Black Dawn

Chapter 3

He took another swig on his vodka. Bootleg of course. He didn't have money for those expensive brands like Absolut and such. Those things were too refined, and they sure as hell weren't strong enough to make him forget his sorrows. Hmmph. Drowned in sorrow more like. This had already been his third bottle of vodka. He rarely could afford to buy the drink, and whenever he did he had to make sure that he could hold his drink.

He reached down to his overcoat's pocket and checked if his money was still there. Today had been a good day. He had gone to collect his army pay and on his way back had stopped at the local store for his much needed medicine. What better way to cure sorrow than drowning it. Every month, without fail, he would go on a drinking spree, once his cheque came in and he collected his cash. No one told him that severance pay was so little. Then again no one told him what life after the army would be like.

Then again no one told him that finding a job would be hard. No one wanted a cold blooded killer. Not one who had been kicked out of the army. And certainly not one with his record. For the last two years he had been walking and sleeping the streets of Detroit. Looking for a stable job. Hmmph. Yeah right. He had given up hopes of getting a job a long time ago. He had wanted to start a new life in Detroit. Well this certainly was a new life, just not the one he had expected nor the one he wanted.

November snow scrunched under his boots as he made his way down the alley. He had no home. He couldn't. Not after what happened last time. He took another deep swing from his bottle. The hard alcohol burned its way down his throat into his stomach. Nothing like hard alcohol to forget the past. Alcohol was always a soldier's best friend. At least it was to him. The perfect drink for breakfast lunch and dinner.

When was the last time he had had a decent meal? Probably last week when the nice lady for whom he had cut grass paid him with a nice lunch and dinner. She was a widower whose husband had fought in World War 2. She had taken pity on him after seeing him sleeping on the streets and asked him if he wanted work. They had talked throughout the afternoon, about how she missed her husband, about how they would have been happy together and had kids.

Another swig. He couldn't. Couldn't even think about it. He was a monster, the first time after getting kicked from the army, a child outside the campus, one of the other soldier's kids had called him a monster. He winced. The very thought of kids, it made him cringe.

Another swing. He patted his bottle as though it was his best friend. In many ways it was. It helped him forget. Something no one else could do. For a man with nothing apart from the clothes on his back, a bottle would always be his best friend.

The noise of boots scrunching the snow behind him caused him to look behind. Two men were walking behind him, taking slow deliberate steps.

"Well well well... What do we have here?" The man on right with a baseball bat and a heavy over coat asked

"Looks like something the dog dragged out from the sewers doesn't it?" The other man, also dressed in an overcoat, but unarmed replied.

Both men started laughing at the joke, as though the person they were making fun of was miles away.

"Stay away, I don't want any trouble."

"Oh did you hear that? He doesn't want trouble!"

More laughter.

"Bud we aren't looking for trouble either, we're looking for cash! Hand it over and we won't cause... Trouble!" More laughter.

"No"

"Hmm? What's that you said?"

"I said no."

Gathering as much strength as he possible could, he took a swing at the man unarmed man, the one who had made all the jokes.

Smash

The half-drunk bottle of vodka shattered against the man's head, throwing him to the side like a rag doll. With one man out of the fight, he tried to focus on the other man. The one and a half bottles of vodka may have drowned his sorrow, but they also had clouded his judgment as the bat wielding assailant took a huge swing with all his might.

Crack

The blow connected and he was thrown back into the wall of the alley, skull smashed and bleeding.  The assailant came forward and raided his pockets for valuables before going back to check on his friend who was slowly coming to consciousness.

As the curtains started drawing on him, the first man came up to his face, just like the other one had all those years ago... Then blackness...