LI Writing Contest 2012 - The Entries !

The tramp

It must have been a Friday in early November when she first noticed the tramp outside the grocery store.
Since Jay had started school in September they had developed the habit of popping into the store on the way home from school to buy a few items of food for home and for dinner and – most importantly, if you asked him – for Jay to choose a small treat for the way home. Chocolate drops were his favourite.

The tramp sat in a sunny spot, almost inside the door, leaning on his battered backpack with an old dog by his side. She virtually had to step around him to get through the door. She felt annoyance rising inside her. How dare he sit there? She felt as if he had somehow tarnished her day with his dirty clothes, his long bedraggled hair and his scruffy dog. She considered complaining to the store manager, but then decided against it.

They made their purchases as usual, although she hurried Jay along when he hovered around the sweets, trying to make his choice. As they walked past the tramp, she could feel Jay turning to look at him and his dog … and she pulled him away impatiently.

The weekend came and she forgot all about him … until the following Monday, when after school outside the store, there he sat again. This time it was drizzling with rain and he sat huddled in an old filthy raincoat. Still, as she hurried past, she thought that she saw him look up at her, smile and nod. She turned her head and pretended that she hadn't seen him.

On the way out, Jay turned to the man and said “What's your dog called?”. “Bungee”, the man said, and with a smile on his face “He used to be more bouncy than this when he was younger, you see?”

Walking home, she scolded Jay for talking to strangers. “But you were with me, mummy”, he replied.

A few days later the man and his dog were back again, sitting by the door and minding their own business. She had noticed that sometimes people stopped to say hello and that occasionally somebody handed him some food or a coffee from the take-away. He received any offerings with a thank you and a smile.

As usual Jay chose chocolate drops. She paid at the till and whilst she was rummaging for the right change in her purse, she noticed that Jay had already moved to the door and was standing next to the man. She paid for her shopping hurriedly and followed Jay. What had she told him about not talking to strangers?!
When she got to Jay, he was just offering some of his chocolate drops to the man, holding out his bag to him with a big happy smile on his face. The man smiled back but shook his head. Had he seen the expression on her face, an expression of horror at the thought of his grubby hand reaching for her son's chocolates?

The following week, the same picture. The man and his dog and people hurrying past.
Inside the shop, Jay stood by the sweets for a long time. “Hurry up, Jay.”
“John likes chocolate drops”, he said quietly.
John? Who is John?? She knew before she had spoken out the question …
“Do you want to buy him a bag too?”
He nodded, then looked at her. “Can we buy something for Bungee too?”
This time they walked to the man by the door together. Jay handed him the chocolate and the dog treat. He looked up to them and smiled. The dog, lying on it's side, wagged its tail slowly and lazily.
“Thank you. How did you remember that chocolate drops are my favourite?”
“It was easy. They are my favourite too”, Jay beamed.

Suddenly she felt uncomfortable standing there and looking down at the man. Before she knew it, she had crouched down in front of him. Now they were on the same level. She noticed that he was older than she had thought. He had blue eyes, surrounded by wrinkles in his worn and weathered face.

After that time, they stopped and talked often. Sometimes they brought some food, although John and Bungee always seemed content with what they had and never asked for more.
She found it easy to talk to him.
They talked about life and death, about their hopes and dreams, about God and how everything happens for a reason. They talked about Jay and about Bungee.
Then one day he lowered his eyes and, in a quieter voice than usual, he talked about the death of his wife, about his depression that followed, about him losing his job and his house and finally ending up in the streets, and about how all that he had left from his old life was an old but faithful dog. That time she saw a deep sadness move over his face, like a dark cloud – but more often he smiled and laughed, and the wrinkles danced across his face.

The school holidays came and she and Jay stayed with her parents on the south coast for two weeks. They enjoyed walking by the beach and playing games by the open fire. It even snowed and granddad got the sledge out from the shed.

When they returned in the New Year they saw John and Bungee again.
She noticed that John looked tired and pale. He said that he was fine where he was staying and that he needed nothing – but she was worried.

The following week he mentioned that he and Bungee might head down towards Spain. They sat on a bench in the cold January air and he described the sunny, sandy beaches he used to visit when he was a child; the sun on his back and his toes dug in the warm sand. Jay's eyes grew wide with excitement. Would John write to him when he got to Spain? John said that he might send a postcard.

They did not see John or Bungee again after that.
Some weeks passed and something was missing when they took their walk to the store after school. The weather became colder. More snow and temperatures of minus 10 C at night. She wondered whether they had really headed south and hoped that they had, to avoid the grim weather.

Then, one Wednesday morning she came back from taking Jay to school and found the local paper on the door mat. The headline immediately caught her eye: Fatal attack! In the small wooded area near the bridge over the canal, a man and his old dog had been found dead. The man had been subject to a vicious attack by thugs and had obviously been left for dead. Unable to summon help because of the severity of his injuries, he had eventually frozen to death. It looked as if his dog had tried to defend his owner and had been killed by the same attackers. They had been dead for some time and the man had been identified as 43-year-old John Jackson of no fixed abode, who had been living in the area in recent months. Police were asking for witnesses to come forward, but had little hope due to the secluded location where the attack had taken place.

She cried and cried. She cried about how badly she had thought of John when she first met him, cried for the life he could have had, cried for the cruel and lonely death he had suffered, cried for the friend she and Jay had lost. She cried until it was time to pick up Jay from school. She washed her face, put on some foundation to hide her tell-tale blotches, picked up the paper and threw it in the bin and headed for the school ...

Spring time came.
They never received a postcard from John and occasionally Jay would ask about it. She always made up a light-hearted excuse, although inside her heart was aching.

Sometimes they still talk about him, even now, and imagine him walking along some sunny, sandy beach in Spain, with the sun on his back and Bungee chasing the waves ...

A monster that snores

I believe every child has a monster under the bed. My monster moved there when I was 4 years old. He lived in darkness and wanted to eat the toes of a child. I felt he was there, just waiting for me to have to get out of bed to get a glass of water or to go to the toilet at night. If I put lights on in my room he disappeared.

I am now an adult but the snoring monster still lives under my bed. Seems he likes me but he doesn´t like adults' toes. Now he eats my old socks (I thought before that it was the washing machine who eats them!) and mittens - but only from the right hand. They too get lost all the time.

Some nights, when Mr. Sandman doesn´t come to throw sleeping sand in my eyes I know it is the snoring monster, Snorry, again. He snores Mr. Sandman away!

Last year Snorry had his birthday (he is 150 years old). He got gifts from all over the world, like school books from Gaza (I am sure that the teachers there took as truth the explanation of some students why they haven´t made their homeworks - the snoring monster from Finland ate their books) and an old blanket from Indonesia.

They were real yummy, said Snorry.

