The Sieve: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She exited the room letting the door slowly come to a close behind her. She took a step forward and stumbled a little bit, falling towards the railing. She managed to lift her hands up in time to grab the railing and stop herself from toppling over. Rather than releasing her white-knuckled grip and continuing on her journey, she leaned farther forward, peering over the railing. Some of her dirty blonde hair fell over with her, narrowing her field of vision so she could only see the glowing masses of color that she knew to be cars. It would be odd to see people out at this time, but not unheard of. This was the time of night reserved for her kind of people: the dopers, the dealers, the floaters, the sleepers, and the Late Watch. Down below, a small figure wrapped in shimmering green glided across the parking lot from one shadow to the next.

She pushed herself away from the railing and began to stumble down the walkway towards the stairs. As she walked down the stairs, the edges of her world slowly melted away, further softening the sights around her and creating a haze around her world, as if she was walking in a cloud. Or on a cloud. At some point she had stopped stumbling and started gliding down the streets. She didn’t know where she was going, but that was ok. It was better that way. Better to enjoy the journey. That was what slipping was all about. Journeying without destinations. Destinations were too hard. Too definitive.

She reached out a hand to feel the cool bricks of the buildings along the street as she floated along. They seemed smoother now than they had earlier, all of the little bumps and dips in the brick seemed to give way under her fingertips, and the coolness of the bricks felt refreshing. She aimed to step in each little pool of light cast by the greater orbs of light above, but every time she got close to stepping in one, it seemed to disappear from under her and jump a couple of feet in front of her.

She walked this way for blocks, letting the haze take over her world, letting go of every thought and emotion except for a placid carefreeness and her slight amusement with the different aspects of her world. Any other feeling, fear, worry, sadness, joy, or excitement were too sharp for this world, so they were all done away with. She felt empty, and rather than that having the negative connotation that most people associated emptiness with, it felt freeing. People could be so ignorant these days.

A shadow next to her moved as a floater emerged with a small jar. She stuffed her hands in her jacket’s pockets, her fingers coming across something cool and flat. She felt along the smooth round edge before producing either a coin or a button and letting it fall into the jar with a satisfying clink. She turned down an alleyway, continuing to run her hands along the bricks as she slid down the winding ways. She liked the way this place made her feel. She liked the small little strip of space between two looming buildings that seemed to block out any possible sharpness that could emerge. Especially time. Time didn’t pass here.

Happily, she began to spin in circles as she walked down the back alleys of her cities, immersing herself in the colors. The rich reds and browns and blacks all seemed to emit a faint glow that she could bask in. She wobbled a little bit as she slowed her dizzying down, and leaned against the wall, letting the coolness of the brick embrace her. In front of her, the colors danced without her, calling her back to play. She reached out a hand and watched them run around her fingers, as if trying to pull her away from the wall. She pushed herself off from the bricks and followed them as they led her down, further into the maze. And then, she noticed the green. She turned her hand, curling each finger trying to grasp it so she could observe it closer, but had no luck. Like the pools of light earlier, it jumped just out of reach. She followed, running to try to get it, as the green color grew stronger and stronger until she was in front of a door.

She moved towards it, letting it hold her as the bricks had earlier (How much earlier? She didn’t know). She rested her cheek on it, and was surprised and the general warmth emitted from the green, but let herself melt into it.

“Keep your voice down before someone hears you.” A voice hissed on the other side of the door. She hadn’t realized that she’d been thinking that loud.

“It’s three o’clock. How many people d’you suppose are awake and back in these parts? ‘Sides, one does wander down here, we got the tools to handle it.” Another responded.

“I don’t have the tools.” She whispered back to the other voice who had stuck up for her.

“You’d be surprised what the floaters hear. People think about the sleepers, but not the floaters.” The first voice argued back. “They’re all over these streets.”

“I’m not a floater.” She responded. “I have a…” she couldn’t remember what she had. “I have a somewhere.”

“Floaters never report, and no one ever asks ’em questions.” Her defender argued back.

“I’m still not a floater.” She protested, softly.

“Yeah, well you think they’ll keep their silence when they hear us plotting to murder Senator Devrim?”

The words wouldn’t have seemed out of the ordinary if they hadn’t been paired with the feeling of cold metal on the side of her head.

“Don’t move. Don’t scream.” A third voice said from her side. Confused, she looked out of the corner of her eye to try to determine who he was. She was beginning to fall back into place as the slippers wore off. She could tell three distinctive articles of clothes instead of just a dark mass. He was wearing a dark leather jacket with a dark shirt underneath and dark pants.

“Ok.” She agreed. The walls around her still held out fear or the sharp emotions.

“Turn around and go in.” he ordered, and she complied, turning the knob and pushing the door, before walking inside. The two voices that had been arguing before shut up, and looked at her, alert. “Keep walking.” He pushed her, and she lurched forward, going further into the room. She was stumbling again. “I caught her listening at the door.” The man behind her informed, as she looked at the other two voices. They stood with a table in between them, a bunch of papers scattered across it.

“Shit, Ambrose. I told you to shut up.” A small, skinny man said angrily. He wore a similar outfit to the man behind her.

“And I told you, it ain’t no big deal. We can handle it.” The man who was much bigger in every sense of the word responded, reaching to his side and producing another glimmering silver object. A gun?

“Stop.” The command came exasperatedly as a forth man came down a flight of stairs to her left. He walked past her to sit at the head of the table. More and more details began to fall into place as she felt a slight churning in her stomach. “Do you not see it?” he asked from where he sat back in his chair. “Connors, bring her closer.”

The man with the gun at the back of her head pushed her forward again, and again she tottered a little before catching her step. She looked at the table in front of her at the papers. They weren’t just papers. Some were pictures. The topmost one looked like a car. It was small and black, and she seemed to vaguely recognize it. There were also pictures of Senator Devrim and newspaper clippings along with drawings. She should probably try to remember this, but the more she thought about it, the more her brain rebelled, instead focusing on the pretty lights that hung from the ceiling.

“Look at her eyes. Blurry, distant. She hasn’t even begged for her life or made a sound. She’s already done her work for us.” He explained as if it was clearly there. “What’s your name?”

She dragged her attention away from the lights and back down on the man in front of her. He was different than the other men. Broader, blonde hair, hazel eyes. He wore a red shirt instead of a black one under the jacket. He snapped twice in front of her.

“Your name.” He repeated.

“Clare.” She admitted, dreamily.

“Clare, what?”

“Clare McGregor.”

“Clare McGregor?” He repeated smiling before looking at the two men to his sides. “Well, Ms. McGregor, this is your lucky day. I’ll have someone drop you off at your place. You can sleep this off and forget you ever saw us. Ambrose? Clear the table, we’re done for the night. Connors, escort Ms. Page home, and don’t forget to take precautions.” He added the last part as if he were dealing with an idiot. Clare was yanked backwards as she watched the men begin to stuff the papers under the boards. Quickly she was thrown outside, and she fell to her knees, unable to keep her balance. As she rose to get up she was swiftly hit over the head, ad the colors of the alleyway all faded into a blackness.