Saturday, August 6, 2011

Chapter II

The first rays of the morning sun shone playfully through the curtain. A light breeze fluttered the windows, as the rain fell lightly on the ground outside. She shivered against him,as her arm drew tighter around,rubbing against his beard.He smiled down at her,and kissed her forehead lightly.

He whispered ,quietly,like the rustling of leaves as they sway to the slow music of the breeze. She slowly opened her eyes and smiled back. As she blinked at the light,she opened her mouth to say-

His eyes flew open. His hands searched for her, empty hopes,fed by memories that were fading into oblivion. Memories that were being buried.

He sat upright on the bed,and shrugged off the blanket. He winced as he stretched, the bruises of last night making themselves apparent now,begging for attention and care.

No time.

He opened his bag and pulled out a switchblade.He had cleaned it last night when he got back-

-his face and clothes were splattered, his hands and the blade covered in it,still dripping to the grass-

-and now he examined it with a clinical eye. It opened with a satisfying click. The blade was serrated and long,the base strong enough to not break if it strikes bone.

The door bell broke his reverie.

He was alert now,quiet.

It rang again.

He walked stealthily towards the door,and his fist tightened around the dagger,blade pointing to the ground.He paused near the door,not wanting to give away anything to the person behind it.

A fist pounded on the door,and he jerked away a little,his senses heightened.

He stepped to the door and glanced through the keyhole,and was met by darkness.

A shiver went through him,as prepared himself.He was weak now,but would not go down easy.His fist tightened.He took a deep breath...

He jerked the door open,grabbed the man by the neck and kept the blade under his eye.

The man smiled at him,his eyes covered by knock off Aviators,and his black kurta slightly billowing around him.He was well built,lean and sinewy,and had the look of a man who had survived the streets.

And he had.

This was Baba.

Baba was a small time druglord. He had an entire slum under his thumb,a big deal for a man so young.He controlled the drugs that rose from the sewage of the city and dealt them around,and played around with other such activities of the illegal nature.Despite the sinister profile,he was a man of honor,and a friend who could help in dire times.

These were dire times.

He slowly took his hands away from Babas neck,and without another word retreated into the house.He came back shortly with an envelope and gave it to Baba.Without a second glance,the envelope disappeared and the slumlord turned away.

"Wait", he called after Baba

The man in black paused at the stairs.

He spoke softly,"The next name...When?"

Baba lowered his head a little,he seemed to consider for a moment, wondering for the third time if he would be sending the man to his death.When he finally spoke,there was regret in his voice.



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