Quaint Days

FaceOFF!

        "Huh? You serious?" asked a desperate Sharman.
       
          I was already crying like it was my last day. Upon which the thought of the hallucinations happening again could not even succumb me to reply affirmatively. But I was strong, physically and emotionally. That's what I thought until a few months before. "No, I don't want that thing to go again inside me. By the way, how did those hallucinations stop? How did those dreams cease?"
     
         "Actually, uh, they haven't. You might get one any moment. But now you know that you will be in a dream."
       
      " Well, when will they stop then?"
     
      " I don't know. You're my first, remember?"
       
        "Well then, wait, actually, I happen to remember those times when I used to bleed. Those were in my dreams, of course. But what did they signify then?" I asked curiously.
       
        "Oh, yeah. Jail fights. You know any?"
         
        "Like what? Prisoners and I used to have some fight or what?"
         
         "Ah, actually worse. They used to abduct you and beat the shit outta you. Bullies as they were, I couldn't protect you."
         
          "But why did they beat me? And why couldn't I remember such stuff? And if they were beating me while I was dreaming, then I should wake up, right?"
         
          " These people don't need a reason to beat. They just enjoy beating, you see. The killings they do, some have a reason, while the others, don't. Well, and to answer the other question of yours. I'll tell you what a side effect is."
         
           "I know what a side effect is!"
       
          "You sure do. But the side effect of the drug which I gave you is that you not only forget what has passed but also, the things which are currently happening. So, you forgot even though you might have known this at some point in time. But again, you should write down the things, I guess so that if ever you forget again, you'll remember."
         
        "Yeah, I guess you're right."
       
         A black sedan emerged from nowhere, tyres of which were directed in our direction. Our car was just a minute away when I saw the black car right behind us. The area as it was, I thought it to be quite unusual for two cars to be there. "It is the police. They found out that we're alive!" I exclaimed.
          
         "Move faster!" Sharman zealously exclaimed.
       
          The black car was now just a few metres away on that dusty road. It was catching pace too. It came to our left. And a rear window opened. A man from within looked outside, pointing a black revolver towards us and down. And down towards our rear tyre, a bullet left his revolver, creating a hole in the tyre and making it unusable. Our automobile skidded uncontrollably, in a direction one never would want his vehicle to be. And within seconds, a second bullet sound came. This time only, it was the front wheel. Our blue car turned uncontrollably in the left direction circumscribing a few metres and hitting a gigantic tree, head on.
       
         We had to jump from the vehicle to avoid an injury. The four of us went and hid behind the back of the vehicle. I thought it was time for some combat.
     
           Sharman said," Here, have this and protect yourself now."
He handed me a gun with six bullets in it. "You have to open the safety lock first," he said taunting me.
       "Yes, I know that obviously!" I replied.
     
          The black car stopped. Three men in black attire got down. They wore an all-black uniform, a black hat and black glasses over it. And I used to think that black was only my favourite colour! They had revolvers with them. One of the men hid himself behind the rear hood of their car. The other guy, he hid himself behind a tree adjacent to where they stopped their car. However, the third guy disappeared and was nowhere to be seen. Bullet sounds pierced in my ears like heavy rains. Bullets were being fired everywhere. I ducked and concealed my ears with my hands. I closed my eyes in exasperation. Bullet wounds were followed by screams of people, the last screams of them- the sound I'll never forget, the sound that'll haunt me in my dreams. I took a deep breath, gathered courage and opened my eyes. I looked towards my right where two corpses of the two men who were our allies were to be seen; all covered in blood. I stood up in agony, looked everywhere, moved towards left to perceive two corpses of the assassins. The fact that they weren't police, but assassins, was astounding as they knew exactly where to find us. But who did they want to kill? I moved to the front of our car but to find no one. 'Where was Sharman?' I questioned myself.
       
         I heard a loud bang of a bullet which made my head spin in its direction. I inched forward, cautiously and cowardly. After a few metres of tread, and I dropped off into an open field and just metres away, I saw two men standing and facing​ each other, guns in hand- Sharman and the third assassin. After like three whole seconds, Sharman fell to the ground, his body being pulled by some force towards the grass. He did not move a bit, just lay, helpless. I couldn't save him, I thought.
     
        I held the gun in my hand with both my hands, and raised it in the direction of the third assassin. Pointing it towards him, I took my aim and a long breath, and pulled the trigger backwards. Nothing happened. I didn't unlock it, I thought. As I was unlocking it, I heard a sharp bullet sound coming in my direction and hitting straight onto the tree behind me. I ducked and rolled onto my right, pointing the now unlocked gun towards the man and aiming it. Not hoping much for accuracy, just a hit might do, and I fired the bullet. He got constricted and taken aback by the bullet which pierced his right shoulder. His gun fell from his hand and when he got down to grab his gun, I fired the second bullet, now pointing towards his head and one more shot succeeded the previous. He crumbled and within seconds lost all hopes of survival, losing all controls and lying helpless just like Sharman. I went forward on the track to confirm whether he gave up or not. I checked his breath and found that it ceased to exist. I dropped the weapon for it was the first true crime which I did. Though, it was self defense, I was really feeling guilty.
       
          I moved towards Sharman's corpse. He couldn't breathe either. He lied stationery. I couldn't see any more of him. I walked away from there, towards the car. Though Sharman had done really bad things for me, he was a friend. As I was moving towards the black car, I heard the ring of a mobile phone coming from the corpse of the man I killed. I went closer and took out the mobile phone, by checking his coat-pockets. The name appearing on it suggested that it was Prakash's call- 'Prakash BOSS'.
          
       I picked up the call. I didn't speak anything while he started, "Hey, Mohan, is it done? Are Sharman and his little gang, dead?"
       
        I pressed my nose from one side and spoke, "Yes boss, it's done!"
         
       "Good. Come on to the den. What are you waiting for?"
       
        "Yes, boss. I'm coming!"
     
          I searched his pockets for any evidence of their address. I found nothing other than a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and another gun in a holster tucked in his pants.
          
        'Nothing of use,' I sighed.
   
         I thought of walking to the car. I reached to the jet black vehicle. A simple four-seater cheap car yet making me gape due to its magnanimous colour. I wasn't a fan of the black colour until I saw my crush wearing a black hued dress. It made my eyes widen in awe and my mouth gape wide enough for a swarm of bees to enter and make a residence in my mouth itself. The perfection of her curves yet the magnanimity of the jet black hue contrasting with her golden brown hair sliding down her perfectly moulded round face was making me rethink over the sorrows of the world- whether do they really exist or it's merely a comparison between happiness and sorrow which leads to an ambiguity? But whatever, it doesn't really change the fact that black is such an awesome colour!
     
           My crush once said when I asked her why does she like black so much," Black is not merely a colour. It's a feeling one is attached to. It is an emotion that one feels while they see it in front of them. It's a shade which doesn't demand superiority, yet mingles with every other hue and makes it the same. It doesn't concede to the oppression of the society regarding it to be associated with evil but persistently does what its purpose is! Be like BLACK!!" She stunned me with her answer clearly stating that she hates racism and the people who discriminate other people on the basis of the pigment their skin produces. That memory got imbibed in my heart that black hearts are evil rather than what we assume to be- black faces.
   
          I opened the front door of the vehicle, and heard a quiet hush and squeak of someone from inside. It was a man. A black-suited man, same as the other three men who were now knocked down.
       
          He just appeared out of nowhere towards me and put a kerchief on my nose. I could smell the faint smell of the anaesthetic which was applied over the kerchief. Within seconds of the dose, I lost all bodily controls and my mind stopped certainly after further few seconds. I fell down helpless, unconscious.
       
         I awoke. Rubbing my eyes, I started to deduce where the hell I was! When I regained my conscience, I saw something rather astonishing than my existence. I saw my mother, my beloved mother in front of me. She was looking at me, intently. Her eyes gleamed as she saw me awake. She was looking thinner, maybe she didn't take care of herself. She was pale and all dirty. I looked around. We were at some secret hideout. I couldn't make much of it though it looked familiar. The aura could be felt like I was present here yesterday. It was all dark and ugly. I was lying down on a plain floor. It might be some sort of a flat without any furniture or anything. My wildest guess was that this was Prakash's place.
       
         "You're awoke! How are you, my son? It's been months since I last saw you. I wasn't sure if I would see you again. But thanks to the Almighty. He brought us back, together!" Her blissful eyes couldn't conceal the dread and terror which I glimpsed in her. She was afraid of something, something which I should know. Maybe Prakash abducted her and has kept her here since I've been imprisoned. But why, why would he do that?
       
        "Mum, I'm fine. How are you? You look terrified. What has happened? How come you're here? And how am I here?" I had a lot of questions rolling in my mind, getting ready to escape through my launch pad -the tongue.
       
         "These people, they're no good. They will kill us both!" Half way through her speech and, I knew she will break into tears. "But you don't worry, son. I will die for you! I'll tell them that keep my son alive and kill me instead. I am sure they'll pay heed to this poor, old soul." And all I know she was all broke and I couldn't help but empathize her. She as a mother would not turn down any opportunity of protecting her son's survival. It's the natural tendency of a mother. Though I won't let that happen, not any time soon.
         
         "No, mum," I said wiping her tear which was about to roll down on her cheek, "It's all because of me and I am the one who will put an end to it. No more deaths. No more trouble. You just stay safe." I roughened my voice to act mature.
     
         I stood up, somehow, regaining strength. I tried to walk. Trembling with pain in my head, I couldn't gather all of my body parts to work in resonance. Still somehow some sense of motivation kept echoing in my mind, and I reached up to the door. I opened the door, looked outside holding my head which was bursting with pain, some sort of familiarity hit me. I turned back towards mom. She was looking at me with keen eagerness. I looked at the door. The number plate read 'Room no. 708'.