A Storm Came Up

In the beam of the headlights, one figure began walking in a fast semi-circle. The other peered down to get a closer glimpse at the wounded figure, blocking the light as he leered. But when the accomplice arose, the beaten man’s condition became more obvious. He was black, like Moses, but darker. His hair was matted and dark – bloody. A cheek was swollen the size of a grapefruit half and shiny. A white T-shirt, soiled with dirt, had spots of maroon trailing toward the waist from the top. “Keith? Keith?” asked the one who’d checked on the colored man. “What do we do now?” “Shut up,” said the other. He’d stopped his pacing. Slowly, he reached behind his back, pulling out an angular shape with his right hand. A long knife blade flashed in the beam of light. “Keith?” “Shut up!” The man with the knife bent over the bleeding colored man. He punched him savagely in the face with the butt of the knife, but the colored man didn’t react. He lay motionless. The attacker placed the knife to the man’s throat. Still nothing. Suddenly, the colored man’s eyes opened wildly.