Markimash: I'm Afraid to Believe

Chapter Four

The situation was hard for Yami to comprehend. Even after he was dragged through Mark's house, screaming and thrashing about, he still could not understand.

Outside, in the street, the night was cold and the sun was set. The stars above were distant and dull and the moon was shrouded by clouds.

Yami felt scared. He felt more scared than he had ever felt in his whole life, and this feeling was heightened by the two men gripping his arms.

They were much stronger than him.

Above all else, Yami could not understand why Mark hadn't helped him. Hadn't Mark wanted to help? Hadn't Mark claimed to see the future and prevent an otherwise inevitable death?

"Lying bastard," Yami hissed gently to himself as the men around him stopped to survey the street.

One of the men, the tallest of the bunch, spoke up: "I'll tell the others we have him and warn them about Mark. I think something needs to be done about him, he's out of line."

Another man, one with brown hair, replied: "Mark is nothing to us. We are powerful. He will not stand in our way."

The shortest of the group said in response: "He is more powerful than we know."

No one said anything after that.

Yami felt a bitter taste in his mouth and he grimly noted he had reopened the wound on his lip. He brushed the flowing blood with his tongue and felt another spurt of tears coming on.

Where were the men taking him. And what was Mark doing?

Yami's panic subsided a little when he realized the men were dragging him forward down the road. With a small, nervous smile, he thought that maybe, just maybe someone would be out this late and he could call to them for help.

For now, Yami would cooperate. He would walk with them wherever they were taking him. He was positive that he could get away, he was positive.

~ ~ ~

Mark ran a washcloth under the sink in his kitchen, wetting it down thoroughly. He then pressed it against his hurt cheek, muttering a little.

"What a waste, I should have known they wouldn't fall for this. I've got to hurry, I have to get there before they start."

Tossing the cloth into the corner of the sink, Mark turned away and leaned against the center table. Yami's tea cup was still sitting there, hardly touched and now cold.

Thoughtfully, Mark picked it up and looked at it for a moment. Then, he tossed the remaining tea down the drain of the sink and set the cup back on the counter.

"Alright," he sighed to himself, brushing his hair from his face. "What do I need, what do I need? Will I have to fight them?"

Looking around hurriedly, Mark walked to the other side of the room and opened a drawer, rummaging around before pulling out a steak knife. He tossed it back in forth in his hands for a while before shutting the drawer and leaving the room, crossing to a closet by the backdoor.

He pulled out a backpack and shakily opened it, dropping the knife inside.

"What else, what else . . ." Mark looked back toward the kitchen, his eyes red like he was about to cry.

"Gosh . . ." he said, his voice wavering a little. "I can't believe what I'm about to do."

~ ~ ~

The Black Willow Inn and Diner was closed and dark when they passed, but Yami had already picked it out as a place of interest.

He had an escape planned out in his mind. He had been dead weight so far to the men holding his arms as they walked toward some unknown destination, but he thought if he were to suddenly start fighting, they might be alarmed and let go of his arms. Then he could run, run back toward the diner and hide under the stairs where it was dark and they were sure to miss him. When it was safe, he'd get back home and use the house phone to call the police. He'd report Mark, too, for kidnapping.