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THE FUGITIVE
Mel Waldman
I
Until that hot July night, Harry Niles was a nobody man. Almost seventy, he was a retired postal clerk and a virgin. Half the time, nothing much happened to old man Niles. He liked it that way. Harry tried to live a quiet life, avoided conflict and women, and never made waves. That’s the way he survived. And sometimes, his life was uneventful. But the rest of the time, trouble found him.
A little man who stood 5'4 tall, his suspicious dark brown eyes saw only a dangerous world of giants. So Harry hid in his basement apartment near Neptune and Coney Island Avenues.
Even there, in his underground cocoon, he was not safe. Nor were the others upstairs. Eventually, trouble found Harry. You see, he was a magnet.
II
Harry’s landlord, who lived upstairs with his cheating wife, was a middle-aged man named Bernie Fish. Bernie Fish looked like Kojak. But he was an inveterate coward afraid of physical pain, and known to cry at the sight of his own blood.
Bernie was married to Farrah Fish, formerly Farrah Fleming, born Francine Fremlin. From Sheepshead Bay to Brighton Beach, she was known as the blonde bimbo who never said no. Of course, she would have said no to Harry, but he didn’t have the guts to ask.
Around the neighborhood, Bernie was known as the muscular, tough looking cuckold with a high-pitched voice. But the bad boys knew him as the compulsive gambler who was in trouble with the mob.
Midnight, July 4th was Bernie’s High Noon. And he wasn’t Gary Cooper!
At midnight, Big Daddy wanted 100 G’s or Bernie would be one more firecracker exploding in the fiery night.
He’d fly real high if he couldn’t deliver. And not even high-heeled wife could reach up and cut him loose from the flaming sky.
III
On this seething night, Harry couldn’t sleep. He lay in the dark and listened to the sound of firecrackers exploding outside.
The heat and noise made him edgy. So he got up and turned on the lights and TV. Maybe he’d watch the fireworks on TV.
But his “nerves” were bad. In a few minutes, he turned off the TV.
He scurried into the living room, turned on the switch, and looked out the front window through a slat in the blind.
Looking up, he saw the silhouette of the stranger. The looming figure rushed past Bernie’s two-family house and disappeared. But instantly, he reappeared and stood in front of the house.
Harry’s face twitched uncontrollably. For some reason, the stranger frightened him, although he only saw the man’s profile. When the stranger walked downstairs and rang the side doorbell, Harry retreated to his bedroom.
The stranger was buzzed in. Slowly, he climbed the stairs. Momentarily, he glanced at his gold watch and noticed it was almost midnight. A crooked smile spread across his face as he continued his short journey to the top.
IV
Harry heard the sounds. The sounds seemed to come from above but maybe he was mistaken.
Outside, the firecrackers exploded intermittently. Then, he heard the footsteps.
He ran into the living room and looked out again through a slat in the blind. The stranger reappeared and instinctively, Harry’s frenzied eyes rolled wildly across the man’s profile.
Unexpectedly, the man turned 90 degrees and seemed to look into the basement apartment, although the blinds were drawn.
The man smiled wickedly and sauntered off.
Below, Harry stood transfixed, paralyzed by the intrusive images of the stranger, which lingered on in his anguished mind.
V
Harry packed a bag and left his underground apartment. He didn’t go upstairs to find out what had happened. He “knew” that Bernie and Farrah Fish were dead, for he had heard the brutal sounds.
Of course, he’d never know why. No matter. He couldn’t stick around to find out. Soon, the stranger would return and kill him too, unless he vanished tonight.
Harry became a fugitive, drifting from state to state. He looked for the stranger in every city. Each night, he saw the looming figure, a sinister silhouette ensconced in the postern of his mind.
Sometimes, Harry thought of calling the police and returning to Brooklyn to “identify” the killer. But the elusive thought vanished instantly.
No longer was Harry a nobody man. Now, he was The Fugitive. And at the center of his tortured mind was the ominous profile which terrified and excited him.
He’d never go back. And maybe deep down, he knew he’d die if he stopped running.
When his savings were almost gone, he headed for Vegas. Bernie once told him that Vegas was Heaven on earth-a poor man’s Paradise. Well, Harry The Fugitive was ready for Paradise!
VI
Back in Brooklyn, Bernie and Farrah Fish were still alive but shaky. As a warning, the stranger had blasted the walls and furniture with his .45 Magnum. His last two shots missed the frightened couple by a few inches.
Then, they signed over the $150,000 house to Big Daddy and gave Big Daddy’s man $50,000 in cash as a bonus, all the hard cash they could raise. Big Daddy had soul and let the Fish family live.
The next morning, Bernie and Farrah headed for Vegas, Loser’s Paradise. They had high hopes. Yeah.
And you never know about Chance. It can change your Destiny! Real fast. In a blast!