Prepper

Chapter Two

It's enough to turn the tide and Camo dude throws Hoodie off, gets up and starts putting the boots to him. Hoodie has no fight left in him, but Camo doesn't care. I don't think either of them has really noticed me still, both are caught up in the moment.

Two cops come around the corner; all flashlights and guns, yelling. I throw my hands in the air instantly.

*****

I'm in handcuffs, sitting on a curb next to Camo. This is a new first for me. The cuffs are cold and hard and they pinch. I don't care much for them.

People peer out from their windows and porches all up and down the avenue. This is not the image I want my neighbours to associate with me. A clean-cut guy, in plaid pyjama pants and a white t-shirt that says Wo0t. That's bad enough already, but I finished the ensemble with the rattiest pair of beat up, old hiking boots on the planet. I also went sockless, so this weeks fashion disaster award if definitely going to me.

Of course, I'm paired up on the curb with Captain Camo, we look like accomplices and if the cops were fashion police they would be arresting us both on the spot.

Captain Camo doesn't give a shit about fashion though. He spits blood out onto the the road and curses under his breath. My mind has finally caught up with my body. I have regrets. We have both given statements. Camo has relayed the sequence of events that lead to the fracas in the alley.

Hoodie broke into his garage, looks like he was going to steal gas. It's happening so frequently now that I'm not in any way surprised. Camo's dog barked and he went to investigate. He surprised the guy in the garage when he flicked on the light, Hoodie pointed a gun and Camo ducked back inside, but his dog, Ranger, went after the guy.

Hoodie runs out of the garage, but can't outrun Ranger, so he turns and fires three shots. The dog goes down. Camo grabs his bow off a rack in the garage, nocks an arrow and flies after Hoodie, he catches him in the street a few doors down. I witnessed the rest.

"I should've shot the bastard." He says.

"Good thing you didn't." One of the cops is now standing over us. He reads us the riot act on vigilantism, how I could be charge with assault and some kind of interference. Camo gets it worse, he gets a similar litany of warnings plus the cop tells him he will be cited for improper storage of the bow, which will also be confiscated.

"He shot my fucking dog." He retorts.

The cop just shrugs and hands him a yellow chit of paper and returns to his cruiser while his partner removes our cuffs.

The cops pull away with Hoodie in the back seat, his hood is back, I can see his all too young face. His lip and cheek are swollen from where I hit him with the flashlight. I see no regret, no remorse at all, just contempt. As they pass us Camo gives Hoodie the finger. Hoodie just stares back. I get the feeling that if they run into each other again, more blood will flow. For a second his eyes flick to mine and I quickly look away.

"Shit, I gotta go bury my dog." Camo says.

I feel bad for the guy. Someone totally violates his rights, kills his dog and the cops practically treat him like he's the criminal. I know the local constabulary are under a lot of pressure these days, between the increase in crimes like this and the cut-backs within their ranks. We are all feeling the pinch these days. But they certainly didn't win any hearts and minds tonight.

"I'll give you a hand."

"Thanks." He replies and offers his hand. "I'm Jake. You kinda saved my ass back there."

"No problem." I shake his hand. It's rough like emery cloth and he's got a grip like a vise. I try to adjust my grip to match, but it's too late, my fingers fold together under the pressure. First impression failure.  "I'm Connor."

"You from the neighbourhood?"

"Yeah." I motion over my shoulder. "One street over."

"What the hell were you doing in the alley?" I realize I'm in pyjamas, with a flashlight, lurking in an alley. Second impression failure, now I'm some kind of pervy peeping tom.

"I heard gun shots. I don't know what I was thinking really. It's my neighbourhood, you know, my kid plays here. I don't want it to be a place that people think they can come and disrespect. I think I got more than I bargained for though."

"I hear ya. Sometimes I walk Ranger through the neighbourhood at night, just to keep my eye on things. Lately, I've spooked a few jokers - I know what they are up to - driving up and down the streets just a bit too slow, eyeballing houses, sizing things up. I'll light 'em up with my Streamlight, that usually gets them moving. I bet I haven't seen a cop cruise through here in two months. Damn pigs."

I feel Jake's disdain for authority is on par with his dislike for the unsavory characters who seem to be finding their way into our little piece of the city. I can't say that I'm in disagreement with the sentiment on both accounts.

"Let's give Ranger a proper burial. C'mon." He says.

He walks away and I notice his back is an ink-laden canvas. More tribal swoops and swirls surround the word PERSIST running from shoulder to shoulder. He's shaped like a vee, from his shoulders to his waist. He's seems to be all muscle - not bulk - but ripped. I don't know if it's awe or envy I feel. I make a silent promise to get to the gym.

As I follow behind Jake, my eyes float upward, it's a moonless night and the skies are clear. The stars are abundant and bright and they twinkle like little jewels. I fixate on a group of stars that appear to hover above the end of the street, three brilliant, distant suns stretched out horizontally forming a belt. Orion's belt. Orion, the hunter - and in his outstretched arm, a bow.

The universe is a curious place.

*** VOTE || COMMENT || SHARE ***

___________________________________

If you have enjoyed this and other stories of mine on Wattpad, please consider supporting my future creative efforts: https://www.patreon.com/rickfic