"In Which Reality Involves Stalking a Greek God/Hitman"

(Pt. 2)

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September 13

4:12 PM 

Downtown Square, Averill

Without a second thought, I  grab Tia and Kiana's hand, and we quickly dash down the street and into an alley.

We find a wrought-iron gate, and without a second thought push ourselves inside.

"That"— Tia wheezes, bracing her hands on her shaking knees as she tries heavily takes large amounts of air — "wasn't Plan B!"

I pant beside her, replying in between breaths."I...was... improvising!"

With the stench of urine and a dumpster that probably has a rotting corpse inside it assaulting our lungs, the simple act of breathing was a challenge.

She glares at me. "Well, don't. What if you conked the old lady instead?!" 

I shrug. "You know I don't think things through! That's why you're here."

"Oh" — she splutters angrily — "what an honor it is to be your glorified PA!"

Kiana, who had been coughing behind us, the umbrella still in her hand, asks, "You think we lost him?"

I peep behind the wall, only to see nothing but blurred shapes. "Kinda?"

Tia tugs me back. "Not you, you can barely see shapes."

"I believe the correct term is 'organic shapes',"* I air-quote. I can still see abstract shapes.

She shushes me and takes over my old position, peeping on my behalf.

"Coast is clear," she states, waving her four fingers in a beckoning motion.

We all turn to look at each other and laugh, partly high from the left-over adrenaline and the recent lack of oxygen.

"Let's stay here for a bit and just catch our breath," Tia says.

We slide down the brick wall and onto our knees in a squatting position.

It wasn't long before we stretch our legs, ready to head back, beat the shit out of Emile and Jhett, and have ourselves some braising cups of warm cocoa.

Kiana pulls at the gate. "Uh-oh."

It didn't budge. 

I curse under my breath, "Fucking great!"

"We can try climbing it," she suggests.

"Yay! " — I wave my hands — "I just happen to be in the mood to climb an eight-foot-tall gate with barely any bottom rails or a lattice to give our legs a boost. But wait, just for the sake of fun, let's throw in some rain-slicked spindles and a top that is welded sharp with arrowhead tips!" 

"Now's not the time to be a sarcastic cow,"* Tia chastises.

"Yeah, well I don't really have the time to have my insides skewered or being trapped here without a snack," I shoot back, my blood pressure rising – or is it my blood sugar dropping?

Fuck it, I just want to eat!

"Come on, maybe we can find another way out," Tia, always the optimist, suggests before leading us further into the alley.

"Uh-oh, guys," Kiana whispers, her voice quavering with terror and her body taut with tension.

I run my hands down my eye-bags. "Please, stop with the uh-oh..." I trail off.

The rain has now passed its angry onslaught, and all that was left in its wake was a drizzle. 

It was quiet enough to properly hear beyond the pitter-patter on the roofs and the tiny splashing sounds on a couple of puddles, and realize — 

 "We're not alone," I whisper, my face grim.

There, by the broken-down chain link fence, partly buried by torn boxes and other kinds of litter a few meters from us, is movement.

GRR... A growling sound emanates. It was followed by another one.

Chills run down my spine. 

"You wouldn't happen to be hungry, are you?" I ask Tia, hoping the sound was nothing more but my imagination.

CRK! An empty bag of chips crinkles.

Seriously?! Hasn't any of the residents here ever heard of waste management?

The air shifts and the smell of a wet dog wafts around us.

A snout appears from behind the dumpster. Wait, make that two snouts!

CLANG! CLANG! The sound of chains dragging and hitting on the floor didn't exactly help the menacing situation we're in right now.

Neither was my heart drumming up like a thriller background noise of a slasher film.

Two rabid-looking Rottweilers advance towards us, and they don't look too happy.

I squeeze my teeth together. "What the actual fuck?! Who in hell owns dogs like these?"

GRR, growls the bigger one with the shiny black fur.

We all freeze in our spots, quietly hoping it would just leave us alone.

Now I know, some would say the best logical thing is to run — they're not entirely wrong.

But, come on, outrunning a Rottweiler — make that two — is that even possible? Maybe.

