R & R Ch. 02

Jack said his goodbyes in the form of grabbing a soda from the fridge and 'bounced' to quote him. I busied myself with cleaning up after breakfast, vacuuming, mopping the balcony, and had finally slumped down on the couch flipping on the TV when Rachel reappeared from the bathroom. It felt like it had been an hour since she had gone in for a shower and a quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed this.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hey," I responded, focusing hard on forming words. She looked ultimately sexy in only a white towel that barely covered her breasts and stretched to somehow reach mid upper thigh.

"So..." I said after a while, feeling quite awkward, not sure how to broach the subject of where she was going, "Did you have any plans of where you're going to stay while in town?"

"Um no actually, but... yeah if you don't mind that'd be great! Until I find my feet I could really use it," She smiled sweetly and it took a second to realize what just happened. Hang on, what did I just do? Did I just invite her to stay with me?

The words: 'hang on a minute' were almost out of my mouth before that smile stole all my resolve. "Yeah, no problem," I laughed awkwardly. You tool!

***

I hugged my leather jacket tight around me whilst waiting for the guys to turn up. It was only early May but the weather was being as unpredictable as ever. Two days ago it was sweltering hot and I was forced to forgo the usual jeans for a pair of cargo shorts, but know I was tempted to break out the old thermal underwear.

"Hey man!" Pierre called from across the street, waving as the three of them waited for the red man to turn green. I nodded back and gave a halfhearted wave pretending to be 'that cool guy'. Eventually my friends gave up waiting and dashed across the road in a very small break in traffic.

"Yo," Jack greeted, punching my arm. Okay, that's it I'm going to the gym.

"How's it going?" Pierre asked giving my hand a quick shake. Andrew just nodded and glanced around to see if anybody was watching. Andrew was the epitome of paranoia. He was convinced he was being targeted by the CIA, MI6, KGB, and Mossad. Strangely enough he didn't seem to be worried about the Australian Federal Police.

"Still being followed?" I asked Andrew in mock seriousness.

"Hey, when you idiots get done for intellectual theft, tax fraud, copyright infringement, or some other pussy crime you'll be wishing you were as vigilant as me."

"Speak for yo'self! When I get busted it'll be for shooting some bitch." This particular statement was met with a large resounding and unanimous:

"Jack, YOU'RE WHITE!"

We moved out of the chilly evening air and into the even more frigid movie theater. Why do these places always have to cooled to sub-zero temperatures? We bought four tickets to the nine twenty showing of Battleship despite the advice given by the movie theatre lackey. We struggled through just over two hours of bad dialogue, poorly directed action scenes, disappointing CGI and the less said about the plot the better. The credits weren't met with a standing ovation but instead several handfuls of old popcorn that Hoyts had the gall to charge twenty dollars a bucket for.

We finally emerged feeling as if Universal Pictures had not only stolen two hours of our lives and had the balls to charge for it.

"Well that was crap," Pierre succinctly put it and we all agreed in typical male fashion, grunting and nodding.

"Hey you!" A guy in a long black coat accosted us as we reemerged onto the street.

"Sorry,' I brushed him off, "I don't smoke." A hand grabbed me and I spun around.

"I wasn't asking for a light," I wrenched my arm free and shot him a worried look.

"Okay, chill," I backed up slowly, remembering how much I hated this city sometimes. Just then the freak in the black trench coat was joined with two similarly attired friends. The three bleached blonde guys, all with matching ear gauges and skinny jeans struck a bizarre image. I couldn't tell if they were hipsters, Goths, or some scary new hybrid of the two.

"Smell that?" One of the newcomers said to the first potential neo-Nazi.

"Is it him?" queried the third one.

"No," the first responded, eyes still locked on me, "Not strong enough, but he's been with it. You can still smell it on him."

I was freaking out now, my friends were a half block ahead of me, apparently unaware I wasn't trailing behind, and I didn't particularly enjoy being discussed in the third person by the Draco Malfoy fan club.

"Right, I'm just gonna..." I started to say when the first grabbed my arm again while the second got up close to my face and inhaled deeply.

"Yeah it's been with him." What the fuck?

"Where is it?" the third asked, looking straight into my eyes and grinning creepily. It took me a second to notice what was quite so scary about his grin, and then it struck me. The freak had filed his incisors to long points.

"I have no idea what you're one about but let go," I tried to inject some bravado into my voice but failed miserably. The yanking my arm away part was met with a similar outcome as well.

"The Fallen, where is it?" The first asked, spraying me with spittle. What is it with these guys and filed teeth?

"What the fu..." I started but abruptly ran out of all breath when a hard punch collided with my very soft stomach. I would have fallen backwards if it wasn't for the vice like grip twihard number one had on my arm. Oh shit.

"Take him," the second said, glancing over my shoulder at what I fervently hoped were my friends coming to my rescue. I was still winded, trying to force some air back into my lungs when the second hit collided. They had targeted my jaw this time, and did a fantastic job of finding it too. My face exploded in pain but I couldn't spare any breath to cry out, instead I felt tears well in my eyes.

Another attempt to break. Another failure. I was vaguely aware of being half carried half dragged in the opposite direction of my three friends. No, I thought, it won't happen to me. I won't be a mugging gone wrong! The gunshot threatened to echo around my head, and I struggled to suppress it, pushing back the screams of my dying parents.

