Watchers

Chapter 39: Oliver's Tale

The drones approach, flying low over the street and sweeping their cameras from side to side, looking for any sign of movement. Daniel and Sasha are laying in the footwell of the back seat of the station wagon, their bodies mashed uncomfortably together in the small space and the musty blanket making it difficult to breathe. They dare not move, though, because even the slightest motion will alert the drones to their position.

They're darned lucky that this particular type of Watcher drone doesn't appear to have the same heat-sensing abilities that the most advanced models have.

It's a full ten minutes after the last drone has disappeared up the street before either of them feel comfortable moving from the footwell. Daniel whispers, just audibly, "Do you think they're gone?"

Sasha peeks her head out from beneath the blanket, her heart pounding so hard Daniel can feel it against his chest, and looks out the window. Then she says, "Yeah, for now."

She sits down on the bench seat, rubbing her hand over her sternum. It's sore and she can feel a knot where the beanbag hit her. Daniel has a hard time getting up from the footwell where he'd been wedged and she gives him her hand, pulling him into the seat next to her.

He notices her rubbing her chest and asks, "How bad does it hurt?"

"It's okay," Sasha says, and when Daniel reaches across the seat to feel the knot, she lets him touch her with a little catch in her breath that she hopes he'll attribute to the pain.

"Sorry," he says, gently running his fingers around the perimeter of the raised area.

"I'll live," she says, and he smiles at her.

"I know," he answers. "You're a fighter."

Then he puts his hand down, satisfied that nothing's broken and knowing that there's nothing he could do even if it were.

"How did you know the door would be unlocked?" he asks, and Sasha shrugs.

"When you spend enough time on the street, you get a sixth sense about those things," she says. "The tires were low on air, meaning it hasn't been driven in a while, and it's an old car. A lot of the time people who drive old cars would rather keep the doors unlocked and let thieves and homeless do what they will, rather than have to deal with a broken window on top of a stolen radio or whatever else might happen."

"I'm lucky you knew that," Daniel says.

"No," Sasha says with a laugh, "we're lucky whoever was in this car before us didn't use it as a toilet."

He laughs with her, and then because it's pretty clear that this car will be their best chance of making it through the night away from Watcher eyes and out of the cold, they climb over the seat into the back of the wagon. Sasha brings the blanket with her and even though it doesn't smell the best, it's a good defense against the cold, and they lay down together. Daniel pulls Sasha close to him so they can share their body heat, and staring at the ancient upholstered ceiling, it's not the best bed he's ever laid in but it's certainly not the worst.

"Tell me a bedtime story," he says into the dark. "I want to know more about you."

It seems like an impossible luxury and he knows that now is not the time to let his guard down, but he can't help feeling safe - at least for the moment. He wants to enjoy it.

Sasha smiles and asks, "What do you want to know?"

"Something happy," he says. "What's your favorite childhood memory?"

Sasha thinks about this for a few minutes, then lets out a long sigh and says, "It feels like lifetimes ago."

"Can't think of one?" Daniel asks with a frown.

"No, I did," she says. "It's just that it feels like it happened to someone else."

"I understand that," Daniel says. "Believe me."

"I was around five or six years old," Sasha says. "A girl from school had just gotten a new puppy, a purebred Golden Retriever, and brought her in for show-and-tell one day. I was over the moon and even though I knew my family couldn't afford a dog - purebred or otherwise - I hounded my parents relentlessly. I wanted a puppy and I would not be dissuaded. I was too young to understand just how much work went into keeping me fed and clothed, gas in the car and the lights on in the house. We certainly didn't have the money to feed a dog on top of the rest of it. But I bet you had a puppy, being a senator's son and all."

Daniel smiles and says, "I'm more of a cat person, but my mom had a Yorkie when I was little."

"Well, my parents kept trying to explain to six-year-old me that a dog was definitely not in the cards, until one Saturday we were at a gas station," Sasha says. "This ragged-looking man came up to our car and my dad assumed he was a beggar. He turned out his pockets and said he didn't carry any cash, but as the man got closer, we saw that he was holding something in his hands. It was a little turtle, no bigger than my palm, and he said it was his pet but he couldn't keep it anymore because the Men in Black were using it to track his movements, so he was looking for someone to take care of it for him. My dad said after the fact that he probably had schizophrenia or something."

"So did you take the turtle?"

"Yeah," Sasha says. "I begged my dad and when the man saw how excited I was, he started begging my dad, too. He wanted the turtle to go to a good home, and after grilling him on exactly what turtles eat and deciding that we could probably take care of it on the cheap, my dad let me take it."

"What happened to the turtle?"

"I brought him home, named him Oliver and kept him in an old aquarium I found in the attic. I fed him earthworms and veggie scraps that I intercepted on their way to the compost heap," Sasha says. "I had him for almost ten years, and then when my parents died and I wasn't allowed to bring him with me, I gave him to a friend."

"I said I wanted a happy story," Daniel says, nudging Sasha.

"It is a happy story," she says. "I loved that darned turtle just as much as I would have loved a puppy, and a turtle's lifespan is far greater than a Golden Retriever's. I like to think Oliver is still out there somewhere, happily munching on carrots and earthworms."

"I'm quite sure he is," Daniel says.

"Your turn," Sasha answers. "Tell me a happy story."

She snuggles into him for warmth and they trade stories back and forth until at last they settle into sleep.