Page 4 - Weird Tales Draft 1.

“Where do you think you’re go- ing?” she asked.
“I been locked up too long,” Mike said. “I’m going out. Lemme know if any- one calls, would ya?”
Velda grimaced. “Mike, you know you can’t do that. Besides, you don’t look too good.”
“Ah, can it!” he barked. “I’m not gunna let some ‘China virus’ keep me locked up like some dog.”
Velda looked concerned. “But Mike, social distancing – ”
Mike chuckled. “Velda, I been so- cial distancing all my life. If some sicko lays his hands on me, I’ll knock the snot outta him!”
Mike had to walk three blocks before he saw so much as a pigeon. At any other time, he would be knee-deep in drunks and loud-
mouths, but it seemed this virus had scared even the worst types of riffraff back into their holes. Mike smiled to himself. There was a sense of justice in knowing that the scum of the city were locked up inside, while decent men like Mike could stroll about unbothered. If Mike were the senti- mental type, he might even call it peaceful. But Mike never had much use for philoso- phizing: it just felt good to stretch his legs.
Mike decided to swing by Old Joe’s for a drink. He turned left on 71st and headed east towards the harbour. Ev- ery couple of windows, Mike would see light peeking out the blinds. Once or twice, he caught some sad rube looking through the cracks. One glance from Mike would send them running.
Mike’s fun was interrupted around 18th and Penn. From a distance, Mike heard that distinct patter that every gum- shoe knows too well: footsteps. He slowed his pace and kept his ear cocked to the
side. Just to be sure, he stopped altogeth- er and ducked into an alley. Just as he thought, the footsteps ceased. He started again, this time making a right down 46th. Sure enough, two blocks deep the steps re- sumed. He was being tailed, and no one tails Mike Hammer.
Mike ducked under an awning and waited. The footsteps kept coming, pierc- ing the once quiet solace of the night. They wouldn’t let up, and Mike tensed himself for the rumpus.
When the guy passed him by, all six-feet-three-inches of Mike Hammer lunged out of the shadows.
“What’s the idea here?” Mike de- manded.
The goon started back. He was a kid, no more than twenty five.
“O-oh! You scared me, pal,” said the kid.
“Cut it,” Mike responded. “Where do you get the gall to tail me? Who one of Slick Antonialus’ men?”
The kid backed away, but this only made Mike move in closer.
“C’mon, pal,” said the kid. “I’ve been giving you space. The CDC said to stay six feet away – ”
“So you are following me,” Mike- barked. “Dontcha know who I am!”
Before the kid had a chance to re- spond, Mike sprang forward and popped him on the nose. The goon toppled over and winced on the ground.
Mike shot him a sly smile. “You’re lucky you caught me in a good mood, kid. Now get out of here, and you tell this Seedy C. that Mike Hammer sent ya’!”
The goon shot him a horrified look. Holding his nose, he got up carefully before boltng off.
Mike coughed into his fist and walked into the night.
To be continued ...
The Invisible Enemy