Flash Fiction Friday

The Witness by Cassandra Curtis ©2006, Cassandra Curtis The place was packed tonight. Must have been a gang-related shooting. She didn't need to sit down, so she picked a spot against the wall, just under the giant hanging portrait of some saint. Good vantage point to see all the dramas play out. Better than reality TV. A woman grabbed at the torn shirt of a teenager on the nearest gurney, sobbing and screaming at the fates. The boy was unconscious. Once upon a time, she would've gone over to comfort the mama sita, tell her the boy would be okay. But now, she knew better. The kid's skin was already tinged the gray-blue of impending death. What a damn waste. The EMT's had done their job and the nursing staff took over, one of the ER nurses telling the woman in rapid Spanish that she could see her son soon as they got him cleaned up and stabilized. The medics pushed past her. Another woman with the same mouth and eyes as mama sita put her arms around her--guided her back to the waiting room. Five more victims passed through those wide double doors, on their way to meet with my boss. In the far corner, near the vending machines, a guy was pacing and muttering to himself. His voice grew louder and he kicked the snack dispenser, one...two...three times before he was told to stop. He kicked the machine one last time before sitting down. The man next to him was cradling his left arm in a crimson-stained towel. The couple in the next row over caught my attention. The man was clutching a wad of paper towels against his neck, while the woman ignored the numerous signs posted, whipped out her cell phone and proceeded to dial. She wondered what happened to the guy's neck. Bet it was one hell of a story. Three young toughs in leather, gold chains and jeans, jacked into music ‘pods. Took turns walking up to the ER’s registration desk. A uniformed hospital security guard stood near the doors. Everyone was on high alert after the last bomb scare. She noticed the handsome cop sitting on the gurney in the hall. His shirt was open, exposing his finely ripped muscles. The stark white bandages covering his chocolate skin were stained with faint traces of blood. He tried to stand and fell forward. Nurses ran to catch him. Nothing like the coppery taste of blood and fear, she thought as she watched the chaos, never a part of it. She was invisible, an elderly woman in homeless rags and dirt. A relic from a forgotten past, or maybe the future. She wasn’t really sure herself, time fields being akin to land mines. But she kept everything recorded in the journal. The boss was picky about that. She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down to see a golden-haired child with brilliant blue eyes staring up at her. “Take a hike kid. I’m working.” She pulled the tiny hand from her arm. “You’re not the only one working–scribe.” A cruel snare twisted the perfect little face. “My pardon. Great disguise, by the way. Very sweet and angelic.” “Get fucked.” “You’re a little too young for me in your current form. Why don’t you go try that on someone else?” “Always watching, never playing....must get boring. You know, we could use a person with your particular skills. If you ever decide you want to participate in life, here’s my card.” He handed her a business card with simple red lettering. S. Lived, Adjuster Casuality Life, Home, Health 1 (800) 555-6660 “S. Lived, huh? Clever anagram. Not interested, though. The boss didn’t take sides in the original dispute, and frowns on it now, when his people do..” She tried to give it back, but he pushed her hand away. “So I heard. Keep it.” He turned his back on her, his interest snagged on a man pushing a young woman in a wheelchair through the hospital doors. She tore the card into three pieces and threw it in the trash. “Smart move. His type was created for trouble.” Startled, she backed up a step, and glanced around, then realized the voice was inside her head. “Boss, I didn’t...” “I know. You have to be vigilant. Both sides want to pull us into their squabble. “ She wondered, not for the first time, what the boss looked like. If his ambient force glowed as warm and sexy as his voice, she’d be happy to have him “visit” her anytime. A faint chuckle bounced around in her mind. Her aura turned brilliant fuschia, sparks of blue-white light fanned from her solar plexus. Great. She’d forgotten he could read her mind when he communed with his reporters. “Oh, hell.” She bit her lip and ducked her head. The last thing she needed was to draw further attention, especially from the sulfur and brimstone set. #30#