Rain snaked through the decrepit alley into a narrow river of oil and trash at my feet.
A fist crashed into my cheek before I could lift my hands.
Black spots flooded my vision while my head snapped sideways and my shoulder slammed into the brick wall. An especially jagged piece of the brick managed to jut into my back, almost causing me to lose my breath.
Another punch came immediately.
Then another.
They fell like hail.
My arms came up too late. A knuckle split my lip. My back slid down the wall as I tried to curl into a ball. I tasted blood and rainwater. The sour stink of the alley dumpster flooded my nose.
"Stay down," someone said.
I peeked through my arms to see their face, but it swam in the dim orange light spilling from the streetlamp at the mouth of the alley. He was broad-shouldered, hoodie pulled tight, fists already coming back up for another swing.
Apparently stay down wasn't a suggestion.
A kick drove into my ribs.
Pain bloomed sharp and deep. I folded even further forward with a choking gasp, feeling like I was about to throw up.
Boots shuffled nearby.
'Finally! Someone's here to help me!?'
I forced my head up, about to yell for help when I caught sight of them.
Two more shapes leaned against the far wall of the alley, half swallowed by shadow. One flicked ash from a cigarette. The other watched like this was the best show in town.
Neither of them moved to help.
"C'mon," the smoker said lazily. "Don't kill him before he tells you."
'Tells you what?'
I would have asked if the attacker's fist hadn't smashed into my jaw again.
My vision blurred. The world tilted. For a moment I thought I might pass out.
Honestly, it seemed like a pretty good plan.
Then the attacker grabbed my jacket and hauled me upright. Up close, I could smell his cheap cologne.
"You really should've just handed it over," he growled.
That was interesting. Because I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Blood dripped from my lip onto the pavement.
Behind him, the cigarette flared bright in the dark as one of the watchers took a slow drag. I swallowed hard and tried to smile through the pain.
"Small problem," I said hoarsely.
His fist tightened in my collar.
"What?"
I coughed, spat a little blood onto the ground, and met his eyes. "I think you've got the wrong guy."
He stared at me for a second. Then he punched me again. Harder this time.
Almost falling back to the ground, I clutched my stomach. "I'm serious," I wheezed. "I have no clue what I'm supposed to tell you guys…"
The big guy didn't answer right away.
Rain pattered softly on the pavement around us and dripped from the fire escape above in steady ticks. For a second, the only sound was my ragged breathing and the quiet puffing of the smoker behind him.
Then he sighed. Not angry. Just… annoyed.
Behind him, the last guy chuckled. "Told you he'd play dumb."
"I'm not playing—" I coughed hard, wiping blood off my chin with the back of my sleeve. "I literally don't know what you're talking about."
The smoker flicked the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his boot. "Wallet," he called lazily.
The big guy grabbed me by the collar again and shoved me against the brick wall. My head knocked back with a dull thud that sent stars flashing through my skull.
'Wallet?' My brain struggled through the fog. "I mean…" I mumbled, blinking at him through one swollen eye. "If this is about money, I've got like twelve bucks and a punch card for a taco place."
His eye twitched.
The non smoker in the back snorted, causing the big guy slowly turned his head toward them.
"Shut up," he growled. Then he looked back at me.
"You think this is funny?"
I hesitated.
Given the current circumstances, no felt like the correct answer.
"…a little?" I said weakly.
The punch that followed confirmed my earlier suspicion to be true. I slumped sideways, collapsing onto the wet ground. My ears rang like someone had stuck a bell inside my skull.
Footsteps approached. All three of them now stood directly in front of me, dashing any hopes I may have held of running.
"Search him," the smoker said. Great. Couldn't they have just started with that?
Rough hands grabbed my jacket and started patting me down. My pockets were turned inside out—phone, keys, a crumpled receipt, the aforementioned taco punch card.
"Nothing," the guy muttered.
"Check again."
"I did."
Silence settled over the alley again. Slowly, painfully, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the strip of rain-gray sky between the buildings.
"Told you," I mumbled.
