The Undying Fire

3

       Catherine, he thought, bursting out from the lobby of the Marriot and into the storm. Out of the frying pan. . . and into the rain. The thought made him laugh.

     "What's so funny, you freak?" Mark asked from behind. Bryan tried to turn, but that would mean going against the tide that was a mass of panicked people. Instead, he, along with everyone else, were swept on a path through the roundabout and away from the homeless. As far away as possible. There are so many, he realized. Some were wrapped in multi-coloured towels and torn brown jackets, while others hardly had more than a few rags to protect their thin figures from the storm. Some tried to force themselves to the doors of the hotel, but the police pushed them back with their shields, marching forward with persistence.

     Suddenly, the crowd stopped at a wall of police. People behind Bryan screamed. He heard the blaring shrieks of sirens. The blue and red lights of a police car flashed above the heads of the people around him. Lightning striked. Cue thunder. With it came a sudden burst of energy from the homeless. Several of them managed to knock over a policeman and trample him as they struggled to the doors, but more shields barred their path; an inpenetrable wall of plastic.

     "Fuck this! Let's go!" Mark used Bryan as support while he tried to vault himself in the air to gain the attention of the police. If they saw him, they remained unstirred. The rain pattered on their plastic visors. Peter tried to squirm in between Bryan and Mark--a poor attempt at staying relevant. At least he's being demanding about it.

     "Why won't they let us go?" Bryan hoped Peter's nasal voice would be drowned amidst the mess, but nothing seemed to be going his way tonight.

     "Catherine." Bryan finally managed to face Mark. "Where is she?"

     "I don't know. She was going to meet James, wherever the hell he is," Mark replied, shoving someone aside and swimming through the crowd. Bryan followed, hoping to lose Peter behind him.

     "James isn't going where he said he was!" Bryan called after his friend, but the sirens of an ambulance as it pulled into the roundabout made him unheard. He checked his phone. Still no reply from James. I should call Catherine. His heart fluttered at the thought. But something else caught his attention; the crack of lighting, or what sounded like lightning. 

     "What was that?" Peter's voice. He still hadn't lost him. Another loud bang. Bryan turned to see two policemen standing on a car with assault rifles in their hands. A homeless man smashed the car window with a stick, and the police opened fire.

     Flashes of white erupted from the weapons as scores of homeless fell to the ground. It was too dark to tell, but he thought he saw a bright spray of blood explode into the air.

     "What the fuck?" Peter clutched Bryan's arm and tugged him this way and that, panicked. Someone cut in between them as the crowd dispersed, people running in every direction. 

     "Mark?" Bryan called, making his way to where he thought his best friend had gone. Instead, he came face to face with a police banner slapped across a plastic wall. The police marched forward, but Bryan froze in place.

     "move back!" A voice exclaimed from behind the plastic barrier. He didn't move. The shield hit him square in the nose.

     It was only when Mark gently slapped his cheek did Bryan realize where he was. He was still on the roundabout. Is this the Marriot? He looked around as his friend helped him to his feet.

     "The hell you let him hit you for?" Mark shouted in his ear. Bryan could hardly hear over the gunfire. "Look at that poor bastard," there was a slight devilish chuckle in Mark's voice as he lead Bryan over to someone rolling on the pavement in agony. It was Peter. "Pepperspray caught him right in the face."

     "Screw you, Mark!" Peter sobbed as he held his face. "It hurts, man!"

     "I know, I know, I'm sorry." Mark let go of Bryan and helped Peter to his feet. Bryan fell to his knees. "Jesus, do I have to carry you both?"

     "No, I'm fine." Bryan swatted Mark's hand away when he came back for him. He was in a daze, but he wanted to walk by himself. He rubbed his nose and took his hand away to see it coated in blood. He managed to stand, although he staggered as he followed Peter and Mark across the roundabout. Chaos ensued behind. The police had stopped firing as the homeless were now swarming the pedestrians, beating them and stripping them of their wallets and jewelry.

     Peter whimpered softly as his arm was slung over Mark's shoulder, the two of them jogging through the rain. Several others who managed to slip away from the carnage outside the Marriot were racing away in all directions--any direction, as long as it wasn't here. Another ambulance whipped by, the sound of it's siren drowned by a thunderclap as fierce as Bryan's undying affection for Catherine.

     Catherine, he thought with dark envy as his foot splashed into a deep puddle.