LAST MAN STANDING [COMPLETED]

Chapter Sixty-Two

The chirping of birds filled my ears. "P...Pigeons," my eyes slowly opening.

The sight of sunrays tracing the grey, coat I had over me, coming to my view. My hand touched the concrete floor, feeling sharp pain coming from my shoulder. I groaned softly, moving away the foreign coat, that reeked of blue berry and ashes.

Death, I thought, shifting my eyes on my half naked body. A clean bandage was around my shoulder. I looked around. I was in the abandoned shoe factory. Beside me, was my bloody clothes and both my plastic bags.

My bandages and cotton wool gone. My eyes seeing the bloody cotton wool on the concrete floor. I pulled the 1 litre water, that was half way. I stared at it. Some, someone had drunk it?

"What the fuck?" helping myself up.

I held on the wall, deep breathes leaving my lips. I opened the fuckin bottle of water with my mouth. I gulped it all, before tossing the empty bottle away. So, it wasn't a dream. "Fuck," I cursed.

Morgen had really kicked me out. I had really killed three men in this building. My eyes meeting the two dead bodies pilled together. Footsteps suddenly caught my ears. Hinto? Was he here to get me back home?

My heart leaping a little. "I thought I was never going to see you," turning to face Hinto, emerging, carrying a small plastic.

His head lifted. My face fell, as his eyes stared at me. "You," I said my teeth clenched.

"You're awake," he said.

"So, it was you," I said moving toward him.

He moved back, "I can explain," he said.

"You fuckin drank all my water," stopping before him, as he leaned on the wall. "I don't like rats, feeding on other people's belongings."

"To clean your wound," he said moving the small plastic bag toward me.

The divine smell from it entering my nose, making me hungry. "I brought some food, should you be hungry," placing down the big plastic bag, pulling out the takeaway container with the Sung restaurant logo. "Two beef burger and chicken burger with a lot of fired chips." Opening the mouth wetting takeaway.

I had never eaten the chicken burger. Jason never liked it and I guess I had also never thought about trying it. Going with the crowd. That was me. I hated being different, at least that's who I used to be.

Now, I wasn't sure, a lot had happened. "What do you want? You also here to kill me?" I asked, my forehead frowning, remembering Grena and Ink trying to kill me.

Agore, I still needed to pay him a visit. "If I wanted to end your life I would have done it when you were dozed off and I wouldn't bother cleaning you up," he explained. "Hyphen."

My eyebrow with a scar, rose. "You know my name,"

"More like I remembered it, with your friend at the mortuary, calling it, it wasn't hard letting it stick in my brain," he said placing the takeaway down and moved past me.

The memory of Hinto calling me in the Ridge mortuary flashed.

Hinto's phone suddenly thrilled. He quickly pulled it out his pants pocket. "Hyphen,"

I turned to face him. "I need to take this, you good on your own?"

Hinto, he was making me a child. "I'm good," I replied.

~ ~ ~

I took the takeaway from before my feet, opening it. My hands trembled as I leaned on the wall, pulling the beef burger, gobbling it. I was fuckin hungry. I moved to the second one. "I know you had your own intentions but thank you for killing these bastards yesterday," he said pushing the first body off the space, that was supposed to be a window.

I stared at him, he moved on to the second one. For a little guy, he was quite...

"They were really deserving of death," he said tossing over the second corpse.

I tossed the empty container and moved to my plastic bags. I picked my bloody jacket that looked like a waist coat, wearing it, before wearing the dark coat that had belonged to Grena over it. "Listen four eyes, for the food, I owe you nothing," I said, picking my two plastic bags.

"Of course, but that makes us like..."

"Don't push your luck," placing the plastic bag with Grena back on the concrete floor, picking the grey foreign coat that had covered my upper body.

My other hand also placing down the plastic with my loaf of bread. My hand ran inside my jacket's pocket.

"Okay," moving his hands up, in gesture of surrendering.

"Whose is this?" I asked, moving the grey coat up.

"That's mine, I placed it over you when your body had felt cold at midnight," he explained, moving toward me, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his hand.

His shirt, no he wore a grey shirt this time, that wasn't bloody like last night. My hand moved out my jacket's pocket. I came out with the bloody grey button, A button that Zoe's hand had clenched close. I felt my body turn hot, my teeth clenching, hoping the button matched that of the grey coat I had on my hand.

No, it was a diamond shape, where as the one before me was round and lighter grey. I had been desperate, desperate for the skinny man to be the killer. I would gladly rip him apart at this instance. "A Silvestro, button," he said, pulling me from my devastation realization.

"That bloody button in your hand belongs to a collection of the men expensive clothing line called the Silvestro," he replied, pushing up his spectacles up his nose bridge.

Eagle Eyes, he could see from his distance. "Silvestro," I mumbled, hearing him move toward me.

"Why do you even have it? let me guess, you're looking for clues?" he asked a little excited about the situation. He stopped before me, the soft rays entering from the huge space where windows were supposed to be, reflecting on his spectacles. 1.83m, almost Zoe's height. I stared down at him.

"Stay out, you don't want to get involved," I warned him, shoving the button back in my jacket's pocket, moving his grey coat toward him.

His long skinny hands took the coat from my hand. "I may be able to help if y..."

"No four eyes, I don't need your fuckin help," picking both my plastics and moved past him.

Like I had predicated, he wasn't just being a good Samaritan by nursing my words and getting me food. He wanted a favour in return. A favour I suspected was deadly. He reeked of death, not the ashes but him. He smelled like a dead man, how could I explain it but something about his presence screamed death.

"You don't even know where this Silvestro is at!" he stated.

"I'll find it!" I yelled back, moving down the stairs, pulling the hood on.

Such a chancer!