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
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