Surviving Prague Excerpt 8

The Hollow Man    |     The Hollow Man Series, International Espionage​

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My head was thick with sleep as I plodded north along the river road. The street was still dark enough to see obsessions and illusions in every doorway. My eyes drifted toward newfound crevices despite conscious efforts to maintain focus on the path ahead. I thought I could hold it together as long as nothing jumped out in front of me.

Recalled faces and fates haunted my every step. Though faded, some had lingered for years. Voices from deep in garbage-filled alleys murmured words long forgotten; lies spoken, promises broken. Undiscovered remains still walked with me. All too familiar scenes threatened to drive me to my knees.

A three-quarter harvest moon broke through the predawn clouds for a few seconds foretelling colder months to come. For just a moment its light glinted off the uneven concrete sidewalk turning the surface into a rolling sea. Mist pricked my face. Bile rushed up my throat looking for a way out. My eyelids fluttered. I slowed a shaky pace to calm my breathing.

Hard soled shoes scraped the path behind me. Faint, but there. They were calmly coming closer. I turned to see a figure stop under a street lamp no more than thirty meters behind me. He made little effort to hide his gaze. His intent was obvious. I saw no pretense of a broken shoelace or a distraction in a shop window. There was no stolen opportunity to light a cigarette. Only the long fixed stare of a man following me.

He stood unmoved in a triangle of hard yellow light; a black exclamation point in the middle of a warning sign. A crooked smile creased one side of his face. Was this apparition real or just another shadow tormenting an already broken soul? And what did I do to him either way?

Fight or flight? It was too early in the day to fight. I ran. I ran to the next street looking back as I rounded the corner. The man was walking again with a slow steady stride. Not hurrying, not hesitating.

The narrowing cobblestone wound to the left, to the right, then seemed to loop back on itself. For an instant I was racing across some bizarre Candyland game board looking for the lost King Kandy to help me win the game. I felt like a cardboard figure hopping from square to endless square.