After finding the dirt trail that led to the city, it didn’t take long for the trees to thin. He passed a few campsites along the way and took some provisions for himself, tossing water bottles off the trail after he was done with them.
He finally met rocky pavement. Vehicles were neatly parked by barriers or within faded parking spaces. A few had piece a piece of paper with the police department's logo printed.
He carried by away across the parking lot, wincing every step he took. His leg had finally reached its limit. Nevertheless, there was no time to waste. He had to hurry before they did anything to her—daring not to think about what would happen if he were too late.
“Oh shit, what happened to you?!”
Before he knew it, he was already on the sidewalk. His clothes were torn and burnt, with blood bleeding through the fabric of his shredded shirt.
Snapped from his trance, he saw citizens all around him—some approaching with looks of concern, others avoiding eye contact. A few already had their phones out, their fingers frantically tapping their screens.
“Is that blood—?”
“I’m fine! Mind your business,” he said as he shook off a hand that grasped his shoulder. But in doing so, he lost his footing and fell backward toward the road.
“Hey, watch out!” the man whom Hezekiah had brushed off cried out.
Bright lights flashed in the corner of his vision. A truck horn blasted beside him. The multitude shielded their eyes.
Again!? No! I didn’t come all this way to die twice.
Extending his hand toward the truck, a white flame danced around his fingers before a pen appeared. But before the pen could change states, a force pushed him to the other side of the lane, forcing the other drivers to slam their brakes.
In Hezekiah’s place was the man he had brushed off. Hezekiah stared, dumbfounded, at him.
Shit! Is he insane!?
The truck rammed through the man. A loud thump echoed throughout the block as his body tumbled down the road, blood smearing the smooth pavement.
Screams burst from the crowd upon impact. Pedestrians hurried toward Hezekiah and toward the man who had just saved him.
“Are you hurt anywhere!? Someone call an ambulance!” a man commanded as he kneeled beside Hezekiah, a trace of weariness visible in his demeanor.
Traffic remained still as drivers exited their vehicles. Some continued going about their day.
“Worry about him. Forget about me,” Hezekiah quickly stated, trying to lift himself up—only to find his leg quivering, causing him to grimace every time he tried to move it.
“You’re not going anywhere in that state! Why is there so much blood on you?! You weren’t hit, were you?”
Hezekiah remained silent, pondering his next words, paying no mind to the phone cameras zoomed in on him. Chatter mingled within the crowd, even some calling out to him, asking if he was okay—while their phones shielded who they were. Though most attention was directed toward the man who laid motionless in the street.
But it wasn’t due to a lack of care that Hezekiah ignored the onlookers. It was that he recognized the individual before him.
Running into him couldn’t possibly come at a worse moment.
Seeing Hezekiah not responding, the man sighed interlocked his fingers together.
“I’m Fyinn. Got a name?” he said, adjusting his gold-trimmed glasses. Noticing mud on Hezekiah’s shoes and his clothes partially burnt, a scent of seawater wafted into Fyinn’s nostrils as he got closer.
Interesting. Was he in a fire before this and dove into a lake? But why is his skin fine and not his clothes? And they don’t look damp either... Fyinn thought, a slight intrigue grasped hold of him.
Hezekiah furrowed his brows, hesitating to give out his name. Ideally, he wanted to ambush the organization while they thought he was dead, but with all these people recording him, that plan was out the window. And secondly, giving his name to this guy was not an option.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Isn’t he one of the detectives from the Micos Police Department that’s currently investigating the Organization?
He pursed his lips before finally responding. “It’s Joshua. Happy now?” he said, monitoring Fyinn’s reaction.
“Only glad to see you’re okay. Are you currently in pain anywhere?” Fyinn asked as he observed a piece of fabric restraining Hezekiah’s bleeding.
“Never mind him! What about the guy that was just hit by the truck?!” a woman shouted, directly looking at the detective.
“Do I look like a doctor to you? And I wouldn’t be much use anyway,” Fyinn stated, narrowing his sight at the truck.
“So pretending to be useful is better? Don’t you see you’re not any help here either?” Hezekiah said, a slight irritation in his tone.
Fyinn smiled lightly and patted Hezekiah on the shoulder, causing Hezekiah to grit his teeth and tense his posture.
“Oh, my bad. I didn’t expect you were injured anywhere else,” he grinned.
Twisting his brows, Hezekiah swatted away his arm, leaving a shallow scratch on Fyinn’s wrist. Fyinn tilted his head slightly and chuckled in response.
