Twenty-Three

He rounded a bend and noticed a tight red running suit joining his path twenty yards ahead. Blonde hair, tied back in a pony tail bobbed in time with her steps. A Walkman was clipped to her belt and she ran oblivious to the burgeoning world around her. She was moving much faster than he and disappeared as the path snaked through some trees up ahead. He stuck to his pace and carried on into the shade behind her. Paying no attention to the path as he ran, he was surprised to find himself falling flat on his face seconds later. Gathering himself up off the floor and rubbing a graze on his head he looked down bewildered at the shape of the girl lying in afoetal position on the path. He bent down to help her. `Jesus! I’m so sorry - I just didn’t see you, are you alright?’

The girl muttered groggily and sat up, turning to look at Max. `Max?’

`Alison?’ he replied stupidly. `Did I hurt you?’

She picked herself up `Not yet Max, not yet.’ And smiled at him, rubbing her waist where he had evidently cannoned into her.`I’m not much up to running anymore though,’she pulled the phones from her ears and twisted her waist, checking for pain.`do you fancy a coffee?’ she looked over to the nearest gate.

Max dabbed at the minor cut on his forehead `Sure, my treat though.’ They started to walk along the path, Both tentative at first, checking for damage.

Max knew he wanted to ask the girl out and was reasonably sure that she would say yes. But what if she didn’t, she could even laugh at him although she seemed to polite for that. He decided that if the opportunity came up he would grab the bull by the horns and hang the consequences. Besides, a small corner of his brain reminded him, she singled you out at the awards and even indicated that you were the reason she was there. Yeah, and look how that turned out Sherlock… In a rare fit of daring, he decided to ignore himself and try it. She could only say no. He held open the door to the coffee house for her and she passed under his arm, choosing a seat near the fake fire they had.

While Max fussed with taking off his sweater Alison gave their order to the waitress. `Low fat latte for me please and a regular with sugar for the gentleman.’

`Sure’ muttered the waitress and wandered away.

`How did you know?’ asked Max

`Practise’she answered, watching the people out of the window.`Oh sorry, how did I know what?’ she looked back at him.

`My coffee preference.’

`I dunno Max’ she grinned `you just look like a regular kind of guy.’

`Is that good or bad? Sometimes I think I am, other times I confuse myself. Sometimes I think I’m actually subnormal.’ He stared at a woman walking along the sidewalk with a young child. The woman was in such a hurry the little girl was hanging on to her hand for dear life and her feet were barely touching the ground. She seemed perfectly used to it, continually trying to point things out to her mother but passing them before she had a chance. Mom kept looking at her watch. They the corner of the park.

`People would have nothing to work towards if they thought they were perfect’ Alison said. She leant back to allow the waitress to throw the coffees on the table.

`Have we offended her?’ max asked as watched the girl stalk off.

`Who cares.’ Alison said ` Do you want to go out tonight?

`With you?’ replied Max, caught off guard just for a change.

`No. With Big Bird’ she laughed `Of course with me. We could see grab some food and see a picture, if you liked.’

`Absolutely, definitely’ max stuttered. 'Whatever you want.' he took a breath `I’d like to, very much.’

`Great.’ she finished her coffee. `What’s your address? I’ll pick you up at eight.’

He gave her one of his cards. `We’ll decide then.’ She hopped to her feet and left.

Twenty-Two

Friday morning dawned hazy. Slow boats mirrored themselves against the patina of the early light on the brackish water of the rivers. Exhaust from the first commuters’ cars mingled with the steam from sidewalk vents drifting spirit-like along the near deserted streets. The weakened sunlight glanced off glass office blocks and shadowed the few picturesque areas left in the city. The towers of the world trade centre stood sentient against the young skyline - a temporarily eternal symbol of success and failure. Traders, clerks and admin staff heading out of the subways and aiming for the various entrances avoided looking up at their Medusa. Workers unloading the first deliveries in the garment district hid behind their racks and wheeled them down the alleyways kicking the vagrants awake like so many snow ploughs. Heads bowed and backs arched, cleaners left the buildings breathing the unconditioned air in snorkel plumes. Somewhere a new born child gasped its first breath and screamed the verdict. New York, New York.

Max jogged sedately past the entrance to the zoo in central park. The crisp stillness of the early morning was starting to dissolve to the summer haze that would engulf everything from Nine O’Clock on. At the moment though, the green of the grass contrasted nicely withthe flowers in the attended beds and the lack of litter was testament to the overnight cleaning crews. A siren wailed through the streets behind him as he moved further into the park. Other joggers in assorted day-glo colours raced past him. It always amazed him that anywhere else in the world, joggers greet or at least smile to each other - brothers in their mutual pursuit of a healthier lifestyle, but in Nu Yoik you could be surrounded by hundreds of these people and yet be totally isolated. Eye contact was a big no-no. futilely he smiled at people anyway hoping that instead of thinking him dangerous, they would feel ashamed at their own grouchiness. He watched the sun hanging light above the buildings to the east, the sweet clean light caught the trees in the park at an angle that gave them a sharp and majestic grace. He’d long harboured a fantasy of climbing one of them at the dead of night and been ready at the very first light to catch and share the beauty.

His book was coming a little too slowly, even for his liking. It was about a famous author who writes a book concerning the murders of various foreign ambassadors stationed in Washington. Unfortunately for the hero, someone breaks into his computer, steals the manuscript and now the murders are actually happening. Countries are rapidly pulling their people out of the U.S. and making unofficial mutterings about C.I.A. plots etc. our shocked hero finds himself chief suspect with nowhere to turn.

