As Neil turned his head, he saw
that there was indeed a knife in the thug’s hand. Neil also saw that there
weren’t many houses on the hill he’d chosen to run up. In fact, it was just
forest on either side. When Neil felt the grip of the thug’s hand on his shirt
collar, Neil twisted to try to free himself, started to yell. “Quiet,” the man
barked, and with a tug, pulled Neil aside into the brush. As Neil watched the
street fade away behind branches and leaves, he had the thought that perhaps
it’d been a bad idea to run up a hill with such a well secluded spot nearby.
It may
have been a good idea, had Neil been further ahead. And had he not tripped over
a crack in the pavement. Maybe.
“What
were you doing?” The thug asked.
Neil,
being dragged over rocks and roots, didn’t much care to reply. He was in an
uncomfortable enough situation, with holes being torn in his shirt and the skin
of his back, that forming words, let alone sentences, was beyond his current
capabilities.
He did
manage to grunt, but a hefty smack to the back of his head convinced him that
further attempts at making noise would warrant further aggression. Indeed, the
thug carried a knife. It was not unreasonable of Neil to expect that there was
much further aggression that the thug might very well be capable of.
When
they stopped moving, Neil twisted again, arching his back and kicking. To his
surprise, the man let go. Neil flailed for a moment, unrestrained, and
attempted to stand. The world spun around him as this occurred; he hadn’t
expected the man to let go and so Neil’s kicking had been quite forceful. Neil
lost his balance and fell onto his side, but immediately started to stand. The
jacketed goon was before him, and immediately forced Neil down to the dirt,
holding the knife to his throat. “Again,” the thug said, “What were you doing?”
“Nothing,”
Neil said.
“Didn’t
look like it,” the thug said, “The way you got to running it seemed kind of
like you were up to something. People who run are usually afraid of retribution
for what they’ve acted.”
“For…
What?”
“Don’t what me, kid, you’re just cutting down
your thin thread of life when you what me. Who sent ya? The Scanners? How
about the Greys?” At this, the thug pressed the knife in just a little deeper,
just enough to draw blood. “The Greys have something they want found out?”
“Greys,
like, the aliens?”
The thug
punched him in the side of his head, and pain unlike Neil had faced since
breaking his arm flooded his face.
“I don’t
know what you’re talking about!” Neil shouted, “I wasn’t sent by anyone, I’m
just a kid.”
“Just a
fucking kid, huh?” The thug drew back his hand to throw another punch, but
stopped himself, “I mean, really? They think I wouldn’t kill a kid?
“I don’t
know, I mean,” Neil was left without a propensity for coherent sentences, this
time out of terror, “Just.”
“Just what?” The thug asked.
“Just
don’t kill me; I swear I won’t tell anyone about the stupid Candle Clown.”
“Crown,”
the thug said.
“What?”
“It’s
the Candle Crown, not the
Candle Clown. That’s
absurd. Who gives two shits about a Candle Clown?”
“I don’t
know,” Neil said.
“You’re
a pretty dumb spy,” the thug said. He smirked. “You know, as a Bricklayer, I’m
insulted. Maybe you should run off and tell them how insulted we are. I mean,
after all, what did you hear that was so important? Candle Clown?”
“Yeah,”
Neil said, “And plus, I’m still not a spy. That never started happening since
we began this conversation.”
“Wiseass,”
the thug said. His grin vanished. He drew back his knife, tensed, and stopped.
All Neil
heard was a rustling in the bushes. But the thug looked up and saw a pair of teeth,
sharp, glinting in the dark. In other words, a threat; even though the teeth
were sitting snug inside of a wide smile.
And then
the thug stood, backed away, and vanished. Neil wasn’t even sure how someone
could run away from something so fast. Neil couldn’t have done it if he tried.
Of course, when Neil turned to look, he didn’t see any teeth, let alone any
threat.
She
hadn’t saved Neil’s life for Neil. She’d done it because she’d been following
that thug, and she’d been told she was supposed to make him get scared. Get him
to run off somewhere safe. Get him to run back home. She was supposed to follow.
Neil
didn’t know any of that of course. He just felt at the cut on his neck and
stood slowly, looking around in the woods to try to see what the thug had seen.
He wanted to figure out what the big deal had been. And then Neil felt all the
adrenaline leaving his system, and he wanted nothing else than to go home.
His
phone buzzed again, and rang once. Another text message. He flipped it open,
and saw:
Neil???
And then
he scrolled up to read the first message, the one that had started it all.
NEXT CHAPTER
NEXT CHAPTER
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