Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

The rescue story

…

When I woke again, it was noticeable that it was light outside the room, even though the curtains were drawn.

My mother was sitting, or rather slumping, in the chair beside the bed, asleep.  She looked tired, worse, like she had been to hell and back.

I guess the thought of losing me, after my father, might have been too much for her to bear.  It also brought up the question of why I hadn’t told her what I was doing.  At the time, it didn’t seem to matter, I’d always be coming home, and there was no question in my mind that anything bad might happen to me.

So, of course, there was an easy answer and a more complicated answer, but I had to hope she wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions before I had a chance to explain.  And then, when I thought about it, what could I say that was not going to tip her over the edge?  In not planning for the worst eventuality, the worst had happened.

I’d done everything I said I would never do, and for selfish reasons.  It was nearly the death of me.  How could I expect her to understand any of it?

She stirred, then slowly sat up, and stretched.  Those chairs were not comfortable at the best of times.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She stopped mid-stretch and looked at me.  It was not with anger or annoyance, but relief.

“How are you?”  She lowered her hands to take mine in hers.

It was a strange question, given my condition, and being in a hospital.  Yet, I guess everyone asked that same question out of courtesy or to make polite conversation.

“I’m told I’ll live.”

“A good thing too.  I’m glad they found you.”

“Who?”

“You know, that slip of a girl you told me you liked, but she was too good for you, or some such nonsense.”

“Charlene?”

“The sheriff’s daughter, yes.”

“She still is.”

“Only in your mind Sam.”

Forever the matchmaker even on my near-death bed, she had always been looking for the right girl, never accepting that our station in life made certain choices impossible.  And, even if Charlene liked me, she would not be allowed, but that was something my mother would never understand.

“What day is it?”  I had no idea of the date or time for that matter, but it had to be days later.

“Thursday. You were missing for nearly eight days, and it’s been a further five days while being treated for severe dehydration.”

First question, what happened to Boggs?

It was as if my mother could read my mind.  “I was told that when they found you, you were asking about Boggs.  I’m sorry to tell you he was found deceased yesterday in one of the caves.”

Had he got lost, or did Alex and Vince go after him too?  They hadn’t left in the same direction, so in all likelihood, he simply got lost, though being the climber and cave Explorer he was, that seemed unlikely.

“That Cossatino girl recovered quickly, but she’s still here, under observation.  She’s been saying she’s not leaving until she sees you.  I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Sam. The sheriff is considering charges against that whole family.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong.  It was her brother and Alex who tied us up and left us for dead.”

She didn’t get time to respond, but the astonished look on her face told me something was very amiss.  The sheriff and Charlene had arrived with the doctor and a nurse who hustled her out of the room.

The doctor examined me, asked a few questions to determine whether I could withstand an interrogation, and then left me with the interrogators, the sheriff, standing back after closing the door, and Charlene, in the seat my mother just vacated.

She had her notepad open on a blank page.

“Firstly, I should apologise for taking so long to send out a search party.  For the record, I received your text message.  I assume you sent that before you left.”

“As we walked out the door of the shoreside hut.  I assume that was the first place you looked.”

It was obvious it wasn’t, so I was beginning to wonder what happened.  My first question was, “When did you find out we were missing.”

“Your mother came to the office two days after the message.  She said you hadn’t come home but wasn’t overly worried because she assumed you were with Nadia.  She only came because your work had asked her if you were ill because you hadn’t turned up for your shift, and that it was the first time.”

“As a courtesy to your mother Sam, I said I would look into it.  I went to the warehouse and Alex said you had taken off with Nadia and had left him in a difficult position.”  The sheriff wasn’t making excuses, just reporting the facts.

I hadn’t been thinking about Alex simply because I didn’t want to, not right then, but I was probably going to have to.  My first thought went to Nadia, who, by the time we realized that we might die, had all but signed his death warrant.  If she survived, she was going to kill him, and her brother, and her explicit description of how she was going to make them suffer made me shudder.

Charlene noticed.  “Again, I’m sorry, but we have to go through this.  What happened after you left the hut?  Take your time.  I know this might be painful, but it is necessary.”

Given what the sheriff just said, I had a feeling that implicating Alex wasn’t going to be easy.  Having a head start on us, he had time to get a story out there and friends who would readily lie for them.

And Nadia being on the outside of her family, the Cossatinos would close ranks around Vince, and between Alex and Vince, refute any allegation I made, and quite possibly Nadia too.

It would be good to know what she was thinking.

