Race With a Heart
Chapter 106: Redness

Chapter 106: Redness

Steve felt strangely muddy. His head felt like it was made of cotton wool and he had the impression that he was moving in sticky cotton candy. The condition was similar to lightly drunk, but not entirely. Besides, two beers weren’t allowed to get him drunk.

He was probably more tired than he thought. The accident shocked him physically and mentally, but the adrenaline still kept him high. Martin’s company plus alcohol in a light bar atmosphere allowed him to loosen up, but he did it a little too much.

Paxton washed his hands and splashed water on his face. It sobered him up a bit. As he left the toilet, he ran into two teenage boys who definitely shouldn’t be in a bar serving alcohol.

"Sorry," said one of them.

Someone else pushed Steve and suddenly the driver found himself at the back of the bar, pushed out of the back door by the commotion. And he was not alone in this place.

There were six of them - three in front of him and three behind him. They all looked as if they were not yet twenty and had a very defiant, belligerent expression on their faces. Steve knew exactly what such an expression meant because he had been involved in many brawls. These boys here, it seemed, wanted to start one. The only question is why?

"Erm, do we know each other?" Steve asked innocently.

"You do not remember me?" one of the boys asked.

Paxton looked at him closely. The face looked familiar, but he couldn’t match the name or the circumstances under which he saw it. The kid, however, looked younger than the rest of the pack.

"Sorry kid, not even vaguely. I’m a little too young to be your father, so ... "

He knew they would attack. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be making a six-to-one advantage for themselves. But they were just kids, so two were on the ground in five seconds.

If they were adult, experienced men, the fight would be different. Steve could hit with all the force of his punches. Here, however, he was dealing with children, so he tried to strike them in such a way as not to hurt them, but to discourage them from further attacks. But there were six of them. Six angry teens who did not understand that the adult was just trying not to break their young bones or knock out their teeth. Paxton didn’t even mean that he’d have problems with the police or the media by hitting kids, he just didn’t want to hurt them.

They didn’t care, though, and though he chased himself away from them, like he was from intrusive flies, their constant attacks weakened him more and more, and soon Steve decided he would be unable to defend himself against the six attackers and would suffer some damage to his health.

He learned it painfully when one of the boys reached for a piece of wood that had been thrown into the trash that looked like a table leg and struck Paxton on the knee.

Steve collapsed in shooting pain. As soon as he was on the ground, the other boys started kicking him and pounced on him with their fists.

"Enough" one of them ordered and gestured for them to lift him up.

Steve, all battered, smirked, spitting blood from his mouth. The puppies really were brave attacking six against one. Glory to the education of youth!

"Because of you, our friend’s parents forbade him to go to Switzerland. Our friend was very much looking forward to this trip and now he feels like he has a broken heart," announced the same, the oldest in the group, probably the leader of the herd.

"I am so sorry about that," said Steve, still smiling. The tone of his voice clearly indicated that he didn’t care about this kid’s broken heart.

Steve got a punch in the stomach.

"Yes, we are sory too," announced the same boy. Then he took out a butterfly knife and began to play with it in front of Paxton’s eyes.

Steve felt something at the sight, but it wasn’t fear. Steve wasn’t afraid to get a knife, he wasn’t even afraid to die, but to get a knife for not being able to go to Switzerland? Does it make sense?

Paxton looked at the youngest in the pack, who didn’t seem the most innocent at all. He already remembered that face.

"You attacked the woman by threatening her with a knife, but you think that because of me you can’t go abroad?" Steve mocked. "Yes, you’re right, it’s all my fault, so why don’t you do it? You like to play with a knife, don’t you? "

The boy approached his friend and took the knife from his hand.

"Relax, Phil," the same colleague stopped him. "Why hurry? The drug is just starting to work. In a moment he won’t be able to even bark with his venom. Let’s cut that face of his first, huh? "

Drug? Did that mean one of the kids had put something into his beer? Steve recognized the face of the drunk boy as he stumbled and nearly fell onto their table. Was it a distraction?

It really is the flower of local youth! Maybe after entering adulthood one of them will become president, or at least a minister? The boys clearly had a predisposition to achieve something great. Unless one day one of them lands by himself with a knife stuck in his stomach or his throat slit.

Steve shook his head. Beaten, under the influence of drugs, he was no longer able to fight. All he could do was wait for his end.

His thoughts turned to Martin and his lips smiled faintly.

Lucky he sent Martin to the car. At least he won’t be caught up in this situation.

At least he won’t see Steve die ...

Martin felt more and more anxious. He entered the bar and looked around the room, but though he was watching very closely, he couldn’t see Steve anywhere. He headed for the restroom, but he wasn’t here either. It looked as if the driver had disappeared.

Has he left early and is he outside somewhere?

"Back Exit" Don pointed to the door at the end of the short corridor where the bathroom was and pressed the handle. "Closed. Have you tried calling him? "

"No, not yet," admitted Martin. "I was sure he’s in."

The boy took out his phone. Maybe Steve went outside to light a cigarette because he never smoked with Martin? It’s not that he hid the fact that he smokes from the boy, he just didn’t want to harm his health. To Martin, the smell of cigarette smoke mixed with gasoline and expensive cologne seemed extremely sexy and alluring, but the smoke itself bit his lungs. That’s why Steve never smoked with him.

The mechanic called but Paxton did not answer.

"And what?" asked Alston, who had been with him all the time for some reason.

Martin shook his head.

"Try again," suggested Don. "I’ll ask the waitress."

Martin was already seriously concerned. Why isn’t Steve picking up? Has something really happened?

What if Steve came out of the bar and felt worse outside? What if he passed out not here but somewhere outside the building and is now unconscious on the ground?

Alston was back.

"One of the waitresses saw him go to the toilet, but then she was busy and doesn’t know when he was leaving."

"I’ll check outside," the boy announced and, still trying to connect, left through the bar.

Steve, goddamn it! Where are you!

There was a couple making out in front of the bar. Martin interrupted them and asked if they had seen a tall, slender, black-haired man. It turned out not to be. Anyway, they just arrived. From this point on, Martin had a clear view of Paxton’s car, so he knew the driver was not there. All he has left is to check the side and back of the building. There was no smoking allowed in front of the entrance, so Steve probably went to the back.

Anxiety grew steadily in Martin’s heart. Steve couldn’t have vanished so suddenly. Why is he not answering the phone?

"Still nothing?" Alston asked as Martin was already walking towards the garbage cans by the side of the building. This might be a good place for a smoker.

It was quieter here, but also darker. One bland light was burning only with such intensity that a person would not fall into the garbage can, and there was still a spot of twilight. In that stain, Martin thought he saw some people.

"Steve ?!" the boy exclaimed, not very loudly.

"Shit, witness!" someone cursed from the shadows, and Martin suddenly saw more shapes, more people, one of whom was being held down by two others. He just looked like Steve.

Martin began to approach. He could clearly see now that he had what might have been the end of the fight before his eyes, and that Paxton was not in a very good position at the moment.

"Hay!" Martin exclaimed, trying to draw the bullies’ attention to himself. "What are you doing?!"

"Finish him!" one recommended.

Someone approached Steve and slapped him in the stomach. The driver bent as far as the arms supporting him would allow. Then the people around him began to flee, and Paxton fell to the ground.

Martin ran up to him having the worst possible feeling.

"Steve ... Steve!"

The driver did not react. Martin knelt over him, fearing the worst, and his hand suddenly became wet, sticky and terrifyingly red ...