Call to Arms

Hi Guys,

Here’s the third chapter in the “One Swift Blow” Series. This short piece introduces a new character, Infram. A seemingly ordinary man, with a nose for trouble…and he can smell it brewing.

As always, I appreciate any thoughts or feedback you might have on the piece, please let me know what you think.

A final word of warning, there’s some harsh language.

Cheers,

Jevan Thompson

 

Infram couldn’t believe it.

Why am I getting a call, at three o’clock in the bastard morning?

He groaned loudly, the landline phone ringing with it’s piercing drone throughout the apartment. It interrupted the peaceful night silence with it’s selfish noise, seeming to take pleasure from its arrogance.

“Infram, what’s going on?” Helen said in a groggy voice. Her croaky voice represented her mood perfectly. Rough, irritated and tired.

“I’m not sure honey, I’m gonna found out.” He replied, equally as worn out.

He clambered ungracefully out of bed and walked over to the front door of his apartment, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway. In the darkness of the apartment, he stepped on something which hissed and skittered away into the another room.

He span around cursing. “Molly! Bastard cat…”

Standing by the phone desk  he groaned before picking up the earpiece and microphone.

“Who the fuck is this?” He asked, rage colouring his words with every syllable. In the back of his mind, he knew answering the phone in such a poisonous way was probably a mistake, but his anger had bubbled up from inside him, spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Infram, it’s Connor. Look I’m-” The voice said with a weary acceptance, as if he was already resigned to the verbal abuse he was about to receive.

“Connor?! Why the fuck are you callin’ me at three in the bastard morning?!” Ifram was spitting the words out, as if they were burning his tongue every second they were trapped in his mouth.

“Infram I’m sorry lad, you know I wouldn’t do this unless I-” Connor tried again.

“Just get to the damn point Connor.” Infram grumbled, with all the subtlety of a brick.

“Alright, alright. Long story short, you need to be at the pub.” Connor finally managed to say.

“When?!” Infram shouted the complaint out, kicking a nearby stool over in a vain attempt to vent his anger.

“As soon as you can mate, he wants everyone down as soon as.”

Infram sighed and bowed his head, resting the mouthpiece on his brow for a few moments. He then drew in a deep breath and spoke again.

“Alright. I’ll be over soon.” He said, the fury in his tone had faded into submission.

Infram hung up the phone. He wandered back over to the bedroom and kissed Helen on the forehead. “I’m sorry darlin’, I’ve gotta go to work.”

She responded with nothing more than a tired groan and buried herself deeper into the covers.

Infram got dressed in a brown casual suit, with a crisp white shirt and a coal black tie. Lack of care determined the colour of his clothes, not professionalism. He straightened himself up, and opened one of his drawers. As well as being full of socks, there was a lacquered wooden case that lay nestled carefully underneath. He opened the case to reveal a revolver with bullets stored in separate little compartments.

He put on his chest holster and holstered the pistol, along with pocketing handfuls of ammunition. Grabbing his suit jacket in a careless fist, he headed out of the door.

Bastard.

I can smell trouble.