Franco ran down the dark streets of Red Lane with his shirt in his mouth.
He had seen a shadow grab his friend around the corner and began ditching blows into his upper torso. Why Raty stopped to urinate at the junction was beyond him but he ran because he was sure that when he glanced back at the shadows. Raty lay motionless on the ground and the creepy silhouette was running towards him with a shimmery object in his hand that illuminated into a spark when it hit the lights.
He careened the deep corner, jumped into a yard and catapulted onto the verandah. He crouched immobile on the ground, confident that this was the only way he would be able to escape the dark, quiet silhouette that he knew would soon creep up around the corner looking for him.
His breath ragged and his heart hammered in his chest, he felt the tentacles of death crawling from somewhere in the darkness, skeletal fingers of the grim reaper closing in on his existence.
He thought about his van, Mimi and Mother. He howled like a wounded dog for he was for the first time in his life face to face with a predator.He placed his hand over his mouth to muffle the choking sobs that made his lips quiver. He vowed to “Murder them and them family” if he got out of this predicament alive.
No one was ever going to make him feel like a mouse in a rat trap ever again. This was what Raty was talking about, ” leaving your back careless”. The one night Raty came out without the “firestick”, Mr. Death came knocking.
He only hoped that the occupants at the house did not see him come into the yard and call the Police. It would never work in his favor if the police came. They’d either shoot him mistakenly for a burglar, Raty’s killer or they would imprison him under similar speculations.
The creepy figure came into the light then masked into the shadows. He took something from his pocket and lit what appeared to be a cigarette in his mouth. He glanced down the road. He took a smoke and stared up the road. Then another figure with the shiny tool in his hands appeared, looking frantically behind him.
He gazed over into the yard and Franco could have sworn he looked directly into his eyes. Franco did not move. The figure scanned the yard and knocked his friend on the chest with two fingers. He pointed down the road and motioned for him to go into what Franco realized for the first time was a waiting car. Franco didn’t know if his eyes were playing tricks on him but he knew within himself even if the last glance, the stranger telepath towards the verandah did not confirm that he may have seen him.
This was strange and Franco knew enough about the streets to conclude that these strange men who pursued him were not that much of strangers to begin with. The second figure opted to spare his life, a decision Franco knew he would live to regret.
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