The start of something new

It was a cold night, bitter winds driving the rain straight through my clothes. My shirt clung to my chest like a second skin, one I would shed as soon as I was able. I hunkered down next to an overflowing bin, the skin of a banana spreading a sickly fume that made me retch. I needed to hide away for now; to be a watcher and make decisions based upon what I managed to witness. All I needed to do was to stay awake, to be alert.

The minutes dragged on but at least the rain had stopped and I had a clear view of the alleyway. I wiped the rain and sweat from my forehead and blinked quickly, trying to fight off the feeling of sleep that was creeping up behind me like a killer, stealthily. I knew there could only be a couple of hours left until dawn; it had to happen soon.

Lights from a car swept past me, focusing their beams on a slatted iron door. For a second nothing happened and then the door began to churn, to lift from the floor. The car drove in; it’s red brake lights illuminating the edges of the opening through which it had entered. I stole across the road, keeping in the shadows. I hunched against the wall outside, holding in my breath and prayed I wouldn’t be noticed. I heard the door of the car open.

“Let’s get this shit done and dusted, shut the fucking door before the world sees in.”

The slatted door began its slow descent. Moments before it reached the bottom I rolled under until my body was wedged under the exhaust of the car. I could feel its heat against my jacket, a small stream of vapour rising from me wet clothes. I glanced to my right, saw a pair of highly-polished shoes standing inches from my face. For the second time that night I held my breath as tight as I could, until I thought my lungs would explode.

There was more mumbling, the speech muffled by the exertion of the person in front of me.

Suddenly, a new pair of feet dangled by my head, just off the floor: they didn’t move. A drip, which I thought was oil, splattered on the concrete, followed by another and then another. The door finally clanged shut and I was in darkness. I heard the shuffle of feet and the dragging of leather against concrete. I reached out and placed my finger in the pool of oil.

I brought my finger to my face and sniffed. It wasn’t oil, it was blood.

A question ran through my head, over and over: Marston, what the fuck have you set me up with here?