The Movement

Chapter Nine - Part 1

Chapter Nine

Troy splashed through the slush-filled sidewalk teeming with people scurrying home from work. It was cold. His nose and cheeks burned with frost. He stuck his jaw out to form an under bite, using his bottom lip as a ramp to direct his warm breath up towards his nose to defrost it. Across the street, he noticed an old man sitting beneath a shop window. Curious, Troy crossed the street in a rush to avoid getting hit by the oncoming traffic. The old man appeared frozen as he held a sign out in front of him, using his knees as a platform. The sign read:

THE MOVEMENT WILL RISE AGAIN!

Fascinated, Troy approached the old man and stopped beside him to avoid getting swept under the scurry flow of people along the sidewalk. The old man’s silver hair and beard glistened under the bright moonlight and street lamps. Troy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a shiny gold coin. He flipped it to the old man, landing in his lap. Troy smiled, then continued his walk with the congested crowd.

After only a few steps, Troy heard the old man mutter something. He stopped and turned around. The old man stared at Troy with cold, icy eyes. He lifted his clenched first, the coin inside, and pointed his finger at Troy, directing him to come back.

“You live in a nice house and have plenty to spare. Why don’t you flip me some more coins?” muttered the old man through his aged voice.

Troy felt anger overtake his emotions. He pointed at the old man, screaming at the top of his lungs in a raspy voice fused with adrenaline.

“You must go! I don’t ever want to see you here again, you filthy, worthless scum! You stain this nation, this civilization! Go! Go Now!” he shouted.

The old man dipped his head in sadness. Troy turned away, walking furiously past the steady flow of people. The old man staggered to his feet, walking in the opposite direction. The flow of people split in two as the old man pierced the oncoming flow of sidewalk walkers.