“For whom?  Because from where I’m sitting, and judging by the expressions on your faces, I’m the one who’s in trouble here.”

“We just want the facts, Sam.”

“It seems to me you’ve already got them, and what I have to say, if there was anything to say, is irrelevant.  I don’t know anything about what happened to Boggs, and I’m not prepared to speculate.  I don’t know what Nadia told you, but I remember very little about what happened, except we were in a cave, and then I woke up here.”

It then occurred to me to look at my wrists, and there were only faint marks to show I’d been tied up.  I knew then someone had come back and untied us so that if we hadn’t been found, our deaths would not be suspicious.

“We just want your side of the story.”

So the Benderby’s could refute it once the sheriff delivered my statement.

“You just got it.  If Nadia gave you hers, then that should be it.”

“Nadia won’t tell us anything, not even why she was in the cave.  It seems it was a place where pirates might once have visited, but except for a bundle of straw and an empty chest, there was nothing.”

And there it was.  The bodies had been removed, the crime scene cleansed, and we were simply trespassers the Cossatino’s could prosecute.

“Boggs had taken us spelunking, obviously in a place we shouldn’t, but I thought with Nadia coming with us, we didn’t need permission.  Perhaps the assumption was wrong.”

“Cossatino isn’t interested in charging anyone with anything.  He’s just happy we found his daughter.”

Pity the feeling between daughter and father wasn’t mutual.

“The good tidings abound.  Everyone is happy.”

“I’d still like to know why you were adamant Alex had something to do with the professor’s death.”

“I don’t.  I hate the bastard, it’s as simple as that.”

“We know the professor was killed at the mall, you got that right, and dumped on Rico’s boat, but there was no evidence Alex was there, or any safe, desk or anything except dust.”

Of course.  Alex had been on a massive clean-up exercise, just in case we survived.  It was going to be a very interesting first meeting when I saw him again.

“A good guess then.  I’m no longer interested in treasure, Boggs, God rest his soul, or anyone else for that matter.  Soon as you’re done with me, I’m gone, and you will never see me again.”

With that I rolled over to face the other way, the interview as far as I was concerned, was done.

“This isn’t over Sam.”  Charlene was disappointed but she’d get over it. 

And my estimation of her just fell below zero.  It was clear Alex had got to her. And she believed his story.

Of course, I just realized what I’d said to my mother, and had to hope she didn’t repeat it.  But, knowing her affiliation with Benderby, I had no doubt she would tell him, so I could expect a visit from his lawyers, threatening all kinds of punitive action if I dared to repeat it.

As for Nadia, the fact she said nothing told me everything.  Both Alex and Vince were going to face a different type of justice, and I was going to ask her for an invitation.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

What’s the worst that could happen?

…

Captains invariably hated the word ‘problem’. I did too, because it conjured up so many different scenarios, each more scarier than the last, and maginified exponentially because we were in space.

We took a closer look, and it was the sort of damage if it was back on Earth, one would associate with weapons fire, lasers to be exact.

Yes, in the 24th century we had ray guns, handheld, and ship bound.

The only problem was, only the cruise class vessels, like the one I was now on, were allowed to have them, and using them, well, the paperwork alone could keep a complement of 20 working day and night for a month.

Test them, yes, less paperwork, use them, no. There had never been a reason to.

But someone had, and on a freighter, which only meant one possibility, that whatever the freighter had been carrying, had been worth violating a thousand regulations and rules.

And bring their ship and selves out into the light.

It was, of course, Space Command’s worst nightmare realised, that the ideal of space exploration as a united effort by everyone, had a member who had decided against unity.

Unless, of course, the improbably had happened, there was life outside our solar system, and we were dealing with a new planet, or people.

Except I would not expect them to use something as conventional as a laser.

Myrtle had put us very close to the damaged area and taken a number of photographs, and the engineer had analysed the damaged area.

Then, cleared to enter the freighter, she took us up to the cargo doors and waited as we watched them open.

It was the same time the engineer’s hand held computer started beeping.

And a warning light on the console in front of Myrtle started flashing, accompanied by a warning klaxon.

Another vessel had just entered our proximity zone.

…

© Charles Heath 2021

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

…

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

Show down with the Cossatino’s

…

“What was that?”  Boggs roused from his reverie and stood.

“I think that was Nadia.  Wait here, while I go and check.  You might want to check that exit, see if it leads anywhere.  It’s obvious Ormiston and your dad did not come in via that doorway on the cliff.

“You think we’re going to need an exit strategy.”

