The Watchers Read Free

blow my cover.” He glanced once more at the clearing. All quiet.
    The kid offered an irritating chuckle. “Blow your cover! Who do you think you are, Eliot Ness?” He began humming the tune to an old movie, The Untouchables , while he strained his neck to see around the trees. He had a mop of black hair and green eyes. Jay could have sworn he was a girl, if it hadn't been for his deep voice. Clearly, his balls had dropped. "Clear off, son."
    He didn’t budge. He only grinned with perfect white teeth, challenging Jay to tell all.
    Jay had already established the kid was an idiot, but he knew he needed to calm down and put the whole matter to bed. He would explain the seriousness of his position and then the kid would surely realise he needed to give up and go home. "Okay, okay. I'm on a stakeout, all right? Can you leave now?"
    “Cool.”
    “Get lost, will ya?” Jay was at the end of this tether. Maybe he should call a cop. Have the kid thrown into jail until he was thirty-five!
    "What's the stakeout?" Nothing affected his blatant attitude. He was a spoilt jerk! "Come on, you can trust me," he said with a smirk on his face.
    Jay inwardly sighed. “I'm a private investigator. I'm on a case.”
    “Cool.”
    “Shush. Keep your voice down. Some big-shot wants to know if the stories are true about the birds.”
    The kid frowned. “You mean the Angels? They’re not birds,” he guffawed.
    “Whatever!” Jay spat. “It’s all garbage anyhow. No such thing as celestial beings. Not in New York City.”
    “You’re wrong there, man,” the kid said.
    Jay wanted to laugh at the seriousness of his expression. “What do you know about it?”
    “Are you kidding? My girlfriend and me…we chase sightings.”
    “With nothing else to do right?” Jay smiled at the kid’s optimism. Something Jay had lost a long time ago. “So, you’ve seen them have you, the Watchers?”
    “Not yet, but my time is coming.”
    “God protect me,” Jay muttered. He turned back to the kid. “Okay, you’ve had my story. Can you leave now?”
    “Are you crazy? This is a great location. Besides, you might need my help.”
    Jay’s voice fell to a loud whisper again. “Help! You’re the crazy one, kid. These alleged monsters are supposed to be killers.”
    “They’re not killers and they’re not monsters,” he said with absolute certainty. “Angels wouldn’t kill. All that stuff on the news is just propaganda. The government don’t want us to believe in them because they don’t want any unrest.”
    “You don’t say.” Jay turned away to hide a smile forming on his lips. The kid was nuts. “How old are you anyway?”
    “I’m twenty-one.”
    “You don’t look it, trust me.”
    “I’ve got credentials.” He dug into the pocket of his old jeans. “I’m press.” He held up a laminated card displaying his name, Tom Stone, NYC News Reporter and Independent Photographer. The face in the image was wearing glasses, to make him look older. The I.D was clearly fake.
    “You’re a young pap!” Jay whispered.
    They stopped as they heard voices from a group of people walking into the clearing.
    The pair ducked and peered around the tree as twelve men and women gathered in a group. Two of them were dragging a dark skinned youth along the ground, his hands tethered with wire.
    Jay had heard all the stories of the rising Ku Klux Klan, except they didn’t use the disguises anymore. Instead, all supporters of the new KKK, (a legacy of the Trump administration) displayed a tattoo on their left shoulder; an image of their forefathers dressed in pointed white hoods. It was now a distinguishable brand logo.
    Jay glanced at Tom Stone crouching in the shadows next to him. He was quiet, not moving an inch. As they heard the youth screaming for his life in the clearing beyond the trees, Tom whispered incredulously “Is this a hanging?”
    “Not what you were expecting, huh?”
    Jay thought about his client. He’d been very specific about