Qualities that Kill

Chapter 6- Jax

I race down an aisle in the store. The old man chases after me, cackling strangely, spooking me even more. I keep running, but I am tiring quickly. I know that I won't be able to outrun him or get away from him, because from my quick glances back it looks like he could keep running for hours. I don't know how I will be able to get out of this. I can't turn around and face him, or heaven forbid fight him. He looked so strong and intimidating, and I would have no chance of ever beating him in a hand to hand fight- wait. This isn't me talking. Why am I listening to this part of myself?

I ignore the fear's voice in my head telling me to hide. I can't let it control me. I am at least ten times stronger than him, and probably better with a knife and gun and fists than him. It would be easy to get rid of him, all it would take is one press of a trigger. I am more than capable of it, and it's not like I haven't killed before. I muster up every shred of bravery left in me, and stop running. Then I turn to face the crazy old man that is pursuing me, fumbling with the zipper as I try to get my gun out of my backpack.

The old man finally catches up to me, and stops in front of me, still laughing and making me question his sanity. He reaches a hand towards me and takes a few stumbling steps forward. I point the gun at him, my hand shaking, and threaten, my voice trembling, "Come any closer, and I shoot."

The man doesn't stop coming towards me, and an overwhelming urge to run hits me. But I stay where I am, frozen in fear. If I shoot, people will hear the gunshot. If I don't, the man will reach me and probably claw my eyes out and eat them like grapes.

"What do you want?" I ask him, matching his paces forward with paces of my own backwards.

He mumbles something unintelligible, and terror sets into me. He's not going to back off.

I'm going to have to shoot.

Suddenly, my back hits a wall. I'm trapped.

The man reaches me and raises his hand towards my face as if to touch it, but before he can I put my hands on his shoulders and shove. Then he's coming at me to attack, and we are punching each other, me hitting him with the gun, and him clawing at my face and then somehow I have him in a choke hold and my gun is pressed against his temple as he struggles to escape. I feel the smooth metal of the gun against my sweating hands. My finger rests against the trigger, and I know there is only one way out of this. I start to shake as I close my eyes and slowly pull the trigger.

There is a deafening bang and then my ears are ringing and I am covered in blood. I don't know how much of it is my own. Then I realize that I am still holding the old man's corpse in a choke hold. I drop it and stagger backwards, staring, horrified at what I had done. There is so much blood and it is only now that I realize that a good majority of it is my own. My nose is bleeding from when the man got a good hit in, and there are several shallow gashes leaking blood that stretch from my right ear to my jawline, earned when he raked his nails down my face.

I stand there, appalled by the sight of all the blood, and start to feel the pain from my earlier fistfight. It is the pain that finally jolts me into action as I realize that I have just shot a gun, and that a gunshot is not something easily ignored in this typically quiet city. I slowly walk forward, heading toward the exit. I need to get out of here before anyone comes to investigate the noise. Shaking off the shock, I start to jog, my footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty store. Finally, I make it to the doors.

But I'm too late.

A group of men are already walking this way, talking with low voices among themselves and every so often shoving one another jokingly. I know their type. They are one of the many gangs that wander the streets of the city, claiming large portions of it their "territory." I can guess that this store is in their "territory", and if they see me they will most likely shoot me on sight for invading.

I can't let them see me. It was a mistake to come here on the first place.

Then suddenly something strange starts happening to me.

A kind of... fearlessness overtakes me. But it is not a healthy kind. It is a beyond rational thinking fearlessness. Like, I could be facing down a dragon and not even think about it before charging the dragon with the intent to kill. I wouldn't be the least bit nervous.

And it is because of this newfound fearlessness that I throw open the doors of the store and stroll right up to the gang like I own the world, chin up and shoulders back, and say, "What's up, guys? I was just dropping in for a visit to this store here, then I saw you guys and thought, hey, I can make some new friends here! I mean, you guys do give off that friendly vibe, ya know? Oh, and it completely slipped my mind, if we're gonna be friends, you need to know my name, right? It's Jax. What about yours?"

The men just glare at me. I stand there grinning at them stupidly, hoping that they will either accept my offer of friendship or see me as harmless and let me go without messing with me.

Then the one at the front, probably their leader speaks. "You're offering us your... friendship."

His voice is deep and rough, and doesn't invite conversation, but I keep talking.

"Yeah," I say, smiling at them.

"...and where does this friendship get us in life? How is it a benefit to me? To you?"

"Friendship isn't for mutual benefit. Friendship is because you enjoy each other's company and you like spending time with the other person. You guys should know this, with your big group of friends here," I tell them, shaking my head and laughing a bit.

"Oh, no this big group was formed entirely out of mutual benefit. Everyone you see here has something they can contribute to the rest of us. For example, Bill here," he gestures to a short man with glasses near the back of the group, "can track anyone, no matter where they go. And Jim," he says, pointing at a man with burns all over his arms and hands, "Jim specializes in making weapons. Sam can outrun just about anyone, Frank is a perfect shot, and the rest are brute strength and bloodlust. What do you have to offer us?"

"Ummm... a positive attitude? Really, you need it," I say looking at the grim faces surrounding me.

Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the fearlessness is gone, and the fear overtakes me again. My head spins as I take in my surroundings with this new outlook on the situation. What were possible friends moments before now represent my inevitable death. What was a pleasant day with the sun shining and birds chirping is now unbearably hot and sure to reveal me to anyone that happens to walk past.

I need to get out of here.

There is no chance that these men will let me go without a fight. I'm going to have to run for it.

And I'm so scared.

This massive, almost incomprehensible fear.

I can barely move, let alone speak with the bravado I had been using. Or run.

I begin to shake, while the gang members stare at me in confusion. They must think me crazy, out of my mind. And I probably am, I realize with a jolt. What did I think was going to happen when I killed that old man? I inherited his madness, his only quality.

I summon all the courage I can, then take a step forward and say to the group of men, my voice trembling, "Actually, I've rethought my decision. I don't think we should be friends. Sorry."

Then I run.