Also Snorry likes dusty places and hates a voice of vacuum cleaner - that´s why he enjoys to live under my bed and gives me the great excuses why not to vacuum too often. If you don´t take it too hard that your old socks and mittens of the left hand are at all times missing, I can warmly recommend keeping own monster under your beds too.

Searching for Allah’s love

Doodling in a note book lost in my own world, thinking and re-thinking of how Jannah might look like. I draw a picture of a tree with a swing, Imagining Jannah. Suddenly while I was in the middle of my imagination, someone hit my arm lightly bringing me back to my sense, I smiled seeing it was my friend nudging me to pay attention before I get caught by the teacher.
Mrs. Snow, our science teacher was explaining about the upcoming projects. We are told for the upcoming project, we will be in pairs. She split it us up and put it us in pairs leaving us with no decision to be with our friends. I had to team up with a girl named Khadija who joined school yesterday. She came and sat next to me as my friend stood up and left to sit next to her partner who I didn’t like at all.
Our task is to make posters on the life cycle of a butterfly.To my relief it was easy, I had loved butterflies ever since I can remember. Everything that belonged to me had butterflies on it, including my school notebooks… Khadija was smiling;she looked friendly, just like the type of person I can easily get along with.
I started the talks between us, we exchange our Salaams, and then I start off by asking if she likes our school. Her reply was obviously that she didn’t really know as it was her second day. This made me feel stupid… Couldn’t I have reordered my sentence and said how is she finding the school SO FAR?? Never mind!
Taking a piece of paper out to jot down some notes for the poster, Khadija told me what she had in mind and I loved it. We decided to give our poster a 3D effect which was Khadija’s idea.
After we had finished, we started talking to eachother getting to know each other while the other partners in class were still discussing about their poster. Khadija more or like me. From there I just knew we would get along really well and be close. She was friendly and sweet. After the planning we went to the supplies cupboard and got all the material we would be using, cotton, glitters, glue etc.
I rolled pieces of cotton and shaped them into balls, while Khadija stuck them onto the big chart paper.
Ringggg!!!
The school bell rang, time to go home. I thought I’d take an advantage and ask Khadija if she would like to come to my house tomorrow so that we complete our poster. I just felt attached to her; I wanted to know much more about her. She smiled and said she would let me know after asking her mother.
The next day at school Khadija sat next to me, we had fun she helped me with some difficult maths problem. We did our work quickly and finished our before the others in class.
We randomly started telling each otherstories, Khadija made me laugh so much with her funny made up stories.
There was a long pause between us…
I drifted to my own thoughts, thinking if I should tell Khadija about something that kept bothering me for a long time but I didn’t know who to talk to.
“Umm Khadija can I ask you something”
“Sure” she replied.
“This might seem crazy but there’s this thing that’s bothering me for a long time, I say that I love Allah but I’m not sure if I really do,I just don’t know how do you love Allah? How do you search for His love I just don’t understand?”
I was worried what will Khadija think; I thought Khadija might think I’m crazy or something. And I was worried if she wasn’t the girl who is religious and into the deen.
But she smiles and told me that it’s okay to feel that way and that sometimes she felt like that too. She said she knows something that might help me. I smiled to my relief! She said she’ll tell me when we’ll go home as right now both of us had to rush for P.E class.
We were in two different classes before we left home. After school I found Khadija near the school gate I quickly walked towards her, I grabbed her hand and it shocked her but when she knew it was me she smiled. I took her to my parent’s car we drove off.
At home I found mum in the kitchen making my favourite dish, we said Salam I introduced Khadija to her and went upstairs to my room.
“Wow” said Khadija as we entered my room.
I smiled. We threw our bags in one corner and sat on the bed, after a little while the maid brought food for us as we ate I asked Khadija to tell me about the thing that would help me find Allah’s love.
She told me that if I want to find Allah’s love I have to connect myself with the Quran. I looked at her puzzled she told me that when we connect ourselves with the Quran we get to know the things Allah likes and the things He doesn’t like. When we love someone we like to see them happy in the same way if we love Allah we would want Him to be happy too.
I stayed there listening to every word she was saying. I was amazed.
She told me that she studies the Quran with her mother and asked me if I would like to join in as well.
Yes! I nearly shouted. I was overly happy that Khadija was into the deen and more than that she studies the Quran. Wow! I am so going to love this girl I hope she brings me closer into the deen and teach me a lot of things.
I loved the idea and told her I would definitely come.
After eating we started working on the project. Khadija started painting the caterpillar lime green while I made a beautiful glittery butterfly.
Time flew by so fast, an hour had gone of hard work and lovely talks with Khadija, our poster was finally ready and looking beautiful.
“Mrs. Snow’s is going to love it” says Khadija.
It was fun working with Khadija it felt as if I knew her for a long long time.
The doorbell rang and Khadija’s baba came to pick her up. She gave me a hug said salaams then left.
The next day I was so excited that I woke up early on a Saturday for the first time ever! I couldn’t wait to go to Khadija’s house, last night I kept thinking about what her mother was going to teach us. At around 2 pm I got dressed ate lunch and went to Khadija’s house.
I rang the bell and waited, after a little while Khadija opened the door she said Salam and took me inside.
The house smelt like chocolate chip cookies. Khadija took me to a room where her mother was waiting for us she looked at me and gave me a smile I said Salam like I was taught to do so.
She kindly told us to sit down, she then recited the Quran Starting from Surat Al Mulk, and she said it was her favourite surah. Also she explained it to us. Later on she told us the stories of the prophets, told us how they worked so hard just to please Allah. She told us that if we do righteous deeds and listen to what Allah has told us Insha’Allah He’ll be happy with us too.
I had a great time at her house been the most amazing day ever I learnt so much.
…
Mrs. Snow loved the poster me and Khadija made we were awarded with extra house points; she said the 3D effect was a great idea.
…
As months passed by me and Khadija became best friends, we helped each other out, shared secrets and most importantly kept reminding each other to do good deeds. The more I stayed with her the more I learnt. We studied the Quran every day and I loved it. Sometimes it made us cry and sometimes it made us happy. It told us what to do and what not to do!The best part of all it told us what Allah liked and that if we did those things Allah would love us.
Life was just amazing, I had found a friend I always wanted to have, someone who’s always there for me.
Until on the 18^th of October something I could never think of happened Khadija’s parents had decided to move back to their village, I couldn’t believe it!!
Khadija Khadija Khadija! My head kept repeating… I felt like screaming, crying and shouting at the time. I was going to lose my best friend forever.
She came to meet me for the last time! Hot burning tears were already forming in my eyes. I gave her a hug, a long and tight hug.
I felt dizzy, I couldn’t believe it. I wished it was all a dream… It’s what it felt like anyways.
I told her I didn’t want her to go. Tears trickled down her cheeks, I knew that she felt the same; she told me that we would meet again if not here than in Jannah.
Her last words were “I’ll miss you so much best friend”
Before leaving she gave me an envelope and told me that she’ll always be with me as long as I remember her in my prayers. She hugged me one last time said Salam and left.
Standing there tears rolled down my cheeks I couldn’t believe it.
She was gone forever.
The next morning I woke up with puffy eyes as I had cried so much last night. I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to stay in bed and cry out again and over again but I remembered the envelop.
I quickly ran up to the small table at my corner, I picked the envelope Khadija gave me and went outside.
Sitting underneath the old oak tree I opened the envelope and out came a letter which I unfolded and started to read.
“Dear Aisha,
Asalam Alaykum, How are you? I hope your fine.
Please forgive me for not telling you before that I might leave.My parents had been planning it for a long time I didn’t want to tell you as I thought you might feel bad, I’m really sorry.
Hey do you remember when you asked me how to love Allah and that you wanted to search for His love? Well maybe all of this was a test for you, maybe Allah wanted to check if you love Him really or you love people more than Him.
You met me because He wanted you to meet me. Ukhti, don’t be sad you already have a best friend and He loves you more than you can imagine.
Remember one thing people come and go in life but he’s always there. So the question is do you love him?
I love you so much ukhti and I’m going to miss you so much you were like a sister to me. You’re always in my prayers. Please take good care and don’t forget what we learned together.

