Page 85 of Fury

“Organizing a rally here,” Skid said. “We’re coming this way just before winter hits hard. Last run of the season for us.” He rubbed a hand over his buzzed head.

“Cool.”

“Gonna be a real good time. I’m heading over there now for some drinks and food.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Come with me.”

How was I going to get out of this now? I wasn’t. I fucking wasn’t. I couldn’t. Skid would be reporting back to Reich, and I couldn’t take any chances.

I shifted my weight and out of the corner of my eye I saw her. Striding up to the hotel, walking fast, holding a purple jacket close together against the cold wind. Large cat-eyed sunglasses over her face, a short red wig, or was it her own hair, I didn’t fucking know. That old corduroy carpet bag on her shoulder. She took me in and smoothly slowed down her pace. She took out her cell phone from her bag and stared at it, hitting buttons. But there would be no message from me.

I had to give her the signal now. We’d never had to do it before, but there was a first time for everything. Hers was changing the rings on her fingers.

“Sounds like a good time,” I said to Skid. I raised my hands and swept my long hair back into a ponytail.

I never put my hair up, but always had a hair band ready on my wrist for the signal. I stretched the band and twisted my hair into it, pulled my long hair through, and tugged it out.

No, don’t approach me.

No, don’t talk to me.

No, we can’t meet.

You don’t know me.

You don’t even notice me.

Get out of the area fast.

Keep moving.

Get lost.

Do not contact me until I contact you.

No.

No.

Fuck, fuck, NO.

She stepped forward, tucking her phone back in her bag. An eyebrow raised from behind the sunglasses. She kept walking straight ahead. That’s good. To have turned around suddenly and walk back from where she came from would have been obvious.

She walked toward me,

toward us,

past me,

past us,

past what would’ve been now,

right now,

tonight.

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