Into the Light

Chapter $$$$

Chapter: 4

"We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us." Francois Rabelais

Darkness cracks, the seal of night shatters and the morning is set in a cobalt glass sky. Fallen leaves litter the stone avenues as the city blinks with anticipation of the day. The lines of connectivity spread their coils.

Blake taps the rhythm of his heartbeat on his forehead knowing he will be late for a very important fate determining date. Out of bed in leap and he rolls into the shower that spits a weak stream. Time moves faster and faster as he gets ready.

On the street laced with sunshine, Blake's phone vibrates as he stomps along. He slips the device out of his jacket pocket and sees another text from the Bookie that reads: Pay up.

"Damn!"

He thinks I'll deal with this later and comes to an intersection alive with city noise, clustered with business suits, and steps off the curb. A Port Authority bus screeches to halt at the crosswalk and Blake hops back. His pulse quickens with the near miss.

The pedestrians flood across the avenue as horns honk and the sound of a police whistles cuts through the din of diesel engines and pneumatic hammers pounding away at the Con-Ed construction site a block away. The city of windows contains millions of people alone the chilly bright morning with nothing but their own thoughts and distractions to keep them company.

As Blake steps over the curb and avoids the corner newsstand fully stocked with papers, he walks through a column of reflected sunlight from the skyscraper across the street. He lifts his hand to shield the light. The dirty little details of existence cannot be denied in the gleam. Blake picks up his tempo and reaches full stride six blocks away from his office. Cold sweat runs down his sides from his armpits. He passes by an alley and out of his peripheral vision sees the disembodied reflective orbs like the night before float in the shade of an alley.

"Him!" comes from the alley.

Three thugs in cheap plastic Spider-Man Halloween masks become ballistic objects and hurl themselves out after Blake. He takes off down the street like a terrified field mouse through the thicket. His hard-soled shoes clack like castanets on the pavement and the shock jabs his lower back. He grips his briefcase tight.

The tallest of the thugs gets one step behind him and grabs at Blake's shoulder. Without thinking, Blake swings his briefcase backwards and the blunt edge lands a solid blow to the predator's knee. The man tumbles and rolls to his feet. The others continue the pursuit as a people on the streets step aside.

Blake's lungs burn as he flees. He begins to slow as his stiff shoes tear up his ankles and the laces become untied. Blake knows he must make a decision. He sees a light turning green and rushes though the oncoming traffic. A yellow cab honks as it breaks. A Port Authority bus almost clips his left shoulder but Blake keeps going.

The assailants stop in their tracks blocked by the flow of traffic. Blake never falters and gets over the curb. He takes off his shoes in stride and full out runs until reaching the entrance to his office. Blake stops and scans the streets. No men in masks followed.

He thinks could it be the bookie's Collection Agency? No, had to be random. Other office workers push by Blake and a crooked smile breaks onto his flushed face as his heart pounds. He chuckles. The endorphins have him. He thinks getting mugged had to happen eventually.

"At least, I'm on time," he says. Blake catches his breath, bends over, and picks out small stone embedded in his socks. He slips his chestnut wingtips back on.