Christopher Johnson couldn’t put his finger on it. The man across form him on the bus looked very familiar. The man had short brown hair, his bushy beard the same color. His dark, hard eyes seemed to give off the familiarity. Chris just couldn’t figure it out. As the bus came to a halt at a station, Chris shook his head, got his paperwork together, and got off the bus with a few others. He continued to watch the man with the beard. The man got off the bus and headed toward the computer company that Chris was walking to as well. Chris stayed a few feet behind the man. The man was also carrying a folder filled with paperwork. The man got out his wallet, checked it, and put it back in his back pocket. The man missed the pocket and the wallet fell to the ground. “Excuse me, Sir,” Chris called out. Chris picked up the wallet, the piece of leather opening as he got a grip on one of the corners. “You dropped your… your…” Chris stuttered to a halt as he got a look at the man’s driver’s license. His eyes began to mist over as a memory from a year ago started to play over in his head…
It was beginning to snow again as Chris walked down the block. He looked down at where Laurie, his daughter, was playing on her big wheel. Four years old and already she could ride the little bicycle without a problem. He looked up again and saw one of the neighbors getting the paper. “Afternoon, Mr. Carlson,” he said loudly. Mr. Carlson looked up and smiled at Chris. “Afternoon,” Mr. Carlson responded, “how are you and Laurie today?” Mr. Carlson shook Mr. Johnson’s broad hand. They began to chat, unaware that Laurie was beginning to slowly make her way toward the street. Chris’s back was turned for only a couple of minutes, but that was all the time it took for something to go drastically wrong. Chris suddenly heard a screech of tires on ice and concrete. Then he heard a scream. He turned around to find a car had hit a street pole. The car got back on the street and started to drive away. Then, Chris looked down at the ground and saw Laurie lying on the ground. Chris ran to Laurie, but managed to catch a glimpse of the driver.

The man had a rough face, with dark, hard eyes that showed little mercy for what he just did. The man also had a strange tattoo on his left arm. It looked like a skull with flames. The man also appeared to be drunk. And then the man drove away in the other direction. Chris continued running toward his daughter. She wasn’t moving; wasn’t even making a sound. Chris managed to get to Laurie without slipping. Chris picked up the poor girl, searching for signs of life. Laurie was bleeding in various places, mostly on her head. Blood was seeping out of a particularly nasty wound. Just by holding her, Chris could tell that every bone in his daughter’s body had been broken. The big wheel was lying next to her, dented and broken beyond repair. Chris felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. His little girl had been killed by a drunkard who had given no thought to stopping the car when he saw someone in the street. Laurie was dead. And Chris could do nothing but weep as he heard an ambulance coming in the distance.
Chris came out of his strange trance and looked up at the man with the beard. The man was watching him with one eyebrow raised, waiting for Chris to return his wallet. Now Chris knew why this person looked so familiar. This man had killed his little girl in cold blood. Chris’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the murderer. “You!” Chris said softly. The man’s eyes widened in surprise. Chris shoved the wallet into the man’s chest and stalked away. Chris walked into the building where he was to receive his job interview. He looked around and noticed the elevator. Chris suddenly had an idea. He suddenly knew how to get even with this man. He knew how his daughter would be avenged. He would get vengeance on this murderer.





