Fiction: Packing Up

[here's a quick writing exercise to get the synapses firing on the other side of my brain.]

I knew I had to visit Badger next, but I also knew I would regret it in more ways than one. For starters, Badger wasn’t just his nickname, it was his personality. He seemed to be perpetually angry with any person who entered into his lair. Second, he shared his lair with Tiffany, an ex-girlfriend of mine. Once we had been going out for a while, she realized I was set in my ways and wasn't going to fall for her manipulations. She said she had to go, though I didn’t know she would go two blocks over and wind up with the guy who runs the liquor store. Personally, I think she discovered Badger was all settled in, made decent money, and wasn’t going anywhere. Finally, there were the guys I saw sitting in their cars.

I ran upstairs and, without turning on the bedroom light, pulled aside the curtain to get a better look down at the cars on the street. By the looks of the black sedan, it was an unmarked police car of some kind. The cops--or maybe even federal agents--were still sitting there watching and waiting. I couldn’t see much of the other car, but I knew what little I saw earlier well enough; a green street racer with a few of the gang bangers I had pissed off still probably sitting inside. "Damn!" I didn’t hear its tuned exhaust or booming bass echoing off the old buildings down the street, so it had to be a couple doors down still. If the cops didn’t believe me and the gangers were still after me, I had to move.

I carefully eased the curtain into place, pulled my backpack from the bedroom closet and stuffed some clothes and my hiking boots in it. Good thing I had repacked my gear after the last trip with the guys. I flicked on the light switch and closed the door. At the base of the stairs, I grabbed the aluminum bat from the coat closet and shoved it in the pack too. My hiking prep routine kicked in and I grabbed some energy bars and started filling the water bladder in my pack.

“Dammit! I’m taking too long.” I don’t know how I looked when I walked down the sidewalk and entered my condo—I tried not to look across the street at the cops and pretended not to notice the gangers down the street—but my panic was starting to manifest now. My hands were shaking when I turned off the water and sealed up the water reservoir.

“Laptop! What did I do…?” I spun back toward the front door and grabbed the bag I dropped there on my way in. My backpack and laptop bag were too much to carry, but I didn’t know where I was going or when I would be coming back here. A shadowy form, silhouetted by the light filtering from windows across the street, was slowly opening the gate. Hustling back to the kitchen, I shouldered my pack, picked up my hiking staff, and carefully opened the door.

Slipping outside, I locked the door and carefully pulled it closed. I tried to listen for the guy at the front door but all I could hear was my pulse pounding in my ears. I ran to the back gate and opened it into the alley. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be caught dead in the alley this time of night, but if I didn’t risk it, I’d probably be found dead here anyway.