The Watch – Part 225:

(In Tom’s perspective)

My name and appearance is now on the radar. I’m sitting behind a dumpster, watching car after car, person after person drive and walk past the entrance of the alleyway. My legs are slowly recovering, and my heart is gradually slowing down; with every second that passes, my heart beats one beat slower until it has reduced its speed to a leisurely pace. The smell of this place finally broke through into my nose, making me gag at the rotten garbage that fills the dumpster and the juices that make up small puddles where I am. I checked to make sure, but I was extremely happy to find that I was not sitting in one of those puddles. But I was not going to sit behind here any longer. I did try breathing through my mouth only, but the thick, lingering smell stuck at the back of my throat, increasing the chances of my stomach forcibly rejecting the smell. I needed to get out of here now before I start throwing up.

I clambered out into the open, making sure I made as little noise as possible, and somehow I made no noise at all. Even though this air isn’t much better, compared to what was behind the dumpster, this was the freshest air I’ve ever breathed in comparatively, and as a result, I breathed in deeply to make sure that I had filtered out all of that putrid air. My stomach stopped doing backflips and I was able to relax a bit.

My legs shaking slightly after not fully recovering all the way, but they were strong enough to keep me upright.

I watched the many cars and people pass the alleyway once more, and once again the thought that I shouldn’t be here crept into the forefront of my mind. The fact that I went from having some company who offered to help me to being all alone once more was disassociating. And it was all my fault. I wouldn’t be in this position if I hadn’t stolen that drink. But I did what I had to do at the time. And now I’m on the Polices radar, probably going to be hunted for a very long time to come. The one thing that I didn’t want to happen has happened. I tried so hard to make sure that it didn’t happen. But it did happen.

I didn’t get a chance to know Tim properly, or any of the other residents on the campsite. I was there for less than a day, for less than a half a day, for that matter. I thought I was going in the right direction; that I was going to stay there until Sebastian came to get me, but that was never meant to be. I thought that things were or had already picked up from being dumped in an unfamiliar world, with nothing in my name and nobody that I knew. But all of that disappeared in less than a second.

Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe I could have talked my way out of that situation, just like Tim did. But I decided not to. I decided that the best thing to do was run. Why? Why did I decide that? I didn’t think things through. I just made up my mind there and then, and now I’m in a position that I don’t think I should have gotten myself into.

Now what do I do?

Before, at least I had the confidence that I wasn’t being noticed by anyone, but now any number of people are going to be actively looking for me, trying to find my face within the crowd. The only good thing that I have in my favour is that I am not on any records whatsoever. I have no bank account, no home address, no telephone and no relations to contact. All they have is to make sure they have looked under every rock, through every crack and in every crowd, try and predict my movements and associations. Before, I was lost in the crowd naturally, but now I have to actively seek isolation. And from what I have just learnt, trying to do something isn’t the best thing to do as that will lead to doing the complete opposite result. How am I going to make sure that I do things without thinking? Ah, but I must think about my actions otherwise I would end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I have to think things through rationally, weigh up each pro and con to make sure that what I am about to do is the best thing at the time, or overall. But is trying to decide whether doing something for the good or bad the best thing to do. That’s a paradox.

From what I have just concluded: I shouldn’t think because that would lead to bad results, but by not thinking that would lead to bad results as well. I can’t win. Ah, but do I want to win? No, I want to survive. Better yet, I want Sebastian to come and get me right here, right now. This very second. This very moment. Now. But he isn’t here. And he won’t be here for an unknown amount of time, possibly for a seemingly infinite amount of time… that might be a bit of an over exaggeration, but still and entirely possible. That’s another paradox. Infinite will come to an end, and soon.

What am I even thinking about anymore? I need to get back on track. Actually do something relevant to this situation, otherwise I’m going to stand here and do nothing, and that’s a sure way of getting caught. Unless by standing here because I don’t want to keeps me from getting caught and stepping out of this alleyway is the best way of getting caught by the Police?

What?

Ok, think. What do I do now? Stop asking that question and think about what I need to do now. Stop thinking about wondering what I do now and just think about what I do now.

What?

‘He’s down here?’ a voice behind me shouted. I turned around and saw a single Police Officer walking down the alleyway, slowly and gingerly. How did they find me so fast? That doesn’t matter, just run. Should I run though? Would it be better of me if I let myself get caught? No, I should run. I have no idea what is going to happen when they catch up to me, and frankly, I don’t want to find out. It’s going to be difficult, but I believe I should run. I moved an inch towards the entrance of the alleyway, back where I came from.

‘Stay where you are and put your hands on your head,’ the Police Officer shouted. ‘I do not want to use force, but I will if you force my hand.’ What does that mean? Does he have a gun, a baton, a Taser? I don’t want to get stung a Taser. If I run as fast as I can, I might be able to escape before he can do anything.

I stood, waiting, counting down from five to one. When I hit one, I legged it. But the Officer was incredibly quick. He shot me. But not with a gun loaded with bullets, but with a gun loaded with needles? The needle pierced my forearm, its end digging deeper into my skin the more that I move it. I knew that whatever was in the needles had already been injected into my body so it was pointless to try and take it out. It must be sleep inducing chemicals that I can’t think of the proper name for right now. But if it was supposed to take effect, it didn’t. I didn’t want to jump straight to the conclusion that I was immune to what was in this needles, but because I wasn’t feeling any effects after a few seconds, then I can only say that immunity is the best way to describe it. I should take this opportunity and leg it. And so I started to once more, and the Police Officer shot me again. The needles pierced my left forearm this time, and yet still nothing happened.

‘I don’t understand,’ The Officer said, ‘you should have dropped like a stone from the first one. Who are you?’

I will not answer that question because I cannot answer that version of that question, only tell the Officer my name, and they already know that. For the third time, I started legging it once more, and once again, I was shot with those needles. This time, three in a row, all piercing my back. The pain was unbearable. My eyes started watering. I now have five needles sticking into my body, each one injecting me with sleep inducing chemicals.

And still nothing. I was still immune. I have no idea how much of that chemical concoction I have in my system right now, but it wasn’t taking any effect on me whatsoever. All it was doing was causing me immense pain. I should give up because of the pain.

But then, before I knew it, the most intense pain I’ve ever felt in my entire life exploded through my body, tightening up every muscles, rendering me unable to move. I could feel the pulsating electricity flow through my veins. The Officer was hitting me his Taser.

And that was all that I could take. I feel to my knees, eyes watering, and my muscles weak. I blacked out before I hit the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)