nsfw

Sammy Jankis, Part 3

by james mathias / 2016 / serials

Sammy was still struggling to find an excuse for his odd behavior when the first bullet whizzed past his eye line, leaving a streak of light and dust in it’s wake. Sammy froze. Lu grabbed Sammy by his thin arm, spun and yanked him towards the back of the bodega. Shuffling ducked down heading towards the exit. Milk and orange juice shooting out in arced streams of white and mild orange, cans exploding as they pass, sending wet and salty shrapnel everywhere.

The exit in sight, Lu still pulling and shuffling, Sammy still in shock. A bullet hits the Exit sign above the door bursting the lights inside, sending a shower of sparks onto Sammy’s shoulders and into his hair. Through the door and quickly navigating the short maze of boxes in the stock room towards the back alley, the sound of bullets still screaming through the air and tearing through innocent products sat on their shelves.

Lu first, then Sammy burst back into the bright sun in the alley behind the bodega, Lu loosens her grip, Sammy doubled over gasping for air and trying to brush the exit sparks out of his thick hair, and letting his sliver eyes adjust again to the sun he’d just recently escaped.

“What the fuck?!” Lu scolds.

Sammy shrugs. Sammy does this too often. Sammy is far too easy going especially when compared to the events of his so far fairly short life. This is one of a few things that really gets to Lu. Considering the current predicament, she decides to let it go.

“We need to get out of here, Samuel. Like right now.”

“Yeah, let’s jet.” he says casually. As if bullets hadn’t almost turned him to swiss cheese. Lu inhales sharply, and grabs his arm again, this time less forcefully. Together they head through the propped open back door of a Chinese restaurant directly behind the bodega. The Golden Shrimp isn’t open for breakfast so it should make for a smooth get away. High pitched sirens of two, maybe three varieties closing in on the bodega.

As Sammy and Lu emerge from the empty kitchen they interrupt a group of rough looking gentlemen having a heated discussion in Chinese.

“Who the fuck are the two of you?” Asks a small man in an all white suit, gray hair, and groomed goatee. He’s seated directly in the center of all the other men, and has that look of experience in all matters evil.

It was Lu’s turn to freeze…

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats circa 1899