the ramble dump

'Get up,' said Hermes.

'I'm not going anywhere with you!'

Hermes grabbed fistfuls of Boris' black shirt and tried dragging him to his feet.

'Gerroff me!' Boris swiped angrily. 'I told you, my legs won't work!' He managed a moment on his feet before he keeled over backwards in demonstration. His eyes had lost focus, like he was drunk.

Hermes sighed once again and looked at the illuminated skyline. He considered abandoning the man and going the way that Avgi had gone. Leastways, he thought, glancing at the half shop, half crater ruin they had just left behind, he needed to get away from here before more police arrived.

He wiped a sticky brow with his sleeve--sweat, dirt, blood that speckled his formerly white shirt. A few people were maintaining their curiosity of the commotion from a safe distance, pointing him out, commenting to each other. Hermes still gripped the gun in an idle hand.

'I just killed two people, you know,' he said.

'No, you killed one person,' Boris mumbled indistinctly, now face down on the road. 'The other one will just never walk again.' He rolled himself over again and viewed Hermes with all the scrutiny that could be mustered from his perspective. His brow furrowed around his strange, circular tattoo. 'Why d'you do that, anyway? Shoot the officers?'

Hermes shrugged, stuffing the gun in the lining of his trousers. 'They just seemed to ask for it,' he said.

Labels: city of anarchy, excerpts

# posted by Chris @ 5:17 PM