City Night

A storm strangled the city, thunder rumbling menacingly as rain smashed against the tin roofs of decrepit houses. The city stank of summer, air rank and muggy, dust of the streets becoming muck in the sudden flood. Steam rose hissing from the cracks in a sewer lid. A dog yelped, sending a trashcan clattering to the ground. Yet even with the roar of the weather overhead, the city was strangely quiet. The usual drunks, whores, and swindlers that regularly paraded the streets were nowhere to be found. Even the alleyways were empty of muggers and thieves. A streetlamp flickered.

In the far corner of the street there was an alcove formed by the unwilling agreement of two buildings. Their overhangs shot down into a sharp, jutted V, offering little protection from the storm. He was alone. There, buried deep in the shadows stood a figure slunk back so far the darkness refused to reveal him, even to the staccato flashes of lightning. He leaned heavily against a stone wall, one foot resting against it, arms hidden in a brown overcoat. There was a wide-brimmed hat slung low over his eyes. Every few minutes his hand flew to his mouth, then down again. A puff of smoke escaped up over the eaves. Finishing, he threw the cigarette butt to the rain-soaked road and crushed it with the heel of a leather boot. He lifted his head and scanned the streets, eyes a piercing blue in the gloom. Silence. A scream shot through the air for a moment before being muffled by thunder. But he was listening.

Laughing in a gruff voice, he answered, “Right on time.”

He reached into a pocket and produced a key, simple in design but larger than most. The sharp metallic ping of water on metal echoed gently in the alcove. He held it in his hands experimentally, as if to assure himself of its presence. Satisfied, he returned it to the deep folds of his coat and adjusted the brim of his hat. There was a slight smile on his worn face, and he stepped out into the city.

“Tonight’s the night…”