Bridging Gaps Chapter 5: Mr. Tran
DescriptionNew!!! Took 4ever. (Classes got in the way.) Im still experimenting with the way i wanna tell the story.As always im counting on the crew to give me some feedback.lol hope you like it!
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Chapter 5: Mr. Tran As the rain once again falls over the city, Jake sits in an alleyway deep within the city with his back against the wall, under his open umbrella, leaning gently upon his shoulder. Because of his unwillingness to ever return to David's apartment, he is forced to bear the cold rain of the city as he has no place of his own. The gentle sounds of the rain tapping upon his black umbrella lulls him to sleep as he leans his head back on the wall. After a while Jake nods off to sleep. In his dream, Jake's vision is blurred yet he can see his feet struggling to walk. His eyes are fixated on the ground. For some strange reason he is unable to lift them. A sudden thrust sends him to the ground as his blood gives a red tint over his vision. With the loud pop of a gunshot, Jake abruptly wakes. Jake is startled for a second, dropping his umbrella and then regains his composure. "What the hell happened to me?" he asks himself, rubbing his face. Thunder claps in the sky above him as he looks up, letting the gentle rain hit his face. After a long stretch, he lifts himself off the ground as he leans with one hand on the wall, and the other holding the umbrella. "That dream felt so real," he says looking down at the ground. Just then, Jake hears the sound of splashing water. As he looks out into the street, he sees an old, Asian man running in the street, past the alley, holding something in his hands. "What the hell," he says. Moments later he sees three men with guns chasing after the man. "Crap, this is not good," he says, folding up the umbrella and pulling out his gun. Jake runs out into the street, after the men. The old man runs frantically, every so often looking behind him. His muscles ache and his heart pounds rapidly on his chest. Suddenly, he hears another gunshot; the bullet strikes him in the leg and he falls hard on the wet pavement. Holding some sort of canister close to him, the group of men circle the old man. "You think you can just take whatever you want?" one man asks as he kicks him in the back. The old man shuts his eyes and clinches tightly to the canister as the men continue to kick him over and over. Growing tired of beating the stubborn old man, one of the men signals the others to stop as he aims his gun at the old man's head. "You think you can just run away from your problems, run away from this city? We have all tried, but death is the only true escape one can have from this Hollow Bastion," says the man as the old man closes his eyes, lying in the fetal position with tears in his eyes. "I love you Sarah and I'm sorry," he says. The loud clap of a gunshot echoes throughout the empty streets. The young man lets out a load roar, holding his bloody left arm in pain. Confused, the old man looks up, trying to assess the situation though the rain is making it hard for him to see. With his vision obscured, he slightly makes out what seems to be the men shooting at something or someone. "Who the hell is this guy," says one man as he falls to the ground; close enough to the old man for him smell his spilled blood. The other two men run away screaming as the old man, checks the now deceased man's face lying next to him, "Thank god, it's not him," he says. As he struggles to sit upright he sees a strange man checking the rounds of his gun. "Dang it, only one left," he says, looking up and around, irritated. Jake puts his gun away and approaches the frightened old man. "Don't worry old man, I'm not one of them," he says, helping the man to his feet. "Can you walk?" Jake asks as a gust of wind blows and nearly sends the old man back to the ground. "The wound is shallow but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it back like this," he replies, holding on to Jake's arm for support. "Come on, let's take some shelter in the alley," says Jake, pulling out his umbrella as they walk into the nearest alley. "Ah! I haven't seen one of those in a while; you must be an outsider huh?" As they get into the alley, Jake helps the man sit leaning on the wall. "Yeah, some people call me that. Others call me walker, stranger, bum, but you can call me Jake Streyga," he says with a smile on his face. "Well anyway, thank you for your help Mr. Streyga. I was beginning to think all the good people in this town had left a long time ago." Jake bends down in front of him and checks the man's wounded leg. "It's not like they could if they wanted to. Death is the only escape from a place like this," he says examining the wound. The old man closes his eyes with a sad smile on his face. "You were right, it's a superficial wound; just give it time." Jake sits next to the old man, offering him the umbrella for shelter. "No thank you, sometimes I like the feel of the rain on my face," he says. Jake laughs, "Me too," he replies, putting the umbrella on the ground between them. "You know, umbrellas are a telltale sign of Walkers. That's a pretty nice one you have there Mr. Streyga. "What do you mean?" he asks. "Well I mean the handle," he says picking it up, "It's shaped like a sword." "Oh really, I never noticed. Are you into this kind of stuff?" he asks, running his hands through his wet hair. The man grabs his right leg in discomfort. "Hey old man, you ok?" He nods his head, shifting his body in a more comfortable position. "We're going to have to get out of here soon; there is no telling when and if those guys will return. The old man nods in agreement. Jake quickly rises and helps the old man to his feet. As he stands up, the rain suddenly ceases. "This makes things a little easier and harder at the same time," says the old man. "Those men will come after me again. We need to get to my shop quickly," he says trying to bend down and pick up his canister. Seeing him struggle, Jake picks it up for him. He examines it and looks back at the man, "Propane?" he asks. "Yeah, it's very important to me," he replies. "Yeah it must be if you're willing to die for it. Either that or you're just plain crazy. Jake walks in front of the man and crouches down with his back turned to him. "Wh-What are you doing," the man asks. "You'll never make it back in your condition so I'll have to take you myself," he replies. "Oh no that's ok," says the man. "Just get on," Jake says interrupting him. The old man climbs on his back and Jake struggles to his feet. "You are a very kind man, Jake Streyga," he says as they begin to walk. "Yeah well it's kind of my job," he says as he walks out the alley. He stops and looks around the disserted, soaked, city streets filled with steam rising from the pavement. "So how far is your store from here?" "About;three miles," the man says, smiling as Jake lets out a sigh. "Hey I just realized something," the old man says. Jake looks back with an interested look on his face, "What's that?" he asks. "You never asked me my name," he says. "Oh yeah, sorry, it's just that I try not to get attached to people and that's easier if I don't learn their names. " The old man smiles, "You should not think like that. Names are one of the things that make us human," he says. Jake laughs a bit, "I guess you're right. So, what's your name old friend?" he asks. "Mr. Tran, nice to meet you," he says extending his hand around Jake for a handshake. Jake struggles a bit then gives him an awkward handshake. "That's a good name."