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Matt's contest. 2nd part

Short story By: arun
Literary fiction




Submitted:Jul 2, 2011    Reads: 39    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


Personal message to GG, my partner: Hi, I hope I didn't spoil it. Even if I had taken the plot to a different direction, I think I'd finished it in a place from where you can continue. link to part 1 : http://www.booksie.com/literary_fiction/short_story/guruguy/injustice-after-dark-(tagteam-contest-part-1) I opened my eyes to confront only the sun. My brain's reflex action sent my eyelids downwards hiding my vision temporarily. Rubbing my vision system with the back of my palms, I raised my posture to a sit. I'd been lying here facing the sky. Where am I? I tried to contemplate the setting I'm in. Oh! It's the park. I see a farrago of kids, adults and old ones, why, a mixture of everyone, play tennis, basketball and cricket at a distance from where I'm now. Cricket has quite become famous in US nowadays. No one seems to be interested in me. To them, I'm another homeless man or an over-loaded dipsomaniac. My brain stampeded to me in an incredible rush the scenes that it can present to me. Yes, I came here last night to have a jog. I often used to wonder how awkward am I in my ways - while the rest of the world jogged early morning, I always jogged only after the moon should teeth through the clouds. Well, not always, at the least, for the past three months. My doctor said it is perfectly all right and that all I had to do is to sweat my fat out. While everyone around me, my "once used to be" friends, my colleagues etc, used to tell that I must become thin, I never had felt in all my lifetime, not even once, to feel the necessity of becoming thin. I never felt ashamed of it. I always felt it gawky why should people comment on my appearance. Oh, all my senses worked perfectly. More paining than the burn the sun produced on my skin, is my shoulder. I grazed my left arm over my right shoulder. A groan escaped my mouth involuntarily. I reassured myself that I'm alive. My left palm got partly painted with a tint of blood-red. I'm shot. I surely can say that. The mysterious person came to my mind. I concluded that he may be a virtuoso in dunks, he, for certain is not a good shooter. Not a good assailant. What? An assailant? Why should he kill me? The thoughts literally strangled me. Without further thoughts, I stood up yawning from the bench in which I was lying; I tried to walk, letting alone the edibles that were laid in that adjacent bench, which I bought to get dried to nothing. I felt no need to count my steps; as with every single step I felt my shoulder muscles ache. The technical name of the muscle popped up in my brain - it is trapezius. Next to the trapezius, when we move towards the arm is the deltoid. I felt a very meagre quantity of pride, about my vast ken, surge inside me and vanish away. I maybe a law practitioner but I still remembered some of high school biology. Remembering the pain with every step, I tried to fish out the reason why the man shot me. I didn't come by car. I have to walk by foot. It would usually take ten minutes but I'm not sure what will it be now. I'm not planning on going to hospital. I can take care of myself. The bullet, which I thought to be of mysterious nature that it didn't kill me, was not at all magical. It was all worldly - the man, the court, the shoot, everything is true. The man must have had shaky hands. His shot didn't kill me. The bullet showed me mercy by tracing only the top of my shoulder and letting my life remain. It was just a superficial wound that had severed my skin. Yet, I practically hadn't received any serious wounds since my birth and hence this new pain almost killed me. Anyway, once I reach my home, I would take care of myself for I have a first-aid kit. My reflections covered all the possibilities while I trekked my way home. Who is he? Why did he try to kill me? He's such an expert in hitting dunks! His hands were certainly not shaky, yet he missed me! Is it intended? If intended, why should he let me live? The last thought triggered my brain. I remembered that he asked for money. I quickly groped into the right inner pocket of my grey overcoat and found that the green papers were as exact as I kept. So, he is not a robber for certain! I felt bad over my connection to those mundane papers. Should I told him the truth and gave him the money he wouldn't have shot me. Oh no, some inner voice snorted at me. It told that he wants some reason to mess up with me. He meant to mess up with me. He searched for a reason to pick up a fight with me. With this big fat attorney. That's why he said that the ball is his. I felt my pain vanish. But I know that it indeed is present. Since I've directed my thoughts upon something more stolid than the pain, my magnificent mind helped me forget my pain. The power of believing! Mindfreak! Criss angels! CA always told about forgetting pain by focussing the mind on something else. All those things came up into my mind in quick successions when I allowed my vacillations to settle on my vanished pain. Oh, the pain resurfaces again! I chose to ignore it as well as the weird looks the Sunday-morning-joggers projected on me, seeing the blood stain that made an impression on my overcoat. I felt glad that my grey coat didn't show off the true colours of the blood. I suddenly remembered the very important thing that I always took with me. In magnified haste, I scrutinized my left inner pocket. What! It's missing! Oh my pain vanishes again. Fear and perspirations took their upper hand inside of me. I felt my heart beat at its fastest. I can't take it. Who will it be? I'm sure the man is a henchman. He had no links with this. So who is behind this? Will he be one of His men? He - the one who is involved in the most nefarious case that our court had ever dealt with. I'm the one against that one. The case is due tomorrow, and in that thing, I'd had very important records. My three month old research! I'm a failure again! My mind reminded me of the extra copy that I had in my PC. I'm an old-fashioned man who use old PC and never had tried a laptop. I set out a sigh and I felt that my legs gained momentum. No, I'm not a failure. I found my house open. Broke open! Oh, I quickly rushed inside to find my PC crashed on the floor. The CPU is open. I hurried to it and found my hard disk missing. Oh my god!

