Page 25 of Surface Scratch
Marcus peered around the side of the dumpster, his eyes wide and his teeth gritted together. He reached down and fumbled with his pant leg for a moment before he pulled a knife out. “Stay down, and when I say run, you run and don’t look back,” Marcus said, planting a kiss on his forehead.
Caleb’s teeth began to chatter from the whiplash of the situation and the snow melting beneath him and soaking into his pants. What was happening? He looked back at the door he had just been pressed up against, then to the covered motorcycle beside that door. He saw what looked like a short arrow sticking out of the front of the bike, his brain taking a moment to process the information. “Is that a—?”
“A crossbow bolt? Yeah,” Marcus said. “Pretty fucking lame if you ask me.” He peeked around the corner of the dumpster again and jerked back. Another bolt landed a few feet from them, bouncing off the asphalt.
“Marcus Graves!” a raspy shout echoed down the alleyway.
“Itou!” Marcus called back. “Marcus Itou Graves! Get it right!” He held out his free hand and helped Caleb get to his feet, still crouching behind the dumpster.
Caleb gripped his shoulder, his head starting to spin.Are we being mugged?With a fucking crossbow? His fingertips began to feel weird, like painful TV static, then the tip of his nose and his scar followed suit. His body jerked with each breath, as if he couldn’t draw in enough oxygen.
“Let the boy go,” the same raspy voice called, sounding like it was closer.
“Why don’t you guys go play Dungeons and Dragons somewhere else?” Marcus called back to them before glancing at Caleb. “Caleb, name five things you can see right now.”
“What?” Caleb gasped. He placed a hand on his chest like it would calm his racing heart. He could smell the gasoline again, feel the searing pain tearing through his face, hear the screaming sound of the tools as the fire department cut through the metal and glass that kept him trapped in the back seat.
“You’re having a panic attack. Name five things you can see right here, right now,” Marcus said, once again leaning out to check on their assailants.
Caleb gripped Marcus’s shoulder, feeling like even his elbows were shaking. “You. Motorcycle. Door. Snow. Dumpster.”
“Now four things you can touch.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “My hair. Your coat. My jeans. My shoes.” Caleb felt the tingling in his nose begin to fade.
“Three things you can hear,” Marcus directed.
“We’re just here for you, not the kid. Let him go and we’ll let him leave unharmed.” The voice was even closer. Caleb’s stomach burned, like he was about to lose its contents at a moment’s notice.
“Three things you can hear,” Marcus repeated.
“My heart. Your voice. The wind.” Caleb swallowed hard, the painful tingling in his fingers fading to an annoying itch.
“Two things you can smell.”
“The garbage… and sugar cookies.”
Marcus flashed an apprehensive grin at him. “Ok, one thing you can taste,” he said before leaning forward and kissing Caleb, his lips parting for just a second before he pulled back.
“Something metallic,” Caleb panted, steadying himself against the dumpster.
“Like I said, when it’s time to run, don’t look back,” Marcus said.
Caleb nodded, his teeth chattering in the cold as the wind whipped up some of the snow near him, his entire body feeling stiff and frozen. “What about you? Should I call the police?”
Marcus held up the knife. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t bother with the cops, they won’t come for this.”
Caleb wanted to grab him and ask him what the hell he meant by that, but the chattering of his teeth and the feeling still coming back to his fingers kept him quiet.
“Let the kid go,” another voice said, sounding as if it was just on the other side of the dumpster. Both of Caleb’s ears began to ring. There were two people? What did they want?
“I’m not exactly forcing him to be here, you know,” Marcus snapped. “Why don’t you boys get going and we can play this game another day?”
“Don’t make us do this the hard way,” the raspy voice said, sounding irritated.
“Get ready,” Marcus whispered. He adjusted his grip and braced against the dumpster.
Caleb grabbed his arm. “I don’t want to do this,” he said, voice thick as he struggled to contain the chaotic feelings inside him.
