IT was another Saturday afternoon; Marcuz had just finished his class.
This was the self-same week that June had her work wrapped up. And it was a cloudy afternoon that Saturday.
Mr. Marcuz López climbed down the building that was his department, and reached the basement where he parked his ride.
He’d just got another cycle since he returned from home. It wasn’t a bicycle this time, or something he could throw just anywhere around.
This time, his precious bike was a power cycle. He’d drawn from the stockpile inherited from his parents. And treated himself to a steering pump ride.
So he parked the motorcycle at the basement park, and went back there to ride home.
But then, just while he stepped by the racing beast, he heard footsteps closing in on him.
Then, just when he was turning to see who was there, a thick dark hood fell over him.
He was capped with black from head down to neck.
At that instant, a daze fell on him as his limbs gave way beneath him.
For he breathed in some gas in the cap, then found himself slumping down in someone’s arm.
Next moment, he was out of consciousness.
◘◘◘
Marcuz slowly opened his eyes. His gaze looked a bit dreamy; and quite weary, too.
He was sitting in a wooden chair in some old warehouse. So he looked around to observe the place.
He was alone in that big hall, and saw mural paintings filling everywhere on the old structure.
He recognized the wall paintings and could tell he was on one abandoned site of their campus.
Now he took a look at himself and realized that nothing was binding him at all. Still he couldn’t move his hands and legs.
He tried to scream, but his mouth seemed too heavy for this. He tried to speak, but he only slurred.
Marcuz López was back awake, yet he was barely alive. He was there in that place, still he felt dreamy.
So then he became scared.
Cannon has got me at last. They’ve finally found me! O God, help me!
The memories of that fatal night where Lucius Barnabas was murdered, played back in his mind...
That lengthy talk of the college professor came back to him now.
He thought of everyone precious to him. Thought of Luca, thought of Vincent...
Thought of a special friend he’d got little time for. A bright and pretty girl one year his junior.
Someone who then was taking his tutorial to stay around him. Who looked up to him in Pure Chemistry.
He thought of Jaci, the special friend. So he didn’t like to go now.
A stream of tear rolled down his face. He hoped he wouldn’t die.
But just then, a man walked in. He wore a mask, so Marcuz didn’t see his face.
He spoke up as if he knew the young man’s thought.
“You are not going to die. Nobody’s killing you here!”
Marcuz was afraid.
“Who... who are you, please?”
Those words rolled out with a small effort. For Marcuz was getting better with talk.
So he asked once more.
“Please, who are you?”
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