curse word, then silence. I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me. I heard another groan and realized it was coming from me. I sensed cold underneath me and wet spots on my face. My encounter with the shadow came back in a sudden rush. I opened my eyes, and experienced something more terrible than my worst hangover.
The voice said, “Are you okay?”
My eyes focused and I saw shimmering gray clouds and snowflakes falling. If not for my cold backside and hangover-like headache, I might have appreciated its beauty. A face appeared above me, young with a stubble of dirty blond beard, eyes the same gray as the snowy sky. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I mumbled. I sat up slowly and was rewarded with a pounding on the right side of my head.
“Dude, you’re bleeding,” the lazy, drawling voice said. I touched my temple and examined my fingers, now dark with blood. I forced my eyes to focus on the origin of the voice. Meet my neighbor Ace. I live in the third floor condo building and he and his brother live below me. Ace is twenty-five years old, works at Blockbuster, where he aspires to be a manager, and has the common sense of a pea.
“Your blood?” Ace asked, pointing at my hand. Make that a frozen pea.
I managed a nod while I wiped my fingers on the snowy sidewalk. “Yeah, someone popped me. Guess he got me pretty good.” It hurt to talk, made the pounding in my head more intense.
“Popped ya, huh?” Ace bent down and squinted in my face, tugging at his ponytail. I could smell his tobacco breath, mixed with peppermint, and clouds of nausea swirled around me. “You don’t look so hot.”
“Thanks, Ace,” I said. “You want to help me up?”
“Oh, sorry.” He grabbed my outstretched hand and pulled me to my feet. Wooziness set in, like my head just split in two. I bent over and saw the snow shake before my eyes, so I sat back down on the ground. I heard another voice say, “What are you doing on the sidewalk? You want me to get you a chair?”
I turned my head and squinted toward the front door of my building, shielding my eyes against the glare of the porch light. Ace’s brother, Deuce, stood in the doorway. He looked almost exactly like Ace, but with a bulkier build from working in construction. Deuce wasn’t much younger than Ace, and by all accounts wasn’t much wiser. “You want a chair?” he repeated slowly. “Maybe an icepack?”
Ace waved at him, and Deuce came down off the porch. The nausea hadn’t left me, so I bent my head down between my knees and sucked in deep breaths, wishing that the Goofball Brothers would be quiet, if only for a moment. I kept an eye on them, and they did me. Sort of.
“He tired or something?” Deuce said as he approached. Most times I didn’t mind the Brothers; we were friends in an intellectually unchallengeable kind of way. In the year that I’d lived above them they had helped me appreciate the lighter side of life, and made me laugh. Right now wasn’t one of those times.
“Don’t know,” Ace answered. His drawl not as slow as Deuce’s, a turtle rather than a caterpillar.
A pair of dingy tube socks and blue jeans came into my vision. I tipped my head up and saw Deuce staring down at me. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his bare arms folded across his brawny chest were his only defense against the weather. “Damn, it’s cold out here,” he said with a shiver, hunching his shoulders.
“Might help if you put shoes on,” I mumbled. “And a shirt.”
Deuce looked down as his stocking feet. “Oh, yeah.” He chuckled. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Someone popped me,” I said, gingerly touching my temple again.
“Popped you?” Deuce said, glancing over at Ace, who shrugged his shoulders and made a face that said he didn’t have a clue what was going on. “That guy with the baseball bat do it?”
“You saw him hit me?” I asked, gazing up at
The voice said, “Are you okay?”
My eyes focused and I saw shimmering gray clouds and snowflakes falling. If not for my cold backside and hangover-like headache, I might have appreciated its beauty. A face appeared above me, young with a stubble of dirty blond beard, eyes the same gray as the snowy sky. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I mumbled. I sat up slowly and was rewarded with a pounding on the right side of my head.
“Dude, you’re bleeding,” the lazy, drawling voice said. I touched my temple and examined my fingers, now dark with blood. I forced my eyes to focus on the origin of the voice. Meet my neighbor Ace. I live in the third floor condo building and he and his brother live below me. Ace is twenty-five years old, works at Blockbuster, where he aspires to be a manager, and has the common sense of a pea.
“Your blood?” Ace asked, pointing at my hand. Make that a frozen pea.
I managed a nod while I wiped my fingers on the snowy sidewalk. “Yeah, someone popped me. Guess he got me pretty good.” It hurt to talk, made the pounding in my head more intense.
“Popped ya, huh?” Ace bent down and squinted in my face, tugging at his ponytail. I could smell his tobacco breath, mixed with peppermint, and clouds of nausea swirled around me. “You don’t look so hot.”
“Thanks, Ace,” I said. “You want to help me up?”
“Oh, sorry.” He grabbed my outstretched hand and pulled me to my feet. Wooziness set in, like my head just split in two. I bent over and saw the snow shake before my eyes, so I sat back down on the ground. I heard another voice say, “What are you doing on the sidewalk? You want me to get you a chair?”
I turned my head and squinted toward the front door of my building, shielding my eyes against the glare of the porch light. Ace’s brother, Deuce, stood in the doorway. He looked almost exactly like Ace, but with a bulkier build from working in construction. Deuce wasn’t much younger than Ace, and by all accounts wasn’t much wiser. “You want a chair?” he repeated slowly. “Maybe an icepack?”
Ace waved at him, and Deuce came down off the porch. The nausea hadn’t left me, so I bent my head down between my knees and sucked in deep breaths, wishing that the Goofball Brothers would be quiet, if only for a moment. I kept an eye on them, and they did me. Sort of.
“He tired or something?” Deuce said as he approached. Most times I didn’t mind the Brothers; we were friends in an intellectually unchallengeable kind of way. In the year that I’d lived above them they had helped me appreciate the lighter side of life, and made me laugh. Right now wasn’t one of those times.
“Don’t know,” Ace answered. His drawl not as slow as Deuce’s, a turtle rather than a caterpillar.
A pair of dingy tube socks and blue jeans came into my vision. I tipped my head up and saw Deuce staring down at me. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his bare arms folded across his brawny chest were his only defense against the weather. “Damn, it’s cold out here,” he said with a shiver, hunching his shoulders.
“Might help if you put shoes on,” I mumbled. “And a shirt.”
Deuce looked down as his stocking feet. “Oh, yeah.” He chuckled. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Someone popped me,” I said, gingerly touching my temple again.
“Popped you?” Deuce said, glancing over at Ace, who shrugged his shoulders and made a face that said he didn’t have a clue what was going on. “That guy with the baseball bat do it?”
“You saw him hit me?” I asked, gazing up at
Similar Books
