MOSAIC

Chapter 7: Arrival of the Wolf

The call came just after nine in the morning, a few minutes after I had removed the coarse coverings that were my work gloves from my hands. I'd just sat down on a bucket in the corner of my work area to take a break, eyes pointed vacantly at the cement floor. I sniffed a few times, wiping some dripping moisture from my nose with the back of my wrist, the skin on my upper lip already becoming slightly raw from being swiped at so many times. I hung my head low with my elbows resting on my knees as I tried not to think about the events of the previous day, but it all just kept seeping through. I robotically extracted my phone from my pocket, and noticed I had four missed calls. There wasn't even any need for me to dial back. Not ten seconds had passed that I'd been holding my phone when another call came. I allowed it to vibrate a few times in my hand, staring with droopy-eyed dread at the caller's name, my chest melting into my stomach with unwilling dismay.

​"Hey Darcy," I said, my voice sounding a lot sicker than I thought it would.

​"Yo," he replied, voice sounding tired but oddly shaken up. "You at work?"

​"Yeah, I ended up going." I said sullenly.

​"Pretty fucked...yesterday I mean."

​"Yeah, pretty fucked," I agreed, twitchily rubbing my tired eyes as I waited for him to continue. It wasn't hard to guess what this was going to be about.

​"Man I'll ask you straight up, did you uh...did you take the motorcycle out for a ride yesterday?" His voice sounded oddly frightened. Of course it was understandable that my actions would cause him a degree of head-sickening unease, but there was something off-putting about the way his voice travelled across the line.

​"Yeah man," I said, rubbing at my eyes harder, my voice dropping a few octaves to a weary, defeated mumble. "Sorry."

​There was silence on the other end and I waited a few empty seconds, sensing that there was something more coming.

​"Check your phone, I sent you a picture," he finally replied while letting out a long, nervous breath.

​I opened the image and a cold surge of confused horror slithered rapidly throughout my blood vessels as I stared down at a picture of the motorcycle I had just been riding the other day, knocked over on its side, significant damage inflicted on the swingarm and engine casing.

​"What the fuck?" I stammered. "Dude...I drenched the thing with rainwater but there wasn't a fuckin' scratch when I put it away."

​"I know," Darcy said quietly.

​"Well what the fuck?" I demanded, my head a haze of lightheaded confusion. I was on my feet now and had somehow travelled a good distance away from where I had been sitting on the bucket without even realizing.

​"I smashed it," he said. "This morning."

​"What the fuck did you do?"

​"It was dark. I was kinda out of it. I had Lamar's truck in front of the garage...put the fuckin' thing in reverse by accident," he said, his voice rank with regret. "Soon as it jumped backwards I panicked, stepped on the gas even harder. Plowed right through that piece of shit garage door and crashed into the bike. Sent it all the way into the back wall."