Bitten

Funny how things come back to haunt you.

That's something I should have figured out earlier, sooner or later, everything comes back around to bite you. I stood alone on the street watching the car approach, a black Lincoln Continental.

I had been in a stolen Mustang moments earlier, but had to drive down a side street and ditch when the fuzz got on my tail. I'd cut through a couple of alleys and come out in Tulsa's equivalent of no mans land. Didn't expect to see any of my boys, but didn't expect to see no soc's either. Just my luck they were cruising through.

I knew that car, it belonged to Will McIntyre. With Bob dead and Randy marked a gutless punk, he was the new king of the high and mighty goddamn soc's. I'd introduced my fist to his face a couple of weeks back when I ran into him at the drive in.

I slid my hand in my back pocket and pulled out my switchblade as Will hauled on the handbrake and swung the Lincoln round to a tire smoking stop beside me. You could tell he didn't have to work to pay for them; he'd probably just ripped an inch of tread off.

I stood facing the car in a casual slouch, waiting for them to come. I could have run and probably lost them by cutting through a building, but when you got a rep like me you don't run and hide. I wasn't going to loose it for the likes of spoilt little punks who think the world was put here for them alone. I'd worked too hard for it.

It ain't like someone comes up and hands you a rep on a plate, says "here take it, it's for free."

"Look at this, if it ain't Timmy all on his lonesome!" Will crowed in delight at me.

I swear to God, I hate being called Timmy.

Will got out the car and his friends followed. They all slammed their doors with exaggerated slowness and turned toward me. I grinned at the four of them.

"I like these odds".

"Awww, not as much as we do Timmy" Will said gently, walking towards me.

You know if Will had have been born on my side of town instead of the other he'd probably be my best buddy, not my enemy.

I saw they were planning on surrounding me and giving me a real jumping.

Although I didn't move, a kind of thrilled fear ran through my body.

I could see myself in their eyes, standing under the sun, still and ready.

It is moments like these when I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world. No one I would rather be than Tim Sheppard, standing on the street with violence all around me.

I took a step forward and held my blade so they could see it.

"I'll take all you little fuckers one by one," I snarled. "Line up!"

That stopped 'em for a sec', but only a second.

To us greasers it was unwritten law you don't wimp out when you've been challenged to a fair one on one fight, but I knew they wouldn't see it so clear. I guess when you got a rep for fancy cars, wealth, and privilege, a rep for being tough don't matter so much. For me, it's all I have.

"Reckon we gonna mess you up?" Will asked, sounding casual.

I spat at the ground.

"Guess you a little scared to take me on again, need some help huh?"

"Oh, you gonna need some fucking help Tim, you gonna need intensive care" one of the soc's taunted.

"Hey, you know what?" another piped up. "Tim's family's so poor, when burglars came to rob them they left donations!"

I really couldn't think of anything to say to that, I just tightened my fingers on my switchblade as the others all laughed.

"And another time vandals broke in," continued the clown, "and they caused $500 worth of improvements."

I never could understand why they were so proud of being rich. They was just born that way is all, it ain't like they did anything to deserve it.

"What you been reading buddy, 101 Funniest Jokes book?"

"Yeah, and guess what Tim, you was on the front page!" he screeched, giving a high whoop of laughter.

When I lose my cool, everything becomes real clear, but distant, like watching a movie.

I could see the sun glinting off my blade and the shadows of buildings falling over the street. I could see the white, white teeth of the soc' as he laughed at me, the white of his shirt, the blue blood of his veins.

I grabbed his shoulder and thrust my knife up into his chest, tearing through his shirt and up into his ribs before yanking it back out. He kept laughing for a second, and then he realized what had just happened and made a choked screaming sound.

His friends were hauling me off him, but I held his eyes and had the satisfaction of watching the laughter drain away with his blood.

"You crazy fucking bastard!" Will shouted near my ear, sounding like he was having the time of his life.

Yeah, if one of has had chanced a different birthplace, we would be buddies.

They were trying to push me to the ground, but I knew if I didn't stay on my feet I was done for. I gripped my blade, having a kind of nightmare image of one of them using it on me.

Tim Shepard killed by his own blade, now that would be some kind of way to go down in greaser history.

Something connected against the side of my head, as soft and gentle as say, a sledgehammer would be. I staggered and fell as the pain exploded in my head.

"Aww fuck" I muttered, still holding my blade in a death grip, gritting my teeth as the pain rolled down to my stomach.

"Shit Timmy, it ain't looking good" sighed Will. I could see a hazy outline of him, standing before me shaking his head.

"You son a bitch" I hissed, staggering to my feet.

He came for me and I tried to block his swinging fists, wondering vaguely if he really had four arms or it was just my vision. I guess it was just me, because he got me right in the jaw.

Another one kicked me, and it started some kind of chain reaction, next instant they were all swinging there real leather shoes into me.

I kept trying to get up, that was all I could do, since I wasn't going to just lay down and give up. And every time they would punch or kick me back down.

The sky looked red and hazy through the blur of dark bodies surrounding me, and I realized that I was going to die, and that I wasn't afraid to die.

The soc's had gone silent, not laughing anymore, and the only sound was theirs and my own gasping breaths, the soft thud of their shoes.

There was another sound too, a car engine gunning high, coming closer and closer, closer and closer…

"Christ watch out!" I heard Will shout.

Closer and closer…the kicks falling away…the hot scream of brakes, the skidding of tires.

Of all the fucking luck; I was about to be run over.

There was a blinding light in my eyes, I couldn't see.

"You better get the fuck outta here!"

I groaned and rolled onto my side, wondering if that was the voice of God. But I could feel gravel against my cheek, surely heaven wasn't tar sealed?

"Yeah I mean it, I won't give you another chance."

The voice came again, and it sounded vaguely familiar.

"You alright Tim?" came another voice from above me.

The light was still in my eyes, and I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"What the fuck…?" I sat up and felt the pulsing confused world I was in slide away completely.