“A little too aggressive over something that was an accident, don’t you think?” Fyinn remarked. “There’s no need to look at me like that.”
The woman observing the atmosphere between them stepped between the two.
“Just leave! Does he look like he wants any help?”
“Whether he wants it or not doesn’t matter. What kind of detective would I be if I let a man with bloody clothes wander the streets?” he withdrew his badge from his pocket.
The woman slightly frowned but reluctantly nodded, given the circumstances—but not without questioning his actions.
“Even so, don’t the driver and the one who was struck have a higher priority?”
He waved her off. “Yeah yeah, I’ll get to them eventually. And besides—” he pointed to the man who had saved Hezekiah, who currently had someone trying to resuscitate him— “You can’t honestly expect me to speak to someone in that condition.”
Not too soon after, sirens could be heard echoing in the distance. Engines revved up, and bystanders rushed back into their vehicles, trying to create space while ambulances honked their horns.
Fyinn, seeing the crowd hastily moving out of the way, decided to give space as well—but stopped himself midway after fixing the date on his watch.
“Joshua, was it? Funny, I could’ve sworn you were somebody else,” he verbalized with a tint of certainty.
“Have you considered buying a new pair of glasses? Maybe that would’ve saved us a bit of trouble.”
A negligible smirk escaped Fyinn as ambulances pulled up beside Hezekiah and the man who had collided with the truck.
After slamming their brakes, the doors shot open while the paramedics sprinted to the man’s side. Their expressions marginally relaxed when they saw his breaths were steady—but that didn’t slow their pace.
Hezekiah wanted to make his way toward the crowd, but with his leg barely listening to him, he resigned himself to be transported to the hospital. Slamming his fist against the ground as thoughts of his sister arose.
Police vehicles also appeared. A few of the officers questioned the driver about the events. Some even approached Fyinn as he relayed the situation to them.
For a brief moment, they glanced at Hezekiah. But he pretended not to notice, instead, he focused on one of the paramedics approaching him.
“They got you patched up that quickly? Any other injuries that you’re aware of?” the paramedic asked, opening his medkit and preparing to replace the torn fabric with proper bandages.
About to shake his head, Hezekiah remembered the pain in his shoulder.
That damn squid. Why did it fling me into the cage like that?
“My shoulder kinda hurts.”
Seeing the paramedic try to search for the spot he pointed to, he didn’t try to stop him.
Twitching as the paramedic applied pressure over it, the man assessed the rest of Hezekiah’s condition.
After removing the fabric, a gaping hole met his eyes. His countenance darkened at the sight, and quickly wrapped a gauze around the wound.
“Your shoulder is nothing too serious—only soreness. Nevertheless, your leg must be properly treated,” he commented, as a couple of paramedics brought out a stretcher. “How did you get this wound on your leg?”
Hezekiah opened his mouth but halted himself, unsure how to respond.
It’s very likely everything I say will be documented. And since the police are also involved in this incident, they’ll have their own reports. I also can’t rule out the possibility that Fyinn might look more into this matter.
“It can’t be that bad. There’s nothing you can do here? It shouldn’t be that serious,” he asked with a hint of hope.
The paramedic stared at him in disbelief. “I’m surprised you’re still awake. However, for your safety—and to ensure there are no more hidden injuries—you must be transported. Tell me what happened.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for debate.
Hezekiah exhaled deeply after hearing those words. “I’m not sure. Someone attacked me in the forest during my nightly jogs. It was dark, so it was hard to see anything. All I know is that while I was defending myself, I felt a sharp pain through my thigh.”
“You mean this injury has nothing to do with the truck?” the paramedic asked, making sure not to miss a single word. Though based on the injury, he could’ve assumed that. But he hadn’t expected the man before him to have been attacked and to have escaped from the forest. Still, he couldn’t get caught up in the details.
“As I was making my way to the hospital, someone grabbed me, causing me to lose my balance and stumble onto the road. And, well...”
“I see.” Already putting the pieces together, he called for the other paramedics to bring the stretcher. “At least your life is intact. Is your attacker also the reason why your shoulder is in pain?”
“I have no idea, man.”
“That’s fine. Let’s get you properly fixed up.”
After hearing his response, they loaded him into the ambulance and took off immediately, jerking Hezekiah’s body. The momentum of every sharp turn and hard brake reminded him of his sister’s driving—except this time, sirens weren’t pursuing them.
