SHADOWS OF KAYLA

DAD DEAD?

Kayla.

Silence enveloped the small depot that stood somewhere in the corner of town. The reception was a messed up sight of papers, documents and furniture turned upside-down. The cool evening breeze continued to slide softly in through the widely opening windows, sending the papers it could carry flying gently around. From a corner of the fairly large room ran a small stream of leaking water from its dispenser, having been tipped over, drenching whatever blanks it came in contact with in its wetness.

Dad padded slowly into the room, with me following closely behind him. He looked curiously around with alarm parading his entire countenance. Something had happened, something bad, that I wished it wasn't what I was thinking in my head.

“Rick?” Dad's voice echoed as he proceeded to push open every door he met, slowly pushing them open, peering into them from as far away from as he could.

I was put in suspense, as I didn't know what to make of the situation. Did Van get to Rick already? Was he responsible for emptying the depot out? Had they taken him away and were ambushing dad?

Dad headed up the spiralling staircase for the next floor, treading as stealthily as he could. None of the rooms upstairs had their doors shut and dad checked the each office one after the other.

As we approached more doors, I spotted a shadow from the far end of the passage, from the last door, which made my hairs stand in end. Dad was still checking the other rooms and didn't seem to notice that there was someone with us there.

Before I could try making any alerting moves, my eyes widened on seeing dad pull out a pistol from his belt. I couldn't withhold the shock of seeing my dad with a weapon like that for the first time. It seemed like it was a stranger in front of me, and not the man I lived with sixteen years of my life.

He bent very quietly to the ground and dropped his bag, standing quickly up. He must have noticed what I saw too. c*****g the g*n as gently and noiselessly as he could, he held it up behind his ear, supporting his wrist with the other hand, furthering slowly towards the door. I must have felt my heart pound, wondering what was going to happen next. I hoped it was not his first using a g*n to protect himself, even though seeing him with one made me uneasy.

The next three seconds happened with the speed of light and two consecutive gunshots. I covered my ears with my hands and shut my eyes tight in fear, not wanting bring myself to seeing the outcome of two bullets having been fired.

Hearing dad's familiar footsteps again however, sent me opening my eyes slowly and gaping.

A man's body laid dead on the floor having been shot in the chest twice.

Dad had killed someone.

I held my hand to my mouth in shock, looking bowled over at the progressing back view of whom I now hardly recognised. My hands shook terribly, my legs wobbled. It was my first time of seeing a dead person, that too, one murdered by my own dad. I was ghost, yet I had not even seen my own dead body.

Dad kicked the dead man gently by his side, the latter not squinching. The man also had a g*n in his lifeless hand. Had dad not been quicker, he'd have been in his place. I was grateful for that, but it still didn't quench my fears. I wondered if there were more of them. And if there weren't anymore in that building, could dad he ever able to escape the coming attacks?

I winced in fright.

“Rick!” Dad screamed on checking the room the dead man had just come out from. I gasped loudly again, seeing the old man lying half-dead in the pool of his own blood as he let out soft groans. The glint in his once lively grey eyes had dimmed drastically. He held his hand weakly over the hole in his stomach, merely stoping the the liquid that oozed continuously from it.

“f**k!” Dad cursed despiritedly as he crouched by Rick's side with utmost sadness in his eyes.

“That bastard,” he cursed again, quickly taking out an handkerchief from his pocket and holding it over Rick's wound to stop the bleeding. Dad took his phone out and dialed the emergency,

“Sultan Metro, two fifteen twenty-three, someone's been shot! Emergency!”

I was standing on edge, really hoping Rick would survive it. I wasn't a fan of his neither was I one who'd rejoice over his death.

“Dexter…” Rick whimpered weakly.

“Stop talking! Save the little strength you have, please!”

“You've really grown up into a fine young man…”

“Shut up, Rick.”

“Jessica…Jessica your mother. I loved her so much, but she got pregnant with you for your father and left me. Dexter, that was the name I told her to give you, but she that man gave you Joe. Joe, can you imagine? You know, your father was a good friend of mine,” Rick laughed weakly, and by the time, tears had started to drop from dad's eyes.

“Now what's this f*****g nonsense you're talking about, eh? Just don't say anything.”

“No, let me speak. It's the last time I ever will so let me.”

Dad dropped the g*n in his other hand and picked Rick's hand his, holding it tight with grim.

“They'll be here soon, hang in there, alright?” Dad's voice shook.

“I'm so sorry, son…” Rick started again, tears falling off his wrinkled lids into his ears.

“I've not done anything for you and now I'm not even brave enough to live to repay you. Repay you for helping me get what's rightfully ours from that bastard. I let you use my name as yours, falling into the reigns of that devil, I'm so sorry,” Rick cried.

I stood there, listening, understanding little by little how dad got connected with Rick and Van, although not knowing the full story.

“They'll be here soon, Rick," dad said again.

“They…they even took away beautiful Kayla. You must avenge her, Dexter.”

Hearing what Rick said, I froze. So I was indeed murdered, and it was none other than Van who was responsible for it, while I had the idea all along it was a drink driver? I felt a knot in my stomach and bile starting to rise up my throat.

“I know, I know. You just hang in there.”

“No…no just get out of here without Sandie and Tom, okay? Get them out of the country…prepare well for Van later. Alright?”

“Yes, yes. Now will you please for heaven's sake stop talking?”

“The Jewels…our inheritance, we got it back from that thief, eh? It's ours again, eh?”

Dad nodded slowly, still holding one hand over the wound and the other in the man's hand. The white colour of the handkerchief was now history.

The words of a dying man were always incoherent they usually said, and I believed it with poor Rick as proof. His entire life must have been flashing before his eyes like a fast-forwarded slideshow.

“My daughter…she has my share. Please find her and give it to her. Tell her papa never abandoned her…tell her I looked for her everywhere…tell her I love…”

The last words hung in his mouth, more tears fell from his gradually closing eyes.

Rick gave up the ghost.