Here's an old thing I did.
The early morning sky was a deep purple that hinted of ozone and water over the horizon and contrasted nicely with the dark green of the pines on the far hillside. The surface of the lake it bordered rendered the purple to a near black in the reflection of it's surface, broken by the occasional small wind wave. Smith ignored it all as he sat and watched the road from the deck.
It was strange by itself, Smith watching the road. The road was a profound uncuriosity in the middle of the splendor, unworthy of notice. It was a dark brown muddy slash through lush vegetation that originated from a nearby hill to the west, snaking straight eastward past a rustic gas station and continuing around the bend. It disappeared down a hill before being seen again far further winding around the surface of the lake, finally leaving view over the far hills. It was the kind of road never mentioned on highway maps, the kind that people named after a particular local whose name was mystery in the next county. For all the traffic it saw, it might as well be in a jungle in Ecuador or a mountain in Pakistan. The station below stood like an old border crossing, the wood faded, blotched, and holed. 'Beyond here be dragons' would have been a good way sign.
Smith himself, however, would have been a more peculiar sight to any who saw him in this place. He looked like nothing so much as an office functionary. White shirt, tie, horn rimmed glasses, work pants, black shoes. In this remote corner, however, his alien presence both blended into the background in his gray way and also marked him as if he wore a neon sign above his head, depending on who was looking. No one was watching, however; he was, after all, on the deck of a house far enough away from the road that he could cover the image of the gas station with the palm of his hand. He sat in the chair on the deck, absently tapping his pen on the clipboard he held in his lap. His eyes rarely moved or blinked as they made a patient sweep of the station, the road, the far hill, and back again.
An hour; two. The patient sweep continued, broken only by the untimed clatter of the pen cap on the clipboard. Then came the car.
It wasn't a notable car. Four doors, a solid body, a bit of dust and mud from travel on such an ancient highway. It proceeded at some speed, drawing an obscuring plume that quickly vanished in the growing light. It slowed as it approached the station, pulling smoothly in to the pump as if to present it's papers for further travel. A group of people emerged from the car, three total, one obviously a woman by her dress.
Smith would have been less than human had he not leaned forward slightly in the chair. The tapping ceased as he watched intently. The attendent came out, a blob of gray and oil at a distance, a cap on his head. He was approached quickly by the driver and the woman as the third paced behind the car a bit, staring at the road behind.
Smith saw motions, gesticulations. The driver produced a map. The attendent motioned, appeared to point. The third man at this point moved quickly to meet the other two at the front of the car, where clearly a conversation between the three of them started as the attendent went back inside, his duties clearly at an end. Smith shook his head, slightly. The pen moved as he made notes. He was not hurried in his actions. Hurry was not needed here; exactness was.
The three returned to the car and drove swiftly out of the station, continuing onward. Smith continued writing for a moment, consulted his watch, and then set down the pen and reached for the glass by his chair. He drank, and drank again; put down the glass, and resumed his post. He consulted his watch again, and once more in the next few moments, then put the pen down again, reached for the binoculars on the other side of the chair, and stood.
His target now was not the station, however. Instead, he trained his gaze on the far hillside, then lowered it to what quickly resolved as a small eroded shoreline on the lake beyond. He focused, looked once more at his watch, and resumed.
The car moved into the viewfield, and he zoomed in as it came to a halt at the side of the road. The three exited the car, holding another brief meeting before the two men moved towards the shore, the woman staying close by the car. They were carrying objects in their hands, too small to discern at this distance. Smith continued watching, and then zoomed out when the creature broke the surface.
What seemed to be a dozen arms came from the lightening waters as the men were shielded from view by the bulk that arose before them. Smith had a brief glimpse of the woman seeming to fall to her knees before she, too, disappeared from his vision in a strike of whiplike appendages. As suddenly as it appeared, the beast subsumed, only ripples and an abandoned car to mark the passage of the three from life.
Smith lowered the glasses again, then picked up the pen and made more notes. The attendent had perfomed somewhat adequately, he admitted to himself - however, he was not above fault. A more suspicious group would have seen his quick affirmation as proof of his involvement, and that would have defeated the whole purpose of his placement there. Peer review was unpleasant, but essential in these cases. It would, at any rate, be a talking point at the next meeting.
No comments:
Post a Comment