The Strange Man

“You can’t get very far Sara!” The man chasing her screamed. Sara just kept running without looking back, like her life depended on it.

It did.

“Don’t make me shoot at you!”

Sara ignored once more and kept running as the rain came down in torrents. Soon, she approached a dark alleyway which she immediately ran into, hoping to hide away from the keen hitman, or - dare she hope - completely neutralize him.

She quickly buried herself behind some garbage bags and ceased all movements and sounds of any kind; except her hands which quivered uncontrollably.

She clutched tightly to the necklace around her neck and prayed to every god there was and had ever been. The necklace she wore was what the hitman was sent to retrieve; the Heart of The Ocean necklace, worth 20 million dollars. The very same necklace worn by Kate Winslet in the blockbuster movie ‘Titanic’.

Sara’s husband had purchased it at an auction for her for their second wedding anniversary. Apparently, he had also made enemies with some very powerful, dangerous men. And hence, he was killed a week after.

A suitcase was delivered to Sara’s doorstep, and when she opened it, she found her husband’s body, chopped into many pieces. And stapled to his lifeless tongue, a note which read: “Give to Caesar…”

Sara’s husband never got her involved in his business, so she had no idea who these people were. But one thing was certain, they were thirsty for blood. So Sara imagined the necklace around her neck was what “belonged to Caesar”.

But she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet as it was certain they would just have her killed right after.

Now, her immediate objective was to survive the gunned madman. Soon, he was also in the same alley where she hid, but it was midnight and hence, too dark to see anything.

Nevertheless, it was so pin-drop silent, besides the faint echoes of ‘Someone Like You’ by Adele coming from across the street.

Just then, her wedding ring fell off her finger as fiddled with the necklace, and it rolled and stopped right at the feet of the hitman. Sara held her breath, closed her eyes and waited for the sweet kiss of death.

“I’ve got you now, slut!” The hitman declared as he raised his gun to the direction of the garbage bags where the ring emerged from. Suddenly, Sara burst into laughter.

***

“Cut! Jesus, Claire, how many takes do you need for you to get this fucking scene?” The director asked frustratingly.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire started, still laughing uncontrollably. “But the way he says ‘slut!’…” she said in a hefty tone, “…just gets me every time! But I PROMISE. Last take, I swear.”

“Let’s just take a break instead,” the director said with a sigh. “We’ll get on again with it soon.”

Anton Graf, who played the role of the hitman went over to Claire to help her up.

“You’ve got some serious issues,” he said with a chuckle.

“Slut!” She replied mockingly and they both erupted in laughter.

Anton and Claire's laughter finally subsided, leaving them both with wide grins.

"You know," Anton began as they walked over to the craft services table, "we've been doing this for what, ten years now? And you still manage to crack me up on set."

Claire nodded, her eyes flashing with delight. "I suppose some things never change. Remember our first movie together? You were so nervous, you kept stumbling over your lines."

"And you," Anton retorted playfully, "kept tripping over every piece of furniture in the room. It was a miracle we got through that movie at all."

With every year that went by, their bond became stronger as they experienced the highs and lows of the business. Through innumerable moments of shared joy, personal challenges, and late-night shootings, they had always been there for one another.

"Speaking of miracles," Anton said, glancing at his watch, "how about we take advantage of this break and dip for a quick lunch?"

Claire's stomach grumbled in agreement. "Craig’s gonna be so mad, but my stomach has made its decision!"

As they walked to the studio exit, speaking animatedly about their favorite lunch spots, Claire's focus was pulled to the corner of the lot.

The director was deep in conversation with a large man dressed in a black suit and dark, heavy sunglasses. Claire's stomach tightened with worry as she observed the man's harsh manner and the way he looked about the set.

"Hey, Ant," Claire called, nudging him gently with her elbow. "Who's that with the director?"

Anton followed her gaze and frowned slightly. "No idea. He doesn’t look like fun, though."

"Yeah," Claire murmured, still staring at the towering figure.

He was built like a bull; huge and commanding, his shoulders fitting his fitted black suit almost too tightly. His dark, sleek hair, perfectly styled with not a hair out of place, stood out starkly against the deep olive tone of his complexion.

Claire could hardly hear the low, rumbling tone of his voice as he spoke to the director, his lips moving very little. Instead of using many gestures, he seemed to be making his statement simply by being there.

“Yo,” Anton said, drawing Claire out of her thoughts. “We gotta go?”

“Right,” Claire responded still somewhat distracted. In no time, they were heading off the set.

Following a brief lunch break escapade, Anton and Claire made their way back to the set, with Claire's earlier discomfort still present. The scene was already buzzing with activity, with crew workers adjusting the lights and props, and the director giving some instructions to the cameraman.

"Alright, back to business," Anton remarked, flexing his arms. "Ready to nail this shit?"

Claire nodded, taking a deep breath to center herself. "Yes ma’am,” she answered.

“Asshole,” Anton replied with a chuckle.

Claire returned to her hiding place, while Anton stood menacingly at the mouth of the alley. Now appearing more collected, the director yelled, "Okay, everyone, let's get this right. And... action!"

Claire stayed focused this time, channeling all of her energy into the scene. There was palpable tension between both of them because of Anton's equally powerful performance.

"Cut! That was excellent, Claire, Ant," the director remarked, his earlier frustration giving way to satisfaction. "Let's move on to the next shot."

As the crew prepped for the next scene, Claire's eyes strayed to where she had seen the huge man in black earlier. He was gone, but her unpleasant feeling persisted.

"Hey, Claire," Anton said, breaking her thoughts again. "You good?"

"Yeah, just... distracted," Claire said with a small smile. "Let's keep going."

After a long, exhausting day of shooting, Craig, the director, finally dismissed everyone. The crew began to pack up equipment, and the actors headed to their trailers to change out of their costumes.

"Claire," the director called out, catching her just as she was about to leave. "A word?"

"Sure," Claire responded, her curiosity piqued. She trailed behind the director to a more sedate area of the set.

Once they were alone, the director leaned in, and started speaking in a low, urgent tone. Claire listened intently, her face gradually shifting from curiosity to a mix of uncertainty and concern. He patted her shoulder reassuringly when he was done speaking and she responded with a nod, her mind racing with the implications of what he had just told her.

"Thanks for letting me know," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of thoughts swirling inside her.

What’s going on?