Fi Amanillah

Love,

Khadija

Tears rolled down my cheeks, I knew she was right with everything she said.
I learnt that one can only obtain the love of Allah if he/she loves Him more than anything else and that is how you can find His love. When you do things to please Him, and being thankful at all times, when you turn to Him for help. The way to find His love is when you make Him your Best Friend…
I looked up at the sky and made a small dua,
“O Allah! Indeed I beg of you for your love, and the love of whoever loves you, and the love of such a deed that will make me worthy of your love.” Ameen

Unity

A red light pulses and Alex opens his eyes. His left arm aches after sleeping on it throughout the journey. He sits up, wipes his face and remembers he’s in the back of a SWAT van.
“Rise and Shine, gringo!” says a short stocky man sitting opposite, hand brushing through his long black hair.
“Right lads, now we’re all awake, let’s get down to business. Carlos, refresh the rook’s memory.” Alex hears from the vehicles driver.
The short stocky man looks Alex straight in the eye.
“Alright rook, we got a standard weapon cache drop. HQs identified suspicious cargo being delivered to one of the warehouses nearby. We go in, scope the place out, secure any goods and get the heck out. With me so far?”
Alex barely uttered a response.
“Good ‘cus there’s more. Latest reports say that John Taggart, a self-proclaimed collector, is one of the people involved – we have clearance to take him in dead or alive.”
“Dead’s good enough for me” The driver interrupted.
“Do we have the schematics to the warehouse?” Alex enquired.
Carlos pulled out a set of blue prints from the side of his seat and handed it over to Alex.
“Most likely the arms deals are made near the transport dock located at the north side. Depending on how heavily guarded the place is, we’ll do one of two plans: A) Full assault from the rear or B) surround the enemy with a pincer-movement.
“Why not full assault on the north side?”

“It’ll be too heavily guarded. And encase you forgot, there’s only four of us on the mission. So our best bet is to take any hostiles out one by one until we reach Taggart.
“Wait a minute. You said four of us?”
“Yeah. You, me, Eckhart the driver and Bear.”
Alex hadn’t even realised there was even another member sitting in the back. In the corner of his eye he could just make out a faint silhouette – a hunched pale skinned man wearing very minimal armour. He was looking out of the back of the vehicles rear window and holding a set of prayer beads whispering quietly to himself. Alex’s mouth dropped and Carlos was there to catch it.
“Ah don’t worry your pretty little head about it, kid! He’s in his own world. Ain’t that right, Bear!” Carlos said, before punching Bear in the arm as hard as he could. Bear didn’t even blink.
“He’s also the only one on the team to have had no confirmed kills in any of the missions we’ve been on, Carlos” Eckhart chimed in from the front.
“Yeah,” Carlos said, ignoring his boss’ implication. “Guy’s member of SWAT and doesn’t like guns!” he continued before laughing heartily.
The van stopped to a halt breaking the awkward atmosphere Alex found himself in.
“Alright lads, we’re here. Move out”

XXX

Eckhart scanned the area. Two guards were posted outside the south entrance of the warehouse. He turned to face his team.
“Two guards up front. Bear, think you can take them?”
Bear nodded before quickly standing up.
“Carlos, get ready”
“Ready for what?” Alex asked
“Watch and learn, rook”

XXX

Having left his heavy weaponry back with the rest of his team and now armed with only a standard issue rifle, Carlos almost felt naked. The lack of equipment did however make him lighter and faster on his feet, allowing him to run past the two guards. The perfect distraction as Bear had followed closely, putting one of the guards in a sleeper hold before the other had time to react.
Bear make quick work of the remaining guard allowing Carlos to get a clear view of the northern side of the ware house. He gave a thumbs-up to Bear before touching his ear piece.

XXX

Eckhart’s ear piece crackled and he heard Carlos’ voice.
“Special cargo has been confirmed. I repeat, Special cargo has been confirmed. They’re bringing it in via an unmarked truck”
“Copy that. Update HQ on our progress”
"Sure thing boss”
“Oh and Carlos?”
“Yes boss?”
“Try not to get caught”

XXX

If there was one thing in life Bear hated, it was War. It was because of war people suffered. It was because of war people died. He despised war. He was also very angry. Angry at the world that stood by and watched as his home burnt to the ground. Angry at those who did nothing to help as his people were butchered and slaughtered and pillaged and raped. Because the world did not think their lives were worth saving. Because the world didn’t think life was worth saving.
Only his belief in a greater form of justice offered him any solace. He increased his grip on his prayer beads. A voice bought him back to reality.
“What’s up?”
Bear shrugged. He didn’t fully understand his leader’s decision to hand pick a recruit so green for a mission of this kind. But then again, next to Bear, most fully trained SWAT members were green.
“Not much of a conversationalist?” he heard Alex mutter under his breath.
Bear remind silent.

XXX

Eckhart’s ear piece crackled
“Boss, HQ cross-referenced the guys I saw out back”
“Go on.”
“They match the description for the personnel guard of Nebojsa; the Serbian war criminal.”
“Neb who?” Alex asked?
“Ne-boy-sha” Eckhart responded phonetically before catching Bear’s flared eyes.
“What’s with him?” Alex enquired
“History, kid” Eckhart said dismissively.
“Alright” he continued. “Thanks for the heads up. Hold your position and keep us posted.”
“Roger that”
Eckhart turned to face Bear.
“If it turns out that he’s here, I need to make sure your head’s on straight. I can’t have you compromising this mission. The only reason you were allowed to come in the first place was for old time’s sake, understand?”
The fair skinned giant said nothing, only nodded in approval.
“So now what?” Alex asked.
“Plan B kid. Move out!”
At once, the three members stood up and headed towards the warehouse‘s south entrance.

