Chapter Five: Firefight
We walked out of the alley and onto the streets after a minute, Caleb seemed glad to see me as he retold everything that had happened with Emily and him since he had left. I chuckled at one of his annecdote when he stopped dead, turning around and looking behind us at the road.
I looked at him puzzled and then at the road just as a black sedan turned abruptly onto our street, going toward us way past the sluggish speed limit of the area.
"What is it?" I asked.
I saw his eyes narrow with comprehension as the windows rolled down on our side and something was set against the window.
"Shit! Drive-by! Run!" He yelled, grabbing me and pushing, borderline throwing me behind a dumpster a fraction of an instant before the bullets started to fly and fill the air. I knocked my shoulder hard against a wall and stumbled back up as the car stopped in it's wake with four guys dressed in leather stepped out of the car, holding sub machine guns.
Caleb was by miracle still alive, kneeling down, holding himself off the sidewalk with his hand. I could see that he was bleeding profusely. He didn't seem to mind however as I stumbled back up and yelled at me.
"Sebastian, run. Now!"
I wasn't sure what he had gotten himself tangled into but I was rather sure that I didn't want to find out. Much less get involved. Two of the gentlemen seemed to notice me and they started to walk in my direction with a quick pace.
I ran without asking questions, sprinting as fast as I could without looking behind for the pursuers. I dashed in the alley, taking the first turn I could as to avoid giving them a clear shot in case they decided those guns would be useful.
I crossed the next street and ran in another alley, finally looking behind. I could see one of the men running after me, gun strapped around his shoulder. When he saw me stop, he took aim and shot a quick burst at me. One of the bullets grazed me and cut onto my shoulder, sending me into a new world of hurt. I didn't let it get to me though, in my days, I had gotten into more than one fight, pain was something I had learned to deal with early on...
I arrived at the end of the next alley, the man still in pursuit when something obstructed the way, jumping down from a roof and blocking the only way out between me and who ever the man behind me was. The man in front of me held a large machete in his hand, the tip of which he pressed against my throat.
The man behind me finally caught up and even from behind I could sense the cocky smile as he spoke into a walkie-talkie. "We caught the runner. We're bringing him. Over." He walked toward me, kicking me in the back of the leg, making me fall down on my knees when he took out a pair of cheap handcuffs, those you get from second rate sex shops.
The one with the machete in his hand grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back up, toward the car that parked itself next to the entrance into the alleyway. The one behind me, pushed me forward, keeping the nozzle of his SMG on my back.
They shared a few words I didn't understand as we walked forward until two new men jumped down from the roof, one of them a Arab man wearing a duster and camouflage pants while his partner, a black man in track pants and a wife beater blocked the way.
"Stand down, Blackwatch!" The Arab announced, a large handgun pointed at us. While the other held a shotgun.
The one behind me quickly flipped his walkie-talkie on before declaring. "This is Hans, we've got a problem. Meet you at the base."
His partner took grab of me, setting up the blade of his weapon against my throat and holding me as a human shield. "Leave or the man dies right here." He announced.
"Drop the weapon and let the civilian go, he's got nothing to do with this." The Black man declared, literally snarling at them, making me raise a brow regardless of how inappropriate the moment was to be surprised.
"Baptiste, calm down." The other said.
Both groups faced off, waiting for one of them to stand down and drop their weapons. The moment didn't last more than perhaps twenty seconds but it felt much longer as cold sweat ran down my neck. The Arab's eyes roamed around, examining the situation until I saw a glint appear, the rest of his expression remaining calmed and composed.
He moved his hand about and inch and pressed the trigger, the gun kicking back, letting a casing out as hot lead pierced the air and hit the guy behind me in the head. He then moved back to the other and started shooting at him too.
As soon as the grip on me lessened, I threw myself at the ground, determined not to catch return fire. Hans returned fire, spraying the area in front of him. The two others both split up in different directions. After about three seconds, the SMG clip was empty and the gun clicked a reminder to reload. Hans didn't hesitate as he decided to run, throwing the smoking gun to the ground not too far from me.
"Got it!" The black man said, running after him.
I got back up on my feet and looked at the man who had been holding me. He was miraculously still alive, holding his bloodied hand over his eyes and moaning in pain. The Arab walked closer, kicking him upside the head. When he fell back down on his back, he raised his pistol and emptied the rest of the clip into the man's head.
I looked at the bloody mess of brains and blood that painted the concrete and hurled what little I had in my stomach on top of it. Baptiste soon came back and his partner nodded.
"He got away, shifted."
The Arab spat a curse in his native language and then grabbed me by the shoulder. "You're coming with us."