The alley between Mo'nique’s bakery and the Roffe Laundromat was Kat's favorite hideout. During weekends, she'll traverse the one point five kilometer walk to this place, bring out her sketchbook and draw.
This Saturday afternoon was no different, except for the draft that blew on her skin, blistering it with goosebumps. Kat relieved herself of the backpack and perched on her makeshift stool. It was an elevated rock which stood a few centimeters above ground level. It was cold to touch this afternoon, Kat observed. She reclined against the soot-covered alley wall, its warmth seeping into her clothes and chasing away the chill. At this spot, Kat could see almost everyone entering or leaving the alley without being seen. It offered a sense of anonymity, a feeling she liked. Her ears listened for the sound of Kenny's limping feet. Kat had befriended a homeless man whom she brought food whenever she visited. Instead, it was the patter of rodents' feet that greeted her. She brought out her sketch items and started to draw.
“Where's the package, Shaker?” A gruff, whispering voice broke Kat's concentration. She closed her sketchbook, laying it on her backpack.
“It's right here, Diablo.” She heard shuffling, like paper squeezing. “Now let's talk terms.”
Kat moved from her seat, feet light on the concrete toward the source of the conversation. She dodged a can of beer, and something which looked suspiciously like dried vomit. The sounds increased in volume.
“We can't pay hundred, Shaker. We'll give you sixty.”
Anger perfused the atmosphere, distinct in Shaker's voice. “We agreed on hundred upfront, Diablo. Nothing more nothing less.”
Kat rounded a corner and found three men, two in hoods and one in a leather jacket. Kat's breath hitched the moment she sighted the man who spoke. His broad shoulders blocked the last rays of sunlight, his shadow casting a sinister darkness on the deserted space.
“And we're saying it is too much for weak coke. We ain't paying that much.”
Kat's eyes widened, realizing she'd just happened upon a drug deal. Her mother had warned her about alleys.
“Don't insult me, bro. If you can't pay, return the package. No big deal.” It was Shaker, the one in leather who spoke. He had a funny haircut, his ear glinting with an earring.
“How about we kill you and keep your package as a souvenir for our boss?”
Kat recognized one of the hooded pair as Diablo. He looked at his companion and they shared a laugh. The sound sent chills down her spine.
Shaker snorted. “Try any foolish move on me, and el Scorpion will have your heads on spikes.”
Diablo's companion lunged forward and grabbed Shaker by the collar, his forehead on his.
“Is that a threat?” His voice was deep, with a ring of uncontrolled violence to it. He heaved Shaker against the alley wall. His head hit the wall making Kat cringe.
Shaker responded in kind, hitting him squarely in the jaw. The guy doubled over, grappling around the now dark alley for anchor. Diablo came upon him, delivering a blow to his nose. The unmistakable sound of a crack confirmed he'd broken Shaker's nose. They crashed into one another, kicking and hitting.
“Tell your Don we don't give no shit about his coke. Deal's off.”
Diablo delivered a few more kicks, then finally withdrew an object which glinted in the mercury lamps flickering intermittently overhead.
“This is how we teach people like you a lesson.”
Kat's gasp became audible the moment the knife sank into Shaker's body. This time, she screamed, her gaze connecting with Diablo's. His eyes reflected an intent to kill.
She ran.
Diablo's voice followed her as he told his counterpart to dispose the 'body'. Kat grabbed her sketchbook, not bothering to pick her backpack. The man chased her, his heavy feet echoing in the empty alleyway. She rounded another corner, coming to a complete halt. In her haste, Kat had missed the path that led outside. Her heart pounded, a heavy weight sinking in her stomach. Her eyes watered, blurring her vision.
“Little girl, you can't hide forever.”
The man's voice, predatory at best, slithered over her skin. The hairs on her nape stood. His heavy steps came nearer, propelling Kat to action. She slid her sketchbook into her dress and moved out of the enclosed space, passing the man just in time to avoid his capture. Her gaze fell on an opening out of the alleyway.
She ran like a mad person, her foot falls getting heavier, her breathing laboured.
Then the lights suddenly went off.
Kat, determined to avoid capture at all costs refused to slow down. She drew her image of the alley from memory, surging forward blindly. Then her feet refused to move, stuck in grease. Kat bit back her tears, refusing to cry. Willing herself to survive. She squatted, her hands wrapping around the stuck shoe to remove it.
A cold, beefy hand gripped her shoulders.
“Hey there little girl. Didn't mama ever teach you to avoid alleys?”
His breath stank of cigarette, the smell making her feel nauseous.
He dragged her backwards, deeper into the alley. The lights came back on, flicking soft yellow light over their heads. With all her strength, Kat sank her elbow into his ribs. The man howled in pain, grabbing Kat's hair in anger. She screamed, the burning pain as the man threatened to uproot her hair dulled her senses to every other stimulus.
A loud whack resounded in the narrow space, and the assault on her hair stopped. Her gaze swung around to discover Kenny, her homeless friend holding a stone above his head, her backpack at his feet. He dumped the stone and stepped over the burly man who lay unconscious on the floor.
“Kenny!” Kat jumped into his arms, not caring that his clothes smelled dirty and his breath was horrible. He gave her the backpack, the drag of his left foot the only sound in the alley.
“Let's get you outta here before the whole gang arrives, Kat.”
“Thank you so much, Kenny.”
Kenny pretended to not have heard her expression of appreciation. He helped her to the opening of the alleyway, extracting a promise from her not to visit again. But Kat merely smiled.
Terrifying as her day had been, the most important lesson had not been avoiding shady places and excessive curiosity. She had learnt that kindness in whichever form, pays.
