Tom Moses

I hate hospitals.  The sterile smell of the halls, the soft colors on the walls, I’ve been to too many in my life time and there are too many memories attached to them.  None of it matters right now; I think my brain is entirely numb to anything except the anger.  Cops said this was a mugging, but what kind of mugger leaves behind an envelope of cash after shooting a man?

“Frenchie, what the hell were you doing with that money?”

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My mind is a wreck.  I haven’t slept in two days, and not even the boredom of a cross country flight was enough to lull me.  I hear Seattle is a nice place, I think I’ve been there a few times in my life, but at the moment I’m not too sure on much beyond the present.

Frenchie arranged for everything, as usual he’s the one friend I can count on that will never lose his level head, always watching out for me.  Sometimes I’m not sure how he does it, other times I don’t bother to ask, but the two of us are like that.  Either one will do anything for the other at the drop of a hat, we’ve saved each other countless times and continue to do so everyday.

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The trio of cops groaned, and watched as their new team leader bolted across an open field with tiny explosions kicking up the grass all around him.  He sprint until every muscle in his legs screamed to make him stop, his lungs were about to burst when he saw Prodic’s body and he skidded across the wet grass and scrambled to check if he were all right.  Nearly lifeless eyes shuttered open and a smile tried to form on his lips.  He tried to speak, but only dribbled blood instead.

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The street lamps were dim and yellow; the few that worked hardly provided enough light to keep the streets safe at night. Jackson kept his eyes roaming while he canvassed the area from the safety of his Honda. Counting the illicit customers coming and going from the yellow house on the corner of Third and Elm, seeing no apparent pattern at this time of night, but all the same the plan did not matter to whatever pattern the customers took, there were no innocents in this equation.

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The heavy overcast spreads across the sky. Cut into pieces by the jagged mountaintops that disappear into the horizon. A softer than normal crosswind helps break the heat of the day, an effect started by the rarity of a coming rain. There isn’t a sound, with an exception to the stray bugle player testing his lungs.

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