There was another scream, longer and nearer, and that wasn’t one of shock or surprise, but pain.

“Yes.”

In that instant I think he realised what was happening.  “We both should go.”

“No.  I got Nadia into this.  See if there’s a way out, and if there is, call Charlene and tell where we are.  She had a rough idea so help might not be too far away.”

“You told her, too.”

OK, not happy about my willingness to share, but I’d already made the assumption there would be no treasure.

“Just in case.  Go.”

He disappeared into the darkness, and, seconds later, the torch light disappeared.  A minute, maybe a little longer passed before Nadia came into the cavern, with Vince and Alex right behind her.

Alex shoved her in my direction, and I just managed to catch her before she fell down.

“Where’s your mate Boggs?”

“Dead.”  I nodded my head in the direction of the body on the ground.

Judging by her dishevelled look, Nadia had put up some resistance, trickles of bloody coming from her nose and mouth, both Alex and Vince had the bruises to prove it. 

“The other Boggs,” Vince was angry, and I had instant and vivid memories of him.  It would be silly to antagonise him.

“Do you honestly think where treasure is involved that I would share its location with him?”  Greed was something both Alec and Vince could appreciate.

I just hoped Nadia had told them nothing about who was in the cave.

“So much for being a friend.”

“There’s no treasure here, by the way.  If it was, it’s long gone.”

“There never was,” Vince said.  “We just fed the frenzy by dropping clues, though no one has ever got this close, at least not since Boggs and Ormiston.  Couldn’t have them tell anyone there was no treasure or the maps would be worthless.  Now, unfortunately, Sam, you’re going to join them.  Can’t have you telling anyone the truth.”

“You’re telling me Boggs and Ormiston were murdered?”

“Neither of them would let it go.  And after everything we did for Boggs. As for Ormiston, he was just a raving lunatic.”

“The professor?”

“He actually knew where the treasure was and was going to tell the world about it unless we gave him a cut of the map sales.  Came down here making all sorts of threats.”

“And now you’re going to kill me?”

“No.  We’re not murderers Smidge, we’re just going to tie you up and leave you here.  No one knows you are here, so no one will know where to look.”

“I’ll know,” Nadia said.

“Of course you will.  But you’re a Cossatino first and foremost, and you won’t tell anyone.”

“You’re wrong Vince.  I’m not like you, or any of them.  Soon as I get out of here, I’m going to the police.”

Vince shook his head.  “I was hoping you’d be more sensible than that, but clearly you’re not.  I can’t tell you how much of a disappointment you’ve turned out to be.”

“One thing I can tell you, when I get out of here, I’m coming for you.”

“Of course you are.”  He pulled out a gun and aimed it at me.  “Cause any trouble and I’ll shoot him, so turn around and face the wall.”

“That’s your style isn’t it Vince, shooting people in the back.”

He ignored her, and we both watched Alex tie her hands beside her back and then her feet, then dumped her on the ground.  Vince then aimed his gun at her while Alex did the same to me.

When he finished, and made sure neither of us could do anything, he rejoined Vince.  “Goodbye.  I can’t say it’s been a pleasure.”  Then to Nadia, “We could have had something special, you know, how it was like back at school.  You were so much fun then.  What happened?”

“You’re nothing but a thug in a cheap suit, in fact, that describes the pair of you.  I tolerated you because I was told to, Alex.”

He looked at me and I could see him trying to come up with a suitable retort about her current choices, but didn’t.  Perhaps nothing he could say would make a difference.

“How are you going to explain my disappearance?”  She said, not waiting for a retort.

“I’ll just tell them you and Smidge run away together.   It’s almost believable.”

“Come on,” Vince said, after looking at his watch.  Obviously, he had somewhere else to be.

“See you in the next life,” Alex said, and then laughed as if it was a huge joke.  Vince just told him to shut the hell up, or he leave him with us.

Then they were gone, the silence and darkness enveloping us.  I was surprised they had been willing to believe I was there on my own.  They had to be following us and know for sure Boggs was with us.  I tried not to think about what might happen if Boggs was somewhere else, tied up like we were and no one was coming to get us.

All I had to hang on to was what I’d told Charlene in general terms where we would be, just in case something happened to us.  It was now a matter of how long she would wait before discovering we were missing.

“Not quite how I imagined the rest of our lives,” Nadia said.  “What do you think happened to Boggs?”

“I told him to go, and I stayed.  If we’re lucky, he’ll get word to Charlene.”

“There’s two entrances, you know.  I just found out from Vince.  Loves gloating.  He’s been expecting you or Boggs to do exactly what you did.”

