Some Kind Of Hero

“She asked me to do something for her. She said she couldn’t. That she would get in trouble if she got caught.  That is I was there!” I yelled at the men as they tied me up. They scoffed. . I had a blindfold on and couldn’t see. The air smelled like salt and puke “I don’t work with anyone! I am a civilian!” I yelled. “Silence!” One of the men yelled at me, he had  a thick Italian accent. “If you are innocent, then why do you have these with you?” the other man said, this man had a thick Russian accent. One of them ripped my blindfold off, and waved a yellow bag in my face then poured the contents out. A dozen papers fell to the ground. I looked at the men, one was a small ginger man, with a strong build, he had a hand missing. The other was large with muscles, and short brown hair and scars covered his face. “ANSWER ME!” The scarred man yelled, he was the one with the Russian accent. “She gave them to me! Told me to go to Fareview Park and throw in the trash can on the corner next to the drinking fountain.” I replied, I could feel a sob rising in my throat. I was just coming out of work. Minding my business when this woman walked up to me and asked me to do this…. No begged me to do this. Why did I have to be some sort of hero or whatever. I shouldn’t have said yes. “Okay, what did this woman look like?” the ginger man asked.  “She-” I started to answer, then I paused, what would they do to her if they found her? I fell silent. “Well?” the ginger man asked. What should I do? I asked myself. Give them a wrong description? No...they might hurt an innocent person… Give her up? I mean, if what she had involved these people she would be able to handle them right? “I’m waiting,” the Italian man said. He was growing impatient. “I… I couldn’t see her all that well, she was in a dark corner and had a hood… I mean I don’t know…” I said, lying straight through my teeth. The Italian man started chuckling and the Russian man soon joined in. Then they suddenly stopped. “You know what I think?” he said, he took a knife from out of his pocket. “I think you are lying to me. I think you are trying to be some sort of hero. I think you know exactly what she looks like, maybe even her name.” he said coming close to me holding the knife close to my face. “So I will ask you one more time, pretty boy. What. Does. She. Look. Like.” The man growled before slamming the knife into the wall right next to my face. My eyes went wide, I was completely and utterly terrified. I could feel the man’s breath on my face. It smelled minty, you could barely smell it though over the thick smell of some crappy cologne. Think, think. I told myself. A million thoughts and ideas ran through my head. I kept trying to think of a winning scenario where I got out safe and didn’t put anyone in harm's way. I couldn’t think of anything. Nothing. Then the light went out. A sense of panic filled the room. “I told you..” the Russian man muttered. All the sudden what sounded like thousands of blaring sirens and millions of voices screaming. Then gunfire. Bursts of light in different areas. I would be lying if I said I didn’t wet myself a bit. Then the noise stopped. Someone came up to me and I flinched as they touched me. My ears rang, I could barely understand what she was saying “Shh, sh,” the voice hushed, “I am here to help. Are you hurt?” I know that voice, it was the woman’s voice. The one who gave the package. “No. I don’t think so.” The lady untied me and I fell unto her. As I did, my arm surged up with pain, I groaned. “What?” she asked me. “My arm, I think it might’ve been shot or something….” I said. “We will get you to the medics and you will be okay,” the woman said. “Why aren’t the lights turning back on?” I asked. “Where are my photos, my bag?” I tried to look around but could see nothing. “It’s okay we will get you your bag, come on we got to leave.” She opened a door and the sunlight blinded me. I squinted. I looked around a few dozen black suvs covering the area around the warehouse I was being kept in. There was one ambulance. A man came up to the woman and asked, “Did you retrieve them?” She sighed. “My men are collecting them as  we speak.” she answered. “Now I got to get this man to the ambulance he was shot.” I looked over to my arm. Blood stained my once white dress shirt on the forearm. I winced. She walked me to the ambulance and sat up on a cot. The EMT cut off the sleeve and started to stitch up my arm. A woman in a suit approached the ambulance holding my satchel. I reached my unharmed arm out desperately for the satchel. She handed it to me then walked off. “You sure seem attached to the contents of that bag.” the woman who rescued me said. “Not the contents, the bag,” I responded. “It was a gift…” “I see…” the lady looked back nervously to the man, he nodded to her. She let out a sigh of relief. I winced, the EMT pulled tightly. “Don’t use this arm for a while, maybe  buy a sling.” the EMT said, placing a bandage on my arm. I nodded. “What is your name?’ she asked me. “Rick Timmons.” I responded. “Well, Mr. Timmons, can you keep a secret?”