TIME: 10:35 PM
LOCATION: Triton’s Car Park
STATUS: Open
He’d seen people scrambling first, noticed people grabbing onto one another with terror upon their faces, saw them scatter as if someone had fired off a warning shot. But the music had drowned out his ears and the whiskey had dulled his senses, his reaction time far slower than it should have been at a time like this, at a scene like this. Shoulders shoved and arms pushed and voices yelled, but he couldn’t focus on any of it, not with the overwhelming and all too familiar ball of anxiety rising up his throat as he was forced to join the herd, as he was ushered out among the swarm.
He saw the flames second, roaring to life just across the street as black fumes billowed out of the opening in the wall of the garage, but he ran the first chance he got. He made a break for it when the sea of strangers parted, needing space and air to breathe. What the fuck? Someone gasped beside him and he whipped his head around to gawk, the interruption in his panicked thoughts a welcome distraction. And he shared the exact same sentiment. Random cars set ablaze, a warning, a message—who could know for sure? Mild terror glazed over his already numbed exterior, settling into his bones as he stood wide-eyed on the pavement. Curios, the timing. And at such a grand affair, no less. What the fuck, indeed.
He heard their voices third, the men in blue with their flashlights raised high and their fingers just inches from the trigger. Rashid Zaidi, come with us, they’d said, pulled him away from his scorched, once white and now singed black Toyota Camry and insisted on speaking with him. Where do you work? The University. Where do you live? The Woodlands. Did you have any enemies? Yes. No. It was routine, as routine as can be when you’re standing in front of your burnt-to-a-crisp mode of transportation while answering questions from the police, but he was confident he handled it well even in his inebriated state—in fact, it only helped.
After the commotion, he’d wandered back down to the front of the entrance and toward the crowd, not really sure if he was seeking comfort or simply trying to blend in, but it covered both bases. He was careful to stick to the outskirts, pulling out his pack of smokes and lifting one from the box, but as he lit the cigarette a shadow emerged from over his shoulder and he turned to greet the fellow victim, perhaps perpetrator, maybe just innocent bystander.
“Quite a night, huh?” he let out a half-hearted chuckle, “Happy Halloween.”
A public servant is never truly off the clock. Even on holidays, Adriana made sure to be on her best behavior. The rest of the city attempted to drown their worries in tequila and coverup their guilt with a monster mask, and why shouldn’t they? It was a party after all. Halloween was a time for adults to play pretend, to dress up and feast and indulge in horrors they knew didn’t exist.
What happens when the horrors came to life? What happens when the horrors came to them?
Having spent the night mostly sober, Adriana quickly noticed when the festivities turned into a bonfire, prompting a panic that edged close to complete chaos. The lot was lit aflame, and Adriana spent most of her time trying to calm down the public before being alerted that her car had not escaped unscathed. It was silly to mourn over a silver Lexus, but it had been her first real car. She, thankfully, had great insurance, but she highly doubted it’d be enough to rise another car from the ashes of her old one.
After a solid minute of feeling sorry for herself and gathering a pathetically small amount of information from the officers at the scene, Adriana quickly went back to attempting to placate the frightened party-goers that lingered in the lot. It consisted of several long minutes of getting screamed at by inebriated adults in costumes, though eventually the crowd began to disperse. The fear and anxiety still hung heavy in the cold October air, sinking into Adriana’s glitter-coated skin like an unwelcome guest.
It’s shameful and embarrassing, but Adriana first took notice of the lit cigarette before recognizing the man smoking it. Her first instinct was to ask Rashid if she could bum one off of him; Adriana so desperately craved a smoke right then, but she’d always done it in private. Adriana didn’t expect Rashid to judge her for it, but even though the two of them were separated from the crowd, there were still too many people lingering around for her comfort. The last thing Adriana needed was some jackass with a smartphone posting a picture of her smoking while dressed up as a sparkly pink witch.
So instead, she decided to ask Rashid for something else: his thoughts. Those were always appreciated, but Adriana wasn’t sure if she had a penny on her. “You think this was someone’s idea of a trick or a treat?” As horrifying as all this was, Adriana couldn’t help but imagine how much worse it all could have been. At least the only thing targeted were automobiles. At least no one was hurt. “And do you think you could give me a ride home? My car is... toast.” Well, that’s a brilliant way to put it. Adriana wasn’t sure if Rashid was entirely sober just yet, but she didn’t mind driving them both home if need be. She was used to being everyone’s designated driver - back when she still had a car, anyway.
It suddenly occurred to her that Rashid was probably still standing around because he was in the same situation that she was. She knew only a handful of cars were targeted, but hadn’t gathered the names of all the victims just yet. “I am assuming - and hoping - that your car survived. Please say it did, because I could use some good news right about now.”
