M Street

Derek took a note out of his pocket and unfolded it, smoothing the corners that had crumpled in his jacket pocket. He was soaked to the bone; but his rain jacket had kept the ink dry on the page. A bit of ink smeared down the page with a heavy drop of water falling off the edge of Derek’s hood. He shoved the page back into his pocket and ran to the nearest doorway. Standing beneath the awning, he removed his hood and shook off some of the water from his body. There were no signs marking the businesses on this street and the windows were all covered with dark curtains; so he didn’t notice until he was standing in the doorway that he was at a whore house. A gentle red glow was coming under the door and he could smell the incense wafting out onto the sidewalk.

None of the escorts would be caught in this rain, instead waiting for their customers to happen on their business either from the sweet smells of their incense or from habit. The dim street lights cast Derek’s shadow towards the door and threatened to reveal him to anyone waiting inside.

Derek took account of his options: it was better to be caught hiding out from the rain by an escort than to be jumped out front of one of the innumerable drug dens hidden in among the whore houses and bookies that filled the streets on the East side of town.

He wiped his wet hands on wetter pants and carefully took the note back out from his pocket.

“Take M St. from Market

Go east 3 miles.

Look for the building with the green light on.

It’ll be in a window on the second floor.

There is a ladder around the side.

Don’t be seen.”

Derek had parked his car out front of a mechanic’s shop on the side of M Street that is still patrolled by the police. He arrived late, it was already dark and the beggars and streetwalkers had already been swept off the street and sent walking back to the East side. A few tourists always lingered around that area looking for an escort for the night. One or two might get the courage after a couple of drinks to walk down M Street until they find what they were looking for. The rest would have the survival instinct to go back to their rooms alone for the night and try again earlier the next day.

After nearly an hour of slowly making his way down the street - ducking behind dumpsters and hiding behind trucks to avoid the riffraff that patrolled this part of town looking for tourists to separate from their wallets - he knew that he had to be getting close.

“Green light,” he said aloud to himself, committing it to memory. “Green light, second floor, ladder around the side.”

Derek shoved the note back into his pocket and lifted the hood of his jacket over his head, pulling the zipper all the way up to meet his chin. Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His jacket would keep his body dry, but his pants were heavy with water and his shoes squished as he rocked back and forth to keep warm. The sewers overflowed through the stormwater drains, pumping water back out into the street in a river flowing further east towards the bay.

“You got this.” Derek said to himself. “The story will be worth it. Just find the damn light.”

Derek heard muffled voices on the other side of the door and then footsteps approaching. He scanned for signs of trouble on the street and took off as the door opened behind him.

“Don’ be scared hun, we’s don’ bite.” A woman called after him as he crisscrossed down the road. “Not ‘nless you ask nice.”

Derek was starting to question the wisdom of leaving his car behind. His intention was not to be noticed. No one drove down M Street this late at night. But walking 3 miles in the pouring rain was dissolving his conviction. Why’d that bitch have to call out. He thought as he crept along the sidewalk. Let the whole damn street know that I’m here. A few black curtains were pushed back from the windows on otherwise dark buildings, letting streams of light out into the street as the inhabitants checked on the commotion.

Pausing behind a pickup truck, Derek crouched down to wait out the curiosity of the onlookers. Water poured out of the back of the pickup in waves gushing from the truck bed to join the river that flowed over Derek’s shoes. He checked his watch. 10:30. There was no specific time he had to arrive; not that it said on the note. But he had an hour walk back to his car and he still hadn’t seen the green light. He raised himself enough to see over the truck bed and scanned for the light. A block down the way, on the right hand side, he finally saw it. A gentle green glow penetrated the thick darkness from behind the veil of rain. As soon as he had an opening, Derek would sprint to the side of the building and find the ladder.

From behind him, Derek heard the splash of someone stepping into the street from the sidewalk. There was no time to turn around. A large, barrel chested man stepped around the side of the truck and grabbed Derek by the shoulders from behind. One hand clenching hard into Derek’s thin shoulder, the man took a switchblade from his pocket and jammed it into Derek’s side. The dented blade pulled at his skin and muscle as the man yanked the knife out with a gush of red blood.

