I rushed toward the stairs, late to meet Michael, and saw Marco standing there in the shadows, like punk royalty.

“You probably don't want to take the stairs. You'd best take the elevator.”

I'm in a hurry,” I replied politely, “I don't have time to wait for the elevator. Besides, we're in a public place, I'm sure everything'll be fine.”

I dashed into the enclosed stairwell. It was circular, and rather dim. As I approached the top, I saw three toughs standing there. They were clad in long brown leather jackets, had long brown hair and cowboy hats—your perfect redneck hoodlums. They looked menacingly towards me for having invaded their territory.

Next thing I knew, Marco was carrying out of the elevator. “You've got multiple stab wounds, and they tried to slit your throat. If you get immediate treatment, you'll be fine. Try to hold yourself together and not bleed to death.” He set me down on a bench in front of the bank, which was in the process of closing for the night, and then disappeared back into the shadows.

I called out weakly, and after what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few moments, one of the bank tellers looked up from counting her drawer and saw me. She called to the other tellers who at first thought I was pulling some kind of joke on them, until they saw the blood pooling around me. I could feel it dripping from my head, and down my arms, soaking my shirt, soaking my pants, soaking everything. I listened as they stood there and debated what to do about me: should they take me inside, leave me lying there on the bench, who should call the ambulance, and on and on, while I lay there bleeding, getting weaker and weaker. Finally one exasperated teller came over to me, and this spurred the others into action.

Soon the paramedics arrived, and as they were wheeling me away to the ambulance, Marco appeared again from out of the shadows, looking none the worse for wear for having carried my bleeding body. Perhaps he had changed clothes.

“Could you find Michael, please,” I asked, “and let him know what's going on? He's waiting for me.”

He nodded, walked along a bit further with me, seemingly unnoticed by the paramedics, and quietly said something to me, that I either did not clearly hear, or do not clearly remember. He then disappeared back into the shadows.

30 April 2003