In Times of War

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

   We run all the way through the park and run down the empty sidewalk. I stay a couple of steps behind Tony, and that’s harder than you might think. I can see a tall, dark figure running down the sidewalk a few yards ahead of us. I got a stitch in my side ages ago, but I refuse to stop. This guy just interrupted my first kiss, I’m out for blood. Suddenly, Tony stops short and throws his arm out to stop me. I slam into his arm and almost fall back but he catches me and helps me regain my balance. He keeps hold of my hand and looks around for the man who has suddenly disappeared.

“Where’d he go?” I ask, gasping for breath and holding my side.

“I’m not sure, but I want you to stick close to me.” He pulls me closer and wraps one arm around my shoulders.

“I think he’s gone, can you just take me home, now?” I look up at him and put on my cutest puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He seems distracted and drops his arm from around my shoulder but maintains a vice-like grip on my hand.

“Why would someone be spying on us?” I ask him after it got too quiet for comfort.

“Probably because of me. I’m almost certain he was one of Zacharias’s men.”

“Yeah, but why would they want to take a picture of something… something like that?” I ask him, my face heating up.

   “To show Zacharias a picture of someone really close to me, and just how close, too. They’ll have a picture now that they can use to find you. They think if they find you then they can use you to get to me and make me do things for them.”

“Would it work? I mean, would you do things for them?”

“If they had you? Of course I would.”

“What kind of things would they make you do?” I voice the next question on my mind.

“Nothing good, that’s for sure. Zacharias is like a mob boss or the mafia, he’s everywhere and most of his activities are illegal.”

   “How did you get mixed up with them in the first place? I know you’ve said you don’t want to put me in danger by telling me, but I need to know what it is so I can help you.” I put on my puppy dog eyes again, and I see the little resolve he had dissolve from his eyes. He sighs and slows our pace; I’m guessing this is going to take a while to explain.

   “First off, my dad had never really been there, but just before the Depression hit he lost his job, and our only source of income, because of his drinking. He started drinking even more and couldn’t get a job, so my mom had to. We didn’t have hardly any money to spare, but the little bit of extra we had he spent on as much booze as he could dig up illegally. One of his suppliers was Zacharias, and he fell behind on his payments and worked up a pretty big tab. He was an angry, mean, abusive drunk and he couldn’t hold a job long enough to get paid and then pay Zacharias. Zacharias eventually cut him off and demanded his money. Right after that, he ran off with some young, rich girl who could buy him the booze he wanted. He was so drunk when he left; he drove himself and the girl off a bridge.” He stops and lets out a small, unamused laugh and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.” I say quietly.

   “Don’t be, he was terrible to me and my mom. He left us with a huge debt that I’ve had to work to pay off since he died in ’31. I told my mom that it was all paid years ago, when I really paid it off just before we moved here. They still insist that it isn’t all paid and they keep coming up with new things for me to pay, and threatening everyone close to me if I don’t pay. They even want me to work for them when that’s all I’ve been doing since I was ten-years-old!”