But having a gate standing between you and safety — a gate that wouldn't open by the way — without a tool for diversion, would running still be an option? I don't know. I just wanna live!

The other one snorts, and they both turn around.

I let out a silent sigh when, out of the blue, Tia's phone rings.

Oh shit!

"Good doggies with the razor-sharp teeth and potential rabies," Tia croons sweetly, raising both her arms to ward them off.

ARF! ARF! ARF! The dogs bark wildly.

Yeah, that didn't work.

An idea pops into my head.

I pat Tia's shoulder.

"Guys, I saw a scene exactly like this in Dog Whisperer* once! Here's the plan. I'll try to distract them long enough. You two, build a pyramid stack from those wooden crates," I point to a bunch of two-foot-tall crates, conveniently stacked at the corner of the gate like a gift from the universe wanting us to survive.

I click my tongue. This gets the dogs' attention. I motion my head, signaling Tia and Kiana to start.

They hurriedly start stacking.

I raise my right hand and curl my index and third finger like a hook. I take a deep breath and gulp.

Let's hope this works!

"Sit," I release a 'ch' sound from the back of my throat while pinning them with a stern look.

Both dogs tilt their heads.

So far, so good, I tell myself. I can't believe this is working!

"Lassies" — 'ch'  —"sit!"

The dogs look at each other. I swear the smaller one grins at me. His upper lips reveal a sharp set of teeth before barking back at me.

His friend (I'm gonna assume it's his friend) mimics.

I back away slowly. They advance forward.

Ugh, can't these dogs ever understand the need for personal space?

I glance behind me and see Tia and Kiana had already loaded the crates to about a four-foot-tall pyramid.

I try the 'ch' sound again. And, again. And, again.

I soon realize that a flaw in this technique was that, the more I do it, the less amenable they grow.

By the final sound, it seems I only made them angrier.

'"Yeah, I don't think they like that anymore!" Kiana comments, scrambling to help Tia lift a sturdier-looking crate.

I glance at her. "Ya think?!"

"Hello?! Can somebody tell us what's going on there?!" Emile's shrill voice resonates.

It appears Tia might have accidentally butt-accepted* the call.

Tia brings her phone close to her face, forgetting the crate she was carrying. "Were you even aware that this side of town has rabid dogs?"

"How would we even know that?" Jhett replies in a 'duh' tone.

I grab the first thing I can hold on to (which was a garbage bin) and knock it sideways, providing us a temporary barrier. "Less talking, more stacking!"

Kiana wobbles with the crate she's carrying, unable to withstand its weight. "Tea!"

Tia tucks her phone in her back pocket before hurriedly coming to Keke's aid, lifting the other side of the wooden box.

"Just bark at them" — Emile advises in a helpful tone — "but whatever you do, don't lose him!"

"It's too late for that!" I break in, not sorry to deliver the news that his 'true love' is gone for good.

Which was good 'coz he seemed temperamental. Of course, I did hit him with an apple — never mind!

"Just bark at them!" This time, it was the two of them (Emile and Jhett — not the dogs — though they are yapping bitches) who said it.

And like any trio of sane fools, we do just that.

"ARF! ARF! WOOF! WOOF! RAAWRR!" we bark back.

It was humiliating. I hope to god that Emile and Jhett weren't recording this call.

It's working... is what I want to say, but it's not.

Lassie 1 and Lassie 2 obviously had eaten some brain food as they easily leap over the garbage bin.

"Not working!" Tia comments in panic, seizing both mine and Keke's arms in a vicious hold and abandoning the remaining crates that were too close to the dogs.

She motions for us to climb instead, letting Keke go first then me.

"About that, I wasn't really sure if it would've helped anyway. I was just curious if you would've done it!" Emile chuckles guiltily.

I breathe in deeply through my nose, hoisting myself over the second level of crates. 

"Murdering you is so much worth the jail time," I growl under my breath.

"Now, Ave-y relax"—

CHOMP! Tia shrieks as I lift her by the arm, her foot narrowly missing the razor-sharp edge of Lassie 1's teeth. "When I'm done with the two of you, you'll both wish you never had a penis!"

"Okay, Potts, no surprise there"—

"Take a number!" Kiana growls, already reaching the last level— which was still at least two feet away from the gate's top opening.

Emile groans. "Anyone but you, Keke!"

CRACK! Tia looks at me, panic and fear haunting her eyes. I look down to where my feet were planted, noting the telltale signs of wooden decay and cracks around them.

I shouldn't have eaten that last cupca—

CRACK! It only took a split-second before the wood gave in before I find my feet landing on the crate under it, my legs encapsulated inside a tight ragged hole.

"Ave!" Tia and Kiana shout from above me, both grabbing me and trying to lift me by the forearms.

Lassie 1 and Lassie 2 prowls tauntingly at us, their backs crouched and ready to attack.

Even with their help, I'm still struggling to pry both of my legs from the broken crate.

This is it, I close my eyes. This is where it all ends.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, there goes my final heartbeats ticking to my very last seconds on earth.

Any day now. Like now.

I lift one eye open, just high enough to steal a glance. Both Lassies have their noses in the air, sniffing at something.

"Why do you even smell like meat, cherries, and licorice?" Kiana whispers, her nose close to my neck.

"That reminds me!"— I excitedly reach into my jacket's inside pocket —"if we're gonna die, I might as well have my last snack!"

I pull out a plastic packet of beef jerky.

"Ave, that's it!" Tia cries in relief.

"What, you want one?" I mumble, chewing on a slice.

She shakes her head and motions to my packet and then to the dogs.

Horror dawns on my face. My eyes bug out at the mere thought.

"No-no-no" — I beg — "this cost me 60 bucks a pop!"

She cocks an eyebrow, her left eye twitching. "Do you want to die?" 

"But, it's organic!" — I try to reason — "You always said I needed to eat healthier!" — I whine, close to crying — "Please don't make me do this!" I plead with my eyes.

"Ave!" Tia and Kiana cry out.

I shake my head.

https://youtu.be/T9Ybsvw_0p4

This is just like Sophie's Choice* all over again. Our lives in exchange for my expensive organic beef jerky. 

If it meant saving us from being dog-chow, I have to let go. 

"Damn you, 'mos!" I curse, throwing my precious beef jerky at the same time the dogs jump at us.

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That was crazy! Like who would ever stalk a hot guy for a friend, right?

(ME)

P. S. Scroll further down below for a short sneak-peek of my next chapter: "In Which Reality Involves a Scheming Fairy Godfather".

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PLAYLIST

I Will Always Love You — Whitney Houston

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*[F/N]*

Organic Shapes and Abstract Shapes — Organic shapes are irregular and imperfect, mostly associated with natural and real-life objects. Abstract shapes are the simplified versions of the organic shapes, mostly seen in cartoons, icons,  or the nearby bathroom signs. 

Cow  — British slang for an annoying, stupid, and/or bitchy woman.

Dog Whisperer — (Dog Whisperer with Cesar Millan) a TV show that rehabilitates all manner of troubled canines.

Butt-Accepted — similar to a butt call, it when one accidentally accepts a call while your phone is in your back pocket.

Sophie's Choice — an Academy-Award-winning film featuring Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline. It features flashbacks of her harrowing story as a Holocaust survivor, including Sophie's choice to sacrifice her daughter to save her son. 

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SNEAK PEEK

He reaches into his lumberjack shirt pocket and hands me a hundred bucks.

"What's this?" I ask, dumbfounded.

He claps my shoulder. "Go have fun. You all deserve a night out. "

I look at my ink-stained jeans and my lint-covered shirt. I frown.

I was not in the mood to drink and accidentally be too wasted to drunk-email Pulse, accusing them of being a tease like a petty reject. Scratch that, I would totally be drunk and just do that. 

"But"—

"No buts. No more of this" — he gestures his hand all over me — "... pity party." He says for a lack of a better word.

"I'm not having a pity party!" I object, "I'm not even dressed for a night out!"

"Already had Tia deliver your outfit this afternoon. You can change in my office. Oh, and by the way" — he leans down and holds his hand beside his mouth — "your eyeliner's running."

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Copyright © 2017 Lei André