Scattered Truth
In reality, I did not see, I only listened to the splashes in his laboratory resulting from the many mixtures he made. I was very afraid of what might happen, and although Walker told me not to call anyone under any circumstances, I did just before I entered his filthy, smelly place.
"Yeah, that's right, there is a dangerous man in the Terrance building near the Lyceum Theatre, 45th Street."
It was pouring rain that night, and thunder and lightning set the New York scene in a way that I kept thinking, "Mamma mia! Today Frankenstein is reborn."
I was sweating uncontrollably and my eyes in the window went back and forth like a pendulum awaiting the arrival of the cops.
From one moment to the next, I felt a silence in the laboratory. Then like a child sneaking toward the refrigerator, I peeked over to where Walker was. But just at that instant, a big green flash was accompanied by a violent explosion that threw me against the wall.
My whole body hurt so much from the impact against the wall, I could hardly move. However, I could see all the test tubes, Beakers and indicators lying shattered on the floor.
For a moment I thought, "perhaps it was lightning that struck this dismal place?" The answer came immediately when, out of the rubble of several old storefronts, a nightmarish monster emerged.
"Dio Santissimo!" I exclaimed as I, absolutely perplexed, watched as my former co-worker had transformed into a green, slimy creature with purple blobs all over his face, dinosaur hands and a monkey's tail.
Walker was a scrawny 2.15 m guy with a dead face, who turned into a monster dripping disgusting substances with every step he took and coming towards me to eat my brain in a Frankenstein-style.
Still scared to death and extremely sore, I was able to throw as many things as I had near me. Walkerstein seemed to react in pain to what I threw at him, but he didn't stop.
In what I thought would be my last seconds of life, I heard people trying to break down the door to the room. After three attempts, the wooden door gave way and broke several bottles that were scattered around.
To my surprise it was not the police officers I called, it was Walker's wife and brother.
As soon as Mrs. Walker screamed in terror at the sight of what her husband had become, he reacted by emitting a horrible screeching noise similar to the sound of claws tearing a blackboard.
Miles, his brother, tried to talk some sense into him several times by calling his name, telling him who they were and that this was not the way to justice.
It was all in vain. I believe that right after that, a tragedy could have happened, but the lights of the police helicopters made the monster stop its march. In fact, the appearance of several police officers shooting from the door, caused it to jump, like a monkey, and escape from our sight through one of the several windows of that place.
I still remember clearly how I saw the figure of Walkerstein above Time Square roaring frighteningly in the moonlight. That was the voice of a thing asking for a justice that would never come.
His suffering over the sad death of his father at the hands of corrupt men in New York, is something he could never reconcile. Tired of waiting for some response from the official system, he decided to take justice into his own hands, not knowing that he would become the very thing he despised so much.
I swear to you, officer, witnissing that previous scene in Times Square only caused me to be in the fetal position. However, as you may know, I had to accompany your team to show them where my former co-worker would probably go.
The incessant stares of New York as we gave chase seemed to suffocate me, perhaps locking me in a glass of water that was being filled with every drop of the cold rain that fell on my distressed body.
Several minutes later, as if awakening from a lethargy, I remember the police officer shouting in amazement. It was about Walkerstein lifting and throwing cars on some dull Queens street.
I just told them that it might be the hideout of the corrupt people that he wanted so badly to disappear. Still unconfirmed, they began to attack him, since at any moment he would go for the police cars.
As before in the lab, it showed some signs of pain when he was shot, but it didn't stop. It was after half an hour, I think, that you called in a heavily armed S.W.A.T. team. They started a mini-war against the monster that ended up killing it.
Ultimately, the last thing I remember seeing that night was that it was he again after he was dead and that, even though he had gone to the other world, I could recognize a discomfort on his face for not being able to complete his mission here.
After months, both his widow and his brother give talks of justice in "unfavorable" systems. People don't remember anything about it because of the countermemory weapons you applied on them. And I, well, I just keep working for the Daily News hoping that you will someday put in prison the real monsters of this society that you are so fond of placing in your classified files.