XXX

The pungent smell of a Cuban cigar filled Eckhart’s nostrils. Stolen he thought to himself. A waft of rose scented perfume followed. Definitely stolen!
His ear piece crackled.
“I got some good news, boss. I can confirm visual on John Taggart. Should I proceed?
“Negative. Stay in position. What’s the head count?”
“Five on the second floor, a dozen or so on the first. Looks like a weapons cached. I’m seeing heavy artillery here. Semi-automatics, explosives - they got enough for an army down there”
“Or a private military. Roger that. Hold your position, we’re on our way.”
“Are we gonna get to shoot something now or not?” Alex said, frustrated. Bear kissed his teeth in disgust.
“Oh what’s up now, muscle head?” Alex said angrily.
Much to his dismay, Eckhart noticed Alex had begun to adopt Dom’s less favourable characteristics.
Bear remained completely un-phased and silent as ever, still holding firmly on to his prayer beads.
Eckhart stepped and quickly reminded the pair there was an important mission to complete.
“Lads, we all heard Carlos, we’ve got confirmation on our target and primary objective. Stay sharp – we’re going in.”
“Sir, Carlos just said he saw live munitions. Shouldn’t we switch to non-lethal rounds?”
“Negative.”
“What?!” Alex said, loudly.
“Quiet! You want us to get caught?” Eckhart whispered.
Alex began to apologise but stopped when he saw his team leader’s facial expression change. His voice soon followed.
“What was the first thing I told you to do, rook?”
He could sense the anger and frustration in his leader’s tone of voice but couldn’t quite place the reason behind it. Then it hit him.
“Watch our six?” he said slowly, before seeing several red dots appear running up and down his body.

XXX

After discretely taking out two mercenaries guarding the north entrance, Carlos had managed to sneak in to the back of the warehouse and had taken cover behind a freight crate. So far the mission had felt a little too easy in his mind, which meant one of two things: he was close to danger or his team mates were. He shook his head and regained compusure. His eyes were drawn to John Taggart who seemed to be stroking his hand across a full bodied armoured suit inside a transport crate.
“So this is the Omega suit. Well, I have to say it’s not what I thought it’d be. Are ye certain this is it?” Carlos noticed Taggart trying to stifle his Scottish accent, almost as if he were ashamed by it.
“Yes” the dealer said. Carlos noticed this man made no attempt to hide his Serbian accent. “It is the only proto-type in existence. It enhances the user’s strength ten-fold and provides almost complete invulnerability from all fire-arms. ”
“And now it belongs to me!” Taggart finished.
Taggart handled the Serbian a silver case. “Your fee as agreed”
The Serbian opened the case and to his surprise the full amount was there in wads. He held one of the wads up and took in a deep breath before chuckling to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Taggart ask.
“I made a bet with some friends back in Serbia. They asked what I would do if you did not keep your end of the bargain.”
“And what was the answer?”
“Simple. I’d shoot you dead on the spot” the Serbian laughed heartily, stroking his long flowing beard.
Taggart feigned a laugh of his own.
The two were interrupted as several mercenaries entered the room.
“Ah look, we have guests.” Taggart gestured.
The mercenaries had bound their victims’ hands together and forced them on their knees in front of Taggart and the Serbian dealer.
“Please do stay for the fireworks, Nebojsa.”

XXX

John Taggart’s body wobbled as Carlos adjusted his rifle’s aim. What started as a mere weapons cache procurement had quickly escalated into a hostage crisis, with most of his team members now being held at gun point. Steadying his aim, he noticed Taggart bend down and take something from his team leader before placing it to his ear. Carlos’ head set began to crackle and he soon heard a voice.
“Testing, testing. One. Two. three. I always wanted to say that” the words echoed as he heard them directly from Taggart and from his ear piece. Taggart’s distinct obnoxious laughter followed shortly after
[i]Keep laughing, gringo.]/i]
“Seriously speaking, ye should probably just all give up now. I’ve got three of ye members here – and if rest of ye hand yourselves in quietly, I promise I won’t kill any of ‘em.”
Carlos would have pulled the trigger there and then if he hadn’t noticed his team leader’s psychotic grin.

XXX

Alex’s hands chaffed against his binds. He could feel the cold hard metal digging into his wrists. Standing no less than a meter in front of him was John Taggart in all his gloss couture glory, who was now talking loudly into his team leader’s head-set. In this position, he had the perfect shot on him, but the mercenaries had completely disarmed him and his fellow team mates.
He looked to his far left and saw Bear, whose eyes were fixated solely on Nebojsa. The two had not exchanged a word since they’d all been caught. Next to Bear was Eckhart who was not only completely unafraid at the situation, but judging by the smile on his face, seemed to actually be enjoying it.
“What are ye smiling about?” Taggart asked, after noticing Eckhart’s psychotic grin.
“Oh it’s just that if I were in your position, I wouldn’t kill us one by one. I mean, sure you’d guarantee killing one of us, but all three? No chance. See the big lad on my left? He once fought a bear in hand to hand combat”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And the chap on my right, he’s a raving cannibal.”
“Then perhaps I’ll kill them first?”
“Sure you want to risk that? Your best bet would be to shoot all three of us in the back of our head, at the exact same time. No margin for error here, Taggart.”
“And how do I know this is not some part of an elaborate escape plan?”
“You don’t. That’s why it’s so fun” Eckhart said before laughing maniacally.
Incensed, Taggart pointed at several of the mercenaries, who quickly re-grouped behind Alex and his team members. Soon each of them had a gun held to the back of their necks.
Great plan, Alex thought to himself.
He bit his tongue as a mercenary jammed the end of his rifle into the back of his head. This is it he thought. Can’t believe I’m going out like this.
He closed his eyes and feared for the worst. The next thing he heard was the deafening sound of a gun-shot.

XXX

Bear stood up immediately and broke from his restraints. In the ensuing fire fight, he saw Nebojsa flee and followed suit, all the while ignoring his commander’s orders.
Several mercenaries stood in his way, only to be knocked to the floor as Bear clotheslined two of them and through the last one over his shoulders. He had prayed so very much for this moment and no power on this Earth would stop him.