The big guy loomed over me, breathing through his nose like a bull deciding whether I was worth the effort to hit.
"You were supposed to have it," he said.
"Well," I groaned, lifting a shaky hand to block the rain from my eyes, "clearly someone forgot to CC me on that email."
Behind him, one of the watchers barked out a laugh before quickly trying to turn it into a cough. The big guy didn't laugh.
He crouched down next to me, grabbing a fistful of my jacket again and dragging me just enough off the ground that our faces were inches apart. Up close, his eyes were cold but I could see a flicker of indecision pass by.
"Look, I don't know who you guys are. I can't even really see your faces. How's about we just go our separate ways? I mean, I was obviously at the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely your guy will show up soon with whatever it was you were looking for, right?" I managed to squeak out between raspy breaths.
For a second I thought—hoped—that maybe I'd said something smart enough to end this.
Then the smoker laughed. Not the lazy chuckle from earlier. This one was sharp.
"Oh, that's just perfect," he said from somewhere behind the big guy. Boots splashed slowly through the puddles as he approached. "You grabbed the wrong guy."
The big guy didn't turn.
"He matched the description."
"In the dark. In the rain. From fifty feet away."
"…."
"And now he's seen us."
That shut the big guy up. I swallowed hard again, trying not to throw up.
The smoker stepped into the dim orange light from the streetlamp. I could see him better now—a handsome lean face, rain dripping from the hood of his jacket, a cigarette hung between his lips like he was born with it.
His eyes settled on me. I tried to smile. Though it probably looked more like a grimace.
"Hey," I croaked weakly. "Like I said—I can't even see your faces."
The cigarette tip glowed as he took a slow drag. Then he exhaled slowly toward the sky.
"You talk too much," he said calmly.
My stomach dropped while the sound of my heart pounding filled my head.
The big guy glanced at him. "C'mon, man. He doesn't know anything." ...Said the guy that was beating my brakes off earlier.
"Doesn't matter."
Rain tapped against the metal fire escape above us. "He was pulled into an alley and beaten half to death while they asked him for information," the smoker continued. "You think he's just gonna go home and forget that?"
I raised a trembling hand.
"Actually—big fan of forgetting traumatic events—"
"Shut up."
That was directed at me. I shut up. The smoker flicked ash into a puddle.
"This is why I told you not to grab him until we confirmed," he said to the big guy. "But no. You were so sure."
The big guy shifted uncomfortably.
"So what now?" the last guy muttered with frowned eyebrows.
The smoker looked down at me again.For the first time, he didn't look irritated.
Just… resolved.
"Now we clean up the mistake."
Something cold seeped through my chest that had nothing to do with the rain.
"Hey," I said quickly, panic creeping into my voice. "Whoa—hang on—"
The big guy hesitated. "You serious?"
The smoker met his eyes.
"You want him walking into a police station in an hour?"
Silence.
I tried to crawl backwards, but my arms trembled uselessly and slipped on the wet pavement. "Guys," I rasped. "Seriously. I won't say anything. I swear."
The smoker crouched down beside me. Up close, his expression was almost sympathetic.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "They all say that."
From inside his jacket, he pulled something out.At first I didn't understand what I was looking at. Then the dim streetlight caught the metal. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
"Wait—"
The words came out small. Weak. My brain scrambled for something—anything—to say.
"…"
The smoker paused. Just for a moment.
Then he sighed.
"Sorry about this."
He brought his hand down on my chest, the cold knife plunging between my ribs. The alley suddenly lost all sound. Warmth bloomed from where he struck alongside a dull ache.
Rain. My slowing heartbeat. The faint hum of the streetlamp. The smell of the cigarette and cheap cologne.
I stared up at the slice of gray sky between the buildings. It was strange what your brain did when it realized things were over. The pain wracking my body faded into the background.
The cold pavement didn't feel so cold anymore.
My breath left me in a slow, confused exhale. The sky blurred.
The last thing I saw was the cigarette glowing in the dark as the man stood up. Then even that faded.