“You could have walked away, not hang around on the beach.  There was always a chance we’d be discovered.”

“I keep telling you I’m not one of them and didn’t invite them to the party.  I guess now you have to believe me.”

At least that was true.  They would not have tied her up and left her behind.

I shrugged.  It didn’t really matter now.  “For what it’s worth, I always knew I could trust you, but that’s not going to help us now “

“Don’t lose faith, Sam.  We are going to get out of this, and when we do, I’m going to kill the pair of them.”

I couldn’t see how, and if I was by myself I might have given up.  Now, at least if anything happened, I would not be alone.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

What’s the worst that could happen?

…

Captains invariably hated the word ‘problem’. I did too, because it conjured up so many different scenarios, each more scarier than the last, and maginified exponentially because we were in space.

We took a closer look, and it was the sort of damage if it was back on Earth, one would associate with weapons fire, lasers to be exact.

Yes, in the 24th century we had ray guns, handheld, and ship bound.

The only problem was, only the cruise class vessels, like the one I was now on, were allowed to have them, and using them, well, the paperwork alone could keep a complement of 20 working day and night for a month.

Test them, yes, less paperwork, use them, no. There had never been a reason to.

But someone had, and on a freighter, which only meant one possibility, that whatever the freighter had been carrying, had been worth violating a thousand regulations and rules.

And bring their ship and selves out into the light.

It was, of course, Space Command’s worst nightmare realised, that the ideal of space exploration as a united effort by everyone, had a member who had decided against unity.

Unless, of course, the improbably had happened, there was life outside our solar system, and we were dealing with a new planet, or people.

Except I would not expect them to use something as conventional as a laser.

Myrtle had put us very close to the damaged area and taken a number of photographs, and the engineer had analysed the damaged area.

Then, cleared to enter the freighter, she took us up to the cargo doors and waited as we watched them open.

It was the same time the engineer’s hand held computer started beeping.

And a warning light on the console in front of Myrtle started flashing, accompanied by a warning klaxon.

Another vessel had just entered our proximity zone.

…

© Charles Heath 2021

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

And the story:

It was once said that a desperate man has everything to lose.

The man I was chasing was desperate, but I, on the other hand, was more desperate to catch him.

He’d left a trail of dead people from one end of the island to the other.

The team had put in a lot of effort to locate him, and now his capture was imminent.  We were following the car he was in, from a discrete distance, and, at the appropriate time, we would catch up, pull him over, and make the arrest.

There was nowhere for him to go.

The road led to a dead-end, and the only way off the mountain was back down the road were now on.  Which was why I was somewhat surprised when we discovered where he was.

Where was he going?

“Damn,” I heard Alan mutter.  He was driving, being careful not to get too close, but not far enough away to lose sight of him.

“What?”

“I think he’s made us.”

“How?”

“Dumb bad luck, I’m guessing.  Or he expected we’d follow him up the mountain.  He’s just sped up.”

“How far away?”

“A half-mile.  We should see him higher up when we turn the next corner.”

It took an eternity to get there, and when we did, Alan was right, only he was further on than we thought.”

“Step on it.  Let’s catch him up before he gets to the top.”

Easy to say, not so easy to do.  The road was treacherous, and in places just gravel, and there were no guard rails to stop a three thousand footfall down the mountainside.

Good thing then I had the foresight to have three agents on the hill for just such a scenario.

Ten minutes later, we were in sight of the car, still moving quickly, but we were going slightly faster.  We’d catch up just short of the summit car park.

Or so we thought.

Coming quickly around another corner we almost slammed into the car we’d been chasing.

“What the hell…” Aland muttered.

I was out of the car, and over to see if he was in it, but I knew that it was only a slender possibility.  The car was empty, and no indication where he went.

Certainly not up the road.  It was relatively straightforward for the next mile, at which we would have reached the summit.  Up the mountainside from here, or down.

I looked up.  Nothing.

Alan yelled out, “He’s not going down, not that I can see, but if he did, there’s hardly a foothold and that’s a long fall.”

Then where did he go?

Then a man looking very much like our quarry came out from behind a rock embedded just a short distance up the hill.

“Sorry,” he said quite calmly.  “Had to go if you know what I mean.”

I’d lost him.

It was as simple as that.

I had been led a merry chase up the hill, and all the time he was getting away in a different direction.

I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, letting my desperation blind me to the disguise that anyone else would see through in an instant.

It was a lonely sight, looking down that road, knowing that I had to go all that way down again, only this time, without having to throw caution to the wind.

