A Man among Wolves

Chapter 5

He was numb.

He was trapped inside a thick glass, perceiving and experiencing the distorted world through it.

Yet, his legs carried him to the vehicle and his hands switched on the ignition with minimal effort. They seemed to carry out commands from someone other than his frayed brain.

It is an almost forty five minute travel from Purasaiwalkam to Perungudi. Thirty, if you commuted that early in the morning. But Selva didn't remember how long it took him to drive to the destination. It could have been a few hours or even less than ten minutes. There was too much happening inside his mind that he was oblivious to time.

For a person whose heart melted at the sight of a limping kitten on the road, the concept of murder sounded devilish and phantom. He perfectly knew he was working under men who were capable of something like that. Yet, he had naïvely hoped that it would never come to that. Never did he think he would associate himself with such acts.

But here he was, driving a couple of men who were about to murder someone!

The legal and moral ramifications of what he was doing were screaming at his face. Thanks to a lack of action on his part, the grip of the trap he was ensnared in had reached a suffocating level. His ribs were starting to crack under the block of granite. A voice that resided deep inside his skull raged at him to stop the car right there and run as fast as he could. It begged him to not care even if the two men caught up with him and stabbed him to death.

But Selva kept driving. He couldn't bring himself to stop.

The only thing he remembered about the journey were a few details of the conversation Gugan and Albert had with each other in the car. Selva considered that a miracle since it was difficult to even hear the engine's rumble over the loud noise inside his head.

Their soon-to-be victim was a man called Balaji Rangan. A journalist who had reportedly unearthed some concrete evidence about the party they worked for. Agilan had tried to "smoothen him out", as Albert worded it. However, the journalist had managed to uncover something incriminating about Agilan himself. The evidence was powerful enough to probably put him behind bars for life, if only he was lucky enough to escape a death sentence. Selva's mind echoed louder as he tried to imagine what it could be about.

Gugan had called his name atleast two times before Selva registered it and turned.

"I told you to turn right! You missed it!" He cried.

Selva stammered an apology as he hurriedly reversed the car and took the correct turn. They were now in a dirt road where there were more bushes and trees than there were buildings. It looked like a view one would get on the outskirts of a suburban town. Selva wondered how he had reached this place and if it was even Perungudi. He was also quite puzzled about the location itself. Did they expect the journalist to be here in this wasteland? Why would he be here at this time in the morning? But he gave up trying to find answers. It was a painfully hard work to do so.

Gugan put up a hand. Selva stopped the car onto the side, right in the shade of few trees that were clustered close enough. Nobody could see the car from a distance.

"Guga!" Albert called him from the backseat. He tossed something into his hand.

Selva's eyes took a moment to recognise the gun.

"Selva, wanna come watch?" Gugan grinned at him, flicking the gun in the direction they were about to move in.

Selva was saved from responding by Albert who screeched, "No, idiot! We need him to warn us if someone comes by!"