Thorny's Men

by Herschel Cozine

They were right outside my room now. I could hear them moving. Two of them, maybe three. I didn't know for sure, But I knew they were looking for me. Not looking, exactly. They knew where I was. Stalking, perhaps. Or waiting.

Darkness. Not a trace of light came through the tiny window at the foot of the bed. The blackness was suffocating, closing around me like a straitjacket. I wanted to scream and run. Instead I lay there, afraid to breathe for fear they would hear me.

It was just a matter of time now before they caught up to me. They were waiting for the right moment, the right place. I could run a little longer—and hide. But in the end they would get me. Nobody escapes from Thorny's men.

I had been on the run for three weeks now. They had followed me every inch of the way. From Los Angeles to San Francisco to Seattle . I didn't have to see them. I could feel their presence. Day and night. There was no letup. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. The terror was always there, like a vise on my chest. It was slowly squeezing the life out of me.

A rustle outside the door. I stiffened at the sound and took a deep breath. Whispers and movements filtered through the thin walls. They were coming! Was the door opening? In the darkness it was impossible to tell.

Thorny was thorough. He had the best in the business working for him. No one ever came out on top of Thorny. I had tried. I was one of the smart ones who thought I could beat him. I was no different from the others who had tried, with one exception. I was still alive.

A board creaked. Metal scraped against the floor. The waiting was terrifying. I remember when I was a kid visiting the doctor, imagining the awful things he would do to me. The waiting was always so much more painful than the reality. Come. Let's get it over with. I'm tired of running.

Still I didn't move. Was it that easy? Did I really want to get it over with? I shuddered. Oh, God, send them away. Please send them away.

The whispers turned to low voices. Masculine voices, muffled, menacing. Two men, that was all. Thorny was efficient.

I can't stand it much longer. The thin thread of sanity was about to break. Do something. For God's sake, do something!

The voices stopped. Silence. Only the terrible rasping tick of the clock by the bed broke the stillness. Were they still there? I lay still, breathing shallowly.

Grayness showed through the small window, slowly growing brighter. The objects in the room took on form and substance. The chair…the table…the faded picture on the wall. It was morning. Six hours had passed since I had first heard them outside the door.

I lay there, listening intently for ay sound, any movement from beyond the door. Nothing. I got up slowly, stiff and weak from the ordeal. I opened the door alittle at a time. No one was outside. They were gone!

Run! I'll run some more. But how far and how long? They'll be back again tonight, tomorrow night, and the night after that.

I needed a drink. Seven o'clock in the morning and I needed a drink. I had never been much of a drinker, and certainly never took one before evening. I looked down at my hands. They were shaking uncontrollably.

I went into the bathroom and threw some water on my face and arms. The image looking back at me from the cracked mirror was eerily unreal. It had a haunted, vaguely insane appearance. I shuddered and turned away.

The bar across the street from the hotel was empty. I ordered a bourbon, and gulped it down with one quick swallow. It burned my throat and stomach, but helped relax my shaking hands. I ordered another. I drank it as quickly as the first, welcoming the flushed sensation that it offered.

The door to the bar swung open and two men walked in. I whirled on the stool and screamed.

“No! No! Please!”

I ran. There was no place to go, but I ran. The two men blocked the door, holding me in their strong grasp. I screamed again, and struggled like a trapped animal. Then I blacked out.

* * * *

It isn't too bad here in the institution. They take good care of me and feed me well. Occasionally, I wake up at night screaming, but I'm beginning to sleep better.

The doctor said I can go home soon. But I don't want to. I'm happy here—and safe. I like my roommate. He's quiet, and never asks questions about my past. But sometimes I catch him staring at me in a curious way. I wonder if he could be one of Thorny's men.