The bright sun pierced his eyes when he stepped out of the abandoned apartment complex onto the secluded streets of Chicago’s Southside. What had started out as a slow, calm pace quickly turned into a sprint. No matter how hard he pushed his legs he still didn’t feel like he was going fast enough, far enough; his mind was still at the apartment and he knew his followers had different modes of transportation. He had been running for ten minutes until he felt the affect of his smoking habit and the harsh cold winds attack his lungs; he halted to a stop. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, along his face and dripped from his chin to the icy sidewalk, he swore he could hear the drops. When a human is in danger their animalistic survival instincts kick in and the five senses become ultra sensitive; at that very moment he could hear a car engine three blocks away, which was exactly what he was listening for. He quickly realized staying on a random, barren sidewalk was not the best location for him. With blurry vision he searched for the shortest way towards a busy street.

 

On his short journey to towards Ashland Avenue he softly reprimanded himself for his stupidity in getting involved. Actually more like his stupidity in not thinking twice before he shot that gun. If you wanted to go back further then he reprimanded himself for his stupidity in continuing to down those shots of tequila and vodka. But could you really blame him for drinking that much? People all over the world have bad days and decide to cure it with some nice long drinks. But then again, people all over the world, after a night of drinking, don’t shoot randomly into a seemingly empty alley just to see what would happen.

 

He vision cleared and his strength suddenly came back as soon as he laid eyes on the street light just one block further. In as little as a short walk he would be out of harms way, at least until night approached and he would have to find sanctuary for the night. The next day he would be on the first flight out of Chicago to some where…away from these guys who where determined to gain vengeance for something he’s not so sure he even did. Their only witness against him was a guy who was as drunk as he was that night.

 

Maybe he was in a zone, or maybe he heard the car and chose to ignore it knowing that the following was inevitable. A black Lincoln town car with tinted windows pulled up in front of him blocking him from him from continuing onto the following street that insured him his safety.

 

The back door of the car opened and a man in his mid fifties dress in a causal navy blue suit sat at the edge of the seat. “Mr. Kirkpatrick, you got pretty far. But you honestly didn’t think you could absolutely lose us did you? Must I remind you that we specialize in finding people?” The man in the suit kept his dark blue eyes focused on Chris’s dark brown ones. “Fellas, get him in the car please.”

Two well built men exited from the front of the car and lead Chris by his arms to the other entry side of the car. Once securely in the car the two men returned to their seats and drove off to what Chris assumed to be another abandoned house or something of that sort.

 

“As you can see Mr. Kirkpatrick my family is very dear to me, regardless as to what their standing is within my…organization. You could have killed the brother of the best friend of my second cousin, if my cousin was emotionally or physically harmed in any way due to the distant death then I am also hurt by it. And if you hurt me or my family I take personal offense by it. Lucky for you the bullet of your “random” gunshot happened to hit someone very dear to the heart of my family, my baby sister’s youngest son; my youngest nephew. But of course you know all of this from our previous meeting.” He kept his eyes forward only stealing a few glances to see how Chris was reacting. Chris sat very still with his hands folded on his lap and simply staring at them. “ Are you choosing not to respond or do you simply have nothing to say?”

 

Chris took a deep breath. “A strange mixture of both.” He felt the car come to a slow stop and the privacy window between the front and back seats lowered.

 

“Mr. Capone we have a bit of a situation.” One of the bodyguards said.

 

Chris dared a glance at his captor; he just learned the last name of this man. His heart beat wildly and many stories of Al Capone ran through his head; Chris realized there was surely no way out of this. His fate was decided.

 

“What’s the problem Billy?” Mr. Capone had a tired look on his face; he was ready to get the deed done and go home.

 

“The cops have a road block, I think they are doing a seat belt check or something like that.” Billy’s tone had some hesitation in it, almost afraid to unintentionally displease his boss.

 

Mr. Capone looked past Billy’s head and set his eyes on a cop looking into a car three spaces ahead of his. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes, this cop, actually Lieutenant, has been on his case for many years, one look at Chris’s terrified expression and he’ll know what was going down.

 

“Kirkpatrick, try not to look too scared. If he notices you and asks what’s wrong simply respond that I just told you your cousin is in the hospital. If he asked how we know each other say our family’s are close friends.” Mr. Capone’s voice sounded tired and a bit of fear seeped through.

 

“Honestly, if he asks me what wrong, I’ll tell him it’s because you’re holding me hostage to kill me. Why would I lie to him to save your ass, which is going to have my ass killed?” Chris’s eyes widen with shock that he could have just possible offended a living relative of the well-known gangster and killer Al Capone.

 

“And as soon as you tell him that, which cannot be very well proven, I’ll tell him you are the man who killed that highly regarded City official who was simply taking a long weekend to visit old friends. Which we do have proof of that. It’s your choice.” Capone held an accomplished look.

