The Society Pt. 02

The morning sun glowed softly over the fine glassy buildings as I walk through the busy streets of Starkfield. Cars jostled pass in a peculiar rhythm as I text on my phone.

"Are you at the cafe? Are you going to help me study for that damn final?"

I text Andrew, absentmindedly glancing up at a passer-by or two, to make sure I didn't run smack-dab into someone.

A few moments later, I get a brief reply:

"Been here man. Get your ass down here."

I chuckle to myself, and briskly pick up the pace, passing by my college, and two streets down from it, the cafe that has served as the college students' "hotspot" near one of the edges of town.

I heard the familiar jingle of bells as I pull its heavy glass door open, and quickly step inside.

The cafe was fairly large, containing a considerable amount of wooden circular tables, and benches, along with an old fashioned counter that ran along the right side of the cafe, fitted with swiveling stools.

I immediately spotted Andrew, and the rest of my friends taking up a circular table towards the middle of the cafe, a single stool noticeably open.

Andrew spots me out of the corner of his eye.

"Ay! Look who finally got here when he was the one who pleaded for me to help him study the day before the test."

He bellowed teasingly at me, causing a chuckle to go about my group of friends.

With a smile, heaving my backpack onto the table, I sat down heavily onto the stool, next to Andrew.

There were only about four of us, and they had been what I could call family for the longest time, ever since my parents passed. I had no brothers or sisters, so when I had been an orphan in high school, Andrew's parents took me in.

Andrew and I had immediately gone to work, me scribbling haphazardly on a flimsy notebook, trying to catch up on assignments. It was when Josh, a short guy with shockingly red hair, said something, that my attention was captured.

"You guys hear about the fire-fight that happened just outside of town a few hours ago? Heard about it on my police scanner."

I lift my pen from my work and look at him questioningly, so does Andrew, who's blue eyes were

focused on Josh intently.

Josh, now seeing that he has seized not only Patrick's attention, who had been sitting back lazily in his chair, but the rest of the group, goes on with his information.

"Heard there was a possibility of explosive weaponry, like missiles, or bombs. A whole line of wrecked vehicles. Scared the neighboring people half to shit."

"What?"

Patrick said softly, picking up his glass of Coke.

Josh simply nodded.

"No bodies. Nothing. Just what remained of vehicles, and bullet casings."

He continued.

"It's like people cleaned everything up before the police arrived."

I let out a breath of air, skeptically.

"Sounds fake."

Patrick leaned forward from his laxed position.

"I live a few minutes out of town, and I thought I heard something."

Josh lifted his hands in a gesture of finality, as if that support closed the case.

"Police scanners don't lie, guys."

I quickly put in-

"The police could have easily misinterpreted what had happened-"

And Andrew joined-

"What's next, the police are going to find and arrest big-foot?"

From across the store, the doorbell jingles violently, as if to be ripped from their perch from the momentum the opening of the door.

This aroused the attention of the entire cafe, and we look to a man stumbling in.

I took a double take, my eyes meeting the cuts running down his arm, glowing a wicked red in the light of the morning sun. Cuts and bruises decorate a thick and husky face covered in a trimmed down beard of dark brown, that would be handsome if in other circumstances. The man was big, his well toned muscles pressing out noticeably against a strange- and tight- black and silver suit.

He stumbled in, his footsteps unfocused, and heavy. He grabs a table to steady himself, almost flips it, resulting in him having to catch himself before meeting with the aged wooden floor. This caused many people around the cafe to stand up suddenly, me including.

The man straightened himself, and mustered words that came out in a thick baritone voice, that was noticeably shaky.

"Where's a phone?"

He asked the store owner, who stood gawking behind his counter.

He gestured a slim, elderly finger.

"The back hallway, against the wall, sir."

He stated softly, in a hardly comprehensible whisper.

Nonetheless, the man nodded, and started a pained drudge to the back of the store.

I notice he is favoring a leg.

Everyone continually stares at the stranger, in the strange clothes, and as he begins to pass my table, his leg gave out beneath him. He hits the floor heavily, and hard, nearly shaking the floor.

Out of instinct, without even realizing what I was doing, I run over and assist the fallen man.

"Shit- man are you okay?"

I gasp, offering him a hand up. He takes it immediately, and I pull him up. He was a heavy guy, my average muscles strained as I pulled up his hulkish form.

He was trembling, slightly.

"Th-thank you."

He said.

"We need to call the hospital."

I state to him, taking an arm over my shoulder, and helping him slowly towards the phone.

"No-"

He gasped immediately.

"I just need to call my-"

He stumbled with his words.

"Family."

I look at him with a confused expression, and he doesn't seem to notice.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

I ask, as we reach the aged, dinky phone at the back of the store.

He takes a moment to reply, walking away from me, and towards the phone.

"I-uhm- I got in a bad motorcycle accident a couple miles from town, completely totalled it, and took nasty fall down a steep hill."

"Shit..."

I say, only imagining, still unable to help but look at the wounds that morbidly decorate his body.

I notice that even on his back, deep cuts lay festering with fresh blood.

He grabs the phone, and dials a set of numbers with agile experience of repetition.

Someone seemingly picks up immediately.

"It's me, there's a problem."

The man said.

The man listens to the voice on the other end, looking with a dazed expression into the wall before him.

Finally he replies:

"Not good. Nothing good."

More speaking from the other voice.

"I'm in Starkfield, Maine."

He replied quickly. And as quickly as the call had come, he put down the phone, and rested his back with a pained expression against the wall.

He notices I am looking at him expectantly.

He takes a deep breath, and explains, stuttering noticeably here and there.

"I was on my way to Portland to visit family. I live quite a ways from here. They are unfortunately still on a business trip and can't get to me. I lost next to everything in the crash."

I look at him, suspicion inevitably creeping in my mind. On a business trip?

I thought numbly.

Why would he be heading to see his family, if they were on a business trip? What's really going on here?

But yet I could still feel guilt fighting its way into my head.

He rests his head against the wall, and closes his eyes, as if to contemplate the absolute mess he was in.

He had nothing. No place to go. No money. I squeeze the bridge of my nose, contemplating the stakes.

He was a stranger. He could simply be putting on an act to rob someone and get the hell out of here, and judging by his size, he could easily do so. But those wounds looked real if anything.

Finally, I make a decision, nonetheless how much common sense screamed at me, nonetheless of the vagueness of his situation. There was a painfully sorrowful expression to his eyes that made it seem he had seen something truly awful, and the overly empathetic part of me was pushing through. He needed help.

"You can stay at my apartment till' your family gets here."

He opened his eyes abruptly at this.

"Are you serious?"

He muttered, and I could see a tinge of hope in his dark brown eyes.

I nod to him.

He clasps a hand on my shoulder, in noticeable gratitude.

"God- how can I repay you?"

He said.

I give him a nervous smile.

"Not robbing me..?"

This resulted in a deep chuckle that I couldn't deny, was very attractive.

"You got it."

The man takes one of my shoulders, in order to steady himself, and we continue back into the main part of the cafe, with a much more smooth and steady pace.

"My name is Jason, by the way- Jason O'ryan."

He said.

I nod, and offer him a hand to shake, which he quickly took with a smile that was squinted and pained from his injuries.

"Alex, Alex Garren."

When we reach my table, where I was receiving several questionable glares from my friends, I quickly stuff my belongings in my bag, and shoulder it.

"What's going on?"

Andrew muttered at me, giving an anxious look to Jason.

I shrug to him with a nervous smile.

"Helping him."

With that I return to Jason, and we make our way through the cafe, and out the door, away from the bewildered stares of the people inside.

What have I gotten myself into?