XXX

Caught in a cross fire, Carlos got a glimpse of Bear chasing Nebojsa outside the warehouse. A bullet whizzed past forcing him to get behind a wooden crate. He reloaded his weapon with a fresh clip and rolled out from behind the crate firing several shots. Three mercenaries hit the floor, hands clenching their legs where a dozen bullets had torn through.
Carlos stood up but Bear was nowhere to be found. He checked his left and saw a group of mercenaries heading towards the rest of his team. He charged towards them, guns blazing.

XXX

Bear chased Nebojsa outside the warehouse. With enough speed he pounced on the Serbian arms dealer, knocking his briefcase to the floor. Rolling and tumbling on the cold hard granite, he quickly scurried up on all fours. Nebojsa did the same, and soon the two were both standing, eyes piercing into each other’s souls.
“Now, is that anyway to treat your beloved father?” the Serbian arms dealer goaded.
“Don’t get any ideas - this isn’t a family reunion.” Bear responded. He half meant it as a warning to himself. “I’m taking you in for your crimes against humanity; against Bosnia; against my mother”
“Very well; but I will not go willingly” The Serbian said smugly, before throwing his jacket on the floor before readying into Real Akido stance.
Bear responded by raising his fists and assuming a self-taught close quarter combat position.
“Come now child, let me show you why they call me: fearless!”

XXX

Eckhart ran as Mercenaries swarmed the floor and took aim, forcing him under cover. He looked over to his left to see Alex had done the same.
“Happy now?”
Alex shook his head. “This isn’t what I had in mind!”
Eckhart laughed as bullets flew passed his head. “Kid, I need some firepower.”
Alex rummaged around and a crate containing a variety of vintage hand guns. He picked one at random and tossed it towards his leader.
Eckhart got up and emptied the entire clip, missing most of his shots. “I need something with a little more kick!” he shouted before chucking it at one of the mercenaries, smacking him in the head.
Alex once again put his hands into the crate and this time picked out a noticeably heavier hand gun before carefully passing it to his team leader.
With a new gun in hand, Eckhart fired a shot at one of the mercenaries hiding behind a freight crate. The bullet tore through the metal like it was nothing, and the mercenary let out a painful groan.
“Ah yes, the Desert Eagle. Where have you been all my life?” Eckhart said, before kissing the side of the gun and firing another shell.

XXX

“I bought you into this world. And I will take you from it!” Nebojsa roared as his foot came fast and hard, slamming into Bear’s chest. He stumbled back before quickly regaining composure. Balanced on the balls of his feet, Bear lunged forward, saw an opening and launched a barrage of punches into Nebojsa’s chest.
“You fight like a Bosnian!” Nebojsa mocked as he took each and every single one of the blows, before countering by smashing his left knee into son’s chin, drawing blood.
“Yet you bleed like a Serbian!”
Enraged at his father’s mockery, Bear let go of his restraints, let go of his inhibitions, gave into his bottled-up rage and threw a thunderous punch into his father’s face, sending him crashing to the floor.

XXX

A hail storm of lead bullets flew over Alex’s head as he looked towards his leader for some much needed advice.
“They’re using semi-automatics. 32 bullet clips, for bullets per burst. Wait for my signal, and return fire”
He waited. One burst, two bursts. Three bursts. It seemed no matter how long he waited, the bullets kept coming. He counted two more bursts before getting sick of it and got up to return fire. As he did several bullets hit him square in his chest, and he screamed in pain tumbling to the floor.
He heard the mercenaries whooped and holler at their victory before catching a glimpse of his team leader.
“When I say wait for my signal, I mean wait for my signal. Dammit kid, you trying to get yourself killed now?!”
Alex responded with a series of groans.
“You’re lucky you’re wearing all this heavy gear – but don’t think for one second you’re bullet proof”
He nodded his head in agreement, before slowly sitting up.
“Look, you see that group of mercenaries hiding behind those crates? See that box of explosives next to them?”
Alex looked over and nodded.
Eckhart mimicked an explosion with his hands before smiling psychotically.
Alex nodded once again. He didn’t fully understand what he just agreed to, but after getting shot several times, he stopped thinking rationally. He saw his leader stand up in the middle of the fire-fight and open fire on a munitions crate, causing a 10 feet wide explosion and setting half a dozen mercenaries on fire.

XXX

Lying on the tarmac, a battered and bruised Nebojsa looked towards his biological son.
“I’m an old man; you think prison is justice for my actions?”
Bear thought about this for a moment. It’s true, his father was very old and likely would only serve a few years in prison before dying of old age. But, something deep down inside him prevented him from landing a finishing blow.
“You wish to complete your vengeance? Then end me now!”
Bear steeled himself once again from his father’s goading.
Nebojsa scoffed at his son’s silence. “Judge, jury but you stop at executioner? Pathetic just like her”.
Bear’s wall cracked for a few seconds as he tried to control his overflowing rage, allowing his father enough time to flip off the ground and land two powerful feet into his son’s chest.

XXX

Carlos picked off the remaining mercenaries before joining up with the rest of his team
“That’s the last of them” he said
“Good. What about Taggart?”
“Haven’t seen him since the fire fight started. I think he escaped”
“Sweep the area, he might still be around. We’ll gather the munitions.” Eckhart said before passing Carlos his shot gun. “Good hunting!”

XXX

Nebojsa swung widely. Bear dodged with ease – the ‘fearless’ one was slowing down; old age and a visceral fist fight had finally taken their toll on the Serbian war criminal.
“Come now, father, I will show you why they call me Bear!”
Bear caught hold of Nebojsa with both his arms and lifted him high up off the ground, squeezing his body tightly. He would not kill his father, but he would put him through unfathomable pain.

XXX

“That should be all of the-“
Eckhart’s sentence was cut off by the sound of gunfire. He recognised it instantly.
“Shot gun rounds; it’s Carlos!”
He heard another blast and another each one filled with more panic than the last until finally only the deafening sound of silence remained. In the corner of his eye he could see Alex exchanging a glare. He readied his carbine and aimed in the direction of the sound of fire. Strafing left and right, he maintained a close distance between cover, looking for any signs of mercenaries; of Taggart; of Carlos.
Several moments passed and eventually in the corner of his eye he saw a glint of silver armour. He couldn’t react fast enough, but somehow he ended up on the floor, eyes facing the ceiling. His view was quickly disturbed as a blinding ball of fiery heat flew over him.

XXX

Muscles tightened, bones cracked and Nebojsa finally caved in before letting out a blood curdling scream. Bear let go and his father’s body slumped to the floor, writhing in pain.
Bloody, battered and beaten, Bear let out a sigh of relief before promptly hand-cuffing his father, who had now passed out in sheer exhaustion.
“I can never forgive you for what you did. But the fact remains, you are my father by blood and for that and only that, will I let you live.”
He stood up and walked away.

