A Short Story: Border Patrol

I haven't posted any examples of fiction in quite a while, so here it goes.  This is the beginning of a short story entitled interestingly enough ...

Border Patrol

        San Jose's eastern hills glowed dimly as the sun set behind the western mountains. It still made the hills glow even as street lights in the valley began to come on. Aluminum cans clanked from inside a plastic bag as Ezekiel dropped it into the large waste receptacle just outside his garage. He muttered under his breath as he drug it to the curb.

        “Receptacle, strange thing to call a garbage can.”

        A throaty male voice from two driveways down yelled to him.

        “You're not putting aluminum in the big can are you?

        It was Charlie, the old man who seems to spend each day sitting at the edge of his open garage watching everything that happens on the street. Up until seven days ago he was alone in this. Seven days ago was when Ezekiel moved in. Now there were too old men watching everyone else.

        Ezekiel yelled back, “I have so little to throw away. There's no point in using those silly little plastic boxes.”

        Charlie lifted himself out of his lawn chair, took a couple steps and pointed to the receptacle.

        “They could fine you for not sorting. They're strict about things like that around here.”

        Just then a burly white house cat galloped down from Ezekiel's roof. The tom let out an anxious sounding meow.

        “That is one big cat you've got there Zeke.”

        Ezekiel didn't give Charlie permission to call him Zeke. Charlie just took the liberty the first day they met. In previous days a man could have been made to clean horse stalls with his bare hands or worse for taking such a liberty, but that was centuries ago. Ezekiel never quite stopped being a general in his ways, but he could forgive a man for what he didn't know. Forgiving him didn't stop it from irritating him though.

        “Yes Charlie, that is one big cat.”

        Ezekiel looked the cat's way and sighed.

        “Is he telling you he's hungry or something?”

        “No.”

        Ezekiel wasn't happy that he now had to pull the bag with the cans in it out of the 'receptacle'.

        The cat walked up to him and sat down on his haunches. Staring at Ezekiel the tom slowly closed his eyes.

        “Zeke, I'm not much good at bending over or kneeling, otherwise I'd help you.”

        “That's okay Charlie. Thanks for the warning about the fines.”

        “I'll do this much for you. I'll stay here with my door open until you're safely inside.”

        “Thanks Charlie. I appreciate that.”

Ezekiel was telling a half truth. He considered Charlie's observing eyes a much greater threat to him than any street gang. It was a half truth because he couldn't help but like the man's spirit. An old man willing to stay out past dark in a gang-ridden neighborhood to help a neighbor.

        “An old man.” Those words resounded in his head as he knelt down by the bag. Two hundred and ninety five years of service to one cause or another, and he still couldn't get over the idea that the ages of most old men he met were fractions of his.

       Letting the phrase fade in his thoughts, he spoke under his breath to the cat. All the while he placed aluminum cans from the bag onto the driveway.

“You know the inspiration behind these trash control laws is probably somebody on the fringe of the universe?”

        The cat looked Charlie's way and then back at Ezekiel and widened his eyes. His tail thrashed repeatedly into the dust and out again. Ezekiel spoke on undeterred by the cat's concerns about Charlie's nosiness.

        “You guys can keep denying it”, he said looking squarely at the cat, “but my soldier's instincts tell me this isn't just a coincidence. Some children of the stars ..”

        The cat interrupted with a groaning growl like one that would normally move quickly to an angry screech, but he stopped short when Ezekiel didn't finish the sentence. Noting the cat wasn't going to screech at him now, Ezekiel continued his train of thought.

        “You know which one I mean too. Unlike most of the others, she has never given up.”

        The cat hissed at Ezekiel. Ezekiel took another can from the bag and shook it at him, eyebrows raised.

        “Save that intensity for her.”

        The cat seemed to calm himself and then looked up the driveway towards a receptacle labeled “recyclables” and back at Ezekiel. He then closed his eyes slowly.

        Ezekiel let out another sigh and returned the cat's stare.

        “Yes, yes, I'm going to do it just like these stupid rules tell us to.”