PART 4 (FINAL PART)

I tried to take in her words in my present state of perplexity and guessed that I failed miserably. She spoke again, 'Why you looking me that way? Long time no see!'

Among the farrago of all the thoughts and feelings that swarmed my mind, the most dominant thing is anger. I wanted so badly this very second to choke her to death. I tried to stir against her. I tried to put my claws around her neck and strangle her. Being just a victim of sudden burst of anger, as any angry man will do, I failed to take in the situation in where I am. This is her castle! I have no power here. I regretted that I shouldn't have agitated only after her men composed me, and seeing me rise in intensity, one of them threw a punch on the back of my head with the .455 caliber's cold metal in his hand.

***

I opened my eyes to find that I was lying in a lowly dim room. The room was not so spacious. I looked around to find that the room had a single low window which is shut at present; moreover, it looked so rusty that they probably would have never been open. I collected my mass and stood on my feet. In my venture, I experienced dizziness and after I stood up being leant on the wall, I felt my world become stable. I pushed the teak door and found that it is locked. I banged on the door continuously crying out, 'Who's there? Let me out.'

I don't know how many bangs did I give, but after a few minutes, a voice seeped through the wood. I heard the door being opened. It creaked out revealing two well-built figures completely shaved off hair, grudge at me. I decided that that is of no use to protest so I followed their orders. They goaded me to a commodious hallway, where I saw that devil sitting basking in the couch. She spilled out a smile, which I know, is composed of notoriety. She came closer and trailed her index finger over my shaven countenance. Her finger nail is really long that I felt only the sharpness of her finger and not her flesh.

'I guess you'd had a great lead right?'

I didn't answer. I looked at her partly with anger and partly with fear. 'I examined your data. So, you're very close to catching us? Have you anything to say?'

I don't want to speak. I don't know how but a few drops of tears raced down my cheeks. Not for the reunion. Seeing her, I was reminded of my parents - must be called 'our parents', but it isn't apt to use 'our'. I stood still.

'I guess it is really parlous to get you out of here.' She said shuffling a few sheets of papers. I guessed that it might be the printouts of reports that I had against them. 'You'll catch us all. You've strong evidences. Good. But pity you, you're too late. Have you approached the cops earlier maybe you would have saved your breath.'

Before me stood the creature that was adopted by my parents. The first time when we saw her, she was only 6, crying in the streets wearing almost nothing. I was then 11, and I understood what my mom told me - that she's going to adopt her. I had no problems. I indeed was happy to have a sister to play with me. And she remained as a sister-cum-daughter for eleven years. I never thought her to be different. I too much cared about her. Instead she cajoled us all.

She had gone bad ways. Now she's one of the most obnoxious creatures in our city. She's into gambling, into abductions, into drug sale and into murder-for-money business. Though everyone knows including the cops, no one really can catch her, because no one had seen her. No one, but me. Even those who had seen her never know that she's behind all this.

One of her 'slaves' handed a gun. She received it with passion. She smiled, 'Hey bro, you want your parents back right? Well, I can't get them back, but can help you reach them.'

'Stop it Elana. You, you, are you insane? See… you can't kill me. After all, I treated you like more than my sister! But what you did to me and our parents is-'

My words succumbed to silence when she pressed her gun into my throat. She's standing very close to me. I realized that both anger and tears equally shared the emotional part of my heart. 'No gibbering my brother. You're dead.'

***

I was under the illusion that the policeman is staring at me in annoyance. I decided that it was a delusion seeing his lips widen. He asked me to tell the whole story.

'Yes sir, she's my sister.' I set out a sigh, 'My parents found her abandoned in the streets. They had a pure heart. They adopted her as my sister. To admit the truth, initially I didn't like her, for she received all their attention. After all I was 11 and you know that will be the reaction of any eleven year old kid, right?'

