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Deangelo's Ghost Zeek

In the world of Hazard City

Visit Hazard City

Ongoing 682 Words


238 2 0


Dylan carried most of the girl's weight. She stumbled around her legs shook and gave out every other step. Only the light of streetlamps guided them down the road. The air was thick from the rain. Water fell down the pipes in between the brownstones.

"What happened?" Dylan asked.

The woman's head bobbed as Dylan stepped. Her steps slowed. Dylan dragged her a few steps. "Hey," Dylan brushed some hairs out of her face. Her eyes closed. "You need to stay awake."

She continued to stumble around; she would pass out any second. He took two fingers and pushed them inside the knife wound. Her eyes shot open. Her mouth opened to scream, but only a weak moan escaped. "Don't. Please. I won't talk. I won't go to court tomorrow. Please let me live."

"Who's after you?"

She faded again. "Ghost," she mumbled the next sentence. He turned a corner. The lights from the hospital illuminated the distance.

"We're almost there. Hold on for a few more seconds."

A gunshot echoed off the brownstones. The girl's eyes shot open and her chest lurched forward. Two more gunshots and two more bullets tore into the woman's back. She sagged, and Dylan fell to a knee lowering her down. He turned her over and saw her eyes fade her mouth still mouthing something attempting to speak. Blood pooled beneath her. Dylan turned to where the shots came.

A few feet behind him a man with a scar running down his right eye in a white suit stood. He held a silver revolver with a small trail of smoke coming from the barrel.

"Why?" Dylan balled his fist. He stood and stepped forward.

The man pointed the revolver at Dylan, "I stopped asking that question."

"Who are you?" Dylan stared into the eyes of the man in white.

A smirk appeared on his face. He chuckled. "In good time." He placed a phone next to his ear. He spoke into the phone, "Hello, police, a man shot a gun. I believe an officer is down. They're less than a block away from Memorial General Hospital. Please hurry, he's still here."

Dylan turned his head, his mouth open. The man continued, "Describe him? Um-" He looked Dylan up and down. "About six-two, a little over two hundred pounds, white male, short black hair, black eyes, wearing a black leather trench coat, shirt, and pants. He's still armed." He hung up the phone.

Red and blue lights flashed. The cops raced from the hospital towards him. He turned back to the shooter, but the streets lay empty. Dylan shook his head, and closed the girl's eyes, "I'm sorry."

Dylan lingered. A golden locket lay across her neck. He took the necklace and searched through her pockets only finding a few dollars and a license. He put it all in his pocket and stood.

Between the brownstones and Dylan found a metal grate to the sewers below. He reached down and pulled. The grate lifted enough to slip under, and down into the sewers.

The two cars arrived at the scene. One cop got out and radioed for backup while another checked on the woman. The last two drew their guns and flashlights and searched the area. They walked close to the grate.

Dylan clung to the wall. The light shined on the wall and down the metal. A small bit of sweat built on his forehead. The light retreated, and Dylan sighed in relief. He crept through the narrow tunnels. He came up hours later. His legs and feet soaked, but he escaped.

He reached into his pocket and pulled the driver's license and locket out. "Liza Marie" the license read. He opened the locket, where a picture of a young blonde girl lay. He closed the locket and put it in his pocket.

Dylan walked on the side of the quiet street. He spotted an old Lexus. He drove his fist through the window and unlocked the car. Once inside, he opened the sun visor and out dropped a set of keys.

"People are idiots."

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