A Debt Paid

Drake laid sprawled out on the pavement, unconscious. Blood oozed from an open wound on the side of his head, left there by his captors. The masked men threw him from the back of their van only five minutes ago. The hard thud of his body stirred a stray dog that was sleeping nearby.  

The scrawny mutt sniffed and licked Drake’s face, bringing him back to consciousness. Obviously, a home trained dog that was familiar with humans, it was like waking up to an old friend. For a moment, Drake was back home in bed, his wife lying next to him.  

He blinked his eyes and the hallucination evaporated. He recognized the being in front of him as a dog, but not his dog. He blinked again and shook his head to knock the remaining cobwebs away, but the unfamiliar dog remained in front of him. He slowly, cautiously lifted his head, instantly bringing to his attention a dull, throbbing pain at the base of his neck. He rubbed at the painful area and carefully brought his hand up and through his hair. He gasped when he felt the wound on his head. He looked at his hand, which was now caked with blood and panic sprouted inside his mind. 

“What the fuck…,” he whispered. He stared at his trembling hand, trying to recall what the hell just happened to him. 

He shooed the dog away while taking in his new surroundings. He sat up and realized that he was situated in a large puddle of what he hoped was rainwater but was sure it was not. He was in a back alley, directly in front of an overstuffed dumpster. One by one, his physical senses returned to him. He tasted the metallic tinge of blood in his mouth and noticed that a few of his teeth were loose. He could smell the mixture of the piss and garbage juice he now sat in, confirming his suspicions about the liquid. He became aware of the pain all over his body brought upon by a variety of bruises, cuts and wounds. He heard the unmistakable roar of engines passing by on the street and the swirl of voices from pedestrians. None of them thought twice upon seeing him, dismissing him as one of the many vagrants that littered this big city.  

It took a lot of effort for him to stand up, and his forehead beaded with sweat. He stood there, in the middle of the puddle, eyes closed, swaying with exhaustion.