As
part of my participation in My
500 words, I am posting what I write each day. For the past 3 days,
I have been sharing details of a character’s backstory from my novel in the
works, Sidewinder. The previous
entry is here.
Mundy’s past was playing for
him like a dream as he narrated it to the voices in the dark. The bliss that
penetrated him like sunlight, along with the feeling of wellbeing by talking
about himself was all he wanted to think about. But still, there was a place in
his mind becoming more awake that wondered where he was and who were these
people he was talking to.
He had been born on a core
world. He had shared about growing up in the shelter, but learning to steal out
on the streets, falling in with the most powerful crime lord on the planet, and
the man’s brutal justice to anyone who crossed him. After a few years, Mundy
moved to the inner circle.
By Mundy’s 18th
birthday, he was picking marks out of crowds. He participated in shell games
and card games, scams and robberies. He was still one of the best pickpockets
in any of Dean Handler’s crews.
Then came the day Dean called
Mundy into his office personally. He had a special job for him. There was a
major religious personality visiting the core world. Dean Handler had been
called out too many times by this preacher, so he wanted some items planted on
this man, drugs that he preached against. Mundy had the deft ability to pick
pockets, could he to a reverse job? Mundy was sure he could. He had put back
wallets and other items before, into pockets and purses after taking cash or
credits out.
Dean Handler walked up and
put his hands on Mundy’s shoulders. “If you get caught, they’re going to
suspect you’re working for me,” he said. “And the penalty for holding Zee can
land you away for a lot of years.”
Mundy nodded. He knew.
“If you keep your mouth
shut,” Dean went on. “Your time locked up will be okay. No-one will mess with
you, even the turn-keys. But if you talk about me, well, Mundy. You won’t get
killed while you’re locked up, but you may wish for it, you know?”
Mundy glanced into Dean’s
face and the man put on a warm smile. “But you won’t talk if you’re caught,” he
said. “I know you won’t. You’re a good kid.”
Days later, Mundy was in the
huge crowd pressing for a chance to see The Reverend Todd. Mundy had studied up
on the man and the religion he’d taught. The shelter he’d lived in as a kid had
talked about Jesus and sin and that sort of stuff.
Reverend Todd was surrounded
by bodyguards. But he was letting people come up and shake his hand, some
people hugged him. Mundy made his way through the people, some so emotional
they were crying. He picked up on the tone and put on a star struck smile,
letting his breath be shallow so that tears came.
The crowd was making its way
toward passport control, where they would all have to stop except for the
reverend and his entourage. Passing through the gate is where people were
searched. Mundy had to get to him before that.
Pushing around some older
folks, Mundy slipped the small package up his sleeve where it fastened to a
catch, in moments, he was face to face with the famous preacher who had both
hands extended, people shaking both of them. Mundy let his face show awe,
sadness, and hope. Here was someone who needed a reassuring hug. Reverend Todd
caught his eye and his smile became more subtle. He put both arms around Mundy,
and Mundy hugged him back. As soon as the expected, pats on the back came from
the reverend, Mundy moved his arm past the man’s pocket and dropped the
package.
“God bless you, son,”
Reverend Todd said as he let go. Mundy nodded. The relieved look he had didn’t
have to be faked. He started off away from the direction of the crowds. He had
done it, now to get to a place to lay low for a day.
Moving against the motion of
the crowd was slow going. Mundy could see the apartments across the far street
where there was a basement he knew he could duck into. The hole in the people
was almost there. The crowd had stopped moving.
And a hand fell on his
shoulder. Mundy’s feet broke into a run, but he went nowhere. The hands turned
him around to see the reverend looking at him, along with several bodyguards
and most of the crowd, that was quieting down.
The reverend’s hand was in his
pocket and the look on his face was like a man who had been sold spoiled food. He
nodded to the man holding Mundy, and the man pushed up both of Mundy’s sleeves.
On his right wrist, there was the empty catch.
“Bring him to my car,” Reverend
Todd said. We can delay take off for a spell. I want to talk to that poor young
man.”
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