XXX

Eckhart heard a faint voice. He looked in the direction of it and saw Alex staring back at him, his finger on his mouth. Eckhart nodded before slowly getting up.
“He’s got sonar” Alex whispered to him. “And he’s disabled comms too”
Eckhart frowned.
“Look, around the corner!” Alex said.
Readying their weapons, both the two opened fire on the silver armour’s back. The body staggered forwards as bullets smashed into the armour, sparks flying.
They stopped thinking their target would fall. It did not. Turning, the silver armour raised its fire arm, shooting out a blinding ball of intense heat narrowly missing Alex and Eckhart, who had barely managed to roll out of the way.
“What the hell was that!?” Alex said angrily.
“A blinding ball of heat”
“Very funny; I’m talking about that walking tank over there!”
“It’s the Omega Suit. Designed as the next step in Global Warfare -”
“How do we kill it?!” Alex interrupted
“That suit was stolen during development stages – before they could implement the explosive-resistant fibre weave.” Eckhart said before smiling wryly.
“Look for any explosive devi-
“Found one.” Alex pointed towards a crate; he could see a grenade launcher popping out from the top.
Eckhart smiled again. Kid’s finally learning “Get it and blow him sky-high, kid!”
Eckhart stood up to see a worse for wear Bear throw a wooden crate at the Omega suit, splintering on impact. As the suit stumbled, Eckhart fired off the remaining rounds in his clip allowing Bear to gain the upper hand, flooring the Omega suit to the ground.

XXX

His hands firmly on the suit’s head piece, Bear pulled the face mask off with great strength. The Omega suit responded by aiming a swift elbow into Bear’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs, before lifting him up with ease and tossing him into a nearby freight crate. It stood up right and set its eyes on Eckhart, who had switched weapons to the Dessert Eagle and had taken aim.

The Omega suit rose its left hand across it’s now exposed face, and two rectangular shapes protruded from either side of the gauntlet just in time to block several slugs from Eckhart’s side arm. The bullets panged and ricocheted, and Eckhart was forced to give ground as the Omega suit edged closer and closer. Its right hand clenched, and a sharp three inch blade slowly protruded outwards.

XXX

Quickly running out of options and ammunition, Eckhart slowly gave more ground until he had backed himself into a corner. Finally, he came face to face with Taggart and threw his gun to the floor.
“I’m ready! Are you?!” Eckhart shouted
Taggart replied by raising his bladed right hand and slamming it down towards Eckhart, who dodged it at the last second. The blade pierced into the wall dislodging itself, temporary immobilising Taggart as he struggled to break free.
Eckhart ran as fast as he could before blowing a whistle. He looked over to see Taggart had freed himself only to be hit square in the chest with a grenade. The ensuing explosion knocked him back off his feet.

XXX

Alex hoisted his team leader up off the ground. He could smell a faint rose scent masked in smoke and gun powder.
“How’d I do, boss?”
“You did good, son. You did goo-” Eckhart’s facial expressions changed as he slumped to the floor, blood squirting from his left shoulder.
Before Alex had time to realise what had happened, a bullet tore right through his arm and dropped to the floor. Holding his wound, he looked up to see his assailant. There he was, John Taggart, his high priced suit blackened and charred, his skin burnt and his face a bloody mess, aiming a gun at his head.
He once again closed his eyes and prepared for death. He thought he heard someone shout his name before the familiar and deafening sound of single gun-shot rung in his head.

XXX

Alex awoke and sat up in the back of SWAT van. His right arm ached. He noticed it was in a make shift cast, red splodges of blood had seeped through.
A quick look beyond his feet was Carlos, bloody hands firmly placed on his chest covering a puncture wound.
The van’s doors were open and Alex could see outside. Standing tall as ever was a battered and bruised Bear on the left, rubbing his shoulder and talking to Eckhart.

XXX

“You’ve grown a lot since the boy that I met in Bosnia all those years ago.”
“Killing someone does not make me a man.” Bear replied.
“Maybe. But what about saving the lives of potential millions?”
“Potential?” Bear shrugged his shoulders.
“How about actual; you saved every single one of us”
“Only after I put you all at risk!” Bear exclaimed
“Yet here we all are. Alive and well.”
Bear shrugged his shoulders before taking a deep breath.
“Are you still planning on leaving us then?”
“Let’s just say, there’s life in this old dog yet” Bear said with a smile.
“Glad to hear it! My wound’s playing up on me, better get it checked. Wouldn’t want an infection” he joked before heading towards Carlos.

XXX

“Thank you for saving my life Bear” Alex said as he handed Bear his prayer beads.
“Thank you for reminding me that life is worth saving”

Longevity

When he first entered Syed’s taxi, Mr Janus was older. If not for that gaunt face creased with wrinkles which framed ice-blue eyes peeping below the rim of a fedora perched on hair the colour of storm clouds, Syed would never have allowed him to bring in the cat. No animals or non-paying passengers. Those were the rules.

Rules didn’t seem to apply to Janus - they just slid off him in a stream of trusting forgiveness. Perhaps it had something to do with the way he carried himself, like a dapper, kindly grandfather. There was also the small fact that in the thirty minutes since they’d left Leicester he appeared to be five years younger.

“Is something the matter?” Janus smiled with his eyes, which gazed into Syed’s stare reflected in the rear-view.

Syed focussed on the road. “Not at all.” The corner of his mouth turned upward as he risked another, friendlier, glance through the Plexiglas partition. “You’re just looking very… healthy.”

Janus laughed, tilting back his head. When he lowered it, silver strands in his sideburns had turned ever so slightly brown. “I never tire of hearing that.” He stroked the cat purring in his lap, his leather gloves folded under its forepaws. “Still can’t decide whether it’s condescension or envy.”

Syed shrugged. “Curiosity.”

“Well, we know what that did to the cat.” Janus chuckled and rubbed the animal’s neck, then looked out the window at the village through which they passed, shafts of late afternoon sunlight playing across his now less-wrinkled features. “You could live a thousand lives, answer every question, and never be sated.”

“So it’s better never to ask?”

Janus rested his fingers on the cat’s head. “Only if you’d dislike the answer.”

Syed glanced toward the ignition for the key-ring from which dangled a picture of Nurmeen. She would probably have terminated this conversation a few miles back rather than allowing the weirdness to escalate. She might even have kicked Janus out.

She definitely wouldn’t imagine an elderly passenger growing younger by the minute.

Syed breathed deep, inhaling oxygen into his lungs to exhale silent memories into the air. Pain could wait. He smiled at Janus. “Whatever you do, don’t ask if we’re there yet.”

Janus cocked an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“You might dislike the answer.”

Janus grinned. Even his teeth looked younger. “Wittier than the average driver.”

“And smarter than the average bear.” Syed waited for a laugh that never came. “Anyway, we should reach the school in fifteen minutes.”