Although not a very original idea, Max was enjoying writing it due to its scope for foreign adventure and secret agents. He’d travelled a bit and was looking forward to doing further research for the final draft. The trouble was the same as ever - the hero’s moral stance. He didn’t think it was enough, in the P.C. nineties, to have the typical James Bond type. Nowadays, to avoid certain corners of wrath, you had to be aware of minorities, women’s rights, abuse of children, intolerant upbringing and all the rest. The villain had to have pure evil in his veins - no-one else’s fault of course. Max didn’t agree with this. Peter Worth Inc. didn’t give a fuck however, they just wanted to shift copy. It was of course, just Max’s pride that stopped him bowing to the dollar. The public wanted a scapegoat - preferably one they knew of old - a delinquent Russki for example…and the more times you blew him up, the more they loved it.

Twenty-One.

They sat at one of the small rustic table-benches provided for weary city dwellers at one of the wood cabin diners - ingenuously named The Park Diner - near the car park. Alison was trying to cheer Ray up. She’d started to berate him on shattering the tranquility of the woods when he’d blurted out that he’d been fired. He was now sulking and she was worried that he was more concerned with having to move state - away from her - than with having to find another job. She tried to put him off.

`Well, that’s two of us off to better places then. Who knows where I’ll go when my time here is over.’ She had a devil-may-care lilt in her voice.

He looked up from the whorl on the wood,`whatdafuckjamean?’ his language was raw street in his emotional state. He quickly noted her raised eyebrows and repeated `sorry, I mean, where are you going?’ his face was slightly flushed.

`I’ll have finished my project come October,as you knew, and then I’m off - to start real life.’she shook her head, her pony tail flirting with the sun before landing gently on her shoulder. He watched it relax and looked up into her bright eyes. He lost his words for a second. He didn’t know how to play the scene.

He stood `I’ve got to go’ he blurted, smiled a sketchy farewell and took off in the direction of the cars. A moment later an engine could be heard gunning down the trail.

Alison looked after him, a veil dropping over her face as she thought of the complicatins he might present. None that would be un-dealable with but nevertheless… her fingernails scratched a signature in the wood of the tabletop. A bird sang from one of the nearest trees and she immediately reacted, light returning to her face as she turned and looked up. The bird spoke again and took flight, soaring across the green blanket and up the hill. Life glowed in alison’s eyes as she picked up her rucksack and set off after it, brushing wood shavings from her nails against her khaki pants as she rose.

Alison peered through the thick branches of a laurel while watching the family. Kneeling on her haunches, she adjusted the binoculars’ focus bringing the dogs into sharp relief. Sheletered in deep undergrowth from the hot midday sun the mongrel mother kept getting up to retrieve one of the youngsters - of which there seemed to be five - from a bid for freedom. The pups were determined to go and play in the fine weather but the mum was having none of it. She’d get them together again and then lie down, relaxing after what had probably been a busy night, only to have to get up again and repeat the task with another. Alison was surprised that there were five pups. They looked about a month old and she wouldn’t have thought the majority would survive so long. Still, who’s to know how many were born originally. She’d come across them almost by accident. True, she had been looking for an example such as this but hadn’t thought much of her chances. The protective activitities of the mother were amply evidenced by her treatment of the pups at the moment - keeping them out of the way of prying and possibly dangerous eyes until nightfall - but perhaps her work, combined with wind direction had allowed Alison to get to within a hundred feet without being heard or seen. A soft growl had alerted her to the young family but it was meant for a particularly recalcitrant pup, not her. For over an hour and a half Alison had been sitting watching them waiting for the dog to return. The mother was far too small to be responsible for some of the killings they’d got recorded and she was expecting a brute of an animal to be lying nearby somewhere - but he would come by at some stage. There was every indication that this was a permanent base for the dogs - the father must be in the vicinity.

Suddenly the bitch jerked her head and pricked her ears. Alison caught herself doing the same.
`Oh christ’ she muttered as a thought hit her - Ray was due to meet her here after his stop in town, Not now! Not Now! she stressed under her breath, but it was unlikely he’d be able to find them - they were a long way from the nearest path and in thick woodland. Perhaps it was the return of the Dog. Sure enough, around from the right of the little bower loped a handsome collie cross. Head and tail low, he was attentive to everything around him. His stride slowed as he picked up something on the wind and he waved his head from side to side, snout up, trying to fix a direction. He paused looking in alison’s direction, one forepaw inches from the ground, tail suddenly sharp. Carefully he took a step in her direction, sniffing all the time.

Two things sprang to mind for Alison. One, this wasn’t the animal they were looking for. He was a proud dog, in good health with a matted but luxuriant coat of mottled browns and black. He was nowhere near big enough to attack a large animal though, let alone a human, on his own. Two, he was however, big enough to attack her in the defence of his family - and he probably would. She began the slow and painful task of re-arranging her limbs from a state of near-atrophy into one of escape.

`Al! - Hey, Aalissoon!’ the cry came from the path several hundred metres behind her. There was no mistaking Ray’s strong voice. `Fuck!’ grunted Alison and she looked up to check on the dogs but was relieved to see the last puppy tail squirrelling under a nearby tree root, its mother anxiously nudging it down with her head whilst taking quick spot- checks on the direction of the noise.A white and brown nose twitching from beneath an adjacent pile of branches and leaves was all that could be seen of the Dog. Pleased for their safety, Alison quietly got up and gently made her way to meet Ray - excited at what she had to tell him.