One hour passed but still Julian wasn't able to find anything good.
He had ordered that half moon dish so that the waiters wouldn't think that he was just some random nobody occupying the seat and ordering nothing.
He also checked the menu when no customers were appearing in the medical store, and saw the names he hadn't heard before.
All in all he was feeling very irritated but he could do nothing but watch.
A total of five customers have bought the medicine from the store and he didn't find anyone suspicious yet. Finally there's one half moon dish left on his plate.
He looked at the dish and thought the last one left…
He grabbed the last half moon while turning his head towards the store. Then a white car stopped near the medicine store and a person walked out from the driver seat.
The person was male, looked around forty-five or more. Wearing blue colored formal clothes.
Julian noticed that the man has zero hair in the center side of his head, probably from a lot of stress from work, Julian thought. The side of him also showed signs of falling out.
The man turned head slightly, taking a quick glance across the road to check something.
Isn't that..
But that was enough for Julian, in just that instant Julian scanned that man's whole face, his skin color was brown, cheeks swallowed inside
Wearing black colored contact glasses. His beard shaved clean with only the small mustache hanging under his nose.
Julian recognized that man.
He quickly put the half moon in his mouth, took out his phone from his Jean's pocket and opened the camera quickly and zoomed in towards the medical store.
Observed patiently while chewing the food in his mouth.
The man casually walked up to the store and said something to the man standing at the counter.
Baldy's partner walked inside slowly and came back in, under a minute. Placing the small plastic bottle, orange in color, around the size of the finger of an average person.
Thought so.
Julian muttered silently under his breath.
The man took the orange plastic bottle and put it inside his blue blazer's pocket. Took out his purse from the back of his pocket, counted the cash and gave it to Baldy's partner.
He turned around slightly looking to his left for a quick glance. Then walked up to his car at a normal pace.
The man opened the car's door and went inside. In just a few seconds the car started, and he drove it off in a straight line.
Julian recorded the whole play on his phone.
He placed the phone on the table gently and thought, "This could be something good."
He stood up from his seat slowly, taking out the cash from his pocket. Exhaling slightly he put the cash on the table, picked up his phone and opened the message app. Texting Simon.
"Call me when you are up."
He thought calling would be better but remembering Simon's tired face. He set aside that idea, and walked towards the exit.
Paul took out his keys and opened the door of his apartment, pushing it inside with a normal motion.
He walked in and let the door close on its own, leaving his school shoes and socks in front of the entrance.
As he moved toward the hall, he thought about taking a shower. Today had been unusually hot, and the sweat on his skin felt sticky. Just as he was about to turn toward the bathroom, his mind clicked and he remembered.
"I forgot to buy groceries on the way."
He clicked his tongue and decided he would go after showering.
Crossing the hall to reach his bedroom and pick up clothes for changing, he placed his bag on the sofa. His eyes drifted toward the balcony.
Clothes were hanging there. The ones he wore yesterday. They looked almost dry.
Someone had been here. He knew exactly who it could be.
He pushed the thought aside and turned his head to the right. On the dining table sat two brown shopping bags.
His footsteps slowed as he approached. He checked both bags.
Eggs, juice, chicken meat, vegetables and other essentials.
He left everything as it was and walked toward the bedroom, thinking that after his shower he would put it all in the refrigerator. For him, this was more than enough for two weeks. He usually ate only twice a day, and the amount in those bags was more than sufficient.
He stepped into his bedroom and nudged the door closed with his leg. A faint smile appeared on his lips.
Night settled over the island. Small stars dotted the sky, watching over the people wandering beneath the dark canopy.
The moon hung above like a quiet guardian, almost the same as yesterday. Its pale light seemed fixed on Paul as he walked through the Dryden alleys, heading to meet Roxy again.
He had already thought about this earlier while eating. Should he go or not.
After finishing his meal and cleaning the dishes, he realized the matter did not need this much thinking.
If they doubted him, then let them. He would not show up again after that.
If they did not doubt him, then what he wanted would become a little easier. Simple as that.
He arrived once again in the dark alleys of Dryden.