Janus nodded. “You weren’t lying about knowing a shortcut.” He passed his fingers between the cat’s whiskers. The animal mewed and closed its eyes. Janus said, “I hope my grandson will be ready.”

“I’m sure he will be.” Syed slowed the taxi for the sharp bend ahead. “And the best thing about country roads near Northampton is there are plenty of animals for kids to look at.” He turned the wheel, felt his body shift in the opposite direction as the vehicle rounded the bend before straightening out. “He could even play with your pet.”

“It’s a stray.” Janus caressed the cat, whose head drooped until its body followed suit and splayed across his thighs. “I don’t usually bring them with me, but this one looked so lonely. It’s as if they seek out people with soft spots for children and animals.” His fingers parted the fur on the cat’s back. “But they have such energy.”

The words ignited memories floating in Syed’s mind. Nurmeen…

(She lacks the energy to respond to gentle coaxing or friendly touch. She doesn’t open her eyes. She strokes the seatbelt across her waist. Her voice is soft. “We did the wrong thing, Syed.”)

“Definitely,” Syed said and spoke no more, even when the cat stopped purring, and Janus passed a hand through his own unmistakably chestnut hair.

When they drew up in front of the school, Janus donned his gloves and stepped onto the pavement, cat held against his side. “Shan’t be long,” he said and shut the door. He strolled toward the school gates, pausing to lay the cat atop a knee-high wall.

Syed thought the animal was a sound sleeper.

He didn’t realise until Mr Janus returned that it wasn’t moving.

(She doesn’t need to move. She doesn’t need to look at him. He can feel the pain on her face despite his focus on the street-lit road unrolling beneath them, and the van ahead with rattling copper pipes piled on its roof. He says, “We had no choice. You would have died.”)

Mr Janus ignored the dead cat as he passed it with the little boy, who laughed and opened the taxi door to roll onto the seat. The kid looked about six years old. He beamed at Syed through the partition. “Howdy,” the boy drawled, adjusting his bobble hat as if it were a Stetson.

“What’s your name?” Syed smiled, despite and because of the pain he knew Nurmeen would have felt were she able to see this child so full of energy and life.

(“We took a life.” She shakes her head. “Who’s to say mine is worth more than our baby’s?”)

Janus nudged the child across. “Make way, Tom.” Once the older man was seated he nodded at Syed, who steered the taxi away from the curb. Tom clapped and bounced until Janus leaned over to fasten the boy’s seatbelt. The older man raised a playful finger. “Behave.” He passed his gloved hand over the kid’s head, as if Tom were that cat.

Syed swallowed the questions about the animal and the older man’s seemingly reverse aging. It wouldn’t be right to upset the boy. Instead Syed asked, “So what did you learn in school today, Tom?”

Tom raised his left arm. “How to tell time!” He lifted his sleeve to reveal a paper band wrapped around his wrist and scribbled with green crayon. “And we made watches!”

Syed laughed. “And what time is it?”

Before Tom could answer, Janus laid a hand on his shoulder. “Time for something to eat.” The older man reached into his pocket and produced a wrapped sweet which he handed to the boy, who tore it open to pop into his own giggling mouth. Janus shook his head. “I do spoil him sometimes.”

Syed forced a polite smile and tried not to judge the boy’s parents. They might have had a perfectly valid reason to allow this freakishly youthful old man to collect their son from school and whisk him off to a different city. A grandfather is entitled to spend time with his grandson, after all. What’s a dead cat between responsible adults? Syed said, “They seem quite easy to spoil when they’re that age.”

Janus removed Tom’s hat to stroke his blond hair. “You speak from experience?”

Syed suppressed a wince. “Unfortunately, no.”

(“No, Nurmeen.” His vision doesn’t waver from the van ahead, the pipes on its roof vibrating as their car draws closer. “We’ve had this discussion. We’ve decided.”)

Janus cocked his head thoughtfully. “Such things aren’t for us to decide, really.” He cupped the boy’s chin in his gloved palm. “One of life’s great miracles for those lucky enough to receive them.”

Syed glanced at Tom in the rear-view. “Yes.” The kid swallowed his sweet and pressed his face against the window. Nurmeen would have hugged the child at the sight of such a simple act, would have held him close until he fell asleep in her arms so she could set him down in the cradle they’d picked out--

No.

No more pain over the past, over their decision. Over the accident. No more pain over the unchangeable. And certainly not while he was carrying passengers.

So he said nothing while he drove them back onto the country road. He said nothing when Tom drifted to sleep, or Janus removed his gloves and held the boy’s cheeks and all Syed could think of was the cat suffering slowly in his taxi to be ultimately abandoned in a strange place oblivious to its death.

When he saw the old man brush away another brown hair from his ever youthful face (was he in his forties now?), Syed did nothing. Doing something would imply that what he thought was happening was true, which would imply that he was not sane enough to drive.

(He drives faster, the van in front enlarging in their windscreen, the pipes on its roof looming like blunt daggers. She’s shaking her head. “It’s still a sin.”)

But he could not allow himself to sin by failing to act. He had to act when he saw one of the child’s blond locks turn the colour of storm clouds, and when a wrinkle creased from that strand of hair across the pale skin of the boy’s forehead, like a crack in alabaster. He had to act when he glimpsed the older man’s two-year younger smile.

Syed yanked the radio receiver from the dash. He opened his mouth and something slammed into the partition.

Janus glowered, seatbelt unbuckled, one hand against the Plexiglas and the other wrapped around Tom’s throat. “All I have to do is squeeze.”

Syed stared at him, saw the fear and panic and intent in his eyes, and lowered the receiver.

Janus nodded. “Keep driving.” Stroked Tom’s neck, chest, arms, and cupped both little hands in his own. The colour drained slowly from Tom’s hair, crow’s feet spreading from his sleeping eyes.

Syed gritted his teeth. “You drugged him. Something in that sweet you gave him.”

“You are smarter than the average bear.” The sarcasm might have been generated by the voice of a man in his late thirties.

“What the hell are you, Janus?”

Each of the older man’s responding chuckles sounded progressively younger. “Don’t ask the question if you’ll dislike the answer.”

Syed stared at the road. “Humour me.”

“I am eternity.” The voice had lost its edge of aged gravel. “I am the darkness behind your door. The oblivion from which all run and to which all return. I am the sands of the hourglass and the ticking of the clock.” The voice drew closer. “But I can turn back my clock. What if you could, too?”

“And turn out like you? Some life-sucking predator?”

“God favours the spider, not the fly.” The voice laughed like that of a man in his mid-twenties. “And you are all obsolete little insects. Out with the old, in with the new.”

