~36a~
~The Rose~
"Good afternoon, fella. Whatcha need?"
"Fill 'er up," Captain Jayman gestured casually to his Firefly-class mid-sized transport as he slipped off his black cap and wiped the sweat from his scalp.
"Any p'ticular grade?" The gray-goateed fuel-station attendant grinned with a missing incisor. "High? Medium?"
Sighing, the captain deflated at the thought of money. "Th' cheapes' grade ya got, I'm afraid."
"Will do!" The goateed geezer nodded without question, ran off to the nearest building-sized multi-towered station, and hopped onto quad-bike #7. While one end of the collapsible hose hung from a twenty-foot-high fuel tower, the other end was supported by a steel-framed mini-trailer. Steadily, the geezer drove his hitched bike forward to pull the hose-trailer and extend hose #7 toward the ship.
Plopping his cap back on his head, Jayman pulled off his black leather coat, tied the sleeves around his waist, and yawned. He gazed up, above the parked ships, at the calming sight in the atmo. Two of the three moons of the planet Columbia. The smallest one, Nina to his left and the largest one, Santa Maria higher to his right, hanging like ice chunks in sky-blue alcohol.
Just a few more minutes and he'd be back onboard the Rose, in the comfort of his own cabin, in his own bunk, and in his own gorram slumber. A few hours ago, he sat wearily in the Rollin' River saloon, dulling his eye-flickering headaches with cheap alcohol, and hoping to climb a few steps towards building a new crew. But now, a few hours later, he planned to dull his people-induced frustrations with the simple calm of unconsciousness.
~~~
"Th' Rose is quite a beauty."
"Shah muh? (What?)" With his nap just around the corner, Jayman frowned at the repulsive notion of an over-extended social interaction.
"Yer ship," the bad-toothed attendant pointed. "I caught th' paint up there by th' cockpit. The Rose, right?"
The captain nodded. "Yep."
"Mind if I ask how she got 'er name?"
"Yep."
~~~
After paying the fuel-station attendant, the captain lumbered back into his ship, slid the inner cargo-bay doors closed, and retreated to the solitude of his cabin. Meanwhile, from the clear blue atmo outside, the roaring sound of an enforcement vessel approached and intensified. And then--
RRR-ROOOAAAR! RRR-THOOM!
Several parked ships from the Firefly, the enforcement vessel touched down at the busy Christobal spaceport.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Cristobal Thoroughfare~
"A-ha!" Lucky laughed. "You mean the 'Trail of Guilt'!"
"Really?" The teenager's auburn eyes widened. "Yeah, I've heard my customers talk about it. So that was the opening show?"
"Quite right!" The taxi driver nodded then spat out-- "Oh, bugger!" She kicked the brakes as a horse-drawn buggy turned into their path before them. "Sorry 'bout that."
Miriam smiled. "Don't worry 'bout it..." Then still leaning forward, the teen added, "Wait-- If that's the opening act, the main event's next, right?"
"Affirmative!" Lucky smiled knowingly, keeping her left hand on the steering wheel. "Since the clownies have already begun, I'd gather another half-to-full hour till the main show, depending on the origin of the crime, the time of transfer, and the number of criminals... Fancy waiting for it?"
"Sure! Oh, but the Wild Flower--"
"One moment," Lucky interrupted. Visibly frustrated by the plodding horse-buggy ahead, the driver spotted a clear path, swerved past the buggy, and beeped her horn -- BEEP! BEEP! -- before yelling at the driver. "Gorram wanker!"
Thrown back into her seat, Miriam glanced at Ethan with a raised eyebrow. He simply chuckled back, amused with both Lucky's attitude and Miriam's reaction.
"About the Wild Flower," Lucky resumed as if nothing out-of-the-ordinary had happened. "No problem. We're here!" With another swerve, she rolled her sand vehicle into the space between two parked horses, and came to an abrupt stop. "If you don't mind, Miriam, I'd like to join you."
"Sure! The more the merrier!"
As Lucky helped Miriam out of the dune buggy, Ethan climbed out the opposite side. As he strode around the back of the vehicle to join the others, the nearby horse let loose a fresh string of warm plopping "road apples". He hurried ahead to Miriam's side.
"Just listen for the church bell," the taxi driver added. "When it rings, the 'Trail of Guilt' begins."
"Gotcha," the girl acknowledged.
