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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1036792-The-Victim
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #1036792
The violent become a victim of their own cruelty
Dusk falls rapidly after the last glimmer of sunlight is either obstructed by tall buildings or obscured through a blanket of smog. The dark curtain of night swiftly falls across the city. Beams of light from street lamps stab into the darkness, basking the concrete canyon of buildings in a surreal glow. But there is another darkness, much more bleak, that exceeds the blackness of the night. It is the darkness of evil intent. The night is soiled with crime and inhumanity. Violence prowls about the city like a ravenous beast, seeking its prey.

Signs of a modern civilization abound, yet something so uncivilized, perhaps even barbaric stands out in stark contrast. Are we so modern? Or have we merely exchanged caves of stone for caves of steel and concrete? Snarling beasts of prey long since extinct have been replaced by beasts in human form, more cunning, infinitely more cruel than those of fang and fur.

Solitude prevails on barren streets, interrupted by the occasional vehicle or pedestrian. Glaring headlights shine through the blackness, followed by the roar of an engine. Moments later red taillights recede into that same blackness. Most occupants of this city have long retired behind locked doors, those fortunate enough to have homes to barricade themselves into.

Two figures loiter on the street, ‘thugs’, intent on evil. They perch like vultures beneath a streetlight, surveying the occasional pedestrian, scanning for their next victim.

‘The streetlight falters momentarily. It blinks eerily, then resumes. A breeze wafts down on the street from above. Several scraps of paper are scooped up off the sidewalk and carried about by the wind.’

He was just another stranger walking down the street, indistinct and unsuspecting, soon to become another victim.

One of the predators nudges the other. “Where’d he come from?”

“Who, I don’t see...yeah, there he is”, came the reply. “Coming our way too.”

“Weren’t you watching? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Yeah, so I didn’t see him. Sue me.”

“Shut up, man. He’s getting close.”

'The lone man approaches where they crouch in the darkness, waiting for him. His face is shielded in the night, covered by a hat pulled down over his eyes. Just a non-descript pedestrian out after dark. Can he be oblivious to the peril of the night? He should have known better.'

‘They wait with bated breath as the sound of his steps echo into the darkness.’

‘The trap is sprung in an instant, out of the shadows the first one steps blocking his way in mid-stride. The lone pedestrian halts abruptly. Just then the second assailant steps in from behind and grabs his arm. Brandishing a knife, he places it against their victim’s throat.’

“Out kind’a late tonight?" The first one sneered.

Before he can respond they drag him toward an alley.

“You know it’s not exactly safe out after dark. You could get mugged or something. Lucky for you we’re here to take care of you.”

“Yeah, man”, the second whispers in his ear. “It aint safe out by yourself. Don’t ya’ read the papers? Sure would hate to see you get robbed.”

They continue their taunts of intimidation, probing for any reaction of fear. Between hastened steps, they force him deeper into the obscure alley.

“Not safe to carry cash around in this part of town. Maybe we should carry it for you.”

No response.

“Hey, you deaf? My friend here’s talking to you. Maybe you should answer!”

Again, no response.

They feel cheated that he isn’t pleading for his life or cowering with fear by now. Cheated, then angered!

“What? No last words?”

“You can’t hurt me," he says, "perhaps a little too calmly.”

Stunned by their victim's stoic demeanor, they pause, hesitant.

“That so?” He snickers in response.

Suddenly they strike. Shoving their victim to the ground, they pounce like the beasts they have become. Savage and brutal. Vicious and efficient. Their victim falls beneath a barrage of fists and feet, as he is pummeled and kicked. His apparent defenselessness only fuels the fury of their attack. After several minutes of frenzied activity, he lays motionless in fresh blood. The fact that he appears lifeless fails to abate the fury of his attackers.

Laboring to catch their breath, they converse between gasps for air.

“I bet that hurt," he jeered.

“No”, the other says. “I didn’t feel a thing!”

They laugh at their own morbid humor.

“Is he dead?”

“He has to be. No one could have survived that. What’s wrong with you anyway, you look...spooked?"

“Something’s not right. He didn’t struggle or plead for mercy like the others, didn’t even cry out in pain. That...that’s just not normal.”

“I don’t know! Let’s get his wallet and get out of here. That cop’s been trying to bust us, he’s been getting too close.” They turn their backs on the carcass behind them as they check their loot.

“Not much cash...no cards. Nothing here. Oh well, that felt good!”

A faint sound from behind grabs their attention, they freeze in their steps.

They turn to see their victim struggling to his feet, wavering unsteadily. Incredulously, they stare back at him, the victim they had just beaten and left for dead.

“What...! That can’t be. Get him.”

‘The attack is rejoined, more frenzied and brutal than before. This time however their rage is accompanied by a palpable fear. Flailing fists and feet, hitting and kicking repeatedly about his head and upper torso. When they are too exhausted to continue, they collapse beside the corpse.’

“How could he have survived the first attack? That’s never happened before.”

“I don’t know. This time...he’s dead...for sure.”

“Yeah," he wheezed, "no doubt.”

“Man, that was creepy, sort of like...he just wouldn’t die.”

“I know, it made the hair on my neck stand on end.”

“Mine, too!”

‘The street light falters, it blinks eerily. A breeze descends on the carnage below, catching wisps of paper and twirling them about.’

"What's wrong, man? You don't look so good"

“I hurt all over...it hurts to move.”

“Me too. Never hurt so bad in all my life. My ribs, my legs. I feel like I’ve been beaten or something!”

Drops of his own blood spill from his mouth and collect at his feet.

“Hey!” His voice rises in panic. “You’re bleeding…all over!”

“No, I can’t be...hey you are too! Man, you’re a mess! What’s happening to us!”

Their words turn to groans as their bodies double over. Cries of pain escape their contorted lips as they crumple beside the body of their victim. Writhing, bloodied, groaning...then an eerie silence.

Have they become victims of their own cruelty?

‘Moments later the intended victim struggles to his feet. He staggers momentarily then stumbles forward, growing stronger with each step. Adjusting his coat and hat he steps out from the alley and nonchalantly continues his trek as if nothing happened. No signs of his vicious attack remain. As he goes, he mutters to himself quietly,.

"They lie in wait for their own blood, they lurk privily for their own lives."

The street light begins to falter, it blinks eerily. A breeze descends from above. The light dims again but this time the stranger is gone.

-------------------------------------

Later that night, a cascade of blue lights, amid the intermittent squelch of noisy police radios highlight a grisly sight. Several officers and a couple of detectives swarm the crime scene. In the alley inside a perimeter of yellow tape lay two bodies covered by sheets. One cop is marking the place where the bodies are sprawled with a chalk line. A photographer takes pictures of the scene.’

A detective lifts the sheet. “What a mess! Bruises...broken bones...blood everywhere. Brutal!

“Yeah, it’s them, all right! They’ve left a trail of blood and bodies behind them. Never could get enough evidence to convict them.”

The other detective interjects, It just doesn’t add up. There’s no sign of a scuffle. It doesn’t even look like they put up a fight.”

Maybe, they turned on each other?

“Who cares. It looks like they got what was coming to them. They’re gone now, that’s all that matters. As far as I’m concerned, they weren’t even human. Just a couple of bloodthirsty animals.”

The street light falters again.

Make a note for maintenance to fix that light in the morning.
© Copyright 2005 jimagain (jimagain at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1036792-The-Victim