Finally, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of lunch period. Aden met his friends out at the table in the back left corner of the cafeteria, where they always sat. As he approached, his friends were dispersing from a huddle, presumably finishing up watching a video. What was it this time? A new trailer? A Vine of a cat falling out of a tree?
“Ah dude!” greeted his friend, Charlie. “Did you see on the news, that video of a business guy attacking some homeless dude?”
“Ah, dude let me pull it up again.” Charlie opened YouTube and furiously typed into the search bar. Titles came up that stated, ‘Businessman Attacks Homeless Man in alley!’, and ‘–FULL VIDEO: Homeless man attacked by businessman’, and even ‘MAFIA ASSASSINATION!!! MUST SEE!”
“Check this out! It’s some crazy stuff!”
Aden stared intently. At first it was hard to see what was going on. It was night time on a street lit by yellow street lights. The camera was focused on a dark alley. The cameraperson zoomed a little and walked a little closer. A knife glinted yellow on the asphalt ground. Then, the camera adjusted for the darkness and the brutal event could be seen unfolding. A man in a suit was dragging a poor guy in ragged clothes into the alley, arm around the ragged man’s neck. The ragged man flailed his legs, trying desperately to pull the suit man’s arm away from his neck. Eventually, he went limp. And the suit guy began to walk out of the alley toward the camera person. The camera person let out a scream and the video ended with a blur and the sound of sprinting.
“Holy crap,” the Aden murmured, realizing he may have just witnessed someone die.
The night air is crisp, too crisp for the ragged clothes I wear to provide any comfort. At least it’s not windy in the alley. And the cold is probably good for my eye. It’s all swollen because Cory hit me.
I step out of the alley, just barely though so I don’t make myself known to everyone around. But there is no one. Few come down this narrow street, and if they do, they walk because the road is so cracked up and bad nobody wants to ruin their tires. At least they have tires and cars…and probably better jackets. A shiver travels down my body as the breeze goes straight through my clothes as if nothing was there at all. I shift back beyond the tall building wall so I’m a little warmer.
This is a good spot to go, Cory taught me, if any of us needs a little extra cash. Once in a while, people come down here, usually alone, because an old parking garage is down the street. They use that one when the other one is full. All you really need is a gun, and a demanding voice, Cory had said. They’ll give you anything.
I peek out around the corner of the alley again, this time seeing a man in rich people clothes walking quickly down the sidewalk. The rich man seems to not be paying attention, his hands in his pockets. That is good for me. That meant I could take him by surprise. There aren’t too many other people around tonight, and I know my escape route. With any luck, this will provide enough for me to pay back Cory. Oh God I hope he doesn’t kill me… He won’t. I’ll get the money from this man. It will be enough. I step back behind the wall into the shadow of the alley and get ready.
My gun is old. I don’t know what terrible dealer Cory got it but it isn’t reliable. Use this, to protect yourself, and any of us, he told me. And also, if you need some extra cash it may come in handy. You just gave it to me because it barely works anymore. I’m not sure if I say those words out loud. Hopefully, I won’t need to shoot. I usually don’t need to.
I can hear the man’s footsteps now. I hope he has enough… I hope he has enough… I take the gun out of my waistband.
God dammit Cory, why can’t you just let me slide on this one?
The rich man strides past the opening of the alley. Now I go. I jump in front of him, holding the gun low by my hip and pointing it in his direction. The rich man’s eyebrows raise, and I push him into the alley against a dumpster before he has time to get his hands out of his pockets.
“What–what do you want?” the rich man stuttered and put up trembling hands.
“Hey man,” I say, “I don’t want no trouble. Just some ca–”
I don’t know how he moves so fast. Before I can finish my sentence my gun is ripped from my hands and there is an immense pain in the finger I had on the trigger. Then his foot is in my gut, kicking me against the other alley wall. I am shocked. My gun is in pieces on the ground and the man throws the bullet clip into the bushes across the street. The rich man says something I don’t here and jogs away.
No! No! No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! Cory is going to kill me! I need the rich man’s money more than he does! If he has a suit, he has enough! I can’t go back without cash. But my gun is destroyed. I pull out a pocket knife. Corry always taught me to bring a backup. Desperately, I run after the rich man and yell and beg for him to come back, brandishing my knife to show him I mean business. He stops and I nearly sprint past him. But something’s not right. I’m in the air, with a pain in my wrist that makes me let go of my knife. The rich man’s arm is around my neck, and I’m being pulled into a different alley.
No! No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! His arm suddenly constricts around my neck and I can’t breathe! I thrash around, trying to beg him to stop, but I can’t and his arm is getting tighter and I…. I can’t breathe… it hurts.
Why? Why did Cory not let me slide? I did everything for him, everything he said. Now I’m going to die because of him. Everything is turning black. I’m–I’m going to die.
