striding toward the elevator door. They’re out there, you know that. Molly tried to calm her nerves by remembering how safe The Republic of West Virginia had been, according to media sources.
According to media sources, the panic part of her replied as Molly’s finger tapped the down button on the elevator. Yeah, we in the media never lie. Not us, we’re right as rain. As the doors rolled open Molly distracted herself by taking one last look down the infinite hallway. If I were Beauragard, I’d have put someone on watch outside my door. She continued her train of thought while entering the elevator. You know, just in case I tried something like this. As Molly’s eyes sifted around her surroundings she happened to glance up at the darkened ceiling and its tiny, artistic nodules that seemed to blink back at her.
Gotcha, her mouth pursed as the cameras tracked her move.
She carefully placed her Louis Vuitton on the floor and pulled the hoodie over her head. Molly had a moment to size up the situation while the numbers counted down to her destination. It occurred to her who she was dealing with. Beauragard was a man of command, always in control and giving the orders.
At least when it comes to me, she started to feel herself get some wriggle room. She remembered back to the battlefield and how close he was when she turned around. Molly arched her neck in thought as the elevator settled in to its destination with hydraulic resonance. Remember the soldier in the jeep when you changed the game plan and said you didn’t need a crew?
Oh shit, his face had said it all. He had to get new orders. Molly picked up her Louis Vuitton and stepped a bit closer to the doors. Okay, we’ve got a plan.
Ping!
It never occurred to Molly how slow elevator doors really were. They began to grind open to reveal the Chianti colored rugs. The off white walls were overgrown with moldings and wooden shapes. It seemed like an attempt at imperial that had fallen a bit short. Molly put her head down and made a quick pace to the front door.
“Oh....oh!” A voice called out as she passed the front desk. “Ms. Hunter! Ms. Hunter!”
“Yes?” Molly turned slowly and made her face into a friendly smile. Her eyes tried to hide the shade of deviousness in her thoughts. I love it when I have a plan. Her right eyebrow arched slightly under the hoodie.
“You aren’t going out are you?” His voice seemed to be a touch higher than she remembered. He was a thin black man with short hair and the touch of a moustache. He was the perfectly tailored attendant for the night shift.
“Family business,” She kept it short and turned toward the door.
“Oh ........um....” From the corner of her eye, Molly saw that look again. Oh, shit!
“It’s okay, honey.” Molly called over her shoulder. “I’ve got a ride.”
As her hand pushed into the thick plate glass door Molly knew she had found Beauragard’s Achilles heel. His people had been given specific orders in that deep, serious tone of his. But what happens when you pull the unexpected, when army grey encounters Technicolor? The automaton takes a pause, reboots. Molly did not have to look back to know the desk clerk was already on the phone to his superiors.
What do I do now? He would ask almost fearfully.
His superiors were just part of the chain. They would be like the ponderous elevator doors, grinding through the options while time ticks away. It might come down to waking the General. How long would that be?
About forty five minutes, Molly reassured herself. Damn, that’s nice timing.
It started at the spot between her back and neck. It was a cold chill that seemed to lace out like tentacles around her shoulders. It seemed to crawl to her up her back with the care of a spider creeping forward. A long leg caressed her at the tip of her spine, causing her eyes to widen. Her hands were laced with cold ice. My fingertips, her breath stopped for a second. I can’t feel my fingertips.
Molly’s movements stopped and became numb. The darkness and shadows seemed to watch her. Everything about the night took on a darker shade, a careful conspiracy of her surroundings to hide her final fate. If darkness was an emotion, it was icy, pitch black fear. You’re outside now, where they are.....
This was almost fucking funny until now………
You have to move. Molly felt her right leg go forward rigidly with the left leg following the rhythm. It all has a very familiar feel to it, doesn’t it? That taste of fear that evaporates everything and leaves your mouth dry. Suddenly, you want to run and hide in the shadows.
Don’t be silly. You can’t go there. That’s where they’re waiting for you.......
But, you have got to go there. Molly felt like her plan was the trigger to a trap. You can’t stay in the open, the patrols will see you. You have to hide in the dark, work your way through the shadows. The cold spider that Molly had felt on her spine paused for a rapturous moment. The poetry of it all was almost lyrical. Molly Hunter, clever girl. You’ve spun your own web and trapped yourself.
Third Avenue was lit by a few streetlights with boarded up businesses supporting a three story parking garage in front of Molly. To her right, Big Sandy Superstore Arena reflected wanly. It was a reddish orange box out of place with the new reality of things. What do you do with a sports arena when all of the teams don’t play anymore?
Small trees provided just enough shadows for cover. She found her feet picking up speed in their direction. In the shadows, that’s where you can stay out of sight. Molly inhaled slowly and tried not to feel like something was watching her, beckoning her.
You can always go back, had the spider on her spine now found a voice?
No, Molly slowly kept an eye out for anything that moved.
Curiosity killed the cat. She was reminded. It’s pride that kills the rest of us.
Listen for them. They always have that hissing, low growl about them. Molly felt her ears approach hypersensitivity. There was a low reverberation that seemed to fade in and out of the very edge of what was discernible. It was there, then, it wasn’t.
“Right,” A voice clearly spoke from close by. Molly turned and crouched down behind a tree that had been planted close to one of the arena’s walls. She slipped the dark, reddish color of her Louis Vuitton bag in front of her brown pants. The black hoodie and the bag helped her blend into the shadows. Two men had been standing behind a white van parked across the street. They emerged into the road. The van was one of those cube things that were so hard to see around at an intersection. A man in a camo short sleeved shirt tossed a lit cigarette away as he crossed the street with his partner in tow who cradled a hunting rifle. Camo man sported a highly visible side arm in a holster. He raised an object to his mouth.
“Don’t see her.” Camo man spoke. Of course not, you were hiding out and catching a quick smoke. Molly knelt down into the grass.
“........could be anywhere.” The radio replied. “Remember what to do if you see her.”
“Yeah, roger that.” The camo man seemed annoyed that his time pursuing his private vice had been interrupted. He lowered the radio and nodded to his partner and they walked toward the hotel. Occasionally, they would pause and hazard a long look down the street for a fleeting shadow on the move. Their backs were to Molly in a few minutes.
45