Derek heard the man laughing behind him and felt the life draining from his body. He braced for another blow; but the mugger wanted to make the experience last. This was all the entertainment they got on M Street. The man spun Derek around to face him and sat him down awkwardly against the tailgate of the truck. The man took a step back and looked down with a smile at the slumped, bleeding body. He tapped the blade of his knife in his palm a few times, considering his next move.

The switchblade had ravaged Derek’s flesh, but it hadn’t hit any vital organs. As long as he didn’t bleed out, Derek thought, he might still make it through the night. He was no stranger to a fight. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time was part of his job description. Still, it was hard not to notice the difference in size between him and his attacker.

Coming to a decision, the massive man put the knife back into his pocket and wringed the knuckles on his right hand with his left. He had an excited anxiousness about him that made Derek nervous. The first blow landed hard in Derek’s gut near where he was bleeding out. He doubled over, but the man wouldn’t allow him to fall to the ground, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and setting him back on the tailgate. Water flowed over the side and ran down Derek’s back.

Taking a deep breath and bracing for the next blow, Derek spit in the man’s face. The smile disappeared and a rage filled the man’s eyes. Another hit came at the same spot and Derek shifted his weight to soften the blow and leaned forward to double over once again. When the man pulled him back up, Derek slipped the knife out of the man’s baggy pants pocket and thrust it hard into the center of his chest.

Derek saw the rage give way to fear. Holding the knife still in the man’s chest, he made a fist with his free hand and swung hard into the guy’s crotch. Grabbing hold of his manhood and clutching hard onto the handle of the knife, Derek lifted up with everything that he had and brought the man down into the back of the pickup truck. His head hit the tailgate on his way down, but it wasn’t enough to knock him unconscious.

Pressed down under the water in the bed of the truck, the man flailed his arms and legs, frantically trying to escape. The knife pulled out hard from his chest and Derek threw it to the ground, placing both hands tightly around the man’s neck. The monster of a man gulped down mouthfuls of water mixed with fresh blood as the blood from his internal bleeding filled his punctured lung.

It took 45 seconds for the man to drown. Derek held on another 15 seconds after the convulsions had stopped, to be sure.

Several of the doors down the street had opened and onlookers were watching to see what would happen. No doubt, they were considering whether to finish the job the mugger had started or let Derek bleed out on his own and loot the body. He hoped that the show he’d given would persuade them to be patient.

Derek stumbled around the truck and did his best to walk upright across the street and down to the building where he’d seen the light. In the darkness of the alley, he took a moment to lean on the wall and get his breath back. The sting of his stab wound grew to a sharp pain as the adrenaline faded.

This wasn’t the place to stop. He had to keep going.

Derek found the ladder that had been laid against the wall part way down the alley and covered with an old tarp. He took it and dragged it around the front of the building. The rain had forced the onlookers back inside; but a few lingered at their windows to see if the stumbling, bleeding man would walk back out onto the street.

So much for not being seen. Derek thought to himself as he propped the ladder just underneath the window on the second floor that was still emanating green light.

One rung at a time, Derek climbed the ladder. His right side was starting to go numb and his head was hazy from the blood loss. He clenched his teeth and used his left arm to pull himself up to the last rung near the window. Balancing against his knees, he pressed up on the window until he could step through without crouching down. His body wouldn’t allow him to bend more than a few inches.

A silhouette stood in the glow of the green light.

“You made it.” a voice said in the darkness.

Derek chuckled, “Yeah. Just barely.” he said.

The owner of the voice lifted their right arm straight in front of them and Derek reached out to shake the hand that he could not see.

A loud crack filled the room and Derek stumbled back towards the window. He reached up and felt the hole in his chest. Stumbling backwards he struggled to keep upright.

“This is my world.” The voice said flatly. “And you aren’t welcome in it.”

The silhouette stepped forward, putting a strong hand on Derek’s chest and pushing him backwards through the window.