NYANGA Second Edition

1.

At the top of a slight rise in the street walked a lone man coming down the hill. His coat was held tightly closed, and his hat pulled down snugly against the relentless wind. Other than this one man, and the heavily falling rain, the street was deserted.

He passed a grassy park on his right, soon coming upon a row of businesses, all but one closed for the night.

Descending four steps, he opened the door to a smoke-filled, alcohol-smelling room crowded with boisterous people. Most sat in booths, some at the bar, while others walked around making nuisances of themselves. Sawdust covered the floor, absorbing spilled drinks while the overhead fans tried to clear the foul air.

The bartender, Brian, looked up when he saw the lone man step inside. “John, I didn’t expect to see you on a stormy night like this.”

“I hadn’t planned on being out, but an odd message was waiting for me when I got home.”

“I see. Your usual booth?”

“Please, if it’s available.”

“It will be in a moment,” Brian said as he started walking to the back of the room.

There seemed to be some disagreement between Brian and the patrons. It was soon resolved, followed by the cheerful sounds of satisfied customers as they vacated the booth.

John walked over to his friend Brian. “How’d you manage that?”

“It was a bit challenging at first but the offer of free drinks for the rest of the evening quickly had them moving.”

“Free drinks?”

“It’s the cheapest alcohol I can buy. In their condition, they’ll never notice I water it down.”

John sat in the now vacant booth. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. The usual?”

“Please.”

John took the time to look around the room. A group of social drinkers trying to have a quiet conversation—challenging in this noisy environment. Another group—a birthday perhaps, were simply enjoying each other’s company, while others were pounding it back as fast as they could for any reason.

Brian brought John’s usual over to the booth. “One Scotch, neat.”

“Thank you,” John said, reaching into his pocket to take out some cash to pay for the drink.

“Put that away. You know your money’s no good here.”

John smiled, putting his wallet away.

“Do you know who you’re waiting for?”

“It was a computer-generated message. I have no idea who I’m supposed to be meeting,” John answered. “Would it be too much trouble for your usual services this evening?”

“Not at all,” Brian replied. “My pleasure.” At this, he went back to the thirsty customers at the bar.

Sitting in the booth, he watched for anyone who resembled a likely candidate for a contact. Some patrons departed, wrapping their coats around themselves tightly. In contrast, others arrived shaking their wet garment and scattering rainwater on the sawdust floor.

An hour passed, and no one of any consequence came near him. A few patrons tried inviting themselves into his booth. A short time passed, and he realized they were in the bar to get out of the constant rain and were not his mysterious contact. After politely explaining he was waiting for someone, they moved on.

The second hour was much like the first. The only contact was two ladies of the evening approaching, saying he looked lonely, sitting there by himself. They asked if he would like some company.

He declined their offer graciously, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Soon, Brian, who had been keeping an eye on John, came over and had the ladies move along.

“Do they ever give you much trouble?” John asked.

“Not one bit. They’re looking for work, not to cause a scene. If business is bad, they move on.”

The third hour started as the last two had. Eventually, Brian called, “Time, ladies and gentlemen.” This caused a stir of activity at the bar as the evening’s final drinks were ordered.

Eventually, the last of the patrons disappeared into the night, and Brian closed and locked the front door after taking one last look out at the still heavy rain.

“A wretched night. One for the Ne’er-do-wells,” Brian said. “Would you like me to call a ride for your trip home?”

“No, thanks. After sitting for three hours, the walk will feel good.” Having said this, John stood from the booth, reaching for his coat and hat.

“Allow me,” Brian said, holding the coat open for John, then handing him his hat.

“Thank you. Now, if you would, the front door, please.”

The two men walked to the door, with Brian unlocking it and having one more look outside. “A perfect night for mischief and mayhem.”

Exchanging their usual parting words, John thanked Brian for his hospitality throughout the evening.

“Always a pleasure to have you visit my establishment. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

They shook hands, and John exited the bar, with Brian closing the door behind him.

John walked up the four steps to the street and turned left, retracing his steps from earlier in the evening.

The rain was torrential now. John pulled his hat down snugly and wrapped his coat tightly around himself. He turned the collar up to stop the rain from dripping down the back of his neck.

Silently and without warning, John felt hands on his shoulders. “Stop and don’t turn around,” a harsh male voice ordered. “Give me your wallet and watch.”

John stood there on the deserted, rainy street and realized he was being robbed.

“I said, give me your wallet and watch, or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Brian asked from where he was standing behind the man, pushing something hard into the small of his back. “If you don’t remove your hands from the gentleman now, I won’t hesitate to use this.”

The hands came off John’s shoulders and slowly rose into the air.

John turned and saw that his assailant was nothing more than a hyped-up miscreant.

“Would you like me to use this?” Brian asked, pushing his weapon still harder into the fellow’s back.

“He’s just a junkie looking for his next fix.”

The fellow stood there, hands in the air, eyes as large as dinner plates, terrified for his life.

“Would it be silent if you use it?” John asked.

“It makes a bit of noise, but only we’d hear it.”

The fellow couldn’t take anymore, knowing pain or even death was coming his way. He bolted, disappearing into the darkness.

“Now?” Brian shouted, aiming at the running figure.

“No, let him go.”

The two men stood there, laughing.

“How did you know someone was going to jump me?” John asked.

“When I locked up, I saw something in the shadows across the street. When I opened the door to let you out, it had moved much closer but was still in the shadows.”

“How did you get here so quickly and quietly?”

“Simple. I didn’t lock the door after you departed. That gave me enough time to let him move in on you and for me to get this,” Brian said, opening his hand.

“What’s that?”

“My muddler.”

John looked closer. “So it is.”

“You see, I believe it’s the little extras you give your customers that keeps them coming back.”