Moving Forward

ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

The harsh wind mixes with the fast-moving rain, almost making me topple over and I thank the gods that I had the common sense to tie my hair up underneath the huge hoodie I'm wearing. A few yards behind me, I hear the faint pitter-patter of someone walking a ways behind me.

The dark alleyways that serve as a maze help me generously in attempting to shake the tail, but no matter where I go or what turns I take, he seems to always maintain a safe distance from me.

Close enough not to lose me but too far away for my handgun to make an impact.

He doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that I know he's there, which is reassuring. The last thing I need is for him to be alarmed.

I can tell, though, by the weight of his footsteps, that he's no skinny legend. I take a couple more turns before coming to a stop in front of an old abandoned house. I casually walk in, like I have no idea of the possible danger that seems to have been stalking me for a good 20 minutes. Through a window on my right, I can see Hank hiding behind the trunk of a tree. Waiting. With a gun.

The not-so-skinny-legend walks in through the gates, which I oh so conveniently forgot to close. There's an unnatural silence in the air. The kind that can suffocate you if you stay in it too long. Mr. Skinny Legend seems to notice the silence and wisely takes the gun out of his waistband. I can feel my gun rubbing against my back, my fingers itching to grab it and end this.

But I can't. I have to be patient and let this roll out the way it was planned. The creak of the front door opening pulls me out of my mind.

Before he can even put his foot inside the house, a loud bang rings through the air.

The poor guy starts to fall and I rush over to him before he could. He lands in my arms not so gracefully and I have to grit my teeth at his weight. Nevertheless, I use all my strength to gently lay him down on the floor and remove my arms from underneath him. I quickly go to check any compartments he might've hidden something in. A tracker or a recorder or maybe even a camera. It's one of the most common ways around here to gather information about other gangs while also being inconspicuous.

Luckily for us, we use the same method, albeit the products are sold to us from a different dealer. I sigh in relief when I checked every possible compartment and I didn't find anything of suspicion.

I look up from my little search and fix my gaze on Sam and Collin. "You two take out the body to the dump, and make sure it can't be spotted." They simply nod and grab the man by the ankles and wrists and lift him up and out of the house. I watch them until they're out of view, and shift my focus to Cody and Hank.

"Cody, clean up the blood and cover all of our tracks. Hank, go up to my car and wait for me there," they both nod mutely and move to their instructed spots, "and when everyone is done, come to Sheila. Oh, and make sure nobody follows you." With that I turn and walk out of the door, making sure to not step on any of the blood on the floor.

When I make it to the grey Nissan Altima, I get on the drivers' side, knowing Hank was already going to be seated in the passenger seat. I would've taken one of my more comfier and costlier cars, but I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. I look around and back out of the small parking lot made for the house.

I turn up the radio a little bit and relax in my seat, trying to appear nonchalant and innocent for any people who might be peeking through our car windows. I try to keep my mind off of the guy we offed earlier. He seemed young, somewhere in his early 20s. Who knows if he had a girlfriend who was waiting for him in his room, or a mother, worried about why her son seemed to be out so late. I let out a sigh and shook my head. Those kinds of thoughts will only get me killed. I wish I didn't have to do what I do, but I have no choice.