The morning sun glowed softly over the fine glassy buildings as I walk through the busy streets of Starkfield. Cars jostled pass in a peculiar rhythm as I text on my phone.
"Are you at the cafe? Are you going to help me study for that damn final?"
I text Andrew, absentmindedly glancing up at a passer-by or two, to make sure I didn't run smack-dab into someone.
A few moments later, I get a brief reply:
"Been here man. Get your ass down here."
I chuckle to myself, and briskly pick up the pace, passing by my college, and two streets down from it, the cafe that has served as the college students' "hotspot" near one of the edges of town.
I heard the familiar jingle of bells as I pull its heavy glass door open, and quickly step inside.
The cafe was fairly large, containing a considerable amount of wooden circular tables, and benches, along with an old fashioned counter that ran along the right side of the cafe, fitted with swiveling stools.
I immediately spotted Andrew, and the rest of my friends taking up a circular table towards the middle of the cafe, a single stool noticeably open.
Andrew spots me out of the corner of his eye.
"Ay! Look who finally got here when he was the one who pleaded for me to help him study the day before the test."
He bellowed teasingly at me, causing a chuckle to go about my group of friends.
With a smile, heaving my backpack onto the table, I sat down heavily onto the stool, next to Andrew.
There were only about four of us, and they had been what I could call family for the longest time, ever since my parents passed. I had no brothers or sisters, so when I had been an orphan in high school, Andrew's parents took me in.
Andrew and I had immediately gone to work, me scribbling haphazardly on a flimsy notebook, trying to catch up on assignments. It was when Josh, a short guy with shockingly red hair, said something, that my attention was captured.
"You guys hear about the fire-fight that happened just outside of town a few hours ago? Heard about it on my police scanner."
I lift my pen from my work and look at him questioningly, so does Andrew, who's blue eyes were
focused on Josh intently.
Josh, now seeing that he has seized not only Patrick's attention, who had been sitting back lazily in his chair, but the rest of the group, goes on with his information.
"Heard there was a possibility of explosive weaponry, like missiles, or bombs. A whole line of wrecked vehicles. Scared the neighboring people half to shit."
"What?"
Patrick said softly, picking up his glass of Coke.
Josh simply nodded.
"No bodies. Nothing. Just what remained of vehicles, and bullet casings."
He continued.
"It's like people cleaned everything up before the police arrived."
I let out a breath of air, skeptically.
"Sounds fake."
Patrick leaned forward from his laxed position.
"I live a few minutes out of town, and I thought I heard something."
Josh lifted his hands in a gesture of finality, as if that support closed the case.
"Police scanners don't lie, guys."
I quickly put in-
"The police could have easily misinterpreted what had happened-"
And Andrew joined-
"What's next, the police are going to find and arrest big-foot?"
From across the store, the doorbell jingles violently, as if to be ripped from their perch from the momentum the opening of the door.
This aroused the attention of the entire cafe, and we look to a man stumbling in.
I took a double take, my eyes meeting the cuts running down his arm, glowing a wicked red in the light of the morning sun. Cuts and bruises decorate a thick and husky face covered in a trimmed down beard of dark brown, that would be handsome if in other circumstances. The man was big, his well toned muscles pressing out noticeably against a strange- and tight- black and silver suit.
He stumbled in, his footsteps unfocused, and heavy. He grabs a table to steady himself, almost flips it, resulting in him having to catch himself before meeting with the aged wooden floor. This caused many people around the cafe to stand up suddenly, me including.
The man straightened himself, and mustered words that came out in a thick baritone voice, that was noticeably shaky.
"Where's a phone?"
He asked the store owner, who stood gawking behind his counter.
He gestured a slim, elderly finger.
"The back hallway, against the wall, sir."
He stated softly, in a hardly comprehensible whisper.
Nonetheless, the man nodded, and started a pained drudge to the back of the store.
I notice he is favoring a leg.
Everyone continually stares at the stranger, in the strange clothes, and as he begins to pass my table, his leg gave out beneath him. He hits the floor heavily, and hard, nearly shaking the floor.
Out of instinct, without even realizing what I was doing, I run over and assist the fallen man.
"Shit- man are you okay?"
I gasp, offering him a hand up. He takes it immediately, and I pull him up. He was a heavy guy, my average muscles strained as I pulled up his hulkish form.
He was trembling, slightly.
"Th-thank you."
He said.
"We need to call the hospital."
I state to him, taking an arm over my shoulder, and helping him slowly towards the phone.
