A Different Kind Of Bars

Chapter 8

"We need to leave this place now." Johnston yelled at me. I looked at him, immediately noticing that he was younger than the last time I saw him.

I examined my surroundings and instantly remembered what had happened that day. Johnston was seven at the time but still looked the same as he always did. He never really changed, only grew larger.

The look of determination in his eyes was always there, giving them a twinkle like an enteral fire.

In this memory, he was pacing back and fourth occasionally looking out the window, wearing the dog tags that he had snatched from a second hand store and his twisted red cap. He went no where without these two items.

Just like I always carried around my ring and switch blade, until the latter was confiscated.

In the dream I had no control over what I did or said, not that it mattered  because at the actual time of this event I had been in control.

I went along with the dream, wondering why my subconscious was thinking about this specific memory. It had happened awhile ago and I hardly thought about it anymore.

That being said I still remembered where I would move or what I would say as it happened. The dream was vivid and seemed almost real. My mind was in a different world where all is normal and right.

I lose some of my senses but in a way I gain other ones to make up for the ones that were lost. These are a six or seventh senses and are inhumanly. They can not be put into words, for they will never be grasped by the human mind.

I focused more on the dream. Johnston had pulled me over to the window and pointed at a group of men. They were the Street-slingers and there were about twenty of them, give or take. I did not have to be able to see their faces to know they were angry.

They were out for blood as the expression goes. My blood. Johnston's too. We had stolen from one of their stores.

We hadn't know at the time that they ran the business or we wouldn't have even thought about going near the place.

In this neighbourhood there were four gangs, two of them being no more than four people. The Street-slingers however were one of the big ones. They practically owned a eighth of the town and were well known.

Drugs, murder, counterfeit, con, kidnapping, robberies, you name it, the Street-slingers could claim it. It was not like we stole anything small either.

Johnston and I needed cash. When we needed cash lets just say we made sure we got it and a lot of it too. We  had at least $5 000 dollars of theirs and they wanted it.

Not because they needed the money, they had a reputation. No one crossed the Street-slingers and lived.

Johnston and I slung our backpacks on which were stuffed with as much as we could put in them. We quickly hid the rest of the money in the nook and crannies of the abandoned  building we were living in.

We had been hiding there for awhile and were paranoid. However we were not paranoid enough. That day, we went out to get groceries and met with some very important people who would help us outlive seven. Apparently we weren't careful enough while we were out in the neighbourhood.

The Street-slingers had spotted us or at least someone under their pay role did. From there they followed us when we were heading home from our errands.

Underestimating us just as they had in the store when we robbed them, we got a lead on them. We lost them or at least that's what we originally thought.

However here they were surrounding our hideout. "Dang, they are in the building now." Johnston screamed at me as he turned away from the window and frantically hid the remaining money.

The building we were in was an old hotel and we were on the 16th floor, near the top.

We had a few minutes before they got to us. The elevator was broken meaning that only way up or down was the staircase. The problem was, there was only one stair case so we would have to find other means to exit the building.

Johnston may always have decided where to live or where to get anything we needed, but when it came to escapes I was in charge.

We raced up the hotel's stairs two steps at a time. When we reached the end of the stairs we opened two doors, running onto the top of the building.

In the memory Johnston and I were bent over gasping for air, but in the dream I was not the slightest bit tired.

I ran over to the rusted double doors leading to the roof we were on. I grabbed a bar and inserted it between the doors handles, creating a lock.

Even though we would probably be gone by the time our pursuers reached the doors, I always had to make sure things were good. Just in case things went wrong.

Johnston and I locked eyes, preparing for what we were about to do. We had already discussed possible options in case we needed to flee. Always making sure there were at least three possible escape routes before we made a place our hideout.

This getaway was not one that I preferred though. I looked at the 4 metre gap from this hotel to the next. Then I stared at my short seven year old legs.

"3" Johnston shouted. "2" I said looking at the doors which were being strongly pounded on and rattling. "1" we both said in unison.

I sprinted towards the end of the building, springing my legs at the edge. I soared through the air. Reaching my arms out, barely landing my hands on the edge of the adjacent building.

One hand slipped off and there I was dangling by my left hand. Johnston had made the jump and I was screaming for him. My pinkie slipped off and Johnston's arms came into view.

Just as all my fingers lost grip, he grabbed my hand with both of his. He pulled me up and I hugged him in all the excitement.

Then we remembered about the Street-slingers and without wasting anymore time, disappeared into the night.