Rustles

Part 4

They drove in silence. She was sat on the front seat this time.  It wasn’t better than sitting behind. She preferred him shouting orders in her hair, wasn’t that what sergeants usually did? But instead they drove in silence. It was like on funeral, but when she thought about them probably loosing another friend, it made sense.

In front there were several screens showing different data, the only one she could recognize was GPS and the position of the car on the roads. It was a fancy one, with local tourist attractions popping up on every other corner – museums, churches, monuments, restaurants… 

Other screens were harder to understand. Several of them were white, constantly searching information from net while different one screened blue sonar info.

“There’s movement half a mile in north!” the driver called in the back. “He goes faster than the last one, follows the tunnel?”

Moving fast, she added in her mind, like a rocket through the road.

“Take us as close as you can, you remember the last place?”

“Pike road and Morrison’s?”

“Ok.”

“That’s beyond nuts!” She said finally.

“No – friends are nutty, family members are nuts.”  The driver introduced, “These guys, they’re… shit! Off the radar!”

“Focus, Nate!”

“You bring short skirt in my car and then tell me to focus? What’s wrong with you? Should have kept her on back seat!”

She felt the cold breeze rolling over her knees and pulled the skirt lower.

“Focus! Where is he?”

He drove back the way they came from and in less than a minute the guy was back on their radar. Half a mile to the place he came to a full stop.

The driver eyes fixed on the screen. “Came on a wall?” He was immediately showered with demands to watch the road instead and with a grunt he obeyed.

She tried to recognize the street corner comparing the radar, sonar and GPS. It didn’t seem to be a corner, instead it looked like the street went in to before a small grassland and went around it. “That’s close to Church of St. Anthony! It’s from 17th century and has massive stone foundation.”

“You know art history? What’s your name?”

“I’m Margaret and no, my boss is catholic and every now and then we help him out on big holidays. The priest there is a lovely fellow.”

“I bet he is!”

“He’s a priest! Have some dignity!”

His muted laughter was easing the tension, but their talk ran empty after that. He seemed to be a chatty fellow. He didn’t look like the rest of them, slightly slender and leaner. His grey shirt was rolled up and hands covered with tattoos of flowers, birds, lizards and bugs. Like others he also supported crew cut, but his hair were dark enough to actually show.

“What kind of work do you do?” he asked after a pause, turning right from the next street.

She knew they were tense, but she welcomed him at least trying to get the tension down a bit.

“I work at a bar, turn left from the next.”

“He looks stuck there.” His eyes fell back on the screens.

“He better be,” sergeant said, preparing his gun.

“I’m Nathan. Nice to meet you.” He said, looking right at her.