Succour

The man shuddered as he waited for his late night taxi.

It was cold and dark with the streets empty. He had been called out unexpectedly. It had ruined his plans for the evening, but that was the nature of his work, but he wouldn’t change it for anything. He hadn’t been there long when a young lad appeared at the end of the street. As he approached, he seemed to be waving his arms around with a strange rhythm. It turned out to be a flick-knife. He was tossing it back and forth, with the shiny blade extended, like a juggler. The boy sneered as he approached, still flipping it from hand to hand. As he drew level, he made a few intimidating swipes with the weapon, then leaning forward, he grinned and said “Boo!”

The man stood perfectly still and let him pass. He watched him walk away, cackling to himself. It was only moments later that he heard the commotion. He squinted in the dim light and saw that the boy had obviously tripped, and was now lying face down on the pavement and howling. When the man got to him he could make out a dark stain forming near the boy’s leg. The boy tried to move, but only screamed with pain with each attempt.

The man knelt down next to him, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m not all right,” came the gruff reply, through gritted teeth.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened? I fell over didn’t I? Anybody could see that!”

Ignoring the remarks, the man tried to estimate where the knife had gone in. It seemed to be somewhere around his upper leg. “There seems to be high blood loss there,” he murmured, standing up.

“You a doctor?”

“Yes, but…”

“Well, do something?” He tried to move, but the pain only made him scream again.

The man took out his phone and began dialling.

“Do something!” the boy repeated. “You don’t have time to play with your phone. Do something!”

Calmly, the man said, “I’m not playing with my phone, I’m calling for an ambulance.”

“Help me. There must be something you can do while we wait.”

The man knelt down again. “Yes, all right.”

The boy tried to look up. “Jees! It’s about time.”

“OK,” he began, “Tell me… what do you remember of your childhood?”

11 thoughts on “Succour”

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