Dark Intentions

Chapter 6

After working a long third shift at a local manufacturing company, Ron Parker walked the paved path through Santa Cruz River Park. He lived nearby and often unwound after getting home by taking an early-morning walk. The fact that his doctor wanted him to lose 20 pounds helped his motivation each day.

Occasionally he’d see someone jogging, but that was uncommon. As for Ron, running held no interest. Walking was all the exercise his doctor would get from him.

This morning, he reached the point where the path made a sharp bend to the south. This is where he usually turned around to head home, and he noticed someone approaching. It was a male in his early to mid-twenties. He had on a dingy green baseball cap without wording and was looking at the ground.

The guy seemed to be ignoring Ron, so he didn’t bother greeting the man. A few steps after they passed each other, Ron felt a stabbing pain in his buttock. He whipped around at the same time as he reached for the source of the pain.

He felt something sticking in through his shorts and yanked it out. It was a four-inch-long blue-finned dart. A needle was on one end, and the body of the dart looked like a syringe. Ron could see the syringe was empty. The payload was already moving through his body.

Ron took several steps forward as his attacker frantically worked to reload the weapon. As he was about to strike, the man finished and brought the weapon up, aiming at Ron’s chest.

Ron stopped and froze, “What was it? What did you shoot me with?”

“If you don’t want to get shot again, stand still and calm down. The dose you got isn’t fatal, but another will be,” the assailant said.

“What was it?” Ron screamed while taking a step back.

“Shut up and stand still.” The man jabbed the long-barrelled tranquilizer pistol in Ron’s direction.

Ron had read online about what had happened the day before and realized the man was trying to delay him until whatever was in the dart took effect. He wasn’t sure if the dose he’d gotten was lethal but believed the man when he said the next dart would add enough that it would be. If he ran, he was sure he’d be shot in the back.

Pulling out his phone, Ron was confused to see he had no service.

“Your phone won’t work,” the attacker calmly said.

Not understanding, Ron put the phone away.

For over a minute, he stood there pleading with the man who held the pistol to let him go. Then Ron became aware of a strange feeling developing and knew he was running out of time. With the empty dart still gripped in his left hand, Ron dodged to his right, and the pistol fired, the dart missing him by almost a foot. Less than two seconds later, he reached his assailant.

Ron’s first punch struck the center of the face, smashing the man’s nose. The second struck near the left eye, and the attacker dropped.

The lethargy rapidly increased as his exertion did and Ron knew he was in big trouble. It was more than a half-mile back to his neighborhood. However, the trail he was on paralleled the highway, and Ron could hear traffic noise. Ron took off at a sprint, off the trail and across the desert, rapidly covering the brief distance toward the expressway.

After almost a minute, the sluggishness nearly overwhelmed him as the traffic flowing by came into view. In his compromised state, he lost his footing and fell. His shoulder brushed against a short cactus with half-inch-long needles. Ron screamed, the pain briefly reducing the drug’s effect. He clumsily got back to his feet and continued running, with sweat now soaking him. As he approached the highway, he became even more confused as the drug continued its assault on him.