As the leather-clad teenager leapt up the porch steps and entered the Wild Flower -- a boutique specializing in a unique assortment of clothes, shoes, hats, purses, perfumes, jewelry, even wigs, toys, and atmo-boards -- the pig-tailed taxi driver kept her mini-goggled eyes on her young passenger's pleasing athletic form.
"Not yet," Lucky whispered to herself, licking her lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~The ASREV~
"Enough o' that! Let the Trail handle 'em."
Squad Leader Sgt. Vanderson profoundly shared Officer Cannon's loss, anger, and frustration as much as any man who lost a comrade-in-arms. But this wasn't about one man's loss, or even one squad's loss. This was about an entire town's loss. This was about Cristobal's loss. And a demonstration of the unusual bond between Cristobal's citizens and their Alliance protectors. Some have even said that the Cristobal station symbolized Columbia's commercial and cultural lifeline to the all-powerful Alliance. And in a strange way, the 'Trail of Guilt' evolved in symbolic honor of this unique connection.
At the same time, the young and fiery Cannon could be just that -- a loose cannon. This justified Vanderson's decision to keep him close by, at the scene of the saloon murders, while the others searched for the gorram murderers. Undoubtedly and unfortunately, both Blake and Cannon caught a horrific first-hand look at the skull-shattered and jaw-smashed bodies lying dead on the ground. Dead. So Lun-kuai's go tsao de (dog-humping) egocentric concern about being "dead in the next few days" was absolutely absurd. No wonder Cannon attacked.
As the two-man support from the secondary squad stayed behind -- to guard the vessel, co-pilots, bodies, and evidence -- the remaining ten-man squad escorted the large Rubick and the smaller Lun-kuai down the loading ramp. Glancing to the clear sky, Vanderson detected the faint but familiar tunes of distant flutes floating in the air. The twinkling sounds of levity despite the dragging weight of death and devastation.
The flutes!
But despite the merrily playing melodies, the solemn group marched seriously and steadily into Cristobal's southern gateway, the currents of townfolk slowing, pausing, and parting for them. Meanwhile, the encircling purple-armored squad held their shoulder-strapped sonic rifles in a relaxed-but-ready grip, aimed in the direction of their bound-and-chained guests.
To one side of the gateway, upon a modest circular stage, the seven entertainers -- the ringleading Corky the Clown, his four supporting clowns, and his two flute-playing musicians -- brought their little musical dance to an arbitrary close. As each of them bowed, the scores of townfolk clapped and cheered and laughed. Scores upon scores of Cristobal citizens!
Corky the Clown and his merry Trail Troupe!
When the claps and cheers and laughter died down into excited murmurs and whispers, the electrical anticipation began to crackle. With a subtle nod, the face-painted Corky sent the familiar signal to the blue-eyed Vanderson. In turn, the squad leader pulled out his little black radio, held it to his dark-bearded jaw, and thumbed the button down. "Vanderson here. We're ready."
Suddenly, crashing harshly through the sounds of everyday activity, the grand clang of the church tower's bell washed like wind-blown waves from the heart of town to its sandy outskirts, one-half mile in every direction and beyond...
BING! BONG!...
Horse-drawn carriages, motorized buggy, and quad-bikes pulled over to the side of the dust-swept boulevard, while streams of pedestrians, passengers, and customers began to filter from the northern half to the southern half of town...
BING! BONG!...
Additional streams of spectators and onlookers drifted along both shoulders of the splendid thirty-foot-wide thoroughfare, lining the broad half-mile path from the four-posted gateway to the Alliance station in the center of town...
BING! BONG!
... And with the third and final clang, a collective hush fell upon the town of Cristobal.
~~~
With a couple of hand signals from Vanderson, the two largest officers -- the big black Officer Jackson and the spit-happy Officer Nichols -- approached the mysterious face-scarred Rubick. Then swiftly, Nichols slammed a black-gloved fist into the criminal's gut, forcing him to double forward breathlessly. As he was bent forward, Jackson smacked a solid forearm upon his back, sending the black-clad hoodlum face first into the dirt.
A handful of spectators cheered their Feds. "Yeah! Get 'im!"
With massive knees and hands securing the prone criminal's shoulders and wrists, Vanderson sent another signal and Officer Wang stepped forward. From his large belt-pack, the Asian officer yanked out an unusual chain -- a heavy eight-foot chain linked at both ends into a ring, with four individual wrist-cuffs attached evenly at two-foot intervals along the ring -- and quickly fastened two of the wrist-cuffs onto Rubick's wrists.
