To Catch A Body

"Run, you Bastard!' Rory called out from far away. The cops had just tackled him leaving him grunting and struggling. The boy's body on my back strapped to my back weighed me down as I sprinted from the scene. As fast as the weight of the boy would let me. I wheezed and pounded the ground in my heavy gait, my heavy sprint, for this boy's blood must not get cold before he gets where he's going. 

I go from sidewalk to a field. The lumps of grass are mother-fuckers. I almost trip on every damn one of them as my feet pounded the ground. Flashlights dart every which way and from seemingly everywhere and my asthma's a fucking bitch I was so short of breath. His man felt it right to kiss my lungs with a burning feeling the longer I carried on. 

The echoes of gunshots reach me and now I think is a good time to run faster. Faster dammit!

Pump my legs, pump my legs, pump, pump, pump!

Oh God, my lungs. I make hoarse coughs. In my adjusted vision borne of the darkness and granted clarity to my eyes, my buddy Rick standing by the Checkpoint, a sputtering green neon sign told it to be Schelly's Liquor Store on the other side of the street. 

In the tiny pouch at the center of the left strap of the overalls on the kid was a little flashlight. The straps are wrapped around my shoulders like a backpack. I flicker the flashlight for a second and Rick understands the signal I sent him. He bolts from the store and makes way to match my speed and direction to my right.

At ten feet away his direction becomes parallel with mine. Looking back I see his flawless pace and a scowl unfolds on my face. This is not what I need on my chest right now, Christ I shouldn't be jealous of his breathless face. And he has the audacity to smile, I know he knows what I'm thinking. 

"That looks heavy," he says. Goddammit, stop smirking. He  doesn't even falter when he says it and his breath doesn't get any worse with his smile. 

It's pointless, all this thought is pointless. It's fine. It's great. Everything's great. 

I click my tongue to signal one, I almost trip on more grass clumps and he opens hims arms, ready to catch. I click again for two, unslip the left strap, and click again as I shrug off the other strap. I toss the thing to Rick and come to a complete stop, my lungs feel like fire as he slides the straps to his back. In my hazy vision I watch him bound away with an extra pair of dangling legs swinging with his pace. 

I stumble to the side of the road. I am ready for Tory to pick me up. I am breathing as far in and out as I can. The rush of warmth from stopping is now filling my arms, legs, and hands. Even hope is coming to the party, knowing I am mere seconds from being taken away. 

Some gunshots go off like really close to me. Oh shit! Three spots on my back feel like ther're on fire! I hear my cry of pain but it's faint. I am falling i think. Something escapes my lips as I hit the ground, it might be sound. My knees got scraped up a lot I think. Everything is going dark. No no no no. Where the hell are you Tory?

- I wrote this story more than a year ago. Idk if it's good so I'm be more than down for criticism. Compliments work too but I expect nothing from you guys. -