A book of silences

Chapter six - the attack

There were three ways out of the Square, all running under buildings or roofed in between shopfronts. They were closed off with gates at various times of the evening, but no-one seemed that sure when it was going to happen, so leaving the square after closing time was a bit of a lottery. Tonight, all three were unlocked. With no-one about and many of the shop lights turned off, none of them seemed that attractive.

She headed for Soundys Lane, the quickest route. It was dark and unappealing, but Cat had played this game many times when she was younger, walking along deserted lanes and roads to prove she wasn't scared. It had worked out OK. Mostly. And when it hadn't, well, she'd learnt things about people. And knives. And running very fast.

There was the sound of talking ahead. That sounds like Bee's voice, she thought. A little louder than normal, probably arguing with one of the Greenpeace charity workers/muggers who liked to ambush distracted walkers in the city centre, though what they were doing here was a bit of a mystery. Bee could only have left the art school ten minutes ahead of me, and she was going to be late too, she thought a little indignantly, all fear gone.

 Cat plotted revenge and decided to creep up on her friend and scare her a little. Taking her bag in her hands, she slipped to the corner, head down to hide the paleness of her face in the dusk light. Grinning, she mentally rehearsed her scary mugging speech, imagining some kind of a Robert DeNiro rip-off with fingers pressed into her friends back.

"Put your hands up and give me your bag," said a high, whispery voice, and Cat froze momentarily as the voice echoed what she was going to say.

There was a squeak from Bee, and Cat slid slowly around the corner, trailing fingers along the wall. Ahead, she could see Bee pressed against a wall, arms splayed out against the brickwork. A tall figure stood in front of her, face concealed by a dark hoodie. It clasped her by the throat with one hand, head on one side, and seemed to be examining Bee dispassionately, like a stain on a shirt, or a bug on a microscope slide.

Vague gagging sounds came from Bee as she tried to talk, and she moved her arms to start scrabbling against the hand holding her. Shit, Cat thought, he's going to choke her!

Cold now, Cat slipped her hand inside her bag and clasped the knife she kept right at the bottom, hidden under sketch books and pencils. A holdover from the days when Cat had wandered the streets of her hometown in the early hours, awake and angry following the death of her parents, the knife was long, thin, double edged and spike-like. It was also very, very sharp. Sharp enough to cut you, she thought at the figure, suddenly savage as she grasped the knife. Sharp enough to hurt you, she thought, her vision narrowing and focusing on the figure. Sharp enough to kill you, she whispered in her own head, her mental voice gone quiet and intense. She quietly slid it from its sheath and placed her bag on the floor, before advancing crab-like on the man.

Bee saw her creeping up on them, and her eyes grew wide with desperate hope. The man must have noticed this because he released her and turned towards Cat.

Just in time to receive her knife into his left arm, a deep stab that penetrated his heavy coat-sleeve and ripped out the other side, almost pulling the blade from her hands. Cat leapt back, a nasty grin on her face, weaving the knife slowly in front of her. She'd been trying to stick the knife into the man's side, a potentially crippling blow that she was unrepentant about.

The man made no sound, merely looked at his damaged arm with mild interest, then began to advance on her, right arm extended before him, fingers spread, damaged left arm by his side. Cat stepped back further, crabbing sideways a little, trying to draw the man away from Bee.

Suddenly he lunged, and Cat jumped back again flicking her knife across his outstretched hand, feeling the blade score hard against something. Again, he stopped, a puzzled look on his face, then flicked his hand as though testing it, before turning back on Cat, gathering himself ready to charge.