Chapter 4: A Man and A Boy

He was lying in a pool of black coffee. It oozed around his arms like the aftermath of a gunshot wound. Foam was gathering around his mouth.

"What the fuck??" shouted Potsy. He stormed around the counter. "What the fuck? Is he OD'ing on something? Fucking crackhead..." He twisted his thick neck, sending ripples across his many chins. "Jim, call the police, will ya? I don't want this crackhead dying in my shop."

A frail teen peeked from the kitchen, jerked his head up and down, and scampered away.

Potsy shook his head and sighed. "I knew this guy was trouble. Should have kicked him out as soon as I saw him. He's probably some gangbanger thug or something."

Rachel knelt next to the large stranger and pretended to check his pulse. Her manager crossed his arms with a huff, then sauntered away. She slipped a slender hand into the stranger's pockets. His breathing was slowing down, though his legs still kicked like a dog in a nightmare. She could smell his leather jacket. There were markings on his neck, some kind of tattoo of an animal.

My God, he's a big guy, she thought. He's not from the lab; he's not one of the scientists or surgeons. How did he find me? I've been so careful for all these years. Is it safe to go back to my apartment? Is my cat okay? Why can't they just leave me alone?

She bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed the scar on her forearm with her free hand. Fragments of images flashed in her mind like a kaleidescope. She saw a name. Jonny Boy. So his name is Jonny Boy.

She also saw great pain. Knives. Blades. Blood. And great sadness. Crying. Pain. Death. He wasn't from the lab though. There were no images of the lab. Then she saw another man. With glasses and bright white hair. And deep, cruel eyes.

His wallet was inside his jacket, right alongside his gun's shoulder holster. She glanced at his firearm. It wasn't like anything she'd seen before. Shiny, slick, and devoid of symbols. The barrel was longer than usual. A silencer?

"Is he dead yet?"

Rachel bolted up. "He's, um, he's still breathing."

Potsy shook his head. "Cops are coming soon. They'll get his ass out of here. Then we can all go home."

"If you don't need me anymore, I'm going to head out now."

"Did you clean up your station?" her manager growled.

She nodded.

"Fine. Good night."

Rachel turned toward the door and quickly rushed out. The cool night air nipped her exposed arms. She fingered his wallet, now safely tucked in her pocketbook. Her head throbbed, like it did every time this happened. She rubbed her temples as she thought about a safe place to go.

That was the last thought to go through her head. A large arm cracked the back of her skull and knocked her out. She crumpled to the ground immediately.

A massive figure stood over her. Dark sunglasses, long overcoat, black gloves; he was dressed to hide into the night.

"What a shame, Jonny Boy. Don't send a boy to do a man's job."