Free Ashes to Ashes by Nathaniel Fincham

moved in front
of him.
    “That is a nice coat,” the taller man stated.
“Looks kinda warm.”
    “Looks warmer than it is, to be honest,”
Scott blurted, faking a slight shiver. He then rubbed his hands
down the length of his arms in order to nail the act. The truth was
that he was proud of his leather YSU Penguins coat. It had taken
him nearly a year to save up for it. It had his name on it along
with a few patches he had earned on the court. Outside of his team
jersey, his leather jacket his most prized possession.
    “You mind if I try it on?” the taller man
asked, holding the knife so that the blade was pointing at the sky.
“I'm a little cold. You know. Winter hadn’t quit left us, yet. Know
what I mean?”
    Scott could feel the bulge of the gun in the
coat’s pocket. The last thing that he wanted to do was give up
either his jacket or his gun, but things seemed to be going sour,
rapidly and unexpectedly. He should have stopped at the park. He
hung out for far too long with lower levels of humanity. What to
do? He took a second to let his mind process.
    He knew that they were planning to take the
leather jacket and leave him lifeless. The intentions of the two
men were clear. Could he avoid the coming confrontation? Should he
attempt an elusive departure? He could break into a sudden sprint
and most likely outrun both of them. Or not. The two men looked to
be in shape. Or maybe they were just thin from being on the
streets. Scott could not size them up because of their soiled,
baggy clothing.
    Scott did not want to spill anymore blood,
but he couldn't believe how quickly he was back in the same type of
situation. Kill or be killed. Self-defense. And he didn't see it
coming. How could he have? It would have to have happened twice.
Could it happen twice? Could it happen repeatedly? How? Why? And to
what end? To have that happen, would make someone a god or
godlike.
    Bam would know.
    Bam was there at the beginning.
    “Are you dumb or something?” the shorter man
asked. He didn't seem to be carrying a knife. But Scott didn’t know
for sure. The seemingly unarmed thug might be hiding something in
his pocket, something more dangerous than a knife, something
similar to what was in Scott’s own pocket. “My man here...likes
your coat. Quit being rude and let him try it on. Doesn’t he
deserve a little warmth?” The shorter man had been slowly easing
himself to Scott's side while the taller man remained in front. It
was movement Scott had missed. Being tired was making it hard to
focus and think. It was a mistake Scott should not have made. He
was becoming flanked.
    “Okay,” Scott agreed. “Okay. It is getting a
tiny bit small on me anyway. First, let me take my belongings out
of the pockets.” Before the men could react, he had the pistol out
and was aiming it at the taller man, the one with the knife.
    “Hold on, man!” the taller man exclaimed, his
tune instantly changing. “I was just admiring that leather coat of
yours. That is all. That maybe I could wear for a second. I love
YSU. I am a big Penguins fan, my man.”
    “I thought you might like my gun a little
more,” Scott replied. “It is shinier than that knife of yours.”
    “Just having a misunderstanding is all,” the
taller man assured him, but Scott refused to lower his gun. He put
his finger on the trigger and gripped it tight enough to be ready
to fire at any moment. He tensed his arm and prepared for possible
recoil from the fired weapon. “Me and my boy here...like us some
basketball.” the taller man continued. “Is all. Isn’t that
right…Trevor.”
    Scott was too slow to react when the man to
his rear rushed forward, throwing his shoulder into Scott's side.
The hit caused Scott's hand to clench up on the trigger firing the
weapon in the direction the barrel had been aimed. It could have
shot wide but it didn’t. The same instant that a bullet took the
man with the knife square in the chest, leaving him gasping for
whatever