Alertness

Posted by Ace on October 28th, 2008 filed in Tales of the Interregnum

“The druggies are out there,” says Opal, squinting through the front blinds into the night.

I look up from the screen of her laptop, where I am busy leading a nation of fictional British colonists through an eight-decade long struggle for independence.  It’s not quite an atypical statement for her, but it is somewhat incongruous, coming as it does without warning, and given that she lives on a quiet street in a reasonably safe, well-policed neighborhood.  I am reminded uncomfortably of our next-door neighbor, who spiraled off into drunken dementia, and had all the pine trees around her house cut down because she thought there were black men hiding in them, waiting to attack her.

“What?” I say.

“The druggies,” she repeats, evenly.  “Every night about this time, two cars drive up the street and park, and then sit there with the lights off.  Then a little while later, another car drives up the street, and it parks with the lights off, too.”  She leans to the right slightly to adjust her point of view, moving her fingers to a different part of the blind.  “The three people in the cars get out for a little while and talk to each other-  trade the drugs for the money, I guess.  Then they all get back in their cars and drive away.”

I open my mouth to say something dismissive, to the effect that there are probably lots of reasons why three people might engage in such behavior that have nothing to do with drugs-  then shut it again as I realize that I can’t think of any.  It’s a dead end street off a major highway, with no streetlights, and little if any foot traffic:  factors that would all recommend it for exactly what she’s suggesting.

I stand up from the dining room table and wander into the living room, as she turns away from the blinds.  “So…  why don’t you call the cops?” I ask her.

“Me?” she says, surprised.  “I’m not callin’ the cops on them.  They’ll come and burn down the house.”

She shuffles away into the kitchen, leaving me standing there watching her, blinking.

At the bus stop, as I huddle behind a thin glass partition against the wind and rain, I notice a color poster taped to the side of the shelter, hanging half-on, half-off.  It shows a Crimestoppers tip number, and above it, a picture of the County Sheriff:  a clean-cut, handsome-looking gentleman wearing a grey dress uniform, smiling at the viewer.  He seems vaguely familiar.  He might have been one of the people who attended the visiting for my father’s funeral.

“ALERTNESS IS THE KEY TO PREVENTION,” reads the sign.  “YOUR INVOLVEMENT IS CRUCIAL.”

A small truck roars by, close to the curb, sending up a splash of water that leaps through the shelter door and soaks me.


2 Responses to “Alertness”

  1. Church Says:

    So…

    That’s IT!?!

  2. Ace Says:

    Why? What more would you have?