Next, Wang pulled out a second chain -- a similar four-foot chain linked into a ring, with four individual ankle-cuffs attached evenly at one-foot intervals -- and just-as-quickly clasped two of the ankle-cuffs onto Rubick's ankles.
Some subdued cheers and applause. "Get the other one!"
With yet another signal from the sergeant, Officer Chen-Yi approached the less-physical Dr. Lun-kuai, shoved him towards the newly-bound Rubick, and clutched the greencoat's shoulder in a forceful eagle-taloned grip. Clearly comprehending the tight pressure upon his shoulder, the doctor sank to his knees and fell to the ground beside his so-called partner-in-crime.
While both criminals kissed the dirt, Wang grabbed the eight-foot wrist-chain and fastened the two remaining cuffs onto Lun-kuai wrists. Then he pulled the four-foot ankle-chain, and with Chen-Yi's assistance, clasped the two remaining cuffs onto Lun-kuai's ankles.
Cheers and applause and laughter. "Haha!"
Once Rubick and Lun-kuai were wrist-chained and ankle-chained together, Chen-Yi unsheathed his standard-issue dagger. Turning to the doctor, he grasped the collar of his dark-green cloak, and carefully began to slice open the left sleeve from collar to cuff. Next, he proceeded to slash open the right sleeve from collar to cuff. Then with a sharp series of tugs, the cloak slid off and peeled away from its owner. Backing away, the officer draped the coat over his own shoulder.
More cheers. "Yeah!"
Finally, with all ring-chains in place and all outer garments torn away, Wang unclasped the original handcuffs and chains, and likewise backed away. Then getting a look of approval from Vanderson, the large Nichols and even larger Jackson released their hold, straightened, and stepped back into the circle of ten officers.
This time, amidst the murmurs and whispers, the squad-leading sergeant sent a slight nod to the ringleading clown.
~~~
Atop the stage, the curious little top-hatted clown called Corky brought his beat-up megaphone to his painted-on grin, and announced in his bigger-than-expected voice...
"Ladies and gents,
The Trail shall begin,
The high time has come,
To laugh at their sins!"
Applause and laughter. "Yeah! Hahaha!"
"Rodriguez and Cobbler,
They protected our moon,
We shall honor their spirits,
In the highlight of high noon!"
Overwhelming cheers and applause! Then the ringleading Corky pointed at the bound-and-chained stars of the show...
"That murderer is Rubick,
With scars under his eye,
The small one's his partner,
A doctor called Lun-kuai."
The thunderous echos of boos and hisses! Next, Corky and his merry troupe rolled out several barrels and wheelbarrows of spoiled apples and tomatoes, and began passing them out to the crowd...
"Take an apple or tomato!
On their souls, we shall spit!
Let's bring 'em to their knees!
On the Trail of Guilt!"
More cheers and applause and then--
Suddenly, the two purple-hatted clowns dove from the front of the stage to the spaceport-edge of the gateway, landed acrobatically into dust-blowing forward rolls, and sprung to their feet with braided-leather bull-whips in their hands.
Even louder cheers and applause and laughter. "Get 'em! Hahaha!"
As the circle of officers split into two linear formations, covering both pedestrian-packed shoulders of the gateway, the shorter purple-hatted clown cracked the tip of his eight-foot whip -- WHRA-SHRACK! -- just feet from the still-grounded criminals, and hollered, "Git up, you dogs!"
The taller purple-hatted clown cracked an even-longer ten-foot whip -- SHRA-CRAAACK! -- and yelled, "You boys deaf? Giddy up! Giddy up!"
With an eerie smile, Rubick was the first to move. Pulling himself to his knees, his failed attempt to rise to his feet was much more clumsy, with the slow-moving Lun-kuai attached to him and dragging him down. After a heated exchange of words, the smaller man hurried himself upward, and finally, both chained men rose to their full heights.
The taller clown added more verbal fuel. "C'mon, boys! I said 'Giddy up!'"
Instinctively, Lun-kuai headed forward but remembered his ankle-chains too late and -- "Ugh!" -- he tripped face-first into the dirt -- "Bleghhh!" -- yanking Rubick down with him.
The officers, the clowns, and the crowd exploded into uproarious laughter! "Haha! Hahahaha!"
~36b~
"Take an apple or tomato!
