Jitter Issue #3
Push Me
Push MePaul hit the pavement. He hadn't run since the accident. Hisstride felt off, and his knee buckled a bit up the first hill, butother than that, the run was glorious. He breathed in thecrisp night air as his iPod continued its genial shuffle.He rounded the bend and saw swerving lights approaching.A car screamed, hurtling out of the darkness in his direction.Paul leapt to his left, blinded by a sudden flash. Somethingheavy crushed his hip, then all was black.His head hit dirt as his mouth ate pavement. He tried tocough it out, but his lungs burned, throat copper on fire.The car scuttled back to the road. An awry engine idled.Three shadows emerged and stood over Paul."Old man... we see you running. What are you runningfrom?" A thin voice queried. He spat the words as much ashe spoke them."This fuck ain't got no money, Mony. Let's roll." Anothersaid.A giant boot struck him in the face. White fire flew throughhis head and a jagged darkness overtook him.Hours passed.He stirred and saw a bloody sky in full bloom above. He roseand began to run—finishing the miles seemed important forsome reason. Fuck them, he thought as he broke into a fullsprint, testing his insides and liking what the results were.His iPod told him to keep on with a new song. He wasn'tsure what it was called but he knew the artist well. This wassome B-side he forgot he'd uploaded. But, Holy Hell, did itresonate.A mellow reggae beat gave way to a heavy metal riff, and thevocals—they were everything to him, growling yet melodic,anarchic but on time. They helped him go with every step.Sifting through the debris ofa broken mindSeeing everything in darknessHard to find the lieI'm crazy? You 're crazy.Tell me who is now?Paul kept running, feeding off the guitar until the chorusexploded:Don 't push meDon 't push me againDon 't push meYou 're gonna make me insaneThen, with one mile to go, he stopped. Three figures stoodin the distance. He walked up to them spitting the last bits ofblood from his mouth on the way."Look—Paul took his Garmin and shoved it down the first asshole'sthroat. He protested, but a little tap provided the properpersuasion. He bucked, a wide smile his last words. Paul feltvery present on the pavement—blood hadn't run like thissince the accident, but this time it was different—or was it?His favorite song rang through him:I tried to put myself togetherBut can I put myself back?He found the second one cowering behind a nearby oak. Hebegged for his life as Paul choked it all away.Pull the trigger of happinessIt only lasts for a whileA tall skinhead emerged from the shadows. Blood dotted hisright jackboot, "So, you're gonna kill all of us. Is that it?"Paul shook himself from his iPod, "Yes. ""I don't think so. We are too many.The Skinhead pulled his 9mm at exactly the same time Paulbroke his arm in two. Paul pushed the barrel to theSkinhead's chin and forced his fingers to pull the trigger.Two loud flashes later, and his brain exploded out of theback of his head.Paul placed the gun in the dead kid's limp hand and wipedaway his prints. He looked around, but was pretty sure thekid was bluffing about others being around.He reconnected his iPod and jogged away:I've always felt like thisYou know I always triedI'll put a bullet through my headIt's time to say goodbyeSay goodbye...That final mile was the best Paul ever remembered running.His iPod kicked up some of his old favorites and he skatedback without incident. When he got home, he sleptimmediately upon hitting his mattress. As he slumbered, hedreamed of some past life—or was it his?There is blood everywhere. I did my job. Why sideline me, Sir?I'm fine. Sure, I took a little fire. We all did on this one—butI'm okay and ready for the next assignment.I'm ready to hit the pavement.