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STUCK BY A DRUMMER
This short work in progress orginally appeared on the RIGHT STUFF message board. Here it is in free-flowing, easy to read format!!
PART FIVE
Clutching the knife, he drew back and planted a solid boot in Steve's stomach. Steve groaned and his head sagged forward, sending his long black hair trailing over his chest. The hooligan poised the knife to make a cut in his face, but with a sudden burst of energy, Steve retaliated by kicking it out of his hand...in my direction.
I snatched it off the gravel. Immediately all eyes -three sets of them looking drunk as all hell and mean- shot in my direction. I was no fool- knife or not, I stood no chance. I threw the damn thing as far away as I could.
"KC." Steve sounded urgent without any fear seeping into his voice. "Get the fuck out of here."
"No." It was the bravest and probably dumbest comment I could have made. Those freaks knew it too. They all laughed like rabid jackals and one sneered, "Stay around, love. After we finish with your boyfriend you're next."
"Look." I struggled to keep my voice steady. "Let it go, all right? Or the police will throw all of us in the can."
Once again all they did was laugh. Mr. Broken Nose nodded to one of his friends, who seized Steve's hair to force his head up. While I watched in horror, he backhanded Steve hard, splitting his lip and drawing blood. The pain seemed to give Steve renewed strength- he lunged forward and broke free of the grip on his arms. Eyes blazing and blood dribbling down his chin, he tackled the other man and threw his considerable weight forward, sending both of them tumbling to the ground.
The other two closed in, kicking Steve in the sides and head as the struggle became more violent. I couldn't take it any more- I turned toward the club and prepared to run for help, tears soaking my cheeks and praying that I wouldn't be covering Steve's funeral as an epilogue to tonight's interview.
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