The Defenestration of Prague #2

[Note: Again, just like the first part, this was recently just changed from present tense to past, so I would really appreciate comments/critiques on flow. - Cal]

The Defenestration of Prague

[A Zombie Days mess]

Family can be whatever you want it to be.

– A Home at the End of the World

#1. Call Me, Call Me, Anytime...

#3. Down to the Dirt of It

#4. Phone-A-Friend

#2. Hide and Go Seek

Dylan only stubbed her toe once getting out of bed and slipping into the clothes she had worn the day before. She had tried calling Marshall back, but undoubtedly he was too drunk or too deaf to answer.

Dylan had no reservations about turning on the siren as she ran every, red light, turning what was usually close to an hour commute into something half that. She had just arrived downtown when the rain started. Little, oblong drops pelted her windshield, and it reminded her she needs to get a new set of wipers. She cursed the rain and hoped it would be brief. It would be no fun beating up on Marshall if he was already dead.

As Dylan turned down Main, she knew that rain most likely wouldn’t stop for a while. It was pouring down in torrents. There was urgency in her blood now, and she wondered how her whole body was not shaking. She had to find Marshall.

She drove down Main hoping that he hadn’t taken some crazy shortcut she didn’t know about. She had turned off the siren; it was useless as she crept down the empty street in her car; there was no one.

Finally, she spotted a bit of movement distinct from the incessant rain. She, then, saw a jacket with the logo of the Libertyville Wildcats stitched across it.

The Libertyville Wildcats had only two fans that were not six feet in the ground, and only one of them wore their letterman jacket.

She could definitely see that it was Marshall now and not a figment of her own slightly paranoid mind. She waited for the light to change and pulled an illegal U-turn to pull up to the curb next to him. She put the car in park and watched as Marshall staggered back a bit when she rolled down the passenger side window.

“Get in the car, jackass,” Dylan yelled, but there was no sting in her words; she was more relieved than angry at this point.

Marshall didn’t move, and she could barely hear his voice when he spoke. “I’m wet.”

“No shit, Marshall. Get in before I have to haul you in myself.” Marshall was indeed wet, and more than that, he looked, in the pale side glances of yellow headlights, like a drowned puppy. In addition to his drenched closed being suctioned close to his body, his eyes were red-rimmed and bright, and his dark, brown hair was slicked back dripping with rain.

She watched as he stumbled toward the car, clearly uneasy on his feet. Dylan reached for a towel off her backseat. It was covered in golden-red fluff, dog hair, but she figured it would do.

Marshall managed to get the door of the car open by the time Dylan had beaten most of the fur out of the towel. When he tumbled into the passenger seat, she handed him the towel.

“Here, dry yourself off.”

Dylan rolled up the open passenger side window and put the car in drive.

As Dylan pulled the car out onto the street, she said, “I tried to call you back," but he didn’t answer for a minute or two.

She could hear Marshall’s shallow breathing, so she knew he was alive, and when he did answer, his voice was almost indiscernible. “Left my phone at home.”

Dylan snorted. “You’re one smart cookie there, Marshall.”

There was no response.