 

“Either way I end up dead.” Chris sunk in his chair and waiting for the inevitable.

 

“Exactly. My way you leave a beloved schoolteacher. Your way you leave a murder.” Capone quickly put on a seat belt when their car was one space away and instructed the others to do the same as well.

 

Chris sat up a bit straighter, that is when he recognized the police officer.

 

“I can’t lie to him!” Chris turned to Capone and gave a pleading look.

 

Capone gave a deep sigh and turned to face him. “I thought we JUST discussed this.”

“You don’t understand, I know this officer. I taught 6th grade to three of his kids and I have his last kid in my class now. He knows me, he’ll know if I’m lying. Did I also mention he’s friends with my dad? This man has known me my entire life!” Chris began to panic the last thing he wanted was for his family to associate him with the Capone family and to also see him as a killer.

 

“Relax. You are a friend of a family member of mine and we are returning from a visitation with them in the hospital. Remember, you blow this and the whole city sees you as a cold-blooded killer.” Capone held a strong composure even though his eyes spoke fear.

 

“Okay.” Chris on the other hand had a different exposure; all of him spoke fear.

 

The car pulled up to the checkpoint, lowered the privacy window and the driver lowered his window.

 

“Good afternoon fellas.” The officer had a relaxed tone and poked his head in; his demeanor quickly changed to one that held a condescending tone. “Mario Capone, I should have figured you’d be the one in the very nice and expensive car.” The officer gave him a knowing look and soon noticed this fellow passenger. He went from condescending to surprise in a flash. “Christopher?”

 

“Hello Patrick…Mr. Stevens…Pat…” Chris struggled with names as he tried his hardest to sink into the seat, maybe it would swallow him, saving him this agony.

 

“Chris, relax, what’s wrong?” Pat spoke a mellow tone, carefully eyeing the other members of the car.

 

“We just got back from seeing one of his friends in the hospital.” Mario answered for Chris, avoiding eye contact with Pat.

 

“Is that true Chris? I didn’t know you knew Mario.” Pat kept eye contact with Chris, forcing Chris to look at him.

 

Like a child just caught stealing from the cookie jar, Chris slowly brought his eyes up to make contact. “I uh…I don’t know him. My friend is his second cousin, we met at the hospital and he offered me a ride.” His voice shook and beads of sweat formed at his temples.

 

“So, where are you guys headed? I can take Chris off your hands if dropping him off is going out of your way.” Pat kept eye contact with Chris hoping something would slip up.

 

“Chris is of no inconvenience to us. Plus we couldn’t ask you to leave your post of duty on account of whatever plans we may of may not have.” Mario took a small glance towards Pat. While Chris continued to stare at his hands

 

“Okay then, I won’t keep you guys any longer. I’ll see you around Chris. Tell your dad I said ‘Hi’.” Pat stepped away from the car and motioned to the driver to move them along. He watched the car closely as he made his way to his most trusted officer. “John, take over for me, something just came up.”

 

“No problem Lieutenant. Will you be coming back?” John watched the cars go by making sure the officers didn’t miss anyone.

 

“I don’t think I will be. Be on stand by with your radio, I might need some back-up.” Pat walked to one of the undercover cop cars and followed Mario’s car.

…. …. …. …. ….

 

Chris stared up at another abandoned house that blended in with the other houses perfectly; this one located just near Bridgeport area (Chicago White Sox stadium). He took a deep sigh; nothing short of a miracle was going to save him. Part of him hoped that Pat would be suspicious and follow them, saving him from Mario Capone. His other half hoped Mario would take him and he could die beloved. Either way he was dead, only one required him to go through a trial process. The best choice was to go with Mario, why would he want to put his family through that humiliation? Through all these rambling thoughts something nagged at him; what if he didn’t do it? What if the bullet wasn’t from his gun? What if the man who claims Chris shot Mario’s little brother was really the one who shot the boy and was just trying to pawn it off on Chris? If that case where true, then ballistics would prove the bullet coming from a different gun, allowing Chris to live on. Of course that possibility was quiet a distant one. Another deep sigh was taken and Chris resided to the fate of most likely dieing today.

Chris felt a soft poke at the side of his stomach and turned to look at Mario, he signaled Chris to get out of the car. “So do you own these abandoned houses or do you just know where they are and hope no one is in them?” Chris asked as he stood in front of the house.

“Seriously?” Mario gave him a look of disbelief. When he noticed Chris’s face was very serious he took a deep breath and walked into the house followed by Chris being pushed at by Mario’s workers. “It wouldn’t be very wise of me to own the locations where deaths occur now would it? I have a list of almost every abandoned house, building, and warehouse in the city.” Mario led them through the house into the kitchen and sat Chris down in a random chair. “We seem to have a bit of a problem here Mr.Kirkpatrick."

Chris looked at him without a response, simply waiting for him to continue.

OptionsAdd Story to FavoritesAdd Author to FavoritesSubmit a Review