Dating : The Laughter Of Gunshots

It was past midnight as Cameron led his little troop around the corner of Mick’s Cafe and into the dimly lit alley. Allison, Sarah and Gary trailed behind him as he hustled down the narrow corridor of brick and pavement. The three followers were all still skeptical, muttering between themselves as they dutifully, but reluctantly, followed their alcohol-soaked leader towards the spot where he was pointing.

“Right here. It was coming from right here.”

Cameron, tall, lean and graced with long, flowing locks of blonde hair that he never let a barber come within spitting distance of touching, gestured animatedly at a little puddle that had formed in the pavement.

Allison, also a blonde, but short and rather stout, tried to be encouraging.

“It could have been a truck. A delivery van or something.”

“Bullshit,” Cameron replied, his eyes flashing. Then he took a deep breath. “There is no way a truck or a van could fit down this alley. And what I heard was no engine backfiring. It was right here and it was a gunshot, but, like, not a gunshot.”

Gary stepped up. “What do you mean, but not like a gunshot?”

The wind started to whistle on the cold winter night and all three bundled together for warmth.

“I mean it came from a person’s fucking throat, Gary.”

“How could you know?” asked Sarah, a skinny eighteen-year old with long reddish hair. “I mean, how could really tell?”

Cameron started pacing back and forth in the tight space. He was rubbing his hands through his thick blonde hair.

“Because I heard a laugh, okay?”

“I’m confused,” Gary said. “You heard a gunshot, then you heard a laugh?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. No! I heard three shots and each one came with a laugh! They were the same fucking noise, okay?! Like they were merged into one thing. I don’t care if it makes sense. That’s what I heard.”

Everyone was silent and trembling for a moment, their breath steaming out of their mouths in white clouds of mist.

“Should we call the police?” Allison asked.

“For what?” Gary asked. “There is no body, no blood, no shooter, no victim. Nothing. Just noises in Cameron’s head.”

“Hey, fuck you, Gary.”

“Fuck you too, big guy.”

The two males began coming together, shoulders hunched and hands balled into fists. Cameron was taller but Gary was broad and more muscular. Who had the psychological edge was anyone’s guess. But suddenly Sarah inserted herself between the two raging bulls.

“Enough,” she said. “Okay? Enough. We’re not doing this. So just back off.”

They started to retreat and then:

“Fucking punk,” Gary spit over his shoulder.

“What the fuck did you say, dickwad?”

The rushed at each other and were grappling before any punches were thrown. They threw each other down on the icy pavement and were rolling back and forth like a couple of elementary school kids during recess. Both were taunting each other but neither could seem to get the upper hand and eventually the two young women were able to restore some semblance of order. They pulled the young men apart and made them stand ten paces from each other until they cooled down.

“Excuse me.”

All four of the teens spun around. There was a police officer standing in the alley, with one hand holding a lit flashlight, and the other hand on his un-holstered service weapon.

“Everything’s fine, officer, we just-”

“Were you two having an altercation?” he asked, speaking right over Allison.

“Nah,” Gary said.

“No, sir,” Cameron said.

The police officer was a black man taller than Cameron by a good four inches. The gravity of his presence was felt by everyone in the alley.

“‘Nah’. ‘Nah’. Is that how you speak to an officer of the law?”

“No, sir,” Gary managed, in a choked whisper.

“Alright then. So you haven’t done yourselves much damage. What damage have you done to your fellow citizens tonight?”

“None, sir!” Gary exclaimed.

“Uh huh. And what about you two young ladies. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Allison stepped forward.

“Cameron said he heard gunfire that sounded like laughs and we all thought he was crazy and then he started arguing with Gary and then-”

The officer put up a massive hand.

“That’s enough for now, miss. What about you?”

Sarah inhaled deeply then took her place at the front of the pack.

“We were having a late dinner at Mick’s and then our friend, Cameron, said he heard something outside in the alley. He led us into the alley, pointed us to the spot where he said the sound had come from, and then told us it sounded like a combination of three gunshots mixed with three laughs.”

“I see. And you didn’t think to call this in? Report gunfire?”

“I didn’t know if it was gunfire,” said Cameron. “It was strange and when we came out there was nothing here. Nothing.”

“Okay then. But let me tell you this. There is a body. On Manteulan Boulevard, three miles from here. Two shots to the abdomen, one to the head. Matches the description of the sounds you heard.”

There was a laugh. Then another.

“You get out of here, you hear me? You’ve had enough blood for one night.”

The officer pulled his gun and pointed it skyward, none of the teens could tell exactly where he was aiming.

“You’ve had your fill. You’ve taken your poor soul. Now go!”

Cameron, against the tugs and pulls of his friends, trudged towards the agitated officer.

“What was it?” he whispered.

The officer lowered his service weapon and looked the teen square in the face.

“Son, you don’t want to know. Not a damn thing you can do about it.”

“Please, tell me.”

The officer took off his cap and wiped his forehead.

“You believe in demons?”

“No.”

“You should. They rule this world, and when they get hungry, they come for us. But it ain’t like the talking and shooting that we do. No, they exist on another plane where yawns are the plague here, and temper tantrums are hurricanes here, and laughter is gunshots here. You understand me?”

Cameron wobbled backwards, the cold and the alcohol and the shock finally starting to shut down his system.

“No, I don’t get it. I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I don’t want-”

And Cameron collapsed on the pavement.