As he was about to turn right toward his destination, he noticed he had arrived earlier than yesterday. It did not matter. If they were not here, he could wait.
He turned and walked a few steps. Almost the same scene as yesterday formed in his mind.
Almost.
Only a few details were missing.
Three individuals sat ahead of him. They were close today. In ten normal steps he could reach them.
He recognized them instantly. They were the same guys he saw yesterday with Roxy. But something was wrong.
Where was Roxy.
He looked around them but did not see him anywhere.
One of the three noticed Paul. He tapped the shoulder of the man beside him. The third one also turned slightly. They both glanced at Paul for a moment, then returned to their conversation.
As Paul walked closer, the guy on the right slowly stood up. His eyes followed Paul from the corner.
The one in the middle tugged at his pants as if telling him to sit down, but the guy ignored it and stretched his hand a little.
Paul had taken only three steps when he staggered slightly. A loose brick caught his foot.
He saw the guy watching him and quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. A sudden nervous feeling crept up his spine.
As he took his fifth step and was about to take his sixth, the man on the left also stood up slowly, raising both hands and giving a light yawn.
Paul stopped. His foot hung in the air for a moment before settling back on the ground. His eyes met the man's face.
The man in the middle sensed the change and turned his head slightly toward Paul.
Paul looked at their faces, one by one. Right. Right. Right.
Left. Left. Left.
Right. Right. Left.
Two of them were standing, watching him from the corners of their eyes.
Paul noticed every detail.
He knew those eyes.
He took a slow step back. Then another.
His body angled away, ready to turn and walk out of this place.
Straight or left. Maybe someone else was waiting for him on the straight path. But both alleys led to the main street in almost the same distance. He could reach it in under a minute. From there, he could cross the road and find a cab or a taxi. That would be enough.
He turned quickly toward the left alley, choosing what felt like the safest option. His pace increased as he slipped into the darkness.
"Hey, wait!"
One of the guys shouted behind him, but Paul did not stop. He vanished deeper into the shadows.
The guy who had been sitting earlier stood up fast and glared toward the alley Paul disappeared into. He turned toward the man who had stood up first, frustration clear in his eyes.
"What?" the first guy said, annoyed by the stare.
"What do you mean what. Catch him quickly!"
The man in the middle looked to his left.
The other guy nodded in a hurry.
"Yeah."
They rushed forward, almost sprinting, ready to chase Paul and get whatever they wanted from him.
Paul pulled up his hood and covered his head. His hands clenched slightly as he matched the fast pace of his legs. He took a quick glance behind him. There was nothing but a pitch-black alley stretching endlessly, the same one he had just walked out of.
But the footsteps were still there.
Faster with each breath he took.
Faint murmurs reached his ears, but he didn't panic the way he had earlier. Less than two meters ahead was the main street. The noise of cars, motorcycles, and buses grew louder than the footsteps behind him.
He just had to cross the street and walk straight.
Straight.
Straight.
As he approached the exit, only a meter away, he noticed a streetlight a few meters to the right, its yellow glow outlining the mouth of the alley.
His instinct kicked in again. He turned his head slightly.
Just to be sure.
He didn't slow down even for a second. Again, he saw nothing behind him—only darkness.
The sounds of the street grew louder with every step, masking whatever was happening behind him.
Turning his head forward, a wave of relief washed over him. His pace slowed just a little. Then he saw them.
Three figures.
All turning toward him.
Fu#k.
They spotted him instantly. Paul was barely a meter from the exit when one of them shouted:
"You fuckin son of a bitch, just wait!"
All three sprinted toward him. Fast. Faster.
Paul rushed out onto the street, stopping at the edge. He looked left, right, then back. Cars sped past every second. They weren't going to stop. He didn't have time to cross safely.
Behind him, the three men grew closer. They were almost at the exit of the alley.
Seconds stretched into something heavier, slower.
"It's not happening," he muttered, and then he sprinted.
The blaring horns filled his ears as he crossed. He reached the other side and looked back, hoping they'd be delayed.
But somehow, they were already halfway across, glaring at him.
