Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

“This cannot be!”

Dean went pale as he looked at the open Bible in front of him. He slumped to the ground, letting the holy book fall from his hand; the gold embellished leaves of the book flying open, exhibiting the concealed incendiary mechanitions... already set in motion.

Dean regarded the area around him. He was on a precipice overlooking threatening water on one side and woods crawling with border police on the other. In these final moments, Dean let his thoughts escape to that fateful day exactly a year ago.

TICK TOCK TICK TOCK 

He was in the throes of his house party, an annual extravaganza that marked the end of the week long Belgium Halloween festival for the townsfolk. The party had just started getting drunk and loud, when Dean had felt the need to get some fresh air. He grabbed the nearest coat over his strong shoulders and wrapped his bronzed neck into a delicate cashmere scarf. Excusing himself from the crowd, the biting wind blowing on his sharp cheekbones, he ventured out into the cold night. 

Dean walked a couple of blocks, toward his son’s school, pondering over his choices in the recent past. He knew he was playing a dangerous game. He wasn’t a seasoned criminal, nor a veteran cop to know how to handle this precarious situation he had found himself in. The school ground ahead was empty and quiet, much in contrast to its rambunctious vista during the day. Dean walked on. Why had he said yes to transporting the cargo, he wondered. 

Those eyes….how could I say no. 

He had nearly crossed the school-gates when out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw movement in the basketball court across the road. 

“It is just the Halloween festivities spooking you out”, Dean hushed his jitters. He looked over at the court again, and decided to walk over. As he got closer he could make out the outline of a man tottering about the court. He instinctively reached for the .44 tucked into his waistband behind him. With the safety of the weapon, Dean moved closer to the outline. When had his life changed so drastically that his first instinct was a gun. Ugh Women, he cursed under his breath. He let his guard drop a little when he recognised the outline. It was the curmudgeon from beside the coffee shop that always muttered angrily under his breath when Dean passed by.

“Hey old man, you’re going to freeze to death.” Dean yelled tucking the gun back with his left hand, as he pointed to the old man’s bare back and legs. He started to take off his coat to wrap the poor soul when old wrinkly fingers grabbed his arms. The old man had moved surprisingly fast, coming up close, his face inches from Dean’s. Dean tried to pull himself away but the wrinkled face and aghast eyes kept him rooted to the spot. When the old man finally spoke, Dean could barely hear him, his raspy words obscured by the whistling wind

“The moonless night and dame mute

with foolish claims of heroic pursuit

Your journey ends with red sun

The sparkling spector spares none.”

TICK TOCK TICK TOCK

Dean got pulled back into reality by the setting sun glinting in his eyes as it bathed the horizon in a mandala of red, orange and destiny. With the tik-toks intensifying near him, Dean let the old man’s warning slip his lips with one final breath as he hurled himself over the cliff into the cavernous waters below.