So be it

Jinx

The conversations around me were quickly devolving into shouting matches. A quick glance across the flats showed clearly that similar shouting matches were taking place all around. Some people were moving. Some toward the river that could barely be seen through the press of bodies, others towards the west, the east, the north.

My feet itched to follow them but the sensible part of me still counselled to wait. In what was becoming almost an instinctive movement I checked the knife on my rucksack. It was still on my back. It would stay there no matter what. I could see others looking at me as suspiciously as I was looking at them.

My eyes roamed once more at the people around me. The loud one, blonde and bossy, American or English. I was never much for accents. She had a bearing though. Either army or police, or maybe a CEO or something like that. The one opposite her, equally blonde, less bossy but stubborn as hell. Certainly army or police, certainly British.

The tall one, the one that had tried to calm others in the initial panic. She had not talked much but her calm was welcome in the shouting match. A couple I would guess, German or Dutch. The one with the mousy brown hair kept translating to her companion in a low voice, her hands never straying from their instinctual protection of the bulge in her middle.

The redhead that had come towards me even before the sky-voice had sounded sat listlessly in front of me. She had not said a word yet but she was less pale than she had been in the beginning. Another redhead watched everything with raptor eyes. She had spoken little.

An African lady stood still in front of the one I assumed was her girlfriend, white, blonde and slight. Her accent was heavy but I had heard such before and not on the TV. British from London, my gut said. It had taken me a while to realise that we had all been taken from Britain, one part or another.

The northern English accent on another, this one heavier than even me, told me that much. I was not much for accents but that I could recognise. My eyes roamed even as I desultorily followed the conversation around me. They were still debating the same old thing. Was it aliens or something else? As if it mattered...

My eyes, seemingly of their own accord, stilled on the woman just a few steps away from me. She sat, seemingly unconcerned, but her hand never strayed far from the knife next to her. The top of a tattoo I could not recognise peaked under her jacket sleeve every time she stretched her shoulders. An old injury I would guess but she covered it well. I could tell, I had some of those.

After a moment my eyes moved on. I had to force them. An odd turn of thought and an even odder attraction of the eyes. That's me. What can one do? There were others around our small circle. I had grasped no names of those who had given them. Never had a good head for names.

That's a lie. I had a good head for names. A good one for faces too. When I thought to use it. A liar I am. A good one at times too. But not to myself. Never to myself. Not if I can help it.

I feared these people. I knew not one of them. Knowing them would make them something more. More than merely glimpses of faces and voices that meant nothing to me. It was too early yet. No need to know them before I decided if I would stay. No need.

Voices were raised once more but I tuned them out. No point to them. No point to listening to them either. Let them shout.

My eyes returned, seemingly of their own accord, to the woman still absently fingering the knife. It took me a moment to realise it. When I did, I turned away. I was startled when my gaze met that of the tall one. She inclined her head just minutely before she turned to her almost constant perusal of the others.

I felt like I had just been issued a challenge, or maybe a warning. I shrugged, to myself mostly. Let her challenge. I am no duelist. Especially not for these things. Did it once. Once was enough. Not again. Never again.