On their souls, we shall spit!
Let's bring 'em to their knees!
On the Trail of Guilt!"
Still wheezing slightly from the recent beatings, the Doc looked around the bewildering scene in front of him and Rubick. Crowds of people, all of them with angry expressions on their faces and rotten fruit in their hands, lined the sides of the thoroughfare.
Two of the clowns, dressed in purple, vaulted into the thoroughfare wielding long whips.
"This isn't going to be fun..." murmured the Doc, his eyes fixed on the whips
"You think?" Rubick muttered back sarcastically.
With a -- WHRA-SHRACK! -- the smaller clown flicked his whip near to the mercenary and the Doc, yelling "Git up, you dogs!" followed in turn by a -- SHRA-CRAAACK! -- from the other clown, and an even more redneck-sounding "You boys deaf? Giddy up! Giddy up!"
"Come on" the mercenary smiled grimly at the doc "Best get this over with"
"Actually, I'd rather stay here. I'm getting comfy."
"Bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro... (Stupid, innate pile of meat.) The tomatoes are coming whether you get up or not, may as well get off your pee-goo (bottom) and move before the soldiers decide they'd rather kill us here." Pulling on the chains connecting them, the big mercenary yanked the doc to his feet.
"If you're going to lecture me, at least use the right words; its tomahto, not 'tomayto'"
"No," replied the mercenary heatedly, "Its always been tomaytos"
"Yeah, if you don't speak English properly..." countered the Doc, dodging a well-aimed apple.
"Dung ee-miao (Hold on a second), why are we arguing about pronunciation in the middle of this go se?!"
"Well, now, we're arguing about arguing about pronunciation"
"Yeah, well that makes even more sense. How about we argue about someth--"
SPLAAT!
The crowd roared with laughter as a huge rotten tomato burst against Rubick's head, showering the pair in sludge.
With another crack of his whip, the taller clown coerced them into moving.
"Bee-jway, neen hen boo-tee-tyeh duh nan-shung! (Shut up, you inconsiderate schoolboys!) Y‘all‘re robbin’ us o’the show, gid’ on!"
Starting to move, the Doc pulled up against the chains attached to his ankles. With his momentum going in all the wrong directions, there was nothing he could do but collapse back to the ground, pulling Rubick with him. This event was greeted with more approval from the crowd as they laughed even harder.
"Haha! Hahahaha!"
Rubick pulled them both back up and grabbed the doctor’s shirt.
“Gao yang jong duh goo yang (Motherless goats of all motherless goats), you do that one more time and I’ll kill you myself! Now come on.”
He started forward, keeping a strong grip the doc’s shirt to prevent him from taking them down again.
“I get the feeling these folks have some sort of negative opinion of us.”
The doc looked over at him somewhat annoyed.
“What gave you that idea? Aside from the food throwing, I mean.”
“You think that’s food?”
Lun-kuai was about to answer when he suddenly snapped up his arm to catch a large apple that had flown at his head. For a few seconds the weight shift in the manacles had them teetering as the crowd watched in anticipation of a third fall, but Rubick managed to stabilize them, much to the onlookers' disappointment. He shot Lun-kuai a piercing glare but the doctor ignored him and took a bite out of the fruit.
“You know, I’ve had worse.”
Rubick raised an eyebrow at that.
“Really? Let me see that.”
He grabbed the fruit and took a bite from the opposite side.
“Wow, its actually not bad. Lao tyen yeh (Jesus), the yu bun duh (stupid) sagwas (idiots) can’t even pelt criminals right... Rutting pathetic.”
~37a~
~The Wild Flower~
"Whattaya think?"
Miriam spun from the rack of blouses towards the aristocratically-accented voice. When she found her target, her eyes widened and her hand moved to cover her smile. No longer able to contain herself, she finally burst into laughter.
"Don't like it, do we?" Lucky grinned. Atop her head, between her red-streaked pigtails, stood a Mohawk-wig of bright-pink nine-inch-tall hair!
The teenager shook her head, still bubbling, "I don't think so!"
"Understandable," the skin-baring taxi driver nodded.
Suddenly, echoing from the outside--
BING! BONG!...
Looking up, Miriam straightened in excited antipation. "Is that the bell?"
BING! BONG!...
"Affirmative!" Lucky smiled teasingly, pulling the bright-pink Mohawk-wig off her head.
BING! BONG!