“Maybe next time,” Alan said.

“We’ll get him.  It’s just a matter of time.”

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

Find this and other stories in “Inspiration, maybe”  available soon.

I wandered back to my villa.

It was in darkness.  I was sure I had left several lights on, especially over the door so I could see to unlock it.

I looked up and saw the globe was broken.

Instant alert.

I went to the first hiding spot for the gun, and it wasn’t there.  I went to the backup and it wasn’t there either.  Someone had found my carefully hidden stash of weapons and removed them.

Who?

There were four hiding spots and all were empty.  Someone had removed the weapons.  That could only mean one possibility.

I had a visitor, not necessarily here for a social call.

But, of course, being the well-trained agent I’d once been and not one to be caught unawares, I crossed over to my neighbor and relieved him of a weapon that, if found, would require a lot of explaining.

Suitably armed, it was time to return the surprise.

There were three entrances to the villa, the front door, the back door, and a rather strange escape hatch.  One of the more interesting attractions of the villa I’d rented was its heritage.  It was built in the late 1700s, by a man who was, by all accounts, a thief.  It had a hidden underground room which had been in the past a vault but was now a wine cellar, and it had an escape hatch by which the man could come and go undetected, particularly if there was a mob outside the door baying for his blood.

It now gave me the means to enter the villa without my visitors being alerted, unless, of course, they were near the vicinity of the doorway inside the villa, but that possibility was unlikely.  It was not where anyone could anticipate or expect a doorway to be.

The secret entrance was at the rear of the villa behind a large copse, two camouflaged wooden doors built into the ground.  I move aside some of the branches that covered them and lifted one side.  After I’d discovered the doors and rusty hinges, I’d oiled and cleaned them, and cleared the passageway of cobwebs and fallen rocks.  It had a mildew smell, but nothing would get rid of that.  I’d left torches at either end so I could see.

I closed the door after me, and went quietly down the steps, enveloped in darkness till I switched on the torch.  I traversed the short passage which turned ninety degrees about halfway to the door at the other end.  I carried the key to this door on the keyring, found it and opened the door.  It too had been oiled and swung open soundlessly.

I stepped in the darkness and closed the door.

I was on the lower level under the kitchen, now the wine cellar, the ‘door’ doubling as a set of shelves which had very little on them, less to fall and alert anyone in the villa.

Silence, an eerie silence.

I took the steps up to the kitchen, stopping when my head was level with the floor, checking to see if anyone was waiting.  There wasn’t.  It seemed to me to be an unlikely spot for an ambush.

I’d already considered the possibility of someone coming after me, especially because it had been Bespalov I’d killed, and I was sure he had friends, all equally as mad as he was.  Equally, I’d also considered it nigh on impossible for anyone to find out it was me who killed him because the only people who knew that were Prendergast, Alisha, a few others in the Department, and Susan.

That raised the question of who told them where I was.

If I was the man I used to be, my first suspect would be Susan.  The departure this morning, and now this was too coincidental.  But I was not that man.

Or was I?

I reached the start of the passageway that led from the kitchen to the front door and peered into the semi-darkness.  My eyes had got used to the dark, and it was no longer an inky void.  Fragments of light leaked in around the door from outside and through the edge of the window curtains where they didn’t fit properly.  A bone of contention upstairs in the morning, when first light shone and invariably woke me up hours before I wanted to.

Still nothing.

I took a moment to consider how I would approach the visitor’s job.  I would get a plan of the villa in my head, all entrances, where a target could be led to or attacked where there would be no escape.

Coming in the front door.  If I was not expecting anything, I’d just open the door and walk-in.  One shot would be all that was required.

Contract complete.

I sidled quietly up the passage staying close to the wall, edging closer to the front door.  There was an alcove where the shooter could be waiting.  It was an ideal spot to wait.

Crunch.

I stepped on some nutshells.

Not my nutshells.

I felt it before I heard it.  The bullet with my name on it.

And how the shooter missed, from point-blank range, and hit me in the arm, I had no idea.  I fired off two shots before a second shot from the shooter went wide and hit the door with a loud thwack.

I saw a red dot wavering as it honed in on me and I fell to the floor, stretching out, looking up where the origin of the light was coming and pulled the trigger three times, evenly spaced, and a second later I heard the sound of a body falling down the stairs and stopping at the bottom, not very far from me.

Two assassins.

I’d not expected that.

The assassin by the door was dead, a lucky shot on my part.  The second was still breathing.