The policeman nodded. He seemed to be greatly respecting me. I never knew police can be this warming. Weirdly, I even felt glad to be in that police station. Good cop, bad cop. Good cop, bad cop. And yes, he's a good cop. 'When she turned 17, that is, after living as a good daughter and a sister to me for 11 years… ugh, yeah she was 6 when we found her. After 17, she fell to bad company. She became a drug addict and to tell the truth, she became a slave to carnal desires. She stayed out every night with a different person and will return the next morning losing her purity still more. I know it all and warned her. I threatened her that I would tell the matter to parents.' I felt my voice rise involuntarily, 'Yeah, I cared about her very much. I treated her more than a sister. She's so much blind then.'

I felt tears roll down my face. The kind policeman gave me a handkerchief. I wiped my tears and continued, accompanied by his astounding focus, which being a lawyer, I can tell - from one's eye movements. 'One day my parents have found the truth. That day, she came home fully drunk, carried by a person who would have already used her. He left her in her bedroom and went away. When she returned to sobriety, I guess around midnight, she came down. We all were assembled in the hallway. My parents stormed at her and she tried to dodge everything, but finally she couldn't. A big altercation ensued and in that, she because of being overly infuriated, shot my parents. I ran to their rescue and she hit me with a large vessel on (touching my nape) my back head. I lost my consciousness immediately and slid to floor. She lived hiding. She's never seen then. All the efforts went in vain and the case is still unsolved. It is here, in this same police station.'

He saw me shrinking his eyes further. It wasn't a smirk. It was exclamation. 'Yeah, even before you came here sir! Before seven years.' He let out a sigh. I couldn't believe that I was speaking so casually like a conversation. I wondered why my hands refused to shake, which had been shaking vigorously before I came here. I felt so light. Maybe pouring out a story that has been dumped for over seven years in my heart will be the reason. I didn't care what will happen after my confession, but at that instant speaking to him, I felt an ecstasy spread throughout my body. 'But she was then not a bad girl. She was not a killer. She killed them out of rage. Being a law student, I understood her side and the ramifications of her anger. Maybe my parents would have spoken less aggressively. That's not her fault.'

'Mr. Pollock, she's one of the most notorious being in our city. What are you saying? She's a certified killer by birth.'

'No sir I don't think so. Ok, let me get to the story. Well, I took a kidnap case. I had all the evidences against the accused. But the night before, I was attacked by some anonymous hit-man in the park and my flash drive was stolen. I had everything in that. And when I got back to home, I found my house broken. That's not a robber. It's her men. They broke in and stole my hard disk. That's in where I had every records.' He eyed me sternly, and I felt that I must be clear, 'everything like my client details, my past, present and future cases and many strong evidences. I even had a few footages. Evidences against my once-a-sister. Without evidence, I had to lie in the court yesterday and against my conscience, let the accused slip right through my fingers.'

The phone rang. 'Wait a second Mr. Pollock.' He asked my permission. What a nice man he is! After finishing the call, he said, 'Hmmm yes Mr. Pollock.'

'When I was returning home, I was abducted by them. By my sister! She locked me up in a room the whole night and was about to kill me this morning.' I felt the urge to give a dramatic effect to my listener and hence I moulded it more, 'In the eyes of the angel of justice, oh I'm sorry, sorry, I mean according to our laws, killing an innocent is termed as murder. That's ok, but killing a bad one is also termed murder right? Ugh, unless if the killer is a cop or army man.' I saw him nod and laugh. His smile blossomed to a laugh as if I joked. I continued, 'she pressed the gun to my throat. I swiftly acted and shoved away the gun. Before could anyone snap out of this disbelief, I picked it up and shot all the five in that room, including my sister and four other baddies. And yes, according to the law, I've committed a murder and according to me, my conscience and my parents' soul, I'd finally awarded justice to her. I felt my destiny fulfilled.'

He opened his mouth to speak; I interrupted to say, 'No matter if I live or die, I've helped justice prosper.'

He tapped on my shoulder and got up. I tried to get up in respect but he pressed me back into seat. 'No this is according to everyone a murder. To me, this is your destiny. And indeed you helped us kill the most wanted criminal; you should be awarded for that ha ha.' He laughed and said, 'Go home happily with inner peace. You must live. Don't worry about it. Don't fluster your mind with the ethics. This case will be written as our encounter. No no don't speak. Go in peace. I salute to you sir.' He practically saluted to me. I saw in him a real 'Human Being.'





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