Young Writers Society

The morning air was crisp and thin, just cold enough to be like needles with every inhale and to come out in a burst of fog. The few who were out at this hour of the morning walked briskly, making no eye contact with anyone they happened to pass. The sun was just starting to rise, and even then, it was obscured by the thick blanket of clouds that enveloped the city.

In this place, a stranger exists unnoticed. With no clue where he is, or even what world he is on, the foreigner appears in one of the many darkened alley's, on the ground behind a dumpster where he can hear a collection of taunting voices and groans of pain.

"Come on, kiddo, ya gotta know something." The man's hot breath brushed Bobby's ear as he leaned in, speaking slowly, patronizing, taunting.

There was a long, long pause where Bobby said nothing, where Bobby did nothing, where Bobby, still as a statue, hardly even breathed.

The man shifted, the thin film of sand on the concrete that no one ever seemed to notice crunching beneath his boots as he leaned back on his heels and sighed. "Don't go crying to your nanny sayin' we didn't try this the easy way."

Bobby's ribs throbbed in silent, painful disagreement.

He had only a half second to brace - curling up tighter and protecting his head - before the next hard kick came, aimed for his stomach. It landed on his shins, but he didn't have any time at all to be glad about avoiding a worse fate before a claw-like grip snatched up his hair and dragged him to his feet. His head was slammed against the brick wall, and all he could see was stars.

The taste of blood filled his mouth as the leader spoke again, leaning so close Bobby could feel his spit on his cheek. "You're getting cocky, kid, ya know that? You think that I won't kill ya? Is that it?"

Bobby whimpered. The urge to struggle built up in his muscles, growing ever harder to beat down.

Kazimir took in a deep breath.

He was by a dumpster, and despite the cold, it smelled. Or he smelled. He wasn't going to sniff either.

It was happening again. He was somewhere else in the world, or in a different one. Hell if he knew. Still on the ground, belly-up, he quietly zipped his leather jacket up with his thumb against the metal to mute it. As he pulled it to his chest he narrowed his eyes at the nippy air for being so cold.

He was dressed for a fall day in California, not whatever the hell this was. That said, the cold didn't bother him that much. He was just being petty. He knew his body would adjust to the sudden decrease in temperature. He just needed a minute.

The sound of voices drew Kazimir's attention. He was grateful for the cover the dumpster provided as he tried to figure out what was going on. He stayed very still as he heard the scuffle of feet. Muffled voices. They got closer, and Kazimir could make out only one thing, but it was a very important thing.

The person getting beat up was a kid, and whoever the man was that was threatening them was threatening death.

It only took a second for Kazimir's blood to boil.

He wanted in on the fight.

Kazimir took half a second to orient himself. The voices were coming from ahead of him. He wouldn't have to twist around as he jumped out from behind the dumpster, which made his life just a little easier. A sinister smile spread across his face as he swiftly pushed himself to his feet and jumped out, gun in hand, hidden in his jacket.

In the split second between getting up, catching sight of what was happening, and revealing his position he took it all in: a group of grown-ass adults towering over the figure of a child, who was cowering against the brick wall as a man loomed over them.

He sent a shot straight for the man's head.

"Die, bastard," was all he said as the bullet entered the man's skull.

Bobby yelped at the sound of gunshots and brought up his hands to muffle the scream that followed when the leader dropped dead in front of him. The shooter had come out of nowhere, hiding behind the dumpster where there was definitely nobody before, but the other two guys weren't stunned for long. In an instant, they were returning fire.

Bobby's heartbeat thudded in his throat as he turned to run away, out of the line of fire, out of danger, but suddenly he was being yanked back. An arm like iron clamped around his neck, and the barrel of a gun pressed painfully into his skull.

"Put down your gun or the kid eats lead!" the one holding Bobby demanded.

Kazimir threw his gun to the ground, letting it scrape to the side of him across the dirty alleyway floor.

"Oh that's fuckin' brave of you isn't it?" he said, waving his arms wide and marching towards them. "Using the kid 'cause you don't think you can stand up to me face to face? Fucking coward! You want no guns? Put your own fuckin' gun down and let's fight like dogs! Claws and all."

The man holding Bobby tightened his grip, digging the gun harder into his head. He yelped in pain and struggled. "Quit moving, brat," the man muttered in his ear, shoving his head with the gun for emphasis.

The second gang member, meanwhile, fired a round into the leg of the man who Bobby now recognized as Kazimir. "Stay back!" that guy ordered.

Kazimir staggered, feeling the shooting pain up and down his leg as the bullet lodged somewhere in his thigh. Of course it was his thigh.

"Fine," he muttered. He stood back up straight and stared back at the shooter with his eyes blazing. "What's it gonna take for you two shitheads to get out of my alley and leave the kid?"

"How about you get out of our alley and leave us to our business," the guy restraining Bobby said, once again shoving his head with the gun. Bobby squeezed his eyes shut. The trigger was going to be pulled any second, or the gun would go off on accident.

The line of thinking, the horrible reality, it stirred up Bobby's insides. He felt sick.

"No. I am now your business," Kazimir retorted.

The second shooter said nothing and leveled his gun at Kazimir's head. He pulled the trigger.

Click

Bobby peeked through slitted lids at the man, standing dumbfounded with his gun aimed at Kazimir, then at Bobby's captor, who was equally stunned.

Kazimir gladly seized the lucky window of opportunity and lunged forward. As he bent towards the ground - just before propelling himself forward - his hand stretched out to grab his gun, lying on the ground.

He flew towards the pair of men and grabbed one by the back of his shirt, yanking him away, and pressing his gun, which had plenty of bullets to take care of the two of them, against the man's head.

"Bad luck," he said in mock pity. "Leave the kid alone and maybe your friend won't leave this world like the last guy in your crew."

Bobby gasped as the man holding him shifted back, tightening his already vice-like grip as he turned to more directly face Kazimir and his partner.

"Let him go or I swear to god I'll blow the kids brains out!"

Bobby hissed in pain as this statement was accompanied by the guy ramming the barrel of the gun into his skull.

"Here's an idea," Kazimir proposed, looking down at the pitiful, panicked excuse of a man. "Let's make a trade. One, piece of shit adult who beats up little kids, in exchange for the child."

The child, who he now finally noticed, under the shadow of the man holding them, was Bobby. Bobby, from that ghost-haunted town.

Kazimir's eyes widened before turning back to the man holding Bobby captive. Oh, what he would give to rip the man's eyes out.

Bobby could practically hear the wheels squeaking away in his captor's head. The pressure of the gun against his head lessened slightly.

"Fine," he spat, "You first. Give him here."

"You think this is my first negotiation?" Kazimir asked, scoffing. "We give 'em at the same time. Unless you want him first but dead. Okay? How 'bout on the count of three, genius."