10.
 She crouched, moving her knife from one hand to the other, waiting for someone to attack.
The women smiled and spoke to her in clear, polished English without all the Spanish, Viet, Tagalog, and other gobble trapped in modern L.A. Anglo. “Hello. Who are you? Look, she’s scared. Don’t be afraid, we won’t tell.”
Taxi relaxed, put the knife away. “Won’t tell. What do you mean?”
“We are prisoners, same as you are now.” Two came forward and put their arms around her. Taxi felt the good, clean cloth of their arms, smelling of soap and closets, and brushed them off. They introduced themselves: Jen, Jan, Anna, Moira, Shinko. They actually did not resemble one another; Jen was black with kinky hair while Jan was a pale blonde. Anna was dark-haired with blue eyes while Moira was red-haired with very pale skin, and Shinko looked orienta;; Japanese, by the sound of the name.
“Who are you?” Taxi asked.
“We are wards of the government,” Shinko said.
“Government hasn’t existed in half a century,” Taxi said.
“So you think,” said Anna.
“She’s right,” Moira said, “you’re all just fools.”
“You’d better watch it, Sister,” said Jen. “Or we’ll let you do all the floors again.”
“Can I get the bottle out of here?” Taxi asked, leaning against the car and banging her fist against its side.
The women, all in their 20’s, just a little younger than Taxi, but a lot less mature, started to squabble. Jan even pulled Moira’s hair.
“I need the fucking bottle!” Taxi shouted as loudly as she could.
The women looked at Taxi. Taxi explained: “My man is waiting for me. I have to bring back a bottle so we can drive on.”
“A man!” Their eyes lit up.
“We have to hide her,” Anna said.
“Let’s dress her like us,” Moira said.
Taxi felt despair in her gut. “Look, ladies, I don’t have time — .”
But Moira took Taxi’s arm. “You can’t get out today. The soldiers went where you came in. We’ll try to help you, but they’ll find you soon enough.”
“What soldiers? Those nutcracker suite Abe Lincolns?”
“Yes,” Moira said. She and her enemy of moments ago, Jan, led Taxi by the arm. The other three women ran elsewhere. Taxi held on tightly to her gun and knife. Red-haired Moira and dark-haired Anna with blue eyes led her — with surreptitious glances left and right — in the back of a big wooden building. Inside, Taxi smelled a mix of nice aromas, only some of which she could identify.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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