John Dies At The End Page #5

in the room. I can't leave.

There's still a guy in here with me.

Another cop.

No, there's not.

Check the mirror.

I don't get it.

He's not real, Dave.

Well, not in

the traditional sense.

Just go.

Just walk out.

Okay, you're gonna start seeing

things like this from time to time.

It's important

that you not freak out.

So, uh...

He can't hurt me, right?

Oh, I'm pretty sure he can.

Ah! Ah! Ah!

- Dave, it's me.

- Where are you right now?

I'm on the sidewalk outside

the cop shop, walking.

Where are you?

Heaven?

When you hear a song on the

radio, where is the song?

What?

- Wh... what, John?

- Just keep walking. Just go toward the park.

- And don't freak out. Are you freaking out?

- I don't know.

I can't believe

this phone still works.

There's a hot dog guy about

maybe a half a block ahead.

Do you see him?

- Okay.

- Buy a bratwurst from him.

One.

Okay, I have the bratwurst.

Put it up to your head.

Gonna have

to ask you why, John.

I have to show you something.

Dave. Dave,

can you hear me?

All right, all right, I get it.

Yeah, I can hear you through

some kind of psychic vibration

or whatever and not the phone.

Okay, I get it. Okay?

- Could've just told me that.

- The only reason that you can hear me

is because you have some of the soy

sauce in your system from the syringe.

But it's not very much and it's

not gonna last very long.

What is that stuff, John?

The sauce...

it was alive.

- I swear.

- Listen, you've got to get over to Robert's place.

There aren't any cops there

right now, but there will be.

We've got sort of

a narrow window here,

so you've got to take

a cab to Wally's,

get your car and then go to wayside

village on Lathrop Avenue.

- It's a trailer park South of town.

- I don't have any cash.

I had $5. I just spent three

of it on the bratwurst.

That bratwurst cost $3?

Holy crap.

Okay. All right,

give me a second.

Okay, check between

the sausage and the bun.

You should find a $100 bill

rolled up in there.

There's no money

in the bratwurst.

It's just a piece of lettuce.

Okay. You have

your atm card?

- John.

- Dave!

- Yeah.

- What?

Did you just drive under

a bridge or something?

No, I'm at the trailer park.

Which one's Robert's?

Oh, it's wearing off.

Okay, don't talk, just listen.

Go inside...

And as long

as you absolutely remember

not to do that

you'll be fine. Good luck.

Oh, wait wait wait, John.

John, I didn't get the...

hello?

This looks like the place.

Stay in the car.

Oh sh*t.

- You know what's

- In there, right?

We know Robert had

a stash of the sh*t.

Hey, man!

You owe me a beer, man!

And if he had a stash, he couldn't

just cram it under his bed.

That black sh*t moves,

it has a will, an attitude.

It bites. And then I realized all

at once what I had come here for.

When I was one the stuff...

that little hit in my thigh...

I could communicate

with the dead, with John.

When it wore off I could not.

My one chance to save John

lay inside this bottle.

It was decided then,

just like that.

Ugh.

Oh, son of a motherfuck!

The f***ing soy sauce is digging a

f***ing hole in my f***ing face!

I'll throw myself at the cop and beg

him to take me to the emergency room

to pump my stomach,

to bring in an exorcist,

to call in the air force to nuke this

whole town into radioactive dust

and bury it under

60' of concrete!

And then... calm.

Almost zen.

That's what came next,

that soy sauce feeling.

I wanted to run,

to duck, to act,

but the body is

a slow, wet mechanism

of muscle and bone that

creeped even as my mind flew.

And so just like that,

I stepped outside of it.

I had a full 1.78 seconds before the

detective would step through the door.

A supercomputer can do over a trillion

mathematical equations in one second.

To that machine,

one second is an eternity.

Okay, think. You're standing

on the thin cool crust

of a gigantic ball of molten rock

hurtling through frozen space.

You're in a situation

that could threaten the nature

of said existence

on said molten ball,

depending on which decision

you make. But wait.

There are a shitload of subatomic

particles in the universe,

each set into outward motion

at the moment of the big bang.

Thus whether or not you move your

right arm now or nod your head

or choose to eat fruity pebbles or

corn flakes next Thursday morning

was all decided at the moment

the universe crashed

into existence

17 billion years ago.

Thus it is physically

impossible for you to deviate...

I never finished this thought,

as I suddenly realized

I was no longer in the trailer.

Was I dead?

Uh, excuse me.

So... I...

Suppose you're wondering

why I'm here.

Same as everybody.

You're trying to figure out

what in the name

of Elvis is going on.

Everybody except me.

Me... I don't even wanna

know any more.

I suppose you're wondering

what I'm doing

with this can of gasoline?

Oh, thanks.

I fell...

On a drill.

Oh!

You leaving already?

Here, help me.

I'll be glad to, but first

I wanna know what happened

to my friend John.

Well, he's gone,

you know that, right?

Meaning?

He's just gone.

You know a kid named

Justin white, Mr. Wong?

- High school kid?

- You asked me that back at the station.

I remember now. He's that kid...

kinda talks like a junior gangster.

He's one of the missing, right?

Well, he's the guy

who called in the...

the whatever happened here...

about 4:
00 in the morning.

- Get in!

- Go go go go go go!

Oh!

Sh*t.

- I thought he was stabbed

- In the gut or something.

I looked closer and there

was something on Justin...

his arms and his face.

And this stuff, it's alive.

Stay back, Steve.

I got this.

Yo, what up, 5-0?

So you're still gonna burn

this place down?

That's right.

And you're not gonna let me go.

So you understand my mood,

understand why I'm out here

committing felonies today,

there are some

very dark things happening

and I've got

this lonely feeling

like I'm the only one

who knows,

the only one who can

do anything about it.

Everybody's got a ghost story,

UFO or

a bigfoot story... no.

You know what I think?

I think stuff is both

real and not real

at the same time.

I'm not a star trek fan.

I don't know very much about

other dimensions and all that.

I'm an old school catholic.

I believe in hell.

I believe that

it's more than just

murderers and rapists

down there.

I believe in demons

and worms...

vile sh*t in the grease trap

of the universe.

And the more I think about

it, the more I think

that it's not just

someplace down there.

Oh no, that it's

right here with us.

We just can't perceive it.

It's kinda like the country

music radio station.

It's out there in the air

even if you don't tune into it.

And I think that somehow

through chemistry

or magic or voodoo...

that Jamaican son of a b*tch,

he tuned in to it,

into hell itself.

Through that, he opened a door.

He became the door.

And me?

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