The Sky Walker

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It was half past three in the afternoon. That is a little early for the cocktail hour, so there weren’t many people in Mike’s Tavern. There were enough to provide plenty of witnesses, however. And all were witnesses, because all saw the crazy thing that happened, that day in Chicago.

Mike’s Tavern is on Belmont Avenue, not far from Lincoln Park. Probably the location was the reason why the thing happened there, because the source of the weird trouble was later disclosed to have been Lincoln Park. At least, that was as close as they could narrow it down.

Four men and a couple of women were sitting on the leather-covered chromium stools along the bar at Mike’s. Five of the six had drinks in front of them. The sixth had finished his and ordered another. A martini. He had already had too many martinis; so when the thing happened the first time, the rest just laughed at him and said he was drunk.

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