When the daylight has faded

Gymmy (#mystery)

The big guy looked at his mate and nodded.

"No probs!" he answered, grabbed the washing machine and lugged it up the stairs to Tony's flat. He dropped it in the wash room and pushed it into its designated corner, rubbing his shoulder.

"Here, Gymmy." With a happy sigh, Tony handed him a beer. "That was it, finally. Move's done! Couldn't have done it without you, mate!"

Matt, aka Gym Rat or Gymmy for short, took a healthy swig.

"Don't mention it, man! What are friends for? We should..."

Gymmy was just about to suggest a night out when his phone went off.

"Oh, thank god I caught you! I need your help, Gymmy."

"What's up, Stella?"

"My cat's stuck in the huge oak tree in front of the house. It's a mystery to me why he even went up there. Anyway, Paddy has been wailing up there for the last hour, driving everyone around the bend. We tried but we can't get to him. You can get up there, can't you?"

"Sure thing. Be right over." He pocketed his phone. "Gotta head over to Stella's, rescue her feline from a treetop."

"Why doesn't she phone the fire brigade?" Tony wondered.

Gymmy just shrugged and set off for the neighbourhood relief mission.

"Paddy's up there, Gymmy. Look!" Stella greeted him. "Can you get him?"

Gymmy nodded, took a pair of gloves that he happened to have in his boot and grabbed hold of the lowest branch of the tree, trying to block out the well-intentioned advice shouted at him from the side, the screeching of the fur bundle bursting his eardrums from above and the screaming of protesting muscles from within. For a second, he thought poor old Pads would have to remain the town crier, but he pushed through the aches and pains like he always did and eventually managed to lift the unfortunate cat from his perch. Cute little Paddy thanked him for his efforts with an almighty hiss and a torn-open cheek, but at least the gloves saved him from Paddy's miniature Dracula teeth.

Cat clawing into his aching shoulder, Gymmy hit the ground.

Stella ripped her feline friend off Gymmy's back.

"Thank you, Gym! You're the best!" she crooned, her face buried in Paddy's fur.

"You're welcome!" Gymmy assured Stella's retreating back and hopped into his car, visions of a nice hot shower swimming in front of his eyes.

"Gymmy, my man, so glad to see you!" His neighbour Frank clapped him on the shoulder before Gymmy had made it out of his car. "I'm such an idiot. I've only gone and locked myself out now. The good news is that the roof window is open, but you know me, Gymmy, I wield a mean briefcase but no guns, tools or ladders. And now it's raining, too."

Frank's beseeching eyes threw daggers into Gymmy's aching body. Gymmy sighed, rubbed his neck and took off to get his ladder from the garage with a quick "Don't worry, Franky, I'll sort it."

Ten minutes later, Gymmy swung his large frame onto the slick roof. In slow motion, he straightened and put one foot forward.

"Come on, man, get a move on. It's raining into my house," Frank encouraged his neighbour.

Gymmy took another step, but his left foot hit a patch of moss. His leg slid to the side in a downward arch, toppling him off balance. He tried to grab hold of something as his other leg followed the general trajectory of his left one. His hands found only thin air.

* * * * *

"Another card for you, Gymmy?" the friendly nurse asked.

Gymmy nodded. The nurse looked at the other fifty Get-Well wishes Gymmy had received after his accident that left him with a broken spine and several fractures in his legs.

"You'll need a lot of help when we release you, Gymmy. All those cards you're getting, but no visitors. Where is everybody?"

"Yeah, that's quite the mystery, don't you think?" Gymmy answered, closing his eyes and letting go of the card he was holding.