Paul hurried forward, scanning for a taxi. He noticed a turning to the left and changed direction quickly, deciding it was better than walking straight.
"Where'd that kid go?" one of them asked. He wore a parrot-green oversized hoodie.
The guy on the right, wearing a long dark-blue shirt and a hat, pointed at the turning.
"He went into that alley. But that alley's a dead end."
"Yeah," the middle guy agreed. He had medium hair, an open brown leather jacket over a red T-shirt, and scratched jeans. "Get moving before he runs again."
The three of them reached the turning and stepped in together.
The alley was narrow, barely a meter wide and around ten meters long.
A tall wall blocked the end, too high to climb.
The streetlight above flickered weakly. In that dim light, they saw Paul standing at the end, back facing them. Hood up, hands in his pockets. His eyes were fixed on something written on the wall in white paint.
"What's that kid doing?" the hoodie guy asked.
"Looking at the wall probably," the guy in the long shirt said.
"I can see that, dumbass. I'm asking why," hoodie guy replied. "Oh, I get it. Kid's got nowhere to run. He's thinking how he's gonna save his ass now."
"The show will start soon," the guy in the jacket murmured.
"What did you say?" hoodie guy snapped.
"The show. That's what's written on the wall. I've been here before."
"And what does that even mean?"
"How should I know. Probably some idiot painted it."
"Save it. Get the kid, we're running out of time," the leather-jacket guy said.
They nodded and moved closer. When they were about five meters away, hoodie guy shouted:
"Show time's over, kitty kid. Hand over what you got and I'll let you walk away with only a broken hand."
Paul turned toward them. The two guys stopped immediately. His voice didn't carry the nervousness he had earlier.
"How about I let you walk away if you call Roxy here," he said, pulling his hood down.
"You talk big. Think you can take me?"
"Yeah. Probably," Paul answered calmly.
"We'll see." Hoodie guy signaled his friend.
The guy in the long shirt ran first, the hoodie guy close behind. The third man, farther back, watched them move on Paul together and felt a bit of pity.
"Poor kid," he muttered.
Slowly, Paul advanced, his palm making a weak fist. As he took a third step, one of the men materialized before him, fist clenched, aimed at Paul's face. But, just as the blow threatened to land, Paul flowed like water, leaning his body slightly, he escaped from his hand.
Quick as a rising tide, he appeared behind his attacker.
The man froze, surprise in his eyes, but Paul showed no mercy. His fist struck the side of the man's face, sending him reeling into the cold embrace of the wall.
A crimson trickle escaped his lips as unconsciousness claimed him.
Turning, Paul faced the first assailant, who now swayed, disoriented by Paul's sudden disappearance.
He turned just in time to see his partner fall.
"You fuc..." he spat, launching another punch.
But Paul, as if he predicted that, caught the blow with his left hand, and then the other fist too, pulling the man close.
A guttural cry escaped the man's lips as Paul's knee found its mark, sending him crashing against the wall. He joined his comrade in oblivion.
Only one remained.
Paul closed the distance. The man, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, began to move slowly as well.
"You sure are a tough kid," he muttered, producing a knife from behind.
Paul's eyes flicked past him and into the shadows at the start of the alley and saw a figure.
It sent a chill through his blood, something was not quite right.
"What is she..." He almost didn't see the knife slash through the air and only just dodged it.
The attacker slashed right to left. Paul stepped back. The blade cut the air just inches from him.
Left to right. Paul stepped back again and threw a punch, but the guy blocked it.
Paul's kick landed on the attacker's hand, knocking the knife free. It clattered on the wall and fell.
Frustrated, the guy shoved Paul with his left hand. Paul staggered back. The attacker lunged, wrapped his arms around Paul's waist, and drove him backward. Paul hit the ground.
He struggled, pushed with his shoulder, and forced himself back onto his feet after several steps. He raised his right arm and drove his elbow into the man's ribs. The man grunted and collapsed to the ground.
Paul stepped back quickly.
Before leaving, he said, "Don't forget to tell Roxy about this."
Ahead, Mia's face was a mask of shock.