You see, I was on my way to a meeting. The parking garage that I usually went to was closed down for who knows why, so I had to park my car a few blocks down. I hated parking there, especially after the sun went down. The fastest way to get to my building was through a narrow street, rarely ventured down by people who didn’t need to. But I only had seven minutes to get to the meeting, and walking by the main street would take at least nine.
It was a fairly chilly night, allowing me to be momentarily entertained by my condensing breath. Walking briskly, I checked my watch. 1854, it displayed in large, digital print. Six minutes. I quickened my pace toward the narrow shortcut and shoved my hands in the pockets of my suit jacket.
The street was dimly lit, spotted by the dull, orange-yellow hue of the street lights, only half of which were operational. My hard leather dress shoes clapped on the rough, cement sidewalk, an irritating noise that I could have done without. I didn’t enjoy wearing these shoes. Not that I enjoyed wearing combat boots for the past eight years either, but at least those were practical. And the suit was a lot more comfortable than forty pound backpack and body armor.
I passed the first, practically black alley. I tensed up every time I passed one of them at night, always paranoid of who could lurk in the shadows. After all, my eyes were adjusted to the lamp light, so even if I were to look, I wouldn’t see anything. Maybe I could’ve worn an eyepatch and flipped it up every time I passed. The idea made me chuckle.
At the fourth alley, a very rugged looking man popped out of the shadows and brandished a handgun. He held it low, at his hip, not exactly a demonstration of training. His hands were shaking as well. I cursed silently. I didn’t have time for this. When for eight years, going to work most likely meant getting shot at, a mugger in an alley wasn’t exactly the end of the world. But still, I understood that no threat should be underestimated and proper precautions should be taken. In the dim light, I saw his nervous eyes and pinched lips. His clothes were old and torn, holes in the knees, soles flapping off the bottom of his shoes. He wanted money. Nothing more.
The man pushed me into the alley against the dumpster and I put up purposefully shaking hands up in mock-surrender. “What–what do you want?” I stuttered. The handgun was pointed toward my forehead, the muzzle only a few inches away. If he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it, and if he knew what he was doing, he would’ve been a few feet back at least, both hands on the handle. And…
“Hey man,” he asserted, trying to sound intimidating, “I don’t want no trouble. Just some ca–”
I ducked slightly out of harm’s way and pushed both of my seemingly surrendering hands up underneath the weapon’s underside frame. Securing my grip, I wrenched the weapon from the man’s trembling hand and jammed my foot into his stomach to push him away. A mere three seconds later I had, released the magazine, pulled back the slide, removing the remaining bullet in the chamber, released the bullets from the magazine and tossed the magazine in the bushes across the street, removing the only advantage he had if things got ugly.
“Not tonight son,” I told him, taking one last glance at his crouched, shadowy figure before jogging away.
My heart was racing but I controlled my breaths and concentrated on my surroundings. Hopefully there wasn’t another. There were two people seventy meters down the street. I glanced at them, swept the next alley I passed and then looked back. The man was still at it, now brandishing a knife and running at me, yelling. My jaw clenched in frustration. You’ve got no hope in this kid. But this young man was determined, desperate it seemed. Who knew why? Probably only him. Though the mugger was sloppy, having no combative skill whatsoever, he was still a serious threat, especially if he had more weapons on him. So, he had to be neutralized. I didn’t want to hurt him though.
When he was three meters away, I stopped dead in my tracks, spreading out my feet and bending my knees to get better traction–not that I had the best shoes on for that. There was no way he would stop his momentum before he got to me. So, first, focusing on the knife hand, I hugged that arm to me and snapped him into a wrist-lock. His knife flew harmlessly to the ground. Then, still hugging his (former) knife arm, I contorted his shoulder, redirecting his momentum, and spinning him so that his back faced me.
There were many ways I could have handled this, but I believe I settled it in the most peaceful manner. This man was a threat to anybody who walked down this way, and there were still citizens approaching. I couldn’t leave this man conscious where he could potentially hurt other innocents. So, I wrapped my arm around the mugger’s neck and swept his feet from under him, dragging him into the adjacent alley. I squeezed him between the nook of my arm, hoping nobody would see us in the shadows. You see, while most people from the outside would think I was trying to kill this man, I knew that this was the least damaging way to incapacitate a threat. In a few seconds he would be unconscious with no significant trachea or brain damage. Knocking him out or striking him would have been much more violent. Broken nose, possibly fractured jaw, maybe cracked ribs. That’s not including the fall to the ground where he could have hit his head on the cement, giving him a concussion.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I assured them man in a soft whisper, repeating myself until he went limp. I laid him down gently onto the ground. When I looked up, there was a woman standing across the street with her phone out. She let out a yelp and ran.
I swore silently. Only four more minutes until my meeting.
