Like a jug, it pours.
God knows what possessed me to involve myself in this chase. Raindrops heavy with pure malice flood these squalid backstreets.
The sky is gashed open and the world is filled with light.
He kicks down a door leading to an abandoned tenement.
I rush inside. He is already half the way up a flight of stairs.
-You’re slow, old man!
-Why are you doing this?
-Your old partner? What’s the fun in telling?
He laughs. Sudden lightning reveals what he truly is. So thin it’s skeletal, clad in old trousers and a simple vest, dripping from the rain. Scrawny neck carrying a shaved head, with deep set eyes, manic grin revealing sharp teeth.
The true face of the Bloody Summer Murderer. Charged on the counts of twelve gruesome murders. We put him behind bars, for life, when, fifteen years ago? The now Assistant Commissioner of Police and me, we were quite the team. The stuff of legends.
He flashes a knife at me. Water drips from a ceiling six floors above us.
Managed, somehow, to escape from prison last week. A piece of news held from the media, what with trying to limit damage to the already well damaged façade of the island’s Police.
Jesus I am too old for this. But my instinct took over as soon as he attempted to stab me as I lurked the Gut.
My little well planned trap, backfiring.
The Assistant Commissioner’s wife called, hysteric. Her husband didn’t come back home. And, crucially, he revealed, in a fit of guilty conscience, the escape just that morning.
It’s my turn’s time now. Inside a decaying block, beneath a cracked ceiling and blistering walls.
The smells of humidity and rain cloying my nostrils.
-Time to dance!, he shouts.