"But we're quite a way from the gateway," Lucky continued. "About a quarter mile or so. And depending on the criminal, it could take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour to limp or hop or crawl out this far. So we could wait for the dirtcrawler out here..." She gestured to the boutique. "Or we can go to the dirtcrawler back there..." She pointed her thumb outside. "Your option."
Torn between the boutique shopping and trailside sightseeing, Miriam knitted her brown eyebrows in a thoughtful sigh. "What do you suggest?"
The taxi driver gazed intentionally and deeply into the younger but taller girl's eyes.
The teenager uncomfortably blinked away.
Lucky smiled to herself then answered. "I suggest this... Since you seem intent on doing both, we'll do both. For now, just take your time shopping. That's why we're here, right?... Meanwhile, I'll go out to my buggy, get my atmoscope, and keep a keen eye on the dirtcrawling action. I'll come back with an update every few minutes, and when the action gets close, I'll let you know... Piece o' cake, eh?"
"You sure?"
"Definitely."
After a hesitant glance at the self-confident woman in pigtails and shorts, Miriam finally nodded. "Sure! Sounds great!"
The driver turned towards the door. "Perfectly glad to help out a customer."
"And Lucky?"
The driver turned back, "Yeah?"
"Thanks."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~An Alley~
BING! BONG!... BING! BONG!... BING! BONG!
"Hey, Eddie!" eight-year-old Fray blurted, still rubbing his sore shoulder. "C'mon! The Trail's startin'!"
"Tsai boo shr! (No way!)" nine-year-old Eddie declared at one of his best buddies. "You owe me three plats! And I want a few more!" [Note - 1 platinum = 10 US dollars ~ 5.4 British pounds]
In the sunlit alleyway, the blond-haired Eddie took a running start toward the red-headed Fray, then hurled the swirled-blue rubber kickball as hard as he could. "Take that! Haha!"
Surprised by yet another swift attack, Fray had no time to catch the ball, and instead tried to duck from the bright blue projectile, but--
KONK! The kickball struck him on the head and ricocheted further down the alley. "Ow!" he cried.
"Haha, Fray!" the blond-haired boy pointed. "Gotcha! That's four!"
"Nice one!" the dark-skinned Ditch laughed and chased after the bouncing ball. "My turn!"
"Go ahead!" Eddie taunted. "I dare ya!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~The Wild Flower~
"I'll be back!" Lucky declared as she waved to Miriam, Ethan, and the straw-hatted old hag behind the counter.
Striding out of the Wild Flower boutique, down the steps, and to her stolen big-wheeled buggy, Lucky calmly unlocked the rear trunk. Flipping the lid open, she glanced secretly behind her, and deposited the pilfered perfume bottle, necklace, and bunched-up bright-pink wig. Then digging beneath her bags and tools and weapons and ammo, she found her dusty twin-eyed atmoscope -- "A-ha!" -- and pulled it out before shutting and relocking the trunk.
"Right!" she grinned.
As scattered groups of townsfolk streamed along the streetside towards the southern gateway, the taxi driver dashed to the near edge of the shoulder to take a peek. With her atmoscope, she tapped the button to zoom in. Closer. Closer. Closer. Stop. Unfortunately, from her quarter-mile distance and petite height, her view was obstructed not only by the walls of disrespectful pedestrians criss-crossing the thoroughfare, but also by several more of those bloody horse-drawn carriages.
"Bugger!"
After a moment of thought, her slender eyes sparkled in self-admiration. She dashed back to her dune buggy, started the engine, and amidst the pedestrians, carefully backed out in a smooth turn that left her vehicle parked neatly on the shoulder and pointed perfectly southward. Then hopping into the raised rear seat, she stood up to her full five-foot height, and took another atmoscopic peek into the sunlit distance. Yeah, the gateway felt like it was a mere town block or two away.
"Brilliant!"
As the auto-smooth function erased the jiggle and joggle of her zoomed view, Lucky caught a clearer less-crowded view of rifle-pointing purple-armored figures lining the opposite streetside. Five of them. With another slight shift of her scope, she found the dirtcrawler -- "Wait!" -- and a second one. Two of them chained together at the wrists and ankles.
"Ha-ha! Two of them! This oughta be good."
On the one hand, the smaller trailcrawler looked about five-foot six, youngish, dressed in a light shirt stained in tomato juice, and dark pants covered in dirt. On the other hand, the larger criminal stood six feet or more, in a full black outfit, also layered with dust, but... noticeably and deliciously muscular.
