Rustles

Part 9

Six hours and fifty guests later she left the bar and went straight to home. When she reached Pike road, she slowed down. The smell was different, disturbing. It was Wednesday night, thus the place should have been piled with rubbish bags waiting for morning’s garbage truck, yet it smelled slightly sweet, like around swimming pools.

When she got to the corner of Morrison’s street, she stopped completely and peeked around the red brick wall. The place was washed clean and despite the weird hole with warning signs for pedestrians not to walk in, it was empty. She forced herself to go near and look at it again. With no trash raving over the pin’s edges there were no cats, no old newspapers scraping the metal, there weren’t anything left to remind yesterday. The only sound around was fizzing heat pipe and her shimmering red shoes.

All of a sudden she heard grinding of the boot killing off the spit cigarette end.

She looked over her shoulder and saw sergeant Isley leaning against the wall. His shoulders were slumped and he reached in his jean’s pocket for cigarette pack. He pulled next one from the box and placed it on his lips before lighting it up with a match. He tossed the destroyed match away and hid the rest back in his pocket.

“Hi,” he cracked.

“Hi.” She said, but waited what to say then. What do you say to someone, who has lost a friend? “How are you?”

“Been better.” He paused, eyes locked on the hazard sign. “I came to pay my respects.” He waved the smoke towards the hole. “They won’t allow me to light a candle or anything, so I just… think here for a while.”

“I’ll leave you alone then.” She wished good night and started pass the hole.

He pushed up from the wall. “No, wait,” he went after her, “I’ll walk with you for a while if you don’t mind?”

Actually she would mind, she thought, but she doubted he’d care. “Alright,” she heard herself say.

“Withrow told me you declined my offer.” He tried to begin with something.

“Withrow?”

“William,” he explained, “the soldier with big nose and short hair.”

“He or she would be better start.” Her eyes flew up and she gave his square cut a good stare. He had short hair, round, even cut.

“Silver hasn’t been to see you.” He said and watched how her brown eyebrows created deep valley between her smoky eyes.

“I’m guessing Silver is the she.” She said. “I already told… Withrow, that I won’t join your little vigilante group and I’m thinking of staying to that decision so I would prefer if you didn’t come to me like I was choosing a phone provider and try to change me over.”

 “I’m not here for that tonight.”

“Oh,” she sounded disappointed, “good!”

They walked on in silence and he followed her home. She didn’t make it a secret anymore, it had been stupid idea anyway and she was sure now that they were just being polite, trying to make her feel safe and make the decision herself. Right! She had made her decision and it involved a lot quiet time on her own in her apartment several stores upwards above ground and not one gun-loving soldier.