Sunday, September 14, 2008

Day of the Jekyll, Part 1

Friday was hell on Earth. Even now, two days later I'm edgy and shaken. I still can't take full breaths - there isn't time. Two assassins have been sent to terminate me. Apparently, I have been found out. Somehow Debby the Huntress learned I still exist and it won't be so easy escaping her a second time. My field of operations is much smaller now, the terrain much more open here in this urban landscape. As I continue to disintegrate, I've lost my ability to adapt to new environments. Where will I go?

Assassins are easy to spot. The more they try to blend in, the more they stick out. I still have that in my favor. But it's hiding places I've run out of. My first encounter was in the morning. I was in a coffee shop eating a donut and feeling very guilty, like I was living a moment not meant for me - a genteel Mr. Hyde for all the world to see. Damn guilt ruined what should have been a glorious celebration of eating indoors but I couldn't resist the idea of taking a minute out for my own pleasure. Always on the lookout, I spotted two assassins far away, heads turning discretely, scouring the landscape with dead eyes. Normally, I would have instantly fled but instead I fed into the false hope of having a home and told myself they weren't looking for me.

But, like an arrow through my heart I was spotted, locked in and targeted for termination. Dear Lord, does it ever end?

I immediately started evasive maneuvers and headed out the back but I knew the pair would split up to cover both exits. So I had very little time to decide what to do once outside. An ancient feeling of dread returned to me yet again. Innocent shops and streets for others morph into a war zone of tactical hiding spots and escape routes for me. Always, always on the outside am I. Pausing in a peaceful world never meant to be, the morning sun shone sweetly on gentle leaves of greenery and my soul cried out to give up and join them. But will listening to my soul keep me alive?

The expected thing to do when chased is to run. I dearly wanted to do so but I could see that no place would offer me cover for long. I did however see rows of columns across the street. If I timed it right I could reposition myself as the killer passed by to always keep the column between me and him. It would take exact timing but the columns were out in the open - a psychological deterrent for escaping detection. A clever man would know that and dismiss this area but a thorough man would search here regardless. I prayed he was clever.

Steeling my nerves mercilessly, I kept my eyes from even peering back to the corner where I knew the assailant would first start his hunt. I was going to have to feel him pass first, then gently edge around the backside of the column and peer at him from behind to surmise his position. But my stomach wasn't cooperating. Not now, dammit! Cramping under the pressure, I nearly doubled over in pain. Not only that, it prevented me from moving until the terror released its grip on my muscles. Jesus, if I don't move soon enough he'll pass completely down the street and I'll lose all track of him. Some girls passed by noisily in the morning light and I wondered what they would think if they knew a hiding man's ordeal was just a few feet away.

Turns out the stomach cramps saved me. That wily bastard assassin stayed planted behind the coffee shop as if he were waiting for me to pop out any minute. He too must have surmised there was no place to run and simply decided to wait me out. So although it was several minutes before I could move and finally peer around, the assassin had only just then started to move down the street. Motherfucker, that was close! Eventually he met up with his partner coming from the other direction. He must have run as hard as he could down a parallel street in order to try and get ahead of me. One flushes me out and the other waits. These guys are good.

1 comment:

Mama Lou said...

Now just think what we would be missing if Robert Louis Stevenson had taken antipsychotic meds!