Cold Steel

 

The pavement rippled endlessly as the rain poured down, turning the ground in front of us from a parking lot into a small, shallow pond; the reflection of the lights surrounding the pooled lot scattered in the incessant pounding of the falling water. Only the small, brightly lit canopy in front of 7-11 provided cover for Elijah and me, keeping us dry from the torrential downpour happening inches in front of us. Needing to get back to Elijah’s but not wanting to get drenched in the process, we decided to wait around for the rain to stop, or at least slow down enough so that we wouldn’t get thoroughly soaked on our walk back.

 

The rain pulsated in waves, becoming heavier and then lighter, heavier and then lighter, over and over again, slowly diminishing our hopes of it ever ending.

 

Just as we began to give up all hope, the rain shifted becoming lighter and lighter until it ceased altogether, leaving only the remaining water on the trees to fall at the discretion of even the slightest breeze. We figured this our best chance to make it back to Elijah’s house; we decided to take advantage of the break in the weather. We stepped out from under the piercing white light of the 7-11 canopy, drops of water hitting our heads as the overflowing gutters above dripped down the last remnants of the previous two hours.

 

Elijah and I made our way towards the back of the 7-11, to the trail that would take us closer to his house. Walking through the back lot, we noticed a red Dodge pickup truck separated from the rest of the cars; a seemingly innocuous observation, but something that grabbed our attention nonetheless.

 

We walked past the truck and towards the entrance of the trail. As we made our way into the trail, the last remaining glows of light disappeared against the outermost layer of trees and bushes surrounding the entrance. We walked for 15 more seconds before we heard car doors being slammed shut behind us. Elijah and I turned around to see four men standing next to the red pickup truck glancing up at us and then back at each other.

 

We kept walking, until we heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps running up the paved trail behind us. We turned our heads once again, but we saw the four men who had previously been next to the truck running up the path towards us.

 

My heart dropped.

 

Elijah and I stopped walking and turned to face the four men charging up the trail. As they got closer, the guy in front and center of the group reached down, pulled a pistol from his waistline and pointed it directly at me.

 

I froze. My thoughts, my body, my words, all were useless.

 

As they came within arm’s reach, I felt the cold barrel press against my forehead, quickly snapping me back into a more conscious state.

 

“Lay down! Empty your fucking pockets,” I heard over and over again, but those words meant nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. It was as if he were speaking another language and I was politely listening without understanding a thing. Again I heard the commands, but again they meant nothing as I stared the man in the face.

 

How can you be so stupid? I thought to myself. I know you. You were in my class last year.

 

One of the men behind me reached into my pockets and took my cellphone. I continued to stare at the man with the gun, his name repeatedly going through my head.

 

I know you, Anthony. You piece of shit.