stagger

Stumbling along the pavement, Justin stops between two building structures and hides behind a large trashcan. It’s cold, and he wishes he had grabbed his jacket from the loft when he ran out hours ago to meet his father. Justin’s eyes start to close, and he quickly shakes his head. He can’t go to sleep. Not now. People are after him. Staggering to his feet, he looks up at the now early morning sky. The sun isn’t out yet, and Justin guesses it’s about four in the morning. Exhausted, he leans against the wall. All he wants to do is go home and hold Brian tightly in his arms. Unfortunately, the loft was still miles away and he isn’t sure if his cell phone is at his father’s house or back at the loft. Rubbing his eyes, Justin continues his journey, quickly looking behind and around him at all times: they could be anywhere. Suddenly, he has a sudden sense to duck. Thankfully, he follows his instinct and bends down just as the brick above his head is blasted by a flying bullet. “Shit!” he screams, running quickly down the alley and down the side street. That must be that fundamentalist group. The adrenaline keeps Justin’s legs running for almost another mile until he falls onto his knees, gasping for breath. He’s exhausted. Click. Straightening up, Justin turns his head to the direction of the sound. Click. A gun? A gun being loaded? Standing up, he carefully walks between the heavy crates and through the hidden archway into an abandoned parking lot. “Fuckin’ ironic, isn’t it?” Cody asks, not even looking up at Justin as the blond approaches. “Even though it wouldn’t have made one shit of difference,” he continues, checking the many guns around him, “I know I’d be feeling a lot better if that fucker Hobbs was dead.” Exhausted, Justin smiles with relief, “C1.” Cody scoffs and loads another gun. “I don’t understand,” Justin begins slowly as he walks nearer to his estranged friend. “I should’ve felt something when we first met… I mean, even at the shooting range, one would think that we would have remembered something.” Cody slides a loaded gun down the back of his pants and picks up another one, “How could we?” Placing it in the inside pocket of his jacket, he takes a third gun and begins to re-inspect it. “Our memory was locked. It wasn’t until a few days ago that all that shit started leaking out into our conscious mind.” “But why now?” Justin persists, knowing that Cody didn’t have an answer. “Why not when we were the Pink Posse?” Placing the third gun in the inside of his other pocket, Cody takes the fourth gun and double checks the lock on it before placing it in the holster of his jeans. “Because it took this many fuckin’ years for your brain to heal after getting bashed, and re-activate everyone’s systems to start to… I don’t even know what to fuckin’ call it.” Shaking his head, he finally looks up at Justin. “I’m sure they’re doing it on purpose.” Looking around, he continues, “Once they had us on their radar I’m sure they just bid their time until one of those assholes could figure out how to unlock our memories from afar just to make us fuckin’ lose our minds enough to…” he stops, looking behind Justin and into the dark alley. Whispering, he calls, “Come on, someone’s close.” Without looking back, Cody quickly starts running. Justin feels it, and starts to run after Cody: hoping that the gun-toting C1 has a plan.