He reached the next town by two in the morning the next day. He had walked along a highway to get to a city called Hudson and had done the trek in roughly nineteen hours. As he slid down on aching legs to sit up against a wall in a dark alley he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. That took forever… Sure he had passed some other towns but he tried to walk the most he could in one day so that he could rest without worrying about time the next day; he had to be in New York City by June 14th and even though he didn't know exactly how many days that was away he knew that it was coming up.
As he sat and tried to calm his aching muscles he recalled the traffic on the highway, thinking about how everyone seemed to be in such a rush, and about how even though he was on a timeline himself he didn't nearly cause an accident to make it. The one car that didn't seem to be in a hurry, that almost seemed to be keeping pace with him, was a red convertible with the top up. Why was the top up? Every time Caim stopped at a highway intersection or under a sign or just stopped to eat something from his backpack the car was always there, either parked or cruising by.
Caim opened his eyes and looked around the dark alley, checking for any flash of colour. None. It was a coincidence, I'm being paranoid. Why would anyone want to follow some sketchy kid on the side of a highway? He cursed himself for figuring out the answer. 'Cause a sketchy kid on the side of a highway probably needs a ride… The warning used by so many parents came to his mind: Don't accept rides from strangers. He let out sharp laugh and pulled his bag closer to his side, sliding down the wall a little more to rest his head on the top of his pack. He needed to get some rest before he was forced awake by the rising city.
He closed his eyes and was starting to drift off when he heard a commotion from down the alley. A group of people were coming towards him, the unmistakable smell of alcohol and cigarettes preceding them as they kicked over garbage cans. Caim slowly got to his feet, shouldering his bag and hoping that they would just walk by him. Yeah right. Why do I hope?
As they passed him they didn't stop, but then the trailing member stumbled sideways, clearly drunk, and fell into Caim. "Wha-!" The guy tripped back as Caim shouldered him and took off, not in the mood at all to deal with drunks. He had only made it a couple steps when his neck connected with something fleshy and solid, sending him flat on his back, gasping for air as he struggled to get up. Someone hauled him to his feet by the front of his sweater and his backpack was yanked off his arms.
"Who the hell are you?" the guy demanded.
No one. Caim didn't reply and blinked a couple times to try and get his night vision to kick in. As it did he found the guy's face unusually close to his. "Listen," Caim said. "Just put me down and we won't have an issue."
The guy laughed. "Hear that? We won't have an issue."
A chorus of laughs rang from around them and Caim tried to count how many individuals he could hear. At least five… damn. "How about this then," Caim told him. "I have some stuff you guys may be interested in. Put me down, I'll give it to you, and you'll let me leave. Sounds good?"
More laughter. Caim sighed; he really was not in the mood to fight right now. "Come on guys-"
"You think we're all guys, retard?" a female voice snapped.
Well I did. "No-" A punch to his stomach caught him off guard, as did the release of his shirt. He dropped to his knees, catching his breath.
"Bastard," the girl hissed.
I've heard that before. He slowly got to his feet. "I'm serious. I'll give you guys what you want-"
"What do you think we want?" the first guy asked.
"I don't know, but I bet I'll have it." Caim straightened and looked around to see six blurry figures surrounding him. The one holding his bag was off to his right. As he reached a hand out and opened his mouth to speak a burst of pain flared up in his right hand. He gritted his teeth together, yanking his hand back. No. Please no. He gripped his hand tightly in his left but could see light filtering through his fingers. Light?
"What the hell's going on man?" a different guy asked.
"What do you want?" Caim said through clenched teeth. "Name it."
"You've gotta be shittin' me," the first guy said. "You got nothing."
"What do you want!?" Caim shouted. The pain from his hand was killing him, just like the pain from his right shoulder, his other hand, and his right forearm had.
"Dude's psycho," another guy observed.
Psycho. Yeah. Sure. I'm crazy. Let's go with that. "Let's go with that," Caim grunted. "So just leave me my bag and scram."
"Scram?" the girl laughed. "Wow man, you must be crazy to talk like that."
Caim groaned and bowed his head despite knowing that it made him an easy target.
"Drugs or booze," the first guy told him. "You got that Crazy Man?"
"Yeah, I do." He sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Pass me my bag." He heard a thud at his feet and got on his knees, opening his backpack with his left hand while he kept his right hand in his pocket. He pulled out a Ziploc bag and a pill bottle from a side pocket and tossed it at the feet of the girl before tugging a small bottle of some sort of alcohol – he never cared what kind when he bought it – and holding it out to where the leader stood in front of him. "There," Caim said, suddenly exhausted. The pain was ebbing away but discomfort was setting in and he knew it would be a long night. "I've given you what you want, now leave."
"I love how he thinks he can tell us what to do," the girl cooed. "So cute." She made a gagging noise. "Makes me sick." She nonetheless bent over and picked up the drugs at her feet.
"Chill out," one of the other guys told her.
"Yeah, relax," the leader said. He took the bottle from Caim's hand. "You're lucky dude," he explained.
Whatever you say, just leave.
"Let's go," the leader continued. "But first-"
The guy's boot connected with Caim's head and he fell back hard against the concrete. The last thing he heard before he passed out was the group of drunks laughing as they walked away.