***************
Demitri Saunders couldn’t figure out what had happened. A stranger had called from behind him, picked up his wallet, and then shoved it into his chest a minute later. The man had looked at the wallet, but had looked angry when he looked back up at Demitri. “I wonder what’s eating him?” Demitri thought. Demitri picked up his wallet from the ground, took another look at his paperwork, then turned and continued to the building. He had been given a job interview and wanted to impress the boss. He stopped at the front door, his nerves beginning to get the best of him. He took a deep breath, slapped on his best smile, and walked in. He walked up to the receptionist and introduced himself. “I’m Demitri Saunders,” he told, “I’m here for a job interview at two.” I receptionist told him what floor to his interview was taking place, and wished him luck. Demitri went to the elevator and pressed the up button. As he waited for the elevator, the same man from outside came up beside him. The man turned his head and smiled. “Afternoon,” the man said. Demitri’s eyes widened for the second time today.
“Afternoon,” Demitri said, confusion evident in his voice. “Aren’t you the one who shoved my wallet into me outside?” Demitri asked. The man slowly nodded and gave a sad smile. “Yes, I am,” he said, “I apologize for that, actually. I thought you were someone I knew a year ago. You see I was angry at this man and had never forgiven him. I hope you will forgive my anger at you.” Demitri smiled at the man. At least he could give a good apology. “Of course,” Demitri told him, “It’s understandable, really. I’m Demitri, by the way. The man told him his name was Christopher Johnson. They shook hands and both got onto the elevator when the doors opened. Christopher pushed the button with the number 12 on it. “Do you work here?” Demitri asked him. Christopher nodded. “I work on making sure databases are correct before we send them out,” Chris told Demitri. Demitri told him that he had been given a job interview and wanted to make a good impression.
“Well then, I wish you luck,” Chris told him. Demitri thanked him, and both men became silent as the elevator rose. Suddenly, the elevator abruptly stopped. The car shook and the alarm went off. A voice overhead told them to remain calm until help came. The man waited, Demitri growing nervous. “So,” Chris said, “Do have any recollections of last November?” Demitri frowned at the question. He could remember driving home after a few drinks in bar. He had been fired that day and had taken the news hard. He remembered driving too quickly and had crashed into a street pole, but had hit something before that. He just couldn’t remember what. “I know I had gotten into a car crash during that month, though I vaguely remember what I had hit,” Demitri answered. Chris’s eyes had grown cold and his smile no longer looked nice. Demitri felt uneasy as Chris continued to smile. Demitri turned around so he didn’t have to look at Chris. Now that he cast his thoughts around, Chris actually looked familiar to him.
“Really?” Chris asked him, “Then allow me to remind you.” Before Demitri could even turn back around, he was hit from behind. He felt himself slump to the floor, his eyes barely focusing on what was around him. He could make out Chris’s face, and it looked cruel, his smile never wavering. And then he saw nothing but darkness. When he awoke, it was dim. As he refocused his eyes, he saw that the only light came from a small lantern. He looked around him. He was on some kind of catwalk. As his eyes got used to the dimness of the area, he saw Chris a few feet away. Chris was still grinning, the grin itself filled with malice. “I know you must remember what you hit that day,” Chris said. Demitri tried to move, but found himself tied up to a chair. He tried to ask Chris what was going on, but found his mouth taped up as well. Demitri began to hyperventilate, fear gripping his heart. “I know I remember,” Chris continued, walking up to the trapped Demitri, “It’s quite difficult to forget such a horrid day. I remember it quite well.” The grin on Chris’s face disappeared in an instant. His voice dropped an octave. “Snowing again, as it always does here November,” Chris told Demitri, “My little girl, Laurie, and I were going for a short walk. She was only three at the time. Well, I had stopped to chat with a neighbor. I hadn’t realized that Laurie had gone too far into the street. And all of a sudden, she screams, and I find that some drunkard had hit her full on.” Demitri’s eyes widened for the third time. Now he remembered, perfectly, what he had hit. Except it hadn’t been a what; it had been a who.

Demitri tried to explain, to apologize for hitting the girl. Unfortunately, the tape across his mouth made his word muddled and confusing. It muffled his words so much that Chris couldn’t understand a word. Chris picked up a wrench he had found in the janitor’s closet in the lobby. He also picked up a pencil he had brought with him. Chris looked at Demitri, his eyes cold and cruel. “So now that I found you,” Chris finished, “I’m going to show you just how much pain I went through. You’ll feel exactly what I felt that day.” Chris positioned the pencil on Demitri’s right shoulder, and raised the wrench over his head, Demitri yelling at Chris, begging Chris to release him. But Chris didn’t listen to a word; he just brought the wrench down on the pencil.
Later that day, Chris was waiting in his office, writing down a couple of problem with the latest database for a website. He heard someone knock at the door, let them in. It was his boss, Ms. Fellers. “Mr. Johnson, have you seen a Mister Saunders anywhere? She asked. Chris shook his head, keeping his face as straight as possible. “Why do you ask?” Chris asked her. Ms. Fellers explained that Mr. Saunders had a job interview at two o’ clock, but it was now tow-thirty and Mr. Saunders was nowhere to be seen. Chris told her he would keep his eye out for him and turned close the door. “Oh, and Mr. Johnson,” Ms. Feller said. Chris turned to look at her. “You have a small red spot of you shirt,” She said, “You might want to clean that off.” And then she turned and left. Chris closed the door and looked down at his shirt. There was a red spot on his shirt. Chris washed it off as best he could, smiling to himself. He knew exactly where Mr. Saunders was. Demitri Saunders was still in the elevator shaft, now just a big fleshy, bloody mess. He felt that his cruel vengeance had been justified.