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For a brief, irrational moment, he was certain that he was dead and that what he was seeing, or rather not seeing, was the afterlife. He panicked and tried to cry out for help, but all that came out was a soft croak.
That croak turned out to be enough. A light flashed on in the distance. Or maybe not so distant. With no frame of reference, it was hard to tell.
The light, such as it was, was dim and narrow in focus, like a flashlight about to run out of battery. Kevin blinked at the light and managed a hoarse, “Hello?”
“Hello.”
Kevin gasped with relief and found his voice. “Oh, thank God. Can you help me? I don't know what happened. My head hurts, and I'm…" his voice trailed off as the reality of his situation sank in. He looked fearfully back at the light and asked, "Where am I? Who are you?"
“No one,” the strange voice said. “Not to you, anyway.”
Kevin frowned in concentration. The voice was soft, lilting, almost pleasant. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman speaking, but it sounded vaguely familiar.
“Please,” he said, “I have a wife and daughter at home.”
"Your wife is no longer your wife," the voice replied. "She left you for your boss eight years ago. She met him at his Christmas party, and the two of them had sex in his bathroom while you and the other guests sang karaoke. Your daughter calls him Dad now."
Shock drove away Kevin’s fear. Anger followed immediately on its heels, and he said, “Who are you? How do you know so much about me?”
“You abandoned me,” the voice said.
Kevin blinked as confusion and fear once more asserted dominance over his emotions. “Who are you?” he asked again.
“Now I’m going to abandon you.”
“Wait,” Kevin said.
He realized he was still lying down and struggled to a standing position. As he did, he realized that the light and the owner of the voice were far closer than he originally believed. Close enough that when he lifted a hand to try to quell the throbbing in his temples, the owner of the voice was able to strike like a snake, slicing a deep gash underneath Kevin’s armpit.
He cried out and stumbled backward, falling against a wall. "What the hell?" he squeaked, pain and surprise overwhelming him.
“Goodbye, Kevin,” the voice said.
The light floated away. Kevin caught a brief glimpse of a cherubic face, but a jolt of pain seared through his chest, centered on the wound under his armpit. He cried out and sank to the floor, grimacing and pushing tears through the corners of his eyes. “Wait!” he cried out. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
The light paused. “Your ex-wife won’t miss you,” it said, “Your boss is better than you by far. He knows how to please a woman.”
Kevin had no idea if the speaker had any idea what he was talking about or if he was just torturing him before leaving him to die, and at the moment, he didn’t care. He only wanted to live, no matter who Jessica was sleeping with, no matter what Marjie called Jessica’s new husband. He wanted to live so he could see Jessica again, hear her voice telling him brightly about the new art project she was working on with the modeling clay he had sent her for her birthday, remind himself that it was okay that she didn’t live with him, that whoever else she called Dad, he was good enough to be worthy of her love and worthy of being part of her life.
“Please,” he called after the voice. “Please don’t leave me.”
The light paused again. “It hurts, doesn’t it? To be left alone.”
The light moved again. There was a groan and a shriek as metal scraped on metal, then another shriek, followed by a low boom as the light disappeared.
"No!" Kevin called. He stood, clutching the wound under his arm. It throbbed under his touch, and with each throb, he felt a gush of wetness escaping between his fingers.
Panic settled over him like a blanket. He whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he felt along the wall for a door. The walls were round, curving gently in a wide circle. He was in a well of some sort.
No, wells didn’t have metal doors. He was in a grain silo.
He had been left to die.
“Help!” he cried. “Help me!”
Outside, he heard the soft, muffled rumble of a diesel motor as his killer started his engine. Kevin cried out again and again as he stumbled along the wall. He felt a sudden wave of dizziness and fell to his knees just as the soft crackling of branches and the scraping of something being dragged told him that the truck was leaving him.
He stood, and nausea accompanied this dizziness. He threw up a thin bile and whispered, "Help."