        He shook his head.

        “You guys sure love laws.”

        The cat purred, so loudly Ezekiel worried Charlie might hear it.

        Six moved cans and a kicked recycling receptacle later, Ezekiel waived Charlie a good night.

        Charlie got out of his lawn chair and waved back with a smile. Ezekiel hit a light switch and waited in his now dark garage. The cat waited with him. A few seconds later they heard the sound of Charlie's garage closing.

        Ezekiel looked at the cat and pointed to two sets of headlights just turning onto their street from the main road. He spoke to the cat.

        “Satisfying your love of laws almost cost us. See?”

        The cat turned his head and looked the way Ezekiel was pointing. A boyish sounding man's voice was suddenly heard coming from the cat's general direction.

        “So those are the marks?”

        Ezekiel answered the cat, “yes Ofier, those are the marks, all three of them.”

Ofier spoke without moving his mouth. Some how his words just came across the air.

        “I'll make sure they don't run off before you can get there.”

        He then seemed to vanish. A brief after image like lines in the direction of the approaching cars hinted at what actually happened, what the cat did, where he went, and how fast.

        Ezekiel reached over to the hooks where his garden tools hung and found his favorite gun there, a large revolver with a shiny long barrel, an Anaconda. With a tightening inside his chest, he started up the street. His walk was brisk.

        The lead car was a small white hybrid. It moved very slowly, almost stopping at times. The second car, a dirty older car of indistinct color was almost on the hybrid's bumper.

        “Animals”, Ezekiel muttered, thinking about what they had planned for the driver they were following.

        Ezekiel was one house away when the hybrid driver reached her driveway and pulled into it. The other car stopped in the street right at the end of the driveway, blocking it. He could see the woman in the car now. Well enough to tell she had let her brown hair grow some since the taking of the photo he had of her. It had been quite short before. He also could see that she was aware something was wrong and was double-checking her door locks.

        “Smart girl. Too bad your windows aren't bulletproof.”

        A third car pulled off the main road. It was still too far to tell much about it, but Ezekiel was pretty certain he knew who was driving.

        “How nice of everyone to be on time”, Ezekiel muttered to himself as he approached the dirty car.

        Two bandana adorned young men got out of each side. Both were armed with handguns. They knew he was there and probably could not have missed noticing the shiny cannon he had in his hand. The one furthest from the curb took an immediate bead on him. The other was going to shoot the woman. Ezekiel muttered at them, hoping it might torture them to not know what he was saying.

        “You're not getting her.”

        He punctuated his sentence by pulling the trigger. Three guns seemed to go off at the exact same time. His was the loudest by far. Off the end of his barrel, he could see the young man trying to shoot the woman. Then a reddish flashing aura just beyond his sight blocked his view for a split second and his gun kicked up a tad. When he was able to re-steady it the young man wasn't standing.

        Car alarms started a discordant and loud chorus all down the street. The other youth stood empty handed and startled. Ofier had knocked his gun away. Unfortunately for him, he panicked and pulled another pistol from behind his back. He was quick, much quicker than Ezekiel. The youth got off two shots before Ezekiel could aim and shoot, but the old general's shot didn't miss.

Ofier glanced at the bloody mess across the ground and glared at Ezekiel.

        “Sorry”, Ezekiel apologized, “but I didn't want to give him another shot at me.”

        Gun still in hand, he approached the hybrid. The woman inside had turned pale and tears were on her face. He yelled at her, knowing fool well that she was not going to trust him.

        “It's okay mam. Those punks can't hurt you now.”

The third car approached. Ezekiel was right about its driver. The blue Mustang screeched to a stop right behind the dirty car, and its driver's side door flew open.

A tall man with a medium build ran out. Strait brown hair, hazel eyes, strong jaw line, just like the description Ezekiel had received at the start of this operation. The man's eyes widened as he saw the bloody masses that used to be the gunmen's heads. They only held his glance for a second though before he ran to the woman in the hybrid.

        “Kirsten, what happened?! Are you okay?”

… who wants the rest of this?