Rustles

Part 2

They had special driver, who was waiting for them at the car. He looked weary seeing her instead of the thing they came to collect. Understandable, as she hadn’t been part of the plan. The car had big cell on the back, like animal control that caught their street cats.

She thought she should remember their car type, but she never liked cars much, so she didn’t. Black car should be sufficient if police would ever be interested saving her. The car smelled funny, probably more of country dirt than of usual cheese and chips like she was used to with her brother’s car. There wasn’t any air freshener either, no vanilla or coconut ruing her appetite.

How she would get around reporting this to government was beyond her and the half an hour it took them to drive there was enough to begin suspecting that they might be the government she was planning to report it.

She looked at the two men stomping her in between them on the grey back seat. There was more fabric filling their statuesque postures than flesh, Shooter being bulkier than his friend. They had nothing similar about them – he had low hairline, the one behind the driver had higher and lighter, it gleamed when they passed some neon light. Twin reminded of her brother; they even had similar cheek bones and slightly obnoxious nose.

Shooter had an attitude of a cowboy. She wasn’t sure why, but she imagined him going long rounds on top of a bull somewhere in Texas or catching bull calves for the amusement of the spectaculars. All he needed was decorated shirt and a big hat.

The lady of the punch had so tight braid she felt it described the rest of her enough. Filling papers up while they drove showed serious problems in time management – not that she was any expert herself- and the average two question per minute on spelling suggested learning difficulties. But she seemed to fit in the punch and she was sure she had other areas she was good at.

The car pulled in next to a modest semi-detached house in suburbs. She had been in this part of the city before, visiting someone, but she didn’t like the experience much. There were no familiar sounds here, only fluttering of the leaves and quiet barking from miles away. This was disturbing. She liked the noise, it protected her and her, always giving something to do. Suburbs were best place to drive someone crazy.

“Lots of garden space to hide bodies, eh?” she mumbled, peeking over Shooter’s shoulder while he pushed the car door open. He stopped half way and turned around, forcing her to pull back against the Twin.

He stared her down and lowered himself closer. “We won’t kill you. I wouldn’t have offered you medical care if I’d decided otherwise.”

“I don’t know what you’ve decided yet.” She whispered back and felt his gloved hand land on her knee.

“You do. Don’t play dumb. Now come, I don’t have all night.”

It was two in the morning. What night was he worried about? Loosing sleep? She should be the one complaining. She already spent eight long hours on her feet in a bar and the last she wanted was to be dragged further away from her own bed.

She pulled herself out of the car and tried to lean on the ankle. It hurt like hell.

Besides there being people dressed in military gear entering from the front door, there was nothing to indicate anything suspicious. The house was light green with dark handcrafted doors decorated with stained glass roses around the doorways duplicating every other house on the street. Behind the curtains  near the right end came bright yellow light and there were at least six people more inside.

When they heard the car approach they opened the door and were now staring at them with the same surprise as the driver had just half an hour earlier.