Chapter 3

Pip POV The girls left, leaving me to finish cleaning, as they had been doing lately, since they considered me more than capable; the barman left not long after them. He at least finished cleaning the bar and glasses, leaving me to put up the chairs on the tables and leave the floor ready for the cleaner to wash later. It takes more than a simple mop to clean this floor after a busy night, leaving just the boss and me to finish the closing. I took the till money and receipts to the boss's office; he didn't come to help this time, must have had other things on his mind. I hate it when I do extra time and get left to do the grunt work afterwards. I knocked, entered his office, placed the till and receipts on the table, and turned to leave. "Pip, got a minute?" As if I had a choice. "Boss?" I turned back; I had finished everything. All that was left was to go out the back door, dump the rubbish in the large dumpster, and head home for the night, or should that be morning? "My friend's daughter is looking for work. I am sorry, but I have to let you go. Don't take it the wrong way; you're a great worker, but I had promised my mate that when his girl was old enough, I would give her a job. Here's your pay and a little bonus. I hope it gets you through. Can you move out of the room? She is going to need it." He didn't look that sad to see me go. My gut had told me a few times lately it was time to move on; this was the confirmation I needed to go. "Will be out after I catch some sleep, will be out by this afternoon, will leave the key on the kitchen bench." I took the envelope he pushed across the table to me and put it in the same pocket as my only tip. I grabbed the rubbish I had left by the side door and walked out. This was the pits; I deserved better than this dump anyway. The side door shut behind me, and I put the rubbish in the bin when I saw shadows in the alleyway. I ducked down behind the bin; I couldn't go back inside- the door self-locks, so there was no way back in. The men coming down the alley blocked any chance of going that way, and the only other way out was to jump a fence behind the building into the other alley, but it would expose my position, and I'd be caught before I could jump. Four men that were headed my way were dragging a man, two men each holding an arm; the man being dragged was struggling and cursing them. They shouted at him, calling him a traitor, and said things that made no sense to me; I didn't know the names they mentioned. After some punches to the poor man's face, one of the four men pulled out a gun, screwed on a silencer, wished him luck in the next life and shot him in the chest. Then they carried him to where I was hiding, lifted the dumpster lid, and dumped him inside. They were that close to me; I could have reached out and touched them, but they were too focused on the man to notice me hiding. It took all my willpower to stay silent and hidden, my hand over my mouth in fear of making a sound; if they were okay with killing that man, it would mean nothing to them to kill me too. The men jogged out of the alley, never looking back; their task was done, and they didn't see me or know I was here to witness it. Time to bolt; I'd jump that fence rather than risk them still being at the other end of the alley. I dusted off my jeans and was ready to leave when a mobile rang; it must be the man they put in the dumpsters. I picked it up and answered. A man on the other end said, "Damage." I didn't know if that was his name or if he was asking if there was any damage, so I told him that if he was talking about a man, he was in the dumpster, and I hung up. The phone rang again, but I hi-tailed it away, not wanting to be caught in the alley. I ran to the fence, scrambled over it, and pounded the footpath until my place came into view; then I ran up the stairs and pushed open my room door. I wasn't worried about waking the rest of the house; they slept like the dead and never heard me coming or going. Lucky them. Moments like this made me glad I had stayed fit and jogged and exercised each day, because this running was for my life, and I couldn't relax until I was out of town and far away. In only a few minutes, my bags were packed, and I was out of there as fast as I could, glad I hadn't brought anything new in a while, loaded my bike, went back to the room and double-checked nothing was left behind, because no way was I coming back here; had to get out soon anyway; now I was fired. I stopped at the kitchen, grabbed some snacks and a bottle of water, left the key on the kitchen bench, returned to my bike, pushed it out onto the street, didn't start it up until I was a few houses down the street, and then had to think where to go; might as well continue north, I guess. Out on the road, with time to think, I was shaking like a leaf after seeing that man being shot, but I wasn't hanging around to be next. Those men that came down the alley might be his friends and think I was the murderer; I could risk that, or they could be associated with Donkey. Stupid of me answering that phone, but someone might care about that man who was dumped in that dumpster and would deserve closure. I would hate to think someone who cared was searching in vain and might never find out he was dead, and dumped his body like that; so sad to end his life like that. I just had to answer the phone and tell them where he was; I didn't expect them to be so close. They nearly saw me leaving the alley. The bike ate up the road; the night slowly faded as dawn broke, and animals appeared along the roadside. Dawn and dusk often drew animals to the roadside for water or a meal; it was a dangerous time to be out riding, but I couldn't stop; they could be following me. I stopped to refuel, use the bathroom, grab a quick bite, and hit the road again. For two weeks, I rode with no destination in mind, enjoying the country road that twisted and turned and made the ride pleasurable. I stopped riding like I was being chased after the first week, and started to enjoy the ride, the countryside, the animals that fled when you came by, the birds on the air current miles above me; it was a reminder that the world was a beautiful place, and it was us, the humans, that were taking over, pushing nature out of their homes; the wildlife takes only what they need to survive, whereas so many humans take, take, take, take, and rarely give back. I am becoming cynical from being hurt all the time, and I don't like that one bit; that's not the real me. It's my fault for trusting and falling in with the wrong crowd; give me a little attention, and I think they care, but over time, you find out they are not what you built them up to be. As I was once told, 'Trust no one, and rely on no one, and then you won't get hurt.' I have tried to live by that, but I have a big flaw: I care too much about others and want to do the right thing for them; I guess that makes me a target for people who want to take advantage of me. Don't get me wrong, I am not weak; I can fight. I'm used to fighting all the time to stay alive, but when Donkey came into my life, I thought things had changed; they hadn't, they just wore a different face. The large town came into view, big enough to disappear into, I hoped. Time to find a place to stay and a job. I need to stay busy and clear my head; this running was getting tiresome.