A Man among Wolves

Chapter 18

Unconsciousness was seeping, bit by bit, into his veins.

Selva leaned onto the side of the auto, with his legs resting as much on the soft seat as possible. The wound had been dressed, albeit amateurishly, with the greasy cloth that lay at the back of the auto. It was just to stop the bleeding. It wasn't very effective, though.

The seats were splotched with blood on many places. Selva knew the auto driver wouldn't be too happy about that. He noticed the man shoot furtive glances at him through the side mirror. For many moments, he strongly considered the possibility that the driver might take him straight to a police station. The possibility worried him but he found himself unable to think on a course of action even if that happened. The pain seemed to have frozen those areas of his brain.

But the driver kept driving. Selva saw some familiar buildings and knew he was on the way to the Central station.

He let out an enormous sigh. This one seemed to come from the bottom of his soul.

The auto stopped at the smaller lane that turned into the Central Station.

"I can't drop you up there," The auto driver told Selva. "It would be too crowded and it'll be difficult to get back to the main road."

Selva was already trying to get himself down from the auto.

"You want me to help you board a train?" There was a genuine concern in his voice.

Balancing himself on his good leg, Selva shook his head and waved him off. As the auto left leaving black smoke behind, he regretted sending the man off. He had very less strength left in him. He couldn't put much weight on the leg. It would be an incredible accomplishment, if he managed to walk into the enormous station, buy a ticket for the unreserved carriage and board the train. Then he remembered that he had no money to buy a ticket.

He let out another sigh. This time, his ribs hurt.

It wasn't that late in the evening, although the sun had almost set. Darkness was taking over the reins from the Sun.

Turning around, he recognised the place. It was the Moore Market, famous for the antique and book shops. But all of them were closed now, with their shutters pulled down. Selva wondered why. There was a plaque that gave him the answer. The secretary of Moore Market Shopkeepers Association had passed away recently and they were shutting the place down for a day to honour his memory. Selva had a mental image of some shopkeepers cursing the dead man loudly in their sleep, for having affected their business.

He staggered to the iron gate. It was tightly locked.

He considered climbing over the gate but he knew he couldn't pull that off with the injured leg. So, he lowered himself onto the ground. He winced with every movement. After steadying himself, he lay down. The sand and stone and cement beneath him were gentle enough.

Selva thought of his course of action, his eyes already drooping. After waking up, he would go into the station and board the first train out of this city. Nothing else was needed. He wasn't hungry anymore and he didn't need food. He was thirsty but it wasn't important. The only problem was the money. He would have to do something to make some money. Perhaps he could wash some car windshields at a local signal. Maybe begging would be easier. It would be a one-time thing, just to buy the ticket. Or he could convince some meek, nervous looking passenger to buy a ticket for him too. He had seen some people do that in railway stations. That wouldn't be a big deal...or he could just board the train without a ticket...the easiest way to accomplish what he wanted...

He felt something furry graze his head and looked up, startled.

It was a kitten.

He relaxed.

The kitten smelled his face and licked his forehead. She meowed.

"I don't have anything to give you," Selva whispered weakly.

The kitten licked him again.

The feel of that tiny, warm tongue on his forehead was his last memory as everything turned black.