S&S9 - CONTINUED

It was probably his very lack of reaction that had been his saving Grace that day, David realized. He had frozen on the spot the instant that boy shot his colleague. Although he had always seen himself as a man of action, always ready to respond reflexively to any threat, when those first shots were fired, he didn’t even hear them! He was rooted to the spot, dumbstruck by the event. He saw only the empty cartridges ejecting from the gun, replaying as if in slow motion, after every shot; the blood spouting from the struck officer’s wounds, and then his face, immortalized in shock, as he crumpled to the ground.

Perhaps, if David had reacted, moved even slightly when he finally stared down the barrel of that pointed gun, the rogue’s hurried bullet would have hit him squarely in the face as well….

He twisted the key and the engine roared on again. He stepped heavily on the petrol, and quickly turned the car around. As he speedily distanced himself away from the crime scene, his confidence began to grow. Maybe he’d actually manage to get away from this, he thought. He already envisioned himself returning home, back to his family, with the coveted money in hand.

Despite all the shock, he now understood perhaps why Billy never left this line of business, yet. Was every transport like this? He wondered. It felt like being in some Thriller movie. The thought of ever returning to the monotony of construction work now seemed so distant to him at that moment. And such a hefty sum he was about to receive! For a simple round trip to Bechet, he thought!

And, barring the tragic event he had just experienced - which surely couldn’t happen again - it hadn’t even been hard to pull off after all …Why had Tiny and his flunky scared him so much with their baseless paranoia and suspicions, about taking that simple ride in the first place? Few more trips like this, he thought, and he could even afford to start his own business, if he really desired to.

Caught up in the boyish elation of having survived the near - fatal incident, David drove on to the main road and accelerated as much as he could - failing to notice the White car, discreetly parked further along the road’s edge. But the car’s occupants did notice him … and as David sped rapidly past them, they were already spelling out his license plate number over the radio, to their colleagues up ahead.

Less than 5 kilometers further, he came abreast of the cops parked in a vehicle that, more obviously this time, belonged to the highway patrol. One of the policemen had already gotten out in anticipation of his target and was standing in the middle of the road, frantically signally for David to pull over.

Although time seemed to sharply decelerate in that very same moment, the car was still hurtling forward at a very high speed. Roused suddenly from his reverie, David stamped on the brake when he saw the policeman in front of him, standing resolutely in the middle of the road, arms stretched out as if crucified by the moment. He braked hard and swerved to avoid him, but the sluggish reflexes of his aging car responded latently. The old vehicle ground to a halt, stuttering and screeching, far beyond where the officer had indicated him to pull over, leaving behind two thick trails of steaming burnt rubber on the tarmac.

Inside the car, David took deep, ragged breaths. With hands clenched around the steering wheel, he thought, Is this it? Is this how it all ends! Idiot! I’m such - a fucking - IDIOT! He berated himself continuously, resting his head dejectedly on the wheel be undone by such a simple mistake … A fucking speed trap, of all things - Chief!

In a brief moment of clarity, he snapped his eyes open and noticed the bag full of illegal weapons, open on the passenger seat, to his left. Panicking, he lunged for it like a wolf pouncing on its prey. He barely had time to zip it closed and toss it on the back seat, when the policeman appeared firmly beside him - then sharply, yet cautiously, rapped thrice on his window with the back of his fingers.

THE NEXT CHAPTER S&S10

The Prospector had completely dropped the phony smile from his lips, seeing Eli’s suspicious ensemble of preparations, almost already complete…

‘And just what do you think you are doing, Eli? You’re not … going somewhere, by any chance, are you?’ he asked sarcastically.

He had approached the young man out of nowhere, slowly and unnoticed, as was his way. But even though he caught him off guard, Eli barely even reacted when he found the old man standing right beside him. Somehow, he expected such an evasive gesture - he was used to the obscene methods which the Elders and their acolytes would use to achieve their filthy ends.

He Didn’t answer the Prospectors’ question, he just pulled the harness out of the old man’s hand and, without even looking at him, he continued to fix up the horse and carriage, increasingly more hurried in his movements. Emotions were rapidly accumulating inside him and he feared that they would gradually, and eventually, take over his thoughts and actions.

‘I know very well that you wouldn’t do something like this without consulting with me first, Eli ….’ the Prospect continued sarcastically, ‘But it is Thursday,’ he said, idly stroking the horse’s muzzle, ‘and the Gathering is tomorrow, therefore, I would not want to believe, for even a moment, that you’d consider venturing outside, into the unknown, especially at such a time as this.’

‘Alright! That’s enough,’ the young man shouted. ‘I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense, OK? I’ve had enough of it already - I am sick and tired of your weary tales.’

He could feel the elder’s anger building up, his accusing gaze sharply penetrating the back of his head. He couldn’t believe what he was saying himself. He wished he could curb this unexpected impulse of insurgence that had overtaken him all of a sudden, but he had already gone too far and didn’t feel capable of holding back any longer. All those years of silence and frustration were finally erupting and for a moment, Eli felt more confident than ever.

‘My family can’t stay here any longer, you understand that? Not after what happened last time…It’s too dangerous,’ he said, then cast a questioning glance at the old man, somehow challenging him to delve into the crucial topic that he had so vehemently avoided for years.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Eli continued defiantly, ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. Ah, or perhaps I’m mistaken again?’ He asked, rhetorically, staring menacingly into the old man’s eyes. ‘Isn’t this what you taught us, then?’ he went on. ‘It’s all I’ve heard, ever since I can remember, we can’t ignore this, we can’t do it any other way, we can’t go out, can’t leave, can’t travel - all because, supposedly, as per the ancestors’ tomes, the monsters of the netherworld will get us - on a certain, specific, night of the year!’

Eli continued his exasperated plea, grumbling and seemingly ridiculing everything he had known and learned under the authority of the village’s elders up until then.

‘But, setting aside the childish ghost stories for just a moment, I simply don’t want my family - my children! - to live in the same constant fear we’ve all lived with here, our whole lives, always on guard, always watching over the hills and the trees, always in a presupposed danger that I, for one - have never had a reasonable motive to believe in! Do you understand what I’m telling you, old man!’

The Prospector watched him carefully all this time, patient, like a Beast stalking its prey, just waiting for the perfect moment to jump in and maul. And when, after several waves of outburst, Eli finally gave in to catch his breath, the elder immediately took advantage of this moment of vulnerability and burst into a loud, sarcastic - clearly forced - laughter, which was probably heard all the way from the main road to the spot where they were sitting in….

‘Ha ha ha! What on Earth are you talking about, Eli? What danger? Ha ha ha! Oh, that was a good one,’ The elder said again, laughing heartily, holding onto his rounded belly that jiggled up and down amid the unusual vibrations of his body.

‘There’s no danger here, Eli - that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you, all along! The danger is out there!’ he shouted, pointing towards the towering, forested hills surrounding them.

‘Within the boundaries of our village, that plague from beyond the hills will never, ever touch us, Eli - remember that, always, wherever you are!’

Eli tried to ignore him. To avoid his gaze. He was so angry that he felt any small additional impulse would make him burst into a nervous stream of tears. Despite being now a grown up man, with a wife and children, the Prospector could easily stir up such feelings of extreme frustration in any one he targeted.

And this time was no different - the old man had understood nothing of Eli’s acerbic attempt to ridicule him. Or, even if he had understood, he was so adept at his emotional sadism that he could easily overlook any kind of insult thrown right at him, no matter how direct or insinuated that was. Nothing was more frustrating than the effort young Eli put in to assert his viewpoint and even to insult or denigrate the man, only to later notice, stupefied, the ease with which the latter moved past any kind of insult unaffected - and managing somehow, in his lax deviation of the affronts, to make him suffer even more, without any apparent effort.

‘Come on Eli,’ the old man continued, much calmer now, trying to slip a coughed - up syllable between his arrogant laughs, every now and then.

‘You know very well we have nothing to fear here. The ‘'Unholy Spirits’' are a thing of myth - stories, like you said. For years nobody has seen one.’

Eli swiftly passed by him, hurriedly continuing to arrange the bags of supplies in the cart, trying at the same time not to listen to the old man’s ramblings anymore. The elder, already irritated by the young man’s defiance, did not at all appreciate the continued ignorance he was being treated with. He had indulged Eli up to that point, he had let him do his number, uninterrupted, interpreting this unforeseen display of “Pride” as a simple bout of onset teenage rebellion. He had been convinced that the young man would eventually come around at some point - after venting his nerves. Only now he seemed to be continuously adrift, and if he’d allowed him to continue in this manner…

‘Eli, listen to me, please! What are you doing here, exactly?’ The old man shouted. He immediately changed his tone and expression to one much more familiar and, Eli believed, much more suitable to his real position and character.

‘Eli, answer me when I’m talking to y…..’

‘Listen, old man!’ Eli jumped up, turning sharply towards him with a gesture so hostile, which he could barely temper as soon as he realized how quickly he could turn this otherwise familiar, routine scenario into one that would certainly culminate in tragedy, if he didn’t restrain himself immediately.

‘Listen,’ the young man continued, much calmer now, ‘we are leaving, okay? I have no time for discussions now. I don’t want to be stuck here all night. It’s already late … And if it weren’t for that damned storm yesterday, we would have been gone already, but the mudslides blocked the main road, through the hills.’

‘Hmmm, yes - the storm…’ the elder grumbled softly, ‘You just wait and see.. By tomorrow, you won’t even recognize this place,’ he murmured, mostly to himself ….

To be continued