I checked the body for any weapons and found a second gun and two knives.  Armed to the teeth!

I pulled off the balaclava; a man, early thirties, definitely Italian.  I was expecting a Russian.

I slapped his face, waking him up.  Blood was leaking from several slashes on his face when his head had hit the stairs on the way down.  The awkward angle of his arms and legs told me there were broken bones, probably a lot worse internally.  He was not long for this earth.

“Who employed you?”

He looked at me with dead eyes, a pursed mouth, perhaps a smile.  “Not today my friend.  You have made a very bad enemy.”  He coughed and blood poured out of his mouth.  “There will be more …”

Friends of Bespalov, no doubt.

I would have to leave.  Two unexplainable bodies, I’d have a hard time explaining my way out of this mess.  I dragged the two bodies into the lounge, clearing the passageway just in case someone had heard anything.

Just in case anyone was outside at the time, I sat in the dark, at the foot of the stairs, and tried to breathe normally.  I was trying not to connect dots that led back to Susan, but the coincidence was worrying me.

A half-hour passed and I hadn’t moved.  Deep in thought, I’d forgotten about being shot, unaware that blood was running down my arm and dripping onto the floor.

Until I heard a knock on my front door.

Two thoughts, it was either the police, alerted by the neighbors, or it was the second wave, though why would they be knocking on the door?

I stood, and immediately felt a stabbing pain in my arm.  I took out a handkerchief and turned it into a makeshift tourniquet, then wrapped a kitchen towel around the wound.

If it was the police, this was going to be a difficult situation.  Holding the gun behind my back, I opened the door a fraction and looked out.

No police, just Maria.  I hoped she was not part of the next ‘wave’.

“You left your phone behind on the table.  I thought you might be looking for it.”  She held it out in front of her.

When I didn’t open the door any further, she looked at me quizzically, and then asked, “Is anything wrong?”

I was going to thank her for returning the phone, but I heard her breathe in sharply, and add, breathlessly, “You’re bleeding.”

I looked at my arm and realized it was visible through the door, and not only that, the towel was soaked in blood.

“You need to go away now.”

Should I tell her the truth?  It was probably too late, and if she was any sort of law-abiding citizen she would go straight to the police.

She showed no signs of leaving, just an unnerving curiosity.  “What happened?”

I ran through several explanations, but none seemed plausible.  I went with the truth.  “My past caught up with me.”

“You need someone to fix that before you pass out from blood loss.  It doesn’t look good.”

“I can fix it.  You need to leave.  It is not safe to be here with me.”

The pain in my arm was not getting any better, and the blood was starting to run down my arm again as the tourniquet loosened.  She was right, I needed it fixed sooner rather than later.

I opened the door and let her in.  It was a mistake, a huge mistake, and I would have to deal with the consequences.  Once inside, she turned on the light and saw the pool of blood just inside the door and the trail leading to the lounge.  She followed the trail and turned into the lounge, turned on the light, and no doubt saw the two dead men.

I expected her to scream.  She didn’t.

She gave me a good hard look, perhaps trying to see if I was dangerous.  Killing people wasn’t something you looked the other way about.  She would have to go to the police.

“What happened here?”

“I came home from the cafe and two men were waiting for me.  I used to work for the Government, but no longer.  I suspect these men were here to repay a debt.  I was lucky.”

“Not so much, looking at your arm.”

She came closer and inspected it.

“Sit down.”

She found another towel and wrapped it around the wound, retightening the tourniquet to stem the bleeding.

“Do you have medical supplies?”

I nodded.  “Upstairs.”  I had a medical kit, and on the road, I usually made my own running repairs.  Another old habit I hadn’t quite shaken off yet.

She went upstairs, rummaged, and then came back.  I wondered briefly what she would think of the unmade bed though I was not sure why it might interest her.

She helped me remove my shirt, and then cleaned the wound.  Fortunately, she didn’t have to remove a bullet.  It was a clean wound but it would require stitches.

When she’d finished she said, “Your friend said one day this might happen.”

No prizes for guessing who that friend was, and it didn’t please me that she had involved Maria.

“Alisha?”

“She didn’t tell me her name, but I think she cares a lot about you.  She said trouble has a way of finding you, gave me a phone and said to call her if something like this happened.”

“That was wrong of her to do that.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.  Will you call her?”

“Yes.  I can’t stay here now.  You should go now.  Hopefully, by the time I leave in the morning, no one will ever know what happened here, especially you.”

She smiled.  “As you say, I was never here.”

…

© Charles Heath 2018-2022