by Brian Knight
“I had to make sure no one followed me. You got my cash?”
Drake turned, his lips a straight line on his face, and speared him with a cold, hard stare. Trey stepped back.
“Did you forget my instructions, Trey? They were rather simple, don’t you think?”
“Nope, I did what you wanted. You said to scare her real good, and I did that. You saw how that ho ran to your arms just like you wanted. Right?”
“Yes, but I distinctly remember telling you to scare her without harming one hair on her head.”
Trey shivered from the instant cold that seeped into the alley, even though sweat built under his shirt. He stepped backward another three steps, but Drake matched him step for step. Tray lifted his hands to his chest, palms facing out.
“Hold on, man. I didn’t know she would fight back so hard. I had to defend myself.”
Drake shook his head.
“Defend yourself? How weak you must be. People are so soft in this day and age. They do not have anything to live for, but expect to be handed everything. Like you — all you want is money. You do not understand the value of living. Do you understand, Trey?”
“What the hell are you talking about, man?”
In an instant, Drake’s intense red eyes filled Trey’s vision. He tried to turn away, but was held in place by unseen hands.
“Let us try this again, my dear Trey. I am going to give you a command, and you are going to follow it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Run, Trey. Run as if your life depended on it. Run now.”
Trey stared at Drake long enough to realize the truth of the situation, and took off down the alley, turned the corner, and ran harder. He refused to stop until he felt safe again, and then collapsed against a dumpster and inhaled. His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“Come on, pick up the phone,” he begged.
“Sam, it’s Trey. I’m in trouble, man, and I need your help.”
“Man, I told you I wasn’t bailing you out of jail again.”
“No, you don’t understand; I’m not in jail. It’s that creepy dude I told you about. He is…”
Keep running, Trey, he heard whispered in his ear.
He turned from side to side, but saw no one.
“Sam, I think I’m going crazy. That chick ain’t worth all this. I need your help.”
“All right. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
I said, ‘Run, Trey,’ the whisper repeated.
Trey jumped off the dumpster and searched the deserted alley, dropped his phone, and ran toward the street.
“I am sorry, but Trey will no longer be available.”
“Who is this?” Sam shouted.
A loud clatter sounded in Sam’s ear. He looked at his phone, closed it, and stared out the window.
Should I call the police? What will I tell them? I don’t know who that was or where Trey is. Maybe he’s just playing more games with me.
Sam locked up his apartment and went to bed.
The street light’s glow was a welcome sight as Trey pushed himself to make it clear of the alley’s darkness. Halfway to safety, he was knocked hard against the wall. His back cracked, and tears built in his eyes. Through the haze of his blurred vision, Trey saw a pitch-black shadow separate from the shadows of the wall. A cold hand snapped out of the blackness, wrapped around his throat, and choked off the air to his lungs.
“I told you to run, Trey. People just do not know the worth of life.”
With a quick twist, a grotesque sound echoed off the walls as Trey’s neck snapped. Drake materialized from the shadows, bit deep into his neck, and drank.
About SB Knight
SB Knight is the creator of ‘The New Author;’ a blog that started as a learning tool but has since grown into a community of friends and peers. He is also co-owner of Premium Promotional Services where authors can find the help they need to promote their book on the Internet.
When not writing he can be found enjoying outdoor activities such as hiking and fishing. He resides in West Virginia with his wife and son.