BAGGAGE

The sky was an unblemished sheet of grey and wept a heavy spray on the city below. The masses huddled beneath umbrellas and briefcases as they hurried across the street, stomping on their own reflections as they did. David walked alone, unhurried, protected from the weather by a thick Navy issue overcoat and shining cover. Those scurrying by gave him an obligatory nod as he made his way across the street. The metro was still a block away but he was enjoying the day already. His heart was light. Today was the day.

He spied a familiar kiosk up ahead and took his tablet from one of the large pockets inside his coat. Careful not to get it wet, he scanned his tablet on the familiar barcode and heard the beep confirming purchase without breaking his stride. He looked down and saw The Washington Post written on the top of his tablet with the stories starting to download beneath it.

He was ten paces from the Metro entrance when the sound of a woman’s voice chirped weakly beside his shoulder. He stopped and turned towards an alley, searching the darkness within it for its source. “Praise…God…” The voice shook as a diminutive face appeared from the shadows. “I found you,” David’s eyes adjusted to the lower light and revealed a woman, dressed in rags and soaked to the core, looking at him with icy blue eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak but no words wanted to come.

David stepped closer and bent over the woman. She was old but not yet elderly, although the years had given her a gnarled whither that made her appear ancient. Some of her teeth were missing. But she held him at a glance. As ragged as the rest of her was, what life remained caged within her raged from those eyes. They danced across his face as if trying to take all of him at once. As was habit, he reached down and brushed aside her hair, revealing a lined but unblemished right temple. David’s face grew firm. The woman flinched as he touched her hair and a moan escaped her lips.

“You need help,” he said as he stood back up, craning his neck ins search of a Watcher. There were always Watchers and they were easy to spot. He spotted one dressed in his all-black uniform across at the intersection across from him and waved him over.

He heard the woman cry softly below him. “No, no, no,” she said as her hands tore at her clothes. “Not now. I’ve looked so long. So … so long for you.”

David bent over and helped the woman up. She initially resisted but at once fell into his arm and let her tired head rest on his shoulder as he stood her up. Her hands still frantically rummaged across her torso, searched her tattered garments.

“All is well,” a gruff voice called to him.

“Call a joy ride,” David ordered as he took on the woman’s weight.

“Been a busy morning,” the Watcher replied. “This’ll be the sixth one.”

“See that she gets some help,” David responded.

The old woman moaned again as she was transferred but those blue eyes grew a bit brighter when one of her hands seemed to finally find what it was searching for. As the Watcher reached for her, she pulled a battered gold necklace from a worn hole in her coat and raised it towards David. A gold heart shaped locket danced beneath her shaking fist. “Please,” she moaned. Her mouth worked for more words but couldn’t find them.

David ignored the offering and pushed her hand down gently with a calming shush. Those lively blue eyes suddenly seemed to dull. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re in good hands now.” He passed the tired old woman to the man in black, nearly having to pry her hands off him before he could make his way onward.

The episode already out of mind, David didn’t look back as he stepped into the Metro stairway and down towards his train. Eyes down, he opened the newspaper on his tablet and started reading, letting his feet take him with their own eyeless memory. He flickered through the headlines as he strolled through the turnstiles and past the posters warning “Remember Philadelphia” in giant red letters. He was already at his train stop by the time he found the story what he was looking for buried deep in the newspaper. Standing beneath the cavernous, coffered gallery he read. The biggest events in history were always born on the back page.

A smile spread across his lips. The treaty was signed. It had happened. Finally, it had happened.

Behold,” a deep voice called. “A knight. Your time is over, my friend.” David turned to see a sharply dressed businessman smiling at him between fat pink cheeks. He wore a short top had as was the fashion with the rich these days. He walked with the importance of a man who thought doors would open automatically for him and the confidence of one where they always did.

David smiled back. “Not over,” he said lightly. “Just repurposed.”

The man’s eyes took an edge although his smile remained plastered on his face. He nodded stiffly.

The train pulled up and doors opened. The fat man gave a comical bow and motioned for David to enter first. David hardly noticed, attention already back on the newspaper. He turned right and leaned against the back end of the train. The businessman took a seat on the other end. The train started up silently. David took a moment to look up and caught the fat man staring at him, giving him a start before turning his attention awkwardly to the window where only close concrete walls went speeding by. The train rolled and stopped, rolled and stopped, as subways do and the car slowly filled. Passengers always gave him a nod when they got on, faces painstakingly pleasant.

At his stop his eyes once again caught the fat businessman’s. He gave him a smile as he stepped off, the man returning it with another stiff nod.

David took the stairs two at a time and made his way to the surface. The rain had stopped and the clouds had mostly burned away. The warm spring sun had created a damp fog over the puddled ground.

Across the street ran a series of turnstiles which broke an otherwise menacing barbed wire fence that ran to his right as far as he could see. To their left was a large gate for vehicle traffic. Beyond the gates and turnstiles and across a massive parking rose the five storied Pentagon, a seemingly endless slab of unadorned concrete and simple rectangular windows. An electrical hum filled the air as a large truck turned the corner and headed towards the gate. David stood on the sidewalk and let it pass and head towards the gate where two guards were signaling for it to spot for inspection.

It was a joy wagon.

Looking like a repurposed Brinks truck, it was painted entirely in a calming sea green. Even the iron bars which covered the three open windows along the back were painted in the hue. David started making his way towards the turnstiles as the truck passed and came to a halt for the guards but a familiar sound caught his ear.

He turned towards the joy wagon a saw a thin set of fingers wrapped around one of the iron bars. Behind those bars, again in the shadows, were those icy blue eyes, staring at him the same way they looked in the alley. This close he could see they had regained the life they held when he first saw them. Was that hope he saw?

“David,” the woman said, her voice suddenly clear and strong like it used to be. Her other hand reached through the bars, still holding the small heart shaped locket she’d pushed at him not an hour earlier. David was close enough to touch it but didn’t move. “David, please, remember me.”

David looked from the locket back to her, cocking his head to the side a bit as he stepped closer. Close enough for her to touch him. “I do remember you,” he said flatly.

The woman grunted as it struck but pushed her arm painfully through the gap between the bars. She allowed two fingers to unclench the necklace and brush aside David’s short bangs, revealing a puckered scar just above his temple. Her eyes glistened in the darkness that held them; the strength in them lost again. “You remember,” she repeated softly. She pulled back her hand, letting the locket go as she did so. They both heard it drop with a splat in a warming puddle between them.

“Sir?” a voice called. The sentry, having finished his inspection, stood on a raised sidewalk, eyes questioning.

David gave him a waving gesture and the guard signaled to the driver he was cleared to proceed. The vehicle clicked before it silently moved forward, carrying its rogues along with it. David reached down and picked up the locket from the small pool. He looked up as he opened it and gave one last look as those weary eyes staring at him from the darkness.

He looked down at the opened locket, knowing what he would see: a small picture of a mother nestling the smooth head of an infant beneath her nose, gently kissing him on the temple. That child’s temple didn’t hold the scar it did now.

David let the locket fall back to the ground, allowing the water to eat away at the small photograph. He looked back towards the van but it was already out of site. He never saw those weary eyes again; nor thought about them.