The chase. Part three.

And in the end she really came. The Local Police cars were semi-circular, and the area was clearly, at least once, a part of a forest. Now the Douglas Firs had been torn for a long time, and here there were only the blades of those who were big logs. The moss had done the rest, covering that scoundrel in a gentle manner. The smell of the rain that had been in the days before was intrusive, and held back by whatever was there. The cars had all the doors open, a bizarre drive in really thought of her. After all, they understood the county police always before the others, in short, they were the first to arrive, especially in areas like the one where a lot of people did not pass. They all had a cup of coffee in their hands and the Thermos in the free one, and they talked to each other in a continuous buzz, which reminded her of a lumberjack meeting in a synchronized work of chain saws. Certainly the comparison was blatant, even misleading, but it occurred to him that it had to have gone exactly in that square, in the sense that it had become a desperate place, without any Douglas Firs, just because a woodcut meeting had decided it would become , Which was the most suitable place. At that time the thermos were the protagonists of the scene: dancing thermos that sparkled, spreading their heat, creating a sharp contrast with the cold air that pulled that morning.

It would have come to snow – there is to hurry then-we will not take it anymore if snow-damned snow will be a serious problem. She also thought that from then on she would start to snow, she felt from the air that had become warmer. The drowsiness was dissipated in a moment, and she sank her hands in her fake jacket, and kept herself away from the county police group, at least until someone caught sight of her with her neighbor’s companion. If even one of them had known his name would not have said it, that was certain. Some had read about her in the local newspaper, even on the neighboring county, but they were too taken by themselves to mark it, let’s remember it. They were screwing the thermos cautiously as they did everything to not look at her, in order not to fall into the mistake of crossing her gaze. They remembered the little stones of which the red earth was scattered, rather. It was another story, if she was there, so everything would take a very different turn. In the end, BJ came forward, who, among them, was the last one to arrive. He had his hands still red for the cold, and holding the thermos in his hand did not help him at all. She watched her look at journalists, until someone else grabbed him by the arm, hissing something in her ear. Did not they have started already had to stop to leave room to someone else? No, it was out of the question. BJ was the last one to arrive and had received training like the others, in short, he did not blame. She did not say anything while she was offered a cup of coffee from the dark green thermos that everyone had. From that square that once was full of Douglas Firs, she felt even colder.

[All Rights to Kyt Walken, 2017]

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