The Debt

The man fled across the homes of the quiet neighborhood. He jumped over fences, zig-zagging throughout, when he slipped on a patch of wet sod, smashing into a large terracotta pot.

"Brandy, Corey, get upstairs now! Elan, get my pistol from the nightstand! Damn these gangbangers!"

Mark turned on the porchlight and peeked out the glass door into the backyard. At first glance, he saw nothing, then hearing a splash, he looked towards the pool. 

"Here is your pistol, and please be careful out there."

Mark opened the door slowly and shouted, "Alright ass-hole, get the hell out of here, and I won't blow your fucking head off!"

Then he saw a body, face down in the pool. His policeman instincts kicked in, and he dove into the pool to rescue the man.

Elan, watching cautiously from inside, ran out to assist Mark. They began pulling the man out, and Mark immediately started CPR. A short time later, Mark had the man revived. He was resting on a lawn chair, with Elan calling the police.

"Hey, Mark, we can't get a day off in our profession. So, what have you got for me in your backyard?"

"Well, a man broke our terracotta pot with his head and fell into the pool. Then we got him out and performed CPR. And now he is resting in a lawn chair out back."

"Nobody else was hurt during the process?"

"No, just a shock for Elan and the kids."

When the officers rounded the corner to the backyard, the strange man had vanished.

"Hey, Mark, do you think that guy was dangerous?"

"No, some drunk that was unlucky enough to fall into our pool and lucky enough for us to save him."

The mysterious man had slipped away into the night and hoping that his cellphone would still work. He removed it from his soaking wet jeans pocket and tried dialing a number. It connected, and the man spoke, "Victor, they have found me! Can you come to pick me up at the agreed location?"

"No, I can't risk being connected back to you. I'm sorry for you my, old friend, goodbye."

The man realized that he was all alone and that his enemies would most likely kill him, barring an act of God. He had decided his fate when he agreed to transport a 2.2 million dollar shipment of cocaine to America, but his vessel had an engine failure, blowing a hole in the hull and sinking the ship. With this immense debt, he would now pay the ultimate price.

He crouches behind a dumpster, instantly goes to sleep. Early in the morning, a restaurant employee finds the man. The employee walks back inside for a moment and returns with a paper bag with some sausage biscuits, handing it to him. The man thanked him and enjoyed the meal. As he was leaving, he saw a black SUV pull into the parking lot. And two well-dressed men entering the building. 

"We have got to find that idiot fast, or our boss will not be happy. I thought we had him in that neighborhood, but he got away when those cops showed up."

"Yeah, we tracked him from Mexico, and now we've lost him! Hey, look outside. That's him!"

Jumping up from their seats, the men ran out to get him. The man saw them and bolted. Running for his life, the man knew he had to hide fast. He ran through some bushes to the adjacent lot and darted into a grocery store. Running at full speed, he plowed into a worker, knocking her to the floor. He helped her to her feet and said, "You've gotta hide me. They will kill me if they find me. Please?"

"Fine, fine, just don't hurt me. Do you see those double doors at the back? Turn to the left. Then there are some large empty boxes in the corner."

"Thank you.", quickly walking towards the back of the store.

The two men ran up to the store, and one said, "You go around to the back, and I'll take the front."

The man quivered as he pulled a box over his head. He considered a scenario in which he might not come out of that box alive. He had his face pressed to the floor, not moving a muscle, and listening for any sounds. A few minutes turned into a few more, waiting for what seemed like an eternity, then hearing a soft tapping on the box.

"Hey, I saw your 'friends' hurry out of the store." whispered the employee. 

"Oh, thank God." 

"Are you a secret agent?"

"No, I'm just a man whose luck has almost run out."

"I think you've got a bit more left in you."

"I hope so."

The two men had driven out of the parking lot. But unbeknownst to the man, they parked the SUV out of sight and decided to wait for him.

"Damn it! I can't believe Chavez has alluded us for so long! We've been hot on his trail for almost a week!"

"Relax, Charlie. We've got him cornered now. He thinks we're gone, and there's no exit at the back because of the fence. So, he'll have to come around to the front, and that's where we'll finish him off."

Lucas Chavez had been running his whole life, living out on the streets of Mexico City as a child. He started making some money from making deliveries for a drug cartel. Chavez got his opportunity when he got asked to make the delivery by sea. He was lucky enough to survive the wreck and make it to shore (unlike the other two men helping him). 

Knowing that these were his final hours, he thought about any solution to his problem. Then he bolted out the doors and straight into traffic, weaving his way through the parked cars. The black SUV was close behind, then it hit a large pot-hole and swerved, plowing into the side of a U-haul truck and bursting into flames. Chavez continued on his way, feeling like the luckiest man on earth.