(“Out with the old, in with the new.” She faces him with tears in her eyes. He doesn’t see the van in front slowing, or the pipes starting to shake. All he sees is her pain. All he hears is her loss. “We murdered our child before it was born so I could live. It’s twisted, Syed.”)

“You’re twisted, Janus.” Syed looked only at the road ahead.

“And you’re as naive as one of my many children from one of my many lives.” The voice cackled. “Maybe I’ll pay you off like this boy’s parents. Everyone has a price. It’s blindingly obvious after your second adulthood.”

Syed didn’t want to think about how many times this sick miscreant had reverse-aged himself back to boyhood simply to become a man again, nor did he wish to picture the dead children required to make such a twisted life possible. He didn’t even want to look at the passenger’s face. All that mattered was the child. Maybe Syed could swerve to shake Janus loose.

(The pipes shake loose from the van’s roof and hit the road.)

Syed watched the road draw the village ahead closer and had a better idea. Tom was buckled in, but Janus wasn’t. There were easier, faster and safer ways to loosen a scumbag’s grip on a child at sixty miles an hour.

So Syed slammed the brake.

(He slams the brake. One of the pipes clangs against the road and cartwheels across the bonnet to crack through the windscreen)

Something cracked against the partition as the taxi lurched Syed forward. He turned his head, seatbelt tight against his chest after the vehicle halted.

In the back Tom sat, strapped in and sleeping.

On the floor Janus sprawled, prone and unmoving.

And the spokes of the web the passenger’s head had cracked into the partition were smeared with blood.

(Blood smears the bonnet, the windscreen, the dashboard. His face. Her body. She tries to speak. He knows the pipe piercing her abdomen won’t allow it. He knows shock has silenced him. He knows he won’t hear her voice before she dies.)

Syed climbed out of the taxi and hoped Janus was dead. He opened the rear passenger door on Tom’s side. The kid looked okay. Prematurely grey and wrinkled, but alive. He was stirring now, blinking and fumbling at the seatbelt. Syed climbed into the cab and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay, Tom.” He reached for the buckle.

“It’s stuck.” Tom’s voice was old and feeble and broke Syed’s heart.

“It’s okay, Tom,” he repeated. Somehow he’d find the boy’s parents, think of some way to explain this insanity. He’d do right by the kid. It’s what Nurmeen would have wanted.

Syed shook his head, as if to rid it of memories and thoughts of the future both. They were irrelevant in the moment. They were only distractions. He focussed on unbuckling the belt. It had become twisted, that was all. Easy fix.

“It’s coming loose.” Tom’s voice sounded younger.

Syed looked at him. The kid was younger. Wrinkles faded slowly from his skin. The grey of his hair gradually brightened and yellowed. And were Tom Syed’s own child he’d scoop him up in his arms and praise Allah for His mercy.

But Tom wasn’t his child and would never be, so Syed settled for a muttered, “Thank God.”

He disentangled the boy from the seatbelt and tousled his hair, even as Tom peered over Syed’s shoulder.

“What about granddad?”

Syed smiled. “Don’t worry about him.” And he lifted the boy off the seat and set him down on the road, and he watched Tom adjust his coat and his hat, and each one of the boy’s movements brought a memory of Nurmeen, and each memory brought a smile.

Syed took one step onto the tarmac before fingers like hooks of ice gripped the back of his neck.

“I’m bleeding,” Mr Janus said. “Not dying.”

The grip tightened and Syed couldn’t even scream. He could only stare at Tom’s fearful little face, glance at the village half a mile away and rasp, “Run!”

And run the boy did.

Syed would breathe a sigh of relief if he could take a breath. He could only glance at the road, the fields, the darkening sky, or claw at the fingers that gripped his neck to pry loose the life-leeching skin of that palm and sink to his knees.

Syed coughed and doubled over as Janus released him.

“Make me bleed.” The old man’s voice sounded as it had when he’d first entered Syed’s taxi. “Temporarily reverse the process.” Janus wiped crimson from his wrinkled face. “You’re either very clever or very stupid.” He kicked Syed’s chin, which snapped upward to crumple his body into the taxi door.

Syed scrambled to his feet only to receive a right hook to the jaw that spun is head into the passenger window. Blood trickled from his temple to salt his lips. His vision blurred. The fogging silhouette of Mr Janus crouched before him.

“Such a shame.” The old man became a shadow amongst concussed shadows. “I’d have given you my secret if only you’d asked.” The shadow touched Syed’s jaw. “It’s such a subtle art. The difference between minutes or seconds of your life is simply a matter of pressure.” The shadow squeezed.

(The neck brace squeezes as he twists on the stretcher and tries to catch a glimpse of her, but all he sees is flashing blue lights, all he hears are people questioning the van driver, and he can’t see their car and he can’t see her and the shock must be wearing off because he knows that she’s dead and she’s not coming back and all he wants to do is join her.)

Syed didn’t resist. What was the point? The shadows gathered, deepened, beckoned. Who was he to deny them? You can’t turn back time. Better to embrace the inevitable.

“Tell me how much I should take,” the shadow goaded. “Tom’s missing me.”

And the shadows cleared and Syed could see. All he had to do was focus. Focus on the voice, on what it was saying, focus on the unnaturally youthful man to whom it belonged. Focus on what that man would do when Syed was gone.

Janus looked like a man in his prime. His eyes were bright, his skin smooth, his hair thick and brown. His grip on Syed’s jaw tightened and Syed saw him become younger and felt him become stronger. “How much of your life should I take?”

Syed could barely breathe. His limbs were both heavy and brittle, like logs made of glass. He didn’t realise how wrinkled his hands were until he wrapped them around his passenger’s throat. The van gave him the strength to squeeze. The van was the start of the chain that had robbed him of Nurmeen when it should have taken his life. The van was the conscience that failed him when he drove her to the clinic. The van was their child’s revenge.

“Take everything,” Syed whispered and tightened his grip, until his grip was all he had, until Janus let go and grabbed at the hands that suffocated and rejuvenated him. The man’s eyes became clearer, more brilliant, his jaw more pronounced, his skin smoother, his frame thinner. A man in his twenties. Syed squeezed tighter and watched five years evaporate from the passenger’s face. Tighter. Two more years. Harder. Three years more.

A man’s eyes closed, frantic.

A boy’s eyes opened, glassy.

Syed released Janus. He stooped over the youthful corpse. His breaths were flames in the furnace of his chest, his pulse a clot in the shaking pipes of his arteries. At the corners of his vision shadows gathered.

He welcomed them, even as he sank to the ground, the drum of his heart slowing to beat its final spurts of lifeblood into aged facial muscles. He smiled.

Out with the old, in with the new.

why is it a must that you know the names of the writers?...we can guess who they are

I, unfortunately, tried to enter the comp but i was late, it was way past the deadline. I didnt write longevity. It's a good story but not a complete one.