Inveigle

Chapter Five: The Burning Speakeasy

A severe cold front moved in that evening, so I stayed inside with Pam watching television. Not that I had a social life, but sometimes it was nice to talk to Jamal, who managed the pawn shop down the street. Although I could sense his irritation when I would come in just to chat because I had no cash, and I had sold most of my belongings months ago.

We had no guests tonight, a trend that seemed to be happening more and more often. I was eating a half sandwich of probably not expired peanut butter. I had decided not to mention anything about Rick to Pam. I didn't want to upset her, and I really didn't want to appear that I empathized with Rick. Pam flipped back and forth from Jeopardy to the news. She was on a Jeopardy click when we heard gunshots echoing down the street outside.

We looked at each other, and Pam clicked back to a local news station. Shots echoed down the street again, only to be matched a second later by the same pattern of bullets on the screen. Pam turned the volume up, as I stood up. I ran back to my room and grabbed my jacket and pulled my shoes on.

"You're an idiot," was the last thing I heard from Pam as I shut the door. I heard the patter of gun fire and ran down the street in the direction the shots had come from. Every other lamp post was out, and yet as I neared the sound of gunshots, the sky grew brighter. A smell worse than the SCLRDS hit my nostrils. It reeked of burnt hair and sewage. I slowed to a walk, trying to regain my breath, the stench clung to my lungs like mucus. I stuck to the brick wall as I looked around the corner. A fire was blazing in the intersection. Policemen were throwing large objects into the fire. I looked closer, and the silhouette of an arm hung limply down from the grip of two officers.

People! They were burning people! My stomach clenched, and my teeth ground together. Another officer was standing at the entrance to an apartment building. A man came running out the door. He shoved the officer, who went stumbling off the steps. The man didn't make it very far before a triad of bullets found him. Chest. Chest. Head. The cops by the fire walked over to him and dragged the newly deceased to the flames.

They can't do that! I thought to myself. Officers in full riot gear came out of the building, hauling more corpses behind them. I looked around, knowing I shouldn't be here, and a thought dawned on me. Where are the cameras? What was Pam watching right now? I backed away from the scene I was witnessing. Willing myself into the shadows, I leaned against the cold wall. My breath came out in big puffs that dissipated above my head. I watched my breath blend into the night sky.

I heard another round of bullets rain through the night air. This time the sharp sounds originated from behind me. Maybe a couple of blocks away. I ran toward the sound, back past The Palace. Now I could hear screams. They were coming from the direction of the shelter. I saw a man running the opposite way as me. Then more people. Others were just lying on the sidewalks, crying, bleeding, screaming. I ran to a large woman who was holding her side and screaming as she lay on the curb.

"Arrrgh! Arrrgghhh!" I could see the sticky dark substance, that could only be blood, shining on her fingers. I reached forward to help her.

"Get away from me!" she yelled. The crazed look in her eyes, took away any argument I might have had. I ran away from her, continuing to St. Peter's. The loud humming that could only be a flock of drones whizzed over my head. The blue and red lights flashed for a moment before they were out of sight, diving down toward street level.

The same familiar glow that I saw near the murderous police appeared around the corner. St. Peter's shelter was ablaze. News vans were everywhere, parked haphazardly on curbs, a siren sound was roaring closer. A fire truck pulled up to the shelter and firefighters poured out. I watched as they fought the blaze, but not quickly enough. The rooftops of the buildings next door began to smoke. I heard glass breaking mingled with choked screams. Three different reporters stood with the blaze as their background. I couldn't hear what they were saying.