Rustles

Part 7

When they got downstairs, Margaret remembered the man outside in his car. He might have returned, though she herself found it highly unlikely. She stopped on the elevator’s door with cough.

“Any back doors?” she asked apologetically, when her friend turned around.

“No, but I can check mail if you want and while I’m at it, also do some spying?” she snorted. “Seriously, girl, what have you got yourself into?”

“I am perfectly fine, if you don’t count in my ankle. A black car with a man in it, if you please?” She waved her hand to the door, bringing out giggles from her friend.

“Alright.” Sofia agreed and peeked out the window while opening and closing the empty box door. “No one there, but my car!”

“Good,” she let out a loud sigh.

“It would work much easier if you just tell me, what you got yourself into and then we could all breath much easier.”

Sofia opened the door and let her out to her small pearly blue miniature car. A clown car, like she liked to refer to it for it nicely fitted to their arena, but she knew Sofia didn’t like it being called like that.

“I can’t, I told you.”

“Like being secretive?”

“Like has nothing to do with this!”

“Ok, I stop asking.” She took the alarm off and they got in. “I like you working in the bar!” she announced and shake her body in joy while she gifted her with most incredulous look. “Oh yes! I must say I’d prefer less excitement, but you gotta admit – there’s so much more happening now than when we travelled.”

“We didn’t have free time then, now we do.”

“True.”

What had began as somewhat cute had turned them both in somber mood. Remembering the good old times always had this effect. Living with a circus since you are eleven is for outsiders dream come true – liberty, indulgent of narcissism and traveling twelve months in a year. In reality it was hard work, practices since seven in the morning, constant packing and unpacking and shows every other day, often companied with cleaning after the guests and rows with police. It was why they had chosen to leave and settle down, finish school and possibly get a better life.

She turned her eyes outside, watching the empty streets flying by with one or two loafers pushing their carts or climbing out from their snugly hastily erected beds. Despite the warm season, they still had their winter coats on. Nights were chilly in cities where sun didn’t reach the lowest levels before midday. Tramps weren’t the only ones out, but for some reason they were the ones she noticed, exploring each and one of them as carefully as she could.

She was looking for something, she realized. She tried to persuade herself it was over now, but for some reason she couldn’t get herself to believe it. It was like Puck’s speech in the Midsummer’s Night Dream, where he asks forgiveness if the shadows have you offended and promises to make it up for you for entire year long.

“If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear…” she quoted the famous lines, when suddenly she saw a shadow rising on the next street corner, crumbling dirt falling back on ground. It was perfect negative of a trained man. Cramp of horror ran through her chest so harshly, she had to crunch her jacket to understand it hadn’t gone anywhere.

Moment later the car had passed the street corner and it was gone. She couldn’t decide if it was mirage or she really saw the man standing there. One thing she was sure of – she couldn’t get involved with them again. Sergeant might have had more noble reasons to hunt them, but she did not need to get involved any longer.