier even though I had still not opened them. Was this another part of the dying process? The pain continued and my breathing was becoming more labored as time continued to pass. I lost count of the number of times that I prayed for it to just be over. Was there a God? Would I meet him after I have taken my last breath? Why was he letting me suffer like this?

“Hello?” I heard someone call out, though it sounded like it was said barely above a whisper against the roaring in my head.

“I’m over here!” I shouted or at least I thought I shouted. I had already lost the ability to discern time, distance, fact, or fiction. For all I knew I could have been answering to a figment of my imagination. I heard movement to my left and turned my head to the side and forced my eyes open for the first time. My vision was blurry, and I of course was instantly rewarded with dirt in my eyes. “If you weren’t my imagination, I’m over here,” I said with a sliver of hope.

“Walker? Is that you?” I heard a familiar voice say. I could hear debris being moved around but I was trying harder to focus on the voice I heard.

“Who’s there? I can’t see anyone. I think it’s too late for me, but would you come hold my hand so I won’t have to die alone?” I asked.

“Walker is that you?” the voice asked. It took what seemed like a very long time to connect the voice with a name.  

“Yass, is that you?” I questioned. How had he gotten out? He was helping those left behind like I had been.

“Oh Walker,” Yassine half sighed, half groaned.

“Yeah, my newest accessory is kind of a pain,” I coughed, choking on more blood.

“I tried to tell you to go. I’m so sorry,” he murmured. 

“Well maybe we can skip the ‘I told you so speech’. I prefer those not to be the final words I hear. Maybe you can do my eulogy and let everyone know you tried to tell me to go,” I teased, choking again on the blood pooling in the back of my throat.

Yassine leaned close to my ear and murmured quietly, “What if you could live to hear me say I told you so?”

“Don’t tease. We both know that isn’t even possible,” I groaned as the pain intensified from trying to laugh at the absurdity of his suggestion.

“I could give you a gift that would change your life forever. Once you receive it, I can tell you I told you so. What do you say Walker, would you like to receive my gift?” he asked.

I knew Yassine was joking of course, he was just trying to make my final moments more peaceful. But a vague recollection of the horoscope I read this morning wormed its way into my brain.

Since Yassine was trying to distract me, I decided to play along. I mean the distraction wasn’t hurting anyone or anything. What if this wasn’t a distraction though and it was one of those rare times the horoscope coincided with the events in my life. “Yeah, sure Yassine. I’ll accept your gift, let’s have it,” I replied with a splinter of hope worming into my consciousness. 

Yassine bent closer to my ear and spoke barely above a whisper. “I know this is going to sound strange. I am going to give you some of my blood, I am going to need you to swallow it. Then once you have, I can get you off this piece of rebar,” he explained.

Either he’s crazy or I am. I have been choking on my own blood and he wants me to swallow some of his? This was quickly turning more preposterous than him being able to save me from death. 

“You’re joking, right?” I choked, trying desperately to swallow my own blood pooling in my thro