I struck out with one leg, barely able to see, but felt it collide with something hard. Please let it be a knee, please let it be a knee! It appeared for the first time tonight lady luck was on my side. The hand gripping my suddenly let go and I was falling backwards, I hit the pavement hard, my back bruised and aching. My sense were slolwly coming back to me, the previous cloudy vision was clearing now it was as if earmuffs had been removed I could suddenly hear the world around me again. I forced a trickle of air down my windpipe and focused on the reassuring sound issuing from behind me: the thumping of feet pounding along the pavement.

Click. An ominous metallic sound reached my ears, one filled with dread and hinting softly at pain. I scanned until I saw the source of that noise and shivered when I found it: a switchblade now adorned the second man's hand. The first assailant was still gripping his knee and rolling around on the ground whilst the third fumbled in his jacket for a similar weapon.

"Tell me where it is and I'll let you live," the second leant over me, the knife coming scarily close to my throat. I could feel the hot breath upon my cheek and smelt the faint metallic smell of blood. Then all of a sudden...

WHAM! Jack slammed into the guy leaning over me, tackling him hard to the ground. Pierre had adopted a fighter's stance opposite the third guy whilst Andrew was hastily dragging me to my feet. Seeing my reinforcements, third guy took off running leaving his two friends writhing on the ground in pain.

"You okay?" Andrew asks and I manage to cough in confirmation, "Jack?"

"Hell yeah!" He's now kneeling on his target's chest, one hand clenched firmly but not too tightly around the guy's throat as a deterrent to anything stupid. I saw his other hand pick up the switch blade and deposit it in his pocket, "Always wanted one of these."

"What were you trying to do with our friend?' Pierre, eloquent as ever, was squatting near the first one.

"Piss off," He responded and was met with a loud slap in the face for his rudeness.

"Should we call the cops?" Pierre asks us, glancing around the group.

"No way!" Andrew said, taking a couple steps back and for once I agreed with his paranoia.

"Yeah, I'm with Drew on this," I chipped in, "I'm not too sure how legal what I did was. We were taught to only target the knee in an emergency."

"What the hell do you think that was fool?" pitched in Jack, still astride the now knifeless guy on the ground.

"You're not black," we all lazily respond. There aren't too many people out on the streets at this hour but I start to see a couple here and there reaching for cell phones. People who were too scared to do anything before when I was being dragged to god knows where were now finally finding their courage.

"Hey, listen let's get out of here," I said, taking a couple of steps back to stand with Andrew.

"Agreed," Pierre stood up and crossed to Jack, where he put a hand on his shoulder indicating he should rise. We all start to backpedal, watching the two on the ground start to compose themselves, then almost as one we turn and start to run. There's no real reason why we do but it just feels right. I'm shaking with the adrenaline dump and am grateful for the chance to burn it off. We run for a good ten minutes before slowing to a walk.

"What the... hell was... that about," Andrew pants heavily.

"Not sure," I respond, equally as out of breath.

"Looks like they were after you mate," Jack says, not even a little bit winded. Okay that's it, I'm definitely going to the gym.

"No shit... Sherlock,"

"Listen, I don't know about you guys but I'm going to head home," Pierre says and we all agree. Normally we'd go out for a few pints and maybe a kebab but nobody really feels like it. Andrew recommends we do a thing called a SDR, Surveillance Detection Route, to make sure we're not being followed and we all give him smiles that clearly say: 'You read way too many spy books.'

We part ways and I half walk half jog the rest of the way home, not quite being able to shake the feeling that I'm being watched. I don't take my regular short cut down the alleys and back streets but instead keep to the considerably longer but considerably better lit main streets.

***

"Hey, how was the movie?" Rachel greets me, holding a glass of red wine and muting the TV.

"Bad," I responded, then spied the wine, "Good idea!"

I moved to the stand along bench that spirited the kitchen from the living room and poured a very large glass of wine, then continued to pour until it threatened to spill over the top. I leveled off two thirds in one very large sip before placing the glass back down and taking a deep calming breath. I'm home, I'm safe.

"Wow," She said, "That bad huh?"

"No but... oh god where did you find this?" I struggled not to gag and regretted taking such a large gulp.

"Your wine rack," She responded, flashing me a large grin, "So if it wasn't the movie why did you suddenly turn into an alco?"

"Well I've just experienced my first... well maybe not a mugging but... attempted abduction?"

"Oh god," she was on her feet and had a comforting hand upon my back before I could blink. Well at least one good thing came out of tonight. Oh you tool!

"Yeah I know, some weird freaks who looked like extras in the Underworld films accosted me outside the cinema. They just kept going on and on about how I smelt of 'it' and where 'it' was... I think they called it the Fallen?" Another gasp and for the second time that day Rachel dropped her drink. Great, why didn't I pick up some carpet cleaner?

"Oh god I'm so sorry!" Rachel blurted out, her face etched with worry.

"Huh? You okay?" Why on earth was she so worked about it, I mean Sydney's not exactly the softest place in the world but it's hardly Gothem City, muggings happen every day to people just like me.

"I never meant to hurt you! I'm so sorry! I should leave, I should..." she started moving around in circles, stressing and freaking out but not actually doing anything.

"What do you mean you never meant to hurt me?" Things were starting to come together but I wasn't sure if I liked or even believed the image that was forming.

"It's me! I'm the thing they can smell on you! I'm the Fallen!" She blurted out, yelling at me, tears in her eyes, her hands gesticulating wildly.

"Fallen what?" I asked, not sure whether to comfort the clearly distraught woman or back up slowly, hide the knives, and call the men in white coats.

"Fallen Angel!"