Roads from the good parts in town swirled like snakes and eventually dumped them into some black streets on the bad side of town.
"Hey, miss, you best lock yer doors." advised Berkely, now fastening his seatbelt.
"What's going on?" I leaned on the soft of his seat, looking past the windshield and seeing the dark city evolve into a cold valley of evil.
"I saw an accident up on the overpass while we rolled on the highway. I wout'nt take the risk so I took the backway. I'm sorry, it's my fault."
I did as I was told, locking the door. There were pubs and open sewers lining the streets. Life in Illinois was like being in a still-life photo, everything was orderly and meager. In Scotland, everybody moved, these people filled the streets like it was a gathering and stared menacingly at the slowly bypassing cabby.
The men caught on quickly.
"Smell ye trainer there for a dollar . . . got change for a fifty, missus? . . . Why don't we talk back at my dwellun's . . . Love to stroke that smooth hair of your's, . . ." they would say, crowding the window.
"Don't be afraid, they're not getting into 'ere." my corageous friend conceded, shaking his fist at the window.
*
He was turned around and in a B-line for the bar again. Realizing that he must've dropped his wallet there, for it was no longer in his pocket. "Fucking stupid." he whispered, turning up his collar. Scotland, next to Chicago, Illinois, was probably the worst place in the world to leave your cash lying around. It probably wasn't there anymore.
Identy theft. Just what he needed when he never wanted his identity OUT there in the first place!
Even Worse. He may not be able to buy a drink until tomorrow. Fucking stupid.
His foot squicked in a puddle, rain had begun to fall. He approached eighth street, the bar was just about the next block over. The puddle squicked again - - from behind.
"Hello?" he turned around. No one. The street was empty on both sides.
There was a lamp, he looked both ways before proceding and walked clear past an alley. More footsteps. "Get the fuck out of here!" he yelled at the streets. "I'll kick your ass- and I'm not in the mood to!" What a hulk. He thought. Hopefully that scared them off.
Next he knew he was on the street, landing on his side. He was hit by a truck. Looking up, it was a guy. Several guys.
"So, you like to row, do yah?" The guy who hit him asked.
No reply.
"Get up," he said, drawing out his knife. Brian did what they said, slowly gaining his feet. Taller than they where, though clearly a lot less strong. Each of these gangsters were the size of a small rhinoceros.
He was unafraid, however aware of how much he didn't want to die. He stood up tall, defying them silently.
The two other guys rounded on him, grabbing his arms and wrestling him back down. A process like this repeated, each time he was on the ground the big guy threatened him and told him to rise again. He was getting exhausted, not knowing how much longer he'd keep this up before having to defend himself.
The thugs were through playing, they took turns straddling onto him and slamming their heavy fists into him. The man with sandy blonde hair squeezed his neck until he gasped for air. They stood and kicked him heavily in his stomach, Brian was turning black and blue all over.
"Get up!" said the big guy, the knife shining lamplight at him.
He spat dirt out his mouth, rolling onto his right arm. His eyes left his attackers and saw salvation; a slowing taxi. He was almost twenty paces from it's door, if he could just make a quick break. . .
*
"Okay, miss Alice, we're A-Okay to drive out of this town, the traffic's all-"
"WAIT! Look!" I cried. A man sprinted our way from an alley. His jacket was torn and there was a certain urgency to him and his beaten face. He collided with the door, beating on the glass of the window.
"Let me in!" he tried the handle, it was smartly locked. Four men like Scottish gorrillas rampaged after him, they were seconds away. . .
"Get out of here, you troublemaker!" cried Berkely, pounding on the window right back.
"No, wait, I think he's seroius, Berkely! I'm unlocking the door!" I saw the man's eyes, he was very frightened. He looked late twenties, tall dark, and painfully beautiful. Oh god, what was I saying?
"I'd advise against that, Alice! Don't you do it!" said Berkely.
I pushed open the door and not a moment later did he jump in beside me. The four men reached in and took hold of him, the man began thrashing madly and threw one of them off. I leaned over, and punched the bigger guy right in the ST9 (a place I knew would knock someone out) and it did. The man crumpled and seemed to go senseless. The others backed off, and the cab rolled away.
"You listen here, don't you touch the girl there or you'll get it, mister." Warned Berkely. "I'll drive yeah home, but don't be thinking it's a free ride, hear?"
"I-" panted he, clutching his chest, "I do." He looked at me, gratitude turning his features soft. "Thank you, you might've saved my life tonight."
He was really charming. He looked hurt, bad, but his voice was soft and polite. I tried to respond. A sound like "ugn," came out so I just smiled and looked out the window. He was too charming for any such words from the likes of a fifteen year old American painter.
****************************************************
Forgive me, school has restarted and I've been caught up in finding my way 'round this building. I'm back in the game though, and continuing the story.
For those of you whom are wondering what this is about: It's a romance. A HORRIFIC romance. :p
