Richie waked me through the hall with my arm over his shoulder. I pulled out my walking cane which was triple folded. I flicked my wrist and the cane came together with the help of its inner elastic cord. I clicked the tile loudly to make myself look as dramatically helpless as I could.

“Any plans for the guard?” Richie asked.

“He’s in my pocket,” I replied.

“The fuck? What do you mean he’s in your pocket?”

I shushed him as we approached Officer Gilbert. He wasn’t a real police officer, but a guard who held a taser rather than a gun.

“Not today, Revan,” the guard said. “I got too much shit last time I let you go.”

“Oh, I’m really sorry about that,” I said. “I should repay you for the grief I caused.”

The guard’s eyebrows furrowed. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, but he could smell money just like any other person. Finally understanding what I said, he looked down the hall to make sure no one was around.

“Yeah, I guess I do require some sort of compensation for my trouble.”

I handed my cane to Richie then reached into my pocket. I pulled my hand out and offered it to the guard.

“There’s nothing there,” Gilbert said. “You being a little shit, Revan? I don’t feel like playing games today.”

“No games,” I said. I snapped my fingers and a $20 bill appeared between my two knuckles. From the side, I saw Richie scratch his head with the cane saying something about how he needs to find new friends. “Will this do?”

“Yeah,” Gilbert said, his eyes shining as they imagined all the Skoal wintergreen snuff he could buy now. “That does ease the pain a little.”

“Good,” I said. “Now, I need to get out to the parking lot. My asthma is really bad today.” I gave a few obvious fake coughs.

“I said no, Revan,” Gilbert said, stuffing the bill into his pants. “You’re gonna get me fired if I keep doing this.”

“What about you get fired for not allowing a student his inhaler?” I suggested.

“That’s true,” Gilbert said, his walls beginning to break. “I guess I wouldn’t want you to exfoliate now would I?”

“Suffocate,” I corrected. “And true I don’t think you would. Besides, you look hungry. How about go grab a sub on ol’ Richie and I?” I snap another $20 into my hand taking even Richie by surprise who had witnessed my magic multiple times.

“Thanks fellas,” Gilbert said, eyeing the money hungrily as he grabbed it. “But hey, this’ll only cover two double ham sandwiches. What if I want chips?”

“And what if you want cookies?” I said, snapping to reveal two more $20 bills out of thin air. I make it clear with my eyes that this is the final offer. “But if you’re not hungry for dessert I get it.”

“No, I am, I am,” Gilbert said, standing from his wooden stool. I knew I had him then.

I quickly pulled back the $40 before he could pluck it from my fingers. “Gilbert, promise me when they ask about me that you’ll tell them I was having an asthma attack.”

“Huh?’ Gilbert said. “Who cares? Give me the $40.” He tried reaching for the money again but I persisted for him to hear me out.

“Say it back to me,” I said. “Revan was having an asthma attack.”

Gilbert scratched his head, but did as I asked. “Revan was having an ass mouth attack.”

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“Good enough,” I said, handing him the money. “Thanks Gilbert.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya.”

Gilbert took the money and sat back on his stool which made a pained, creaking noise.

Looks like that stool’s on its last leg, I thought to myself with a chuckle. Buh dum tss.

Richie and I walked passed and through the double doors. I blocked my eyes from the sun but it was no use. A small pounding in my temples warned me of an oncoming migraine.

“That’s nice what you did in there,” Richie said.

“What do you mean?”

“You had him recite that so he had another layer of defense again the inevitable back lash.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m not a complete monster.” Oh the irony my future self would have felt if he’d heard me say that just then.

“Hey, where’re your glasses?” Richie asked me as he noticed me shielding my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing those limo driver shades?”

“Supposed to, ya,” I said.

“Then why aren’t you?”

I only needed to say one name. “Paxton.”

“That motha fucka,” Richie said. “That’s a whole new low for that dillweed.”

“Maybe you can tell him yourself,” I said. “He’s across the street.”

“Oh shit, really?” Richie’s grip around my waist tightened a little. “Oh I see ‘em. And you gotta stop that.”

“What?” I asked.

“Just being you,” Richie said. “Now you can hear people half a mile away? The hell man.”

“It’s not that far,” I said. “You can’t hear them? Fur real?”

“Revie, they’re fuggin’ four blocks away.”

“Oh,” I said. “Maybe it was the wind.”

But I knew that wasn’t true. For a couple weeks now I’d been experiencing weird shit happening. Mostly to my senses.

Just last week I was able to smell what our cleaning lady had spilled on her blouse two weeks prior and she’d washed it already a few times since then. Ever since then she has been avoiding me, calling me things like little demon in Spanish every time I passed her while she was windexing the stain glass windows or mopping underneath the church pews.

“Honestly, man, I’m really starting to think you need to see a veterinarian, not even joking, for real.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, but I wasn’t paying attention. I could hear Paxton, but not to the point where I could understand what he was saying. But the other voice, a high pitched baby voice, that’s what had my attention.

“So where is this place you need to be? I’m gonna google maps it.”

“Hold on,” I said. I pulled my arm from around Richie’s neck and pointed in Paxton’s direction. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“The fuck? Now you want to be Superman? You think your the Mandolorian and I’m fuckin’ baby Yoda companion or sum shit? No way, dude. Leave ‘em alone. Paxton fucks with everyone. It would be a full time job watching over that douche every second.”

“This is different,” I said. “It’s someone young. Very young. I can hear him crying.”

But before Richie could object further I was already sprinting toward Paxton and the poor kid he was messing with.

Richie screamed at me from behind as he started running after me. I swung my cane out left and right in front of my steps as fast as I could, praying I wouldn’t trip or crash into a pole as it wouldn’t have been the first time, far from it.

The screams in my ear intensified before they went silent altogether. I held my breath, sprinting even harder.

“Oh shit,” Paxton said from up head. “We gotta get outta here. Fuck.”

I looked up ahead, suffering as the sun now directly shined into my eyes as it began to set. I could barely see anything, just blurry figures. There were three altogether from what I could tell. Paxton and his two goons which I’d forgotten the names of.

But there was one more figure, one laying on the ground. That must have been the kid Paxton was screwing with. As I crossed the street, Paxton and his goons were turning around to see me just about to collide with them.

That’s when I noticed the blood. A large pool of it gushed from the side of the kid’s head which rested against a building wall. The body slid to the side leaving a swipe of blood on the brick behind it. Then the stench hit me, something I’ve never smelt before.

At first, my nose was filled with the odor of fresh, warm, coppery blood. Then came a smell I couldn’t explain. Not disgusting, but not great. It was a neutral smell, a smell that brought feelings of satiation.

It was the scent of death. The kid was dead. With one more sniff I immediately knew there was zero chance of revival. I couldn’t explain why, I just knew… I just knew.

“What the hell? What the fuck you doing, Rev-” But that’s all Paxton had time to say before my can met his jaw with a loud crack. His teeth glimmered in the sun before clattering to the ground.

I still had a lot of forward momentum and couldn’t help but smash into Paxton but he didn’t even sway. We stood there for a few seconds. I was still leaning against him when he started to wale. His high-pitched, feminine scream filled me with a sick pleasure which was almost as good as wanking it.

I wanted to say something, something that would finalize this bully’s career, but I didn’t get chance. Paxton shoved me as hard as he possibly could, his face red with hatred. He was still screaming as I flew into the street.

I heard Richie shouting at me from across the street. He was trying to warn me about something, but before I could register what he was saying a horn blared into my left ear. I turned my head just in time to meet the chrome grill of an eight-wheeler going 45 miles per hour.