You Do What You Have To - 14

 

 

Micky approached the block where his apartment building was located very cautiously. He paused in the early afternoon shadows between two businesses across the street, trying to discern if any of the people walking up and down the sidewalks looked like threats to his well-being.

 

Like I can tell a good guy from a bad guy. I'm sure the shooter, or one of his friends, isn't going to be sporting a bad haircut or have a sign on his back saying "I'm your worst nightmare". They'll look just like anyone else and wait until I'm in my place to do something.

 

He decided it might be safer to go in from the rear of the building. It backed on a courtyard with three large trees, shared by the other buildings around it. If he was careful, he could move from one tree to another while checking to see if anyone was watching the back door. 

 

Easing into the alley behind the businesses, he walked to the street and dashed to the corner, expecting at any second to be shot. He raced across his street and from there to alley behind the courtyard. He didn't see anyone. Period. No one seemed to be outside as far as he could tell. Inch by inch—or so it seemed to him, as slowly as he was moving now—he made it one of the trees. Huddling against it, he looked up at his apartment windows.

 

Is someone up there, waiting for me? For a second he thought he saw something move in his bedroom—a shadow that could have been a person. He stared hard, trying to decide if it was real or his fevered imagination. Lifting his gaze to the roof, he could have sworn he saw the top of a head behind the parapet. Carefully, oh so carefully, Micky eased his way back to the alley and the garage across it from the courtyard.

 

Then the back door to his apartment building opened a bare inch. Micky froze, trying to melt into the shadows. A man came out, looking around. Not anyone who lived in the building. He knew all of them. The man leaned against the wall by the door, one hand under his jacket. Then the door opened again.

 

Just as it did, someone grabbed Micky, yanking him around to the side of the garage. An arm snaked around Micky's waist and a hand covered his mouth as the man holding him said, "If you value your life, stay quiet."

 

Micky struggled briefly, then stood still when the man said, "Your friend, the man you probably know as Gary, is there with two of his people. There's also a trio of men working for a bastard named Mackenzie. Both groups want to get their hands on you—and not to invite you to a frat party."

 

Shivering, Micky tugged at the hand over his mouth. The man lowered it—barely—and Micky knew it would come up again if he tried to shout for help.

 

"Who are you?" he whispered in a shaky voice. "And why do you care?"