My Predicament - Chapter Three

The kickback was tremendous, and I was unprepared for the the effect it would have. The man in front of me was allowed only a moment of shock before falling backwards, clutching his chest and gasping for air. The white of his shirt was already becoming red with blood. All I could think of at that moment was how if I did not escape from the remaining men, I would likely end up like the man who now lay bleeding on the floor.

The blonde man was the first of the remaining men to realise what was happening. He turned to me with his umbrella (I realise how silly that sounds) drawn. Before he could fire, I rolled out of the way, hearing the thud of the projectile against the wooden floor. Getting to my feet, I held my new weapon with both hands, and swung it against the man's face. He staggered backwards into one of his associates, who turned to see the catalyst of the inconvenience. Upon seeing me, he shouted - "Hey!" - and pointed in my direction as if he expected me to freeze in place.

Needless to say, I did not comply, and instead made a break for the door. The two men who had previously guarded it were at the other end of the room at the air vent, and were now raising their umbrellas at me. I grabbed the knob, turned it, and was in the hall before they managed to fire at me. Thuds and shouts echoed through the halls, and I turned to see the remaining six men making their way toward me. At this point, other people who shared this apartment with me were beginning to open their doors to see what the fuss was about, making the whole scene almost comical. I would have laughed at spectacle made by Mrs. Abernathy shouting "What the Devil is going on, you young rapscallions?!" at the blonde man, who seemed to be nursing a heavy nose bleed.

Instead of laughing, I ran like as if the Devil himself were in pursuit.

I managed to make it out of the building by way of the fire escape on the second floor. Upon reaching the bottom of the ladder, I heard the voices of the men from above.

"He went down there!"

"Stop him!" 

More thuds, and I knew that it was them or me. Raising my umbrella, I pulled the switch, and felt the kickback. A shout reassured me that the projectile had reached it's mark. At this point, I had no time to worry about the man lying in my apartment, nor the man who I had hit on the fire escape. They attacked me, and tried to kill me first. I was defending myself. No matter the justification, though, the face of the first man, and the shout of the second would haunt my dreams for nights afterwards.

To be quite honest, I do not remember much more of that night. I did not visit the police department, as I knew that is what I would be expected to do. Instead, upon checking myself in to a cheap hotel, I used a phone booth there.

"London Police, what's you emergency?" said a bored voice on the other end of the line.

"My apartment was invaded by eight, heavily armed men. I managed to escape, but I think they might still be after me."

"Mm hmm," he said, absently. "And what did they look like?"

"They were all rather tall. None of them were under six feet, I can say for certain."

"Clothing?" he said. I was getting the distinct impression that he did not care what they were wearing, and that he was simply saying this per regulation.

"They were all conspicuously dressed in black coats and top hats," I decided to give him all the details. "They also carried umbrellas which also seemed to be weapons of some kind."

There was an uncomfortable pause which lasted around fifteen seconds. 

"Oi! Jefferson! It sounds like we've got a drunk making calls!" he finally said. "Call again when you have a real emergency."

Over these few weeks since the attack, I have been reading the paper regularly. So far, there has been nothing about my apartment being invaded. I have not seen any of the men in black, so perhaps I have lost them for now. That, or they are getting better at concealing themselves, and aren't going about wearing black. Either way, you can expect to hear from me much more often, now. 

Good day, and stay safe.

❦ J.T. Marker

My Predicament - Chapter Two

When I saw the six new figures, my immediate instinct was to escape. However, there was nowhere to escape to! I could jump out the window, but that would be suicide. The fire escape was in the hall, and the men would no doubt beat me to it. Remembering how two of them so easily dispatched Yates, my panicked mind decided the best course of action would be to hide in a closet with a heavy object. Quickly searching my room, I found a fireplace poker. I then proceeded to hide myself as best I could in my bedroom closet.

I was unsure of what to expect, but my anticipation did not last long. A loud thud issued from the other side of my door, and I knew the men were going to break in. I tightly held the poker with both hands, hoping that some miracle would prevent them from entering my home. I have only rarely had to physically defend myself against a fellow man, and therefore, the thought of actually needing to use this makeshift weapon filled me with a growing sense of dread.

Several more thuds broke the silence. The men were not talking to each other. They knew what their mission was, and were not about to betray their intentions to me. Keeping me in the dark until they had me in their clutches. Even then, maybe I would never know what they wanted me for. I know not what they did to Yates, but I have no doubt that if he needed to be struck in the head, and dragged into an alley, it could not be anything good.

A final bump, and my door was ripped from its hinges. I heard several pairs of shoes clacking against the floor, going to ever corner of my home.

"I'm not finding anything!" shouted one voice. It wasn't one I recognised.

"Keep searching! And someone get us a damn light!" another voice said. I recognised this voice as belonging to the blonde man who struck Yates.

The sound of shoes on wood came closer to my hiding place. I did not know how to react. My senses were completely dulled. My only reaction at that point was to hold my poker a bit harder then before, which was pretty well impossible, considering how tightly I was already clutching it.

I was taken completely by surprise when the closet door was opened with all the force of an M&P Armoured Steam Walker ™. At the other side stood a man with the build of one. Even in the dim light, I could see that he looked surprised for a moment, but quickly replaced it with a look of determination.

"Found -!" said the man as I struck him in the face with the poker. I made a break for my door, only to find two more of the men standing guard in front of it. I had only a moment to assess the situation before I felt something come down over my neck, and pull me from behind.

Pulled to the floor, I looked up to see the blonde man staring down at me, as if in a trance. A strained glance revealed that he had his umbrella, of all things, held over my throat. With the look a of a man in a trance, he brought down the umbrella, sealing off the flow of air to my lungs. I did not know if intended to incapacitate me, or kill me, but I struggled with him, trying to push the umbrella off me. He pushed down with a grip of steel, and I knew it was hopeless to try and resist.

But try, I did. I seemed like an hour was spent, struggling to push him off me. The other men in his the group were beginning to close in. If I did manage to escape the blonde man, one of his associates would undoubtedly catch me before I could make it even a metre from them.

It was then my salvation came in a very strange form. An inconsequential detail at the time it seemed, but positioned behind the blonde man was a wall, and on the wall was positioned an air vent. The entire event happened in about three seconds, only one of which I saw clearly, but something seemed to pull at the blonde man from me. He dropped his umbrella, leaving it in my grasp, and for a moment I lived in the bliss of freedom from his grip.

This bliss was short lived, as I saw to my combined horror and relief that my attacker's foot disappeared into the vent.

His 'friends' seemed even more terrified by this than I, as they completely abandoned all interest in me, and were now doing a most peculiar thing; aiming their umbrellas as if they were rifles. Even more peculiar was the fact that they actually seemed to be doing something. Small pops issued from each of the umbrellas, and thumps were ringing out behind me, against the wall. What appeared to be small bullet holes were beginning to surround the air vent.

Barely even thinking, I felt around the umbrella, try to see what being used to convert these objects into weapons. One of the five remaining men finally seemed to remember what he was there for, and aimed his umbrella at me. In that moment, I found a small switch that a normal umbrella does not have. The only thing going through my mind at that moment was survival.

In less than a second, I aimed and fired.

❦ J.T. Marker