"Hmmm..."
~~~
After several segments of awkward progress -- the chain-yanking stumbles and falls, the fruit-flying hits and misses, the leather-whipping snaps and cracks -- Lucky exploited the next window of opportunity when the twin trailcrawlers hit the ground in a cloud of dust once more. She leapt out of her vehicle and bounded back into the nearby boutique.
"Miriam!" she panted, then rapidly rattled the play-by-play action. "Okay there are two dirtcrawlers one smaller one larger their wrists and ankles are chained together while a pair of clownies are whipping them forward and a full ten feds are forming a protective barrier between the crawlers and the locals..."
As Miriam nodded in wide-eyed wonder, Lucky took a quick breath and continued.
"Looks like a few tomatoes have hit them maybe a few slashes have cut them but they're still moving up the trail falling stumbling falling stumbling dirtcrawling like a pair of gorram sandsnakes but that's standard nothing extraordinary nothing particularly smashing so how's the shopping?"
The question catching her by surprise, the teen fumbled, "Oh!... Great! I found this beautiful silk--"
"Sorry, gotta get back!"
As the taxi driver flew out the door, the teen softly finished, "...scarf."
~~~
Perched atop her shiny sand buggy, Lucky focussed her atmoscope on the trailcrawling show once more. Despite the ongoing attack of whips and chains and fruits and shouts, the pair of lawbreaking sandsnakes had managed to crawl within one block -- within two-hundred feet -- of the Wild Flower. Nearly one-quarter mile within one-half hour!
"Haha! Hahahaha!"
And at this point, Lucky could hear the muffled chatter and roar of laughter and applause from the rivers of onlookers. She estimated that one more fall would be the best time to finally bring Miriam outside.
Yet with each successive phase of progress, the pair had grown more and more exhausted, the action had grown less and less spirited, largely due to the smaller man's lack of physical strength and endurance. A young man, but a man of accustomed privilege or musculoskeletal illness or downright bad luck. If the chains had been sufficiently long, she had no doubt that the larger man could easily and impressively carry him to the end of the half-mile trail, to the front door step of the two-story Alliance station. But clearly the short chains were designed with that scenario in mind.
In a nutshell, the show had grown rather boring, almost tedious. However, she had promised Miriam that when the action got close, she'd let her know.
"Piece o' cake, eh?" she muttered to herself.
But suddenly, a tiny shadowy movement bounced into her scope's field-of-vision!
Then another!
And when she realized what those shadows were, Lucky froze in utter horror!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~An Alley~
After another dozen turns, the dark-haired Ditch yet again chased the kickball down the alley, retrieved the ball from the shadows, and dashed back into the sunlight. "Ya ready?" he breathed heavily.
"Yeah!" the tireless Eddie dared. "Go ahead!"
"Get him, Ditch!" Fray groaned, still rubbing the top of his head.
"Okay!" Ditch warned. "Better watch out!" And curling the blue kickball in his right arm, he took a step and then ran a few more before unleashing the rubber projectile at his light-haired friend. "A-ha!"
With eagle eyes, Eddie followed the flight of the ball and quickly moved to catch it. But a slight stumble in the dirt was enough to distract him, and--
BONK! The ball struck his forearm and sprung past him. "Gos se!"
Fray watched the ball as it bounced through the broken wall of boxes and barrels and crates, and headed towards the main street. He pointed frantically. "Eddie! The ball!"
Instantly, Eddie spun around and chased after it. "Gos se!"
Kicking up dust behind him, the blond boy leapt between the broken piles, kept his eyes on the bouncing kickball, and closed in on it. Then hurdling past a pocket of pedestrians, he slid under a stopped horse, and popped between two large men, into the wide open road. With only the slightest pause in his steps, he stole a quick peek in each direction to find absolutely no traffic, and finally grabbed the rolling ball in the center of Cristobal's central thoroughfare.
But as he cradled his bright blue ball in the wide open space, Eddie suddenly realized the eerie silence that surrounded him in the middle of the bright sunny day. He realized the dozens maybe hundreds of people silently focussing on him. And he realized the large men just-as-silently pointing their weapons right at him. Then, catching a sudden shadow just two yards to his side, he turned, looked up, and gasped at the enormous figure in black clothes and thick chains.
An enormous figure with three vertical scars under his right eye.
~37b~