Of Crime and Punishment

"What did you say?" he asks.

"I asked if you were okay pal, look, I didn’t mean to hit you. That, that stupid scum bag over there" he points in the alleys direction.

"You better run now Gregory, or they’ll get you for sure." comes the muffled voice again.

Gregory looks around to see who’s talking to him, but finds no one. The voice isn’t coming from the guard, someone else is telling him to run. For some reason he knows it’s true and he heeds the warning. As he struggles to his feet the guard helps him up.

"Hey pal, maybe you’d better just stay still."

"No, I… I have to go" Gregory pulls away and staggers down the street.

"Hey!" the guard calls after him. "Let me call a paramedic or something buddy!"

Ignoring all pleas he ducks down the nearest side street. He makes his way about half a block up and leans against the wall next to a dumpster still holding his bleeding side.

"That was close Gregy baby, you got to be more careful."

This time he’s rattled by the faceless voice and darts his head left and right.

"Who’s there!" he shouts.

The entire street is seemingly empty, only two vacant cars occupy the curb. He stands on his toes and looks over and into the dumpster. Nothing but a small pile of cardboard lay at the bottom. Leaning back against the wall he fights desperately to collect his thoughts.

"You’ll never really get away with anything Gregy baby, but maybe me and you, maybe we can buy a little time."

"Who is it!? Where are you!?" now angry he bares his teeth and spins in a circle. "Show yourself!"

Finding nothing but thin air he begins moving further up the street, fear settling in like rigor mortis. That voice, it always sounds so close, and muffled, but no one is around.

"Where ya gonna go Gregy? Settle down and rest for a second will ya?"

"Where are you?!" he angerly shouts, continuing to move.

"Down here buddy, relax, lets think this through"

He looks to the ground seeing nothing but cement, cracked and weathered.

"Where?"

"Down here, if you’d let me breathe a second…"

A morbid thought creeps into Gregory’s mind and he looks at the hand covering his bleeding side. Slowly he takes his hand away and gently pulls up his shirt to survey the damage. Rigid edges encircle a deep wound, his flesh seared by the blazing bullet. He cringes at the awful sight of an orifice that does not belong.

"That’s right Einstein." the bullet hole says loud and clear, the wound opening and closing like a mouth.

Making a sound like a whimpering child Gregory recoils in fright.

"Woah! hey now… relax" says the oozing wound.

"No… no, I’m… I’m seeing things." Says Gregory his voice teetering on the edge.

"I’ll say your seein things hotshot, now shut up a second and sit down."

More from being weak in the knees than from the order of a bleeding injury he sits on the curb. He puts his face in his hands and does his best to cope with the madness that surrounds him.

"We got work to do buddy boy, now you just listen real good like, capish?

Why was this happening? What bad dinner or horror flick could have spawned such a dreadful nightmare? Gregory was his name, it seemed to fit, but why was he here, and who was he? Was he insane? That seemed logical, but he couldn’t fully believe it.

"I know what your thinking lane-brain, but put it out of yer mind right now. This is all happening, you aint dreamin. Their gonna be commin real soon now, that guard is gonna tell em which way you went, and they’ll come a looking."