Runner

Chapter Eight

The boy’s feet and hands were bound with frayed rope. His skin was shades of purple and yellow, blood dried in his hair and on his face. His clothes were ragged, ripped like he had been dragged behind a truck.  He was coiled in on himself, protecting his stomach as Jo Jo pummelled kick after kick into his ribs.

The crowds were diluting, being ushered to their quarters. I saw sanity leave Jo Jo’s eyes as his hair drew loose from its tie. I watched the boy, in his place I saw Rodney, and then I saw my brothers.

I did for this boy, what I can only hope someone would do for me, and for my family, in our hour of need. Whatever the cost.

“Stop,” I said, pacing the inner ring. The beating continued, a dozen or so members left watching. The boy grunted and swallowed cries as the beating continued.

“Stop!”

Pleading and desperate, the word echoing against the cement walls.

Nothing. I was invisible to them.

My voice was trill, and piercing, as I yelled again, “Stop!”

Jack pushed forward, his face tight. I ran for him, grabbing him by the sleeves, “Stop this,” I ordered, “please.” He looked down at me, barley noticing my grip on him. His look was glassy, going through me.

“Enough,” Jack echoed, but Jo Jo’s boot was relentless.“E-nough,” Jack shouted, staring furiously at Jo Jo until he paused, his breathing hitched.

“Go cool down,” Jack then ordered, seemingly unimpressed, as he walked towards the boy.

“He is one of them,” Jo Jo condemned, his knuckles bloodied as he stalked towards jack.

“He is just a kid,” I reasoned, stepping between them.

Jo Jo leaned towards me, stabbing his finger in my face, “You did not see what I did girl, I know what he is.”

I didn’t know what Jo Jo had seen, but I knew there was only so much I could talk this kid out of.

I stepped closer, my voice low “We all know that if he was truly one of them then those ropes would not be holding him. So either he is just a human boy, or he is an elemental, and he is doing you a great act of mercy, by tolerating your beating so that he does not have to kill us all.”

The wild fire behind Jo Jo’s stare exploded. His short fuse reached its end. Jack pushed me back, and grabbed Jo Jo by the collar, “Get out of here.”

Jo Jo stampeded through the crowd, pushing and shoving bodies away.

“What are you going to do with him?” I asked, as Jack grabbed the boy under the elbow.

 He heaved him to his feet, “Get up,” he demanded. No sympathy, no guilt.

The boy was taller than I had realised, lean and slim.   

“I don’t know.”

The boy staggered as Jack began to march from the circle, his men clearing him a path.

“Come,” he called.

I followed him down the stairs of the tunnel beyond the left exit, the space claustrophobic and damp. I knew where this tunnel lead. I’d been down there more than a few times. The boy tripped down the uneven steps, his jeans catching under his heels. Jack sighed as he dragged the prisoner along.

When we reached the bottom, the smell of settled mould was stomach turning. The cement path ended, a holding cell to our right.

Jack opened the bolted iron cell, the door dragging open with a screech. “In,” he directed.