The Shadow

Chapter 10 (Last Thing On My Mind)

"What is this Paul?" George asked as he spotted the little gadget in his friend's hands.

"I found it by chance in my house." he lied while playing with John's belonging.

"I love pocket knives. Can I have a look?" he asked strangely excited.

"Sure. Just be careful." he hesitantly handed him the gadget.

George took the little knife in his hands and played with it for a while.

"You know that this is a new one. Quite expensive too."

"A new one?" Paul frowned. Why would John have such a gadget and most importantly, how did he own it?

"This little devil can't be older than two years old." he remarked.

"You do have an obsession with little gadgets, don't you?" he looked amused at the way George held this precious thing in his hands, carefully caressing with his fingers its sharp knife.

"That's right. It's a good one. So sharp that you would not understand it cut you until you saw blood. Quite dangerous in hands of someone incapable." he closed the pocket knife before handing it back to Paul.

Why would someone have it in their pocket though? Why would John have it? For sure, if he had such a thing meant he needed it. What for though?

"George?" Paul muttered, loud enough for only George to hear, "Do you think it has been used before?"

"It doesn't seem so. It's too sharp to having been used before. It seems brand new. Unless, they sharpened it again, but I don't think so. It's too perfectly sharpened to be from a non-expert's hand."

Paul considered George's words. Thoughts were clouding his mind. He could not doubt John's trustworthy. John would tell him if anything was wrong. He shrugged it off for the moment, and decided not to say anything to John. He would not return the knife until he felt like it was the right time. For the time being, this gadget had a new owner.

***

He returned home a bit later than usual. He gazed at his wristwatch to make sure he was on time for lunch. He stretched their front door open and walked in the kitchen expecting to find the others.

"Paul, Paul!" he heard Mike's voice ringing in his ears and the sound of the creaking stairs became even louder. He sat up from the chair he was sitting on and walked out of the room. Michael climbed down the stairs as fast as his feet carried him.

"What happened Michael?" Paul asked confused.

"Dad! Dad is not fine Paul." Paul froze. Michael was stuttering and trying to speak coherently but he was too shocked and worried to do so.

"What happened, where is he?"

"In his room."

He didn't need to be told twice and ran in his father's room, where he found his usually composed father, now lying on his back on the wooden floor, unable to breath properly, his chest heaving up and down, wanting to breath in as much oxygen as his lungs could take. He was gasping for help.

"Call the ambulance Mike." he ordered his brother, who immediately ran out of the room. Paul kneeled down next to his father bringing his head to rest on his lap so the older man could breathe with less difficulty. It was one of the times he regretted not having attended his biology classes when they were teaching them first aid kit lessons.

"Dad, you're going to be fine. We'll take you to the hospital. Take deep breaths. Try to relax."

He felt his father's sweat running down his forehead, his hands trembling and him gasping, his effort to calm down, proven fruitless.