This is the first chapter of something new I am working on writing.
Let me know what you think.
Let me know what you think.
Quote:The heavy mist seeped through his clothes more than the light drizzle of rain that fell from the sky and elicited shivers from his body as he briskly walked along the sidewalk. An occasional vehicle drove by, a pedestrian periodically strolled past him, but for the most part he was alone when the majority of the city's inhabitants were resting comfortably in their warm beds.
He had been prepared to slip between the covers of his own bed half an hour ago, but the authorities invaded his apartment and sent him rushing out into the city for an early morning stroll through the wet streets of Seattle. The sound of distant sirens were lost in the mist and made it impossible to know from which direction the sound was coming at any given time, but he figured those sirens were meant for other people.
“Excuse me,” said a masculine voice from behind him.
Startled, he spun around to face whom he expected to be an assailant at best or the authorities at worse. An elderly gentleman under a wide umbrella, an unlit cigarette protruding from his mouth, stood upon the stairs that lead toward the front door of a townhouse. He appeared innocent enough in his dark pajamas and slippers.
“Do you have a light?” he asked. “I left my lighter upstairs and I'd hate to make a trip back up there just for that. Sometimes I can't sleep, I think it's the weather that seeps into my old bones, and the wife doesn't allow me to smoke inside.”
He was about to shake his head and state that he did not have a lighter, because he did not smoke, but then he remembered that he had actually bought a lighter the previous night.
He had been feeling particularly nervous and found himself in a bar sipping a beer that did not calm his tension. When he looked over at a woman sitting a few stools down the bar, he became entranced by a lighter's living flame persistently dancing due to her hesitance in lighting the cigarette in her mouth. He had left the bar with the beer only half finished, walked into a corner convenience store, and purchased what he came to realize was called a zippo lighter. Once back at his apartment, he had spent hours staring into the dancing flame that comforted him.
“Sir?”
He shook his head and refocused his attention on the elderly man standing before him.
“Sorry,” he said as he reached into his right jeans pocket.
He procured the lighter from his pocket and stepped forward. Once his uplifted hand was under the umbrella, he used his thumb to flip open the lighter and then he raised his other hand to use that thumb to crank the flint wheel which brought the dancing flame to life.
The elderly man leaned forward, placed the end of the cigarette in the flame and inhaled. After a few puffs, he stepped back to deeply inhale the smoke from the filtered end of the cigarette.
“Thank you,” he said after his first exhalation and a contented sigh.
He nodded his welcome, reluctantly closed the lid on the lighter, and returned the zippo to his pocket.
He cleared his throat as he watched the elderly gentleman enjoying his cigarette, and he asked, “Would it be possible for me to borrow your phone?”
The elderly man visibly paused in consideration, titled the umbrella to look up at the towering townhouse, and then returned his gaze to eye level.
“Unfortunately, my cell phone is up there,” he said as he continued to smoke his cigarette.
He nodded as he looked away from the elderly man and down the street. The mist made it impossible to see much of anything more than ten feet ahead.
“However,” said the old man. “There's still a working payphone just up the block. It's an eyesore that was never removed along with the rest of them.”
“Thank you,” he said as he returned his attention to the old man. “Try not to stay out here too long. You don't want to get sick.”
He took his leave of the old man and walked through the dark, misty city until he came across a rare sight that was at one time more common. The payphone was quite the endangered contraption due to the widespread ownership of personal cell phones, and he had left his cell phone in his apartment when he was chased out by the authorities.
The payphone was up against the brick wall of a building. It did look out of place, even though it had probably been there when millions more of the contraptions were spread across the country.
He removed the phone from its hook, placed the receiving end to his ear, and sighed with relief when he heard a dial tone. He reached into his pocket, produced quarters he had been saving for laundry day, and inserted coins into the proper area of the base. Luckily, he had a good memory for the one and only number he needed, and thus he pressed the numbers on the pad in the proper order. He did not know who was going to answer on the other end because it was always someone different.
A ringing tone sounded through the receiving end pressed to his ear, and after a few rings a female voice asked, “Hello?”
He sighed again and said, “It's me. They found me and I ran.”
“Are you alright?” she asked. “I didn't recognize the number. Where are you?”
“Still here in Seattle, but I'm using a payphone. Thankfully, there are still some around. Yeah, I'm okay. I should be used to this by now.”
“Well, it is your fault for continually breaking the law. When are you going to learn?”
“The law is not always right or even on the proper side of justice.”
“I know, I know. I just wish you'd settle down, but I also understand why you do what you do. Someone has to, right?”
A light shined in his peripheral vision and he realized it was a vehicle coming down the street. He did not bother to give it more of his attention as he spoke once again into the mouthpiece of the phone.
“I found myself staring into the flames again. It was the single flame of a zippo ligher, but still.”
There was a pause on her end, and then, “That means......”
A car door opened behind him and he stiffened a moment before a man shouted, “Put your hands in the air and turn around.”
“What was that?” she asked.
“They've found me. I have to go again. You know what to do, right?”
Another car pulled up from the opposite side of the street and he heard the door open, knowing without seeing that another officer was pointing a gun at him.
“Yes, I know,” she said.
“I'll see you soon,” he said as he removed the phone from the side of his face and replaced it in its cradle on the base.
He placed his hands in the air at shoulder level and turned around. Two police vehicles were stopped in the middle of the road and three officers had their guns pointed at him.
“Step forward slowly,” said the same officer who had moments earlier made demands of him. “And then get to your knees and place your hands on the back of your head.”
He slowly stepped forward, but he quickly lowered his right hand and moved it toward the back of his body as though he was reaching for a weapon. There was no weapon, but the officers did not know that. They opened fire. The bullets ripped through him and the pain was excruciating. As gravity took hold of his body, he saw one final bullet approaching him as though time had slowed immeasurably. It seemed to take an eternity for that bullet to reach him and enter his forehead, sending him peacefully into darkness.
"Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat."
~ Erin Hunter
~ Erin Hunter
