When The Time Comes

chapter 7; Ben

Lib's hands are covered in red and I think there's some on her top too. I keep glancing at her as we run to my car. Is that blood? It can't be blood. Is it her blood? Why does she have blood on her?

"What the hell happened, Lib?" I ask, catching my breath.

"I need to get out of here."

We're in the parking lot and I can see the roof of my car. I still don't know why we're running and why she won't just tell me what's on her clothes.

"Lib, who were those guys in the bar?"

"I'll explain in the car," she slows down. "I just really need a ride."

A third voice appears out of nowhere. It's behind us, demanding us to stop. I turn around and Lib stands behind me. A stranger sprints in our direction, his head is shaved and shoulders carry a tan jacket that looks one size too big.

"Stop right there or I'll call the cops," he threatens. I spot the cell phone in his hand.

"Why would you call the cops?"

"She stabbed a guy," the stranger points accusingly in Lib's direction.

Lib squeezes my elbow, urging me to keep walking but I don't move. I look at her stained hands and up close, I can see how it might actually be blood. Her hand leaves a giant bloody stain on my jacket, too. I take a step away from her, realizing the mess I've stepped into.

"What the fuck?"

"It's not what it looks like," she begins, desperately.

"I saw the whole thing," the guy walks up to us. "The dude might already be dead."

"Was it the guy we saw at the bar?" I ask her. "Why wouldyou stab him?"

"He's lying Ben, please can we leave?" she reaches for my elbow again and I move out of reach.

"That is blood on your hands, Lib. I am not stupid. Why did you stab someone when you know you don't have much time left?" I ask, exasperated.

She's silent for a moment before speaking, hatefully. "Because if the universe decided to cut my life short, Andrew Miller did not deserve to live a longer life than I did."

I look at the stranger who looks back at me without emotion. I wonder if he's as confused as I am and why he hasn't called the cops yet. What's stopping him?

"What are you talking about?" bald guy inserts.

She glares at him, as if to say 'fuck off'. So I reply instead.

"We got stag mail."

His mouth opens slightly and I am not ready for any kind of comforting bullshit. I don't need to hear any of that pity right now. I need to pull out my keys and leave before I get locked up into jail with her, a complete stranger I met over the internet.

"You're joking," his shoulders slump.

"Why the fuck would we lie about that?" she shoots back at him. "Either call the cops or fuck off."

"I got a black envelope too," he grins and for a second, I figure he's insane.

"No way," I shake my head already. "That is very hard to believe. No offense."

"Like I give a fuck what you believe in man," he flips his hands in annoyance. "I got two weeks left and I'll be damned before I stab someone just because I'm pissed at the universe."

"Why are you even here?" her nose pulls up, confrontationally.

"What beef did you have with that guy? Poor dude's probably